#their name is drop pop and they have fallen down seven times

[xensilverquill]

Farther west than west, beyond the land My people are dancing on the other wind ⛵🐉

Large Wyvern Pattern by Crafty Intentions!

#dragon #wyvern #amigurumi #crochet #fantasy #xen makes frens #their name is drop pop and they have fallen down seven times #(and they're hoping you'll be there seven eight nine)

[catiuskaa]

My Atlantis [don’t go]

inspired by the songs “atlantis” by Seafret and “can I call you tonight?” by Dayglow.

because the combination chan + second chance + angsty prompts AND my recent ability to fall asleep only past 3am triggered something I didn't know I had in me, lol (I swear I am ok LMAOO)

word count: 3.9k

angst, second chance, good ending.

No matter how many times he had asked himself the past month, he never could come up with a reason for it.

“Chan, you ok?” Seungmin inquired, popping his head through the door. The eldest snapped out of his zoned-out state and smiled, starting to tease the younger in a sing-song voice.

“Aw, Seungminnie, you’re so cute!”

Since the comeback, the members had all been busy, and it was known by the other seven that despite the lack of sleep and rest, the many concerts and shows. If there was one of them that would never say anything about how fucked up he felt, it was Chan.

Chan wouldn’t complain about anything. He’d rather stay hidden, quiet, hoping to merge with the furniture in his room so he wouldn’t feel so tired anymore.

It wasn’t new for the others, and Chris always felt a speck of guilt trail up his spine when any of them came by his room, only to find him sunken in his computer, his headphones blasting music so loudly that there was no hope of calling for the Australian unless you poked him —or in Minho’s case, throwing anything remotely close to the target, like his slipper, usually passed the level— Chan would go into off mode.

What they didn’t know, however, is why. Because usually, he was just tired, but nowadays, there is another reason.

He often trailed off conversations, zoning out. He had always been like that, often related to his insomnia.

Only one member knew the existence of the other new reason.

You.

“Hey, I made brownies!” Felix shined, entering his fellow bandmate’s room.

Lix watched Chan munch on his baked goods for what felt like a lifetime.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, the corners of his mouth full of crumbs, like his bed.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Chan tsked, smiling weakly. He had fallen for it. “Never fucking mind. Can I get a hug?”

Felix held back his tears, approaching the elder in a tight embrace. Chan’s strong facade crumbled.

“You should go see her, Chan. I don’t care what you have to say about it, but whatever happened is breaking you apart. It’s been so long, anyways.”

Chan laughed, even though he sighed slightly heavier than usual, with a teary grin on his features.

“I still fucked up, mate, whether it’s one week or one year. I fucked up bad.” He stopped and swallowed dry, quickly brushing away the tears that threatened to fall. “I can’t just show up at her place.”

The younger brushed away a stray tear that ran down his cheek. “You either go there or let it eat you from the inside,” Felix spoke carefully. “And I won’t give you the second choice. If you don’t go with her, I’ll make the call. That is your choice.”

Even if he found himself walking to your apartment, unconsciously, he still couldn’t give an answer to the question that kept bugging his mind.

He listened to the sound the birds made despite it being so late. He moved slowly, almost wandering, until the door to your home surprised him. He felt a shiver run up and down his spine. You weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

God, he was so scared. What was he doing?

He cursed under his breath, cussing himself out, his stupidness, his acts. He started crying without realising.

What else, if not him being an idiot, would explain why he had lost you?

“Chris?”

No one except you said his name in a way that felt so different, so special.

“…Is everything ok?”

He turned around to face you. He felt the tears run down his cheeks, ending on his lips, tasting the salty drops.

“Darling…” He mentioned, his tone anxious, his breathing erratic.

He woke up in a cold sweat. Again, the dream kept repeating, with that detail that always hurt him like the first time. He couldn’t approach you, or he’d wake up, yet he still tried, walking towards you just to open his eyes to face his room’s ceiling.

That was why he couldn’t sleep.

He felt like he deserved it, so he didn’t say anything and decided to put up a fake smile, hoping that one day he’d wake up, either having hugged you or not having that same dream again.

He fell again for you, more profound than he thought possible, and he knew it because just the thought of you pulling him into an embrace felt even better than all the kisses you two had shared. And then it hit him, the answer to his question, one he suddenly despised more than anything.

Why did he let you go?

At first, it was an easy answer. He couldn’t save you from himself, from what surrounded him. He could never take back the things he had said that dreadful night a month ago, when he had lied to you just because he was afraid, afraid of love, terrified of the feelings he had developed for you, and so, so scared that you would get hurt because of him. It wasn’t fair for you, even if he meant entirely the opposite and had just realised how deeply he had fallen for you.

Because in a twist of events, his mind, his days, his songs, everything screamed your name, like a chant you wouldn’t- you couldn’t forget.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he cried, clinging to his pillow.

Changbin stared wide-eyed at Felix, both able to hear what was happening behind the door between them.

“You call her, or do I?” Bin sighed.

Felix’s eyes almost snapped out of place.

“Since when do you-?”

“C’mon, everyone here knows. He’s so fucking obvious, sighing all day long. It’s going to make him age faster.” Changbin somewhat mocked in a solemn tone. “So?” He shook his phone sideways.

“S’fine. I’m on it.”

Changbin then entered the room, startling Chan, who, after seeing the troublesome look in his friend’s eyes, quickly approached him, leaning on the crook of his neck. The rapper patted his back.

“Why does it ache so much?” Chan questioned weakly, feeling stupid. “I know the fucking dream by heart. How often do I have to see it again until it doesn’t hurt?”

“Because you care, Chan. It’ll hurt.”

“For how long?” He sounded in so much pain.

At this, Changbin sighed sadly.

“As long as you love her.”

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

When Chris went to open the door days later, he expected anyone behind it. Maybe it was Felix with more brownies, perhaps Changbin wanted to force him out of bed to go to the gym, or Jeongin needed his computer password again.

What he didn’t expect, however, was your figure on the other side, looking even prettier than any of the dreams he had about you.

You took a deep breath, but before you could say anything, he slammed the door, closing it. You could hear him leaning on it, sliding to the floor.

“Fuck, angel,” you cursed.

Angel. The nickname felt like a punch in the face, but he couldn’t help but want another one.

Instead of leaving, you leaned on the door, technically back to back if it weren’t for the wooden structure.

“Felix called me,” you started carefully, head directed towards the door. “Wanna talk about why? He didn’t say.”

Chan remained silent, feeling troubled because, on one side, seeing you could be his downfall, still fuck did he want to let go so much.

But he couldn’t. He had said it himself, year after year, hearing it too many times so that he had it tattoed on his mind. Why were you still behind that door?

Your sad laugh broke him into even more pieces.

“I fell in love, Chan,” you started, staring at the ceiling. “I fell in love with a man so selfless who would die for his loved ones, a man so integrally beautiful that he had no reason to hide his scars because even his battles were gorgeous.” You quickly rubbed your eyes, feeling them itchy as you held back tears. “And I didn’t do it knowing that it would be hard. I just...”

The corridor remained silent as much as the door stayed locked, the man behind it feeling like a small child who needed a big hug.

You gasped for air, your chest tightening, for your need to crumble, cry, and fall.

“Even if I didn’t know back then the crazy fans I’d have to face, or any of Dispatch’s cameramen, I…” Your tearful smile fainted a bit, your features as serious as you were about your feelings.

“I promised myself that if I was right, and you loved me as much as I know I love you, I’d fight for you.”

You unknowingly cried with him, knowing that no one, not even him, could save you from falling as intensely as possible and even more.

He had tried to protect you, save you, keeping you at a safe distance because he didn’t want to hurt you, but God, did it hurt being away from you. He was missing you, even when you were right by his side.

“I believe I did my fucking best, angel. I know you have feelings that make you think you’re the one to blame for what happened, and that makes you just want to give up, and I get it, Chan. That’s not your fault. But when I got hurt because of the accident, it wasn’t your fault either,” you sniffed, looking at the bandage that still covered your forearm, the ankle support you were wearing also crossed your mind.

“Why… why don’t you let me love you?”

You waited patiently, turning so silently that you could swear you heard his unsteady breathing.

“…you said it.”

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard his voice toned down as if he was hiding his face in between his legs.

“I said it wasn’t easy, angel, but that doesn’t mean that I am not willing to try. Don’t think for a second that means I’m giving up on you.”

You sighed, looking at the cloudy day through the window before you.

“Even knowing what I know now, I’d do it again, my angel.”

The silence threatened to break your heart, but you chose to keep fighting against it. You weren’t going to give up. Not yet.

You could still fight for him. Yeah. You could.

“I’m going to leave my sweater here.” You mentioned in a low tone of voice, your features showed calm before the storm. “After I leave, I’ll call and ask for it, and you’ll say that you can stop by my place tomorrow.”

He looked behind him as if he could see through the door. A small and sad smile was planted on his features as he couldn’t help but think your ideas were still as cute as he remembered them. You rose from the door with a grunt, your eyes red and teary, glued to the floor.

“You were always worth every fucking ounce of my effort, Chris, don’t you ever forget that.” 

In a sudden motion, you turned to face the door, startling him when you aggressively grabbed the doorknob, making it tremble, even though you never opened it.

“If… if you choose to just keep the sweater and call it a day,” you gasped, tears running down your cheeks silently. “I need you to know that I never believed what you said that night and… that I love you, angel.”

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

That night. The night.

The night where he had fucked up so badly.

His mind was a fucking mess, thoughts of you reeling in every minute. Your voice through the door, through the phone when you called asking for your oversized sweater —the same one he was wearing at the moment—.

The memory replayed itself, like how those we want to forget but keep haunting you, coming back.

A month ago, he had gotten a call from the hospital and had 100% freaked out. You mentioned you were fine, that it had just been an accident, but the man decided to rush to you regardless.

“Chris?” You noticed him tense up when you saw him enter your hospital room, his expression clouded with worry.

“Darling, what...? W-what happened?” His lips trembled, eyes wandering to the cast on your left leg and the bandage that trailed your right forearm.

“You should’ve seen the others,” you teased but sighed. “I need you to sit and calm down for a second, love,” you started.

The nickname made him hold back shivers because deep down he knew that if you didn’t call him ‘angel’ it was because something was wrong. He sat on the closest chair he could pick, moving it as if it weighed nothing, and turned to face you as fast as he could.

“I was surrounded by some sasaengs and cameramen. I’ve been for the past week. I never mentioned it to you because there’s no damn way you can do anything about it, and I don’t want to get between you and your job. It’s not my world, and besides, I can tolerate pictures or getting recognized, but, this time...” You took his hand into yours, his glare dull and worried, but you weren’t planning to lie to him after this, so you continued. “The cameramen surrounded me, and that attracted a group of girls. One of them threw coffee at me. Others felt brave enough to start screaming at me, explaining why my relationship was fake and that Chan, well, you, didn’t really love me.” You let out a snicker, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes.

Chris’ mind was working at full speed, immediately blaming himself for not knowing, for not noticing, for not doing anything else rather than what the company told him to do when netizens found out about your existence.

Deny, deny and deny. He lied his way through, but as the events were showing, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

He wasn’t enough.

You stroked his face lightly, waking him up.

“I’m okay, angel. I just happened to trip and fall in the wrong place and at the wrong time, and they didn’t care too much about me.” You smiled, sparing him the tale about how the girls started hitting you and throwing stuff at you, the cameramen stepping on you, either accidentally or on purpose. Chan’s eyes got teary when your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

You were in pain, in a hospital, just because of him? That felt… wrong. He loved you, so, so much. He needed to protect you, not just ignore the problem until it solved itself, even if he never knew what was happening in the first place. Guilt started spreading inside him, his chest tightening and his breathing speeding up in anxiety.

And that’s when he started thinking about the alleged master key that would end up being his fatal flaw.

That same night the doctors allowed you to go back home and told you to be careful and to take care of yourself. Chan had helped you, letting you use him for extra support on your way up to your apartment.

You melted on the sofa once you arrived, but you felt it in the tension that kept buzzing around you and your restless lover. You hesitated for a moment, but you could notice something was bugging him.

“Chan?”

He stopped in his tracks, but weirdly, he never turned to face you.

“…Is everything ok?”

You saw his posture tensing, turning to something bewilderingly defensive.

“No. Nothing is.” He breathed slowly, his insides trembling, his heart screaming in his head, telling him to stop talking.

You pouted, confused. “What are you-?”

“Can’t you see it?” His tone was aggressive.

Shut up.

“This isn’t going to work.” His posture was uneasy, he still didn’t- couldn’t look at you.

Shut up.

“Whatever we had isn’t worth this shit.”

God, Christopher, shut the fuck up.

Your lips trembled. ‘Whatever we had’? Shit. You felt sore, and you still smelled the coffee that girl had thrown at you. No. It wasn’t possible.

“I don’t believe you.”

Chan’s chest ached.

“Well, this is what’s happening. Believe it or not.” He turned restless again, still not daring to look at you, picking up the few things he had left in your apartment the past months. His hands trembled, his facade struggling to remain believable.

“Chan, wait.”

He quivered.

“Let’s talk about this. What’s wrong?”

“Everything is!”

“There’s no reason for us to end.”

He scoffed, his throat almost hurting.

“You’re clearly blind.”

“Did I do something wrong? We were fine yesterday. We’re ok, we-”

His hand gripped the doorknob as if it was going to wake him up from this nightmare. But this was real life, and he had to do it. For you.

Because that made sense.

What a fucking idiot.

“We’re far from ok.”

“Chan, please-“

“Nothing you can say will make me stay.” He said almost in a whisper, afraid that his voice would crack if he spoke too loudly.

Despite the advice you had received from the doctors, you lightly skipped your way to him, placing a hand on his forearm, your lips close to his ears. His breath hitched, and even if it was because that small contact was breaking him to pieces, you weren’t going to know anytime soon.

He had to leave now. Before the regret turned stronger.

“Chan.” You swallowed hard, your heart shattering to pieces. “If I can’t make you stay… just know I won’t leave. You know where I’ll be.” You stared at your hand as you slowly let go of him. You wanted to hug him, beg him to stay so bad. You wished to wake up from this nightmare soon.

Instead, you did what you thought was right.

“You have the choice, angel. Just… don’t be too late.”

God, he regretted every single part of it.

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

“Chan, what the fuck.”

Felix felt that sort of anger you could only achieve when being an empath. The ability to feel and comprehend his mate’s feelings allowed him to feel twice the anger when he wouldn’t just choose what was right from what was slightly easier.

“Hey, we said no judgement.” He sniffed, half of his face buried below the neck of your sweater.

It smelled like you.

Felix wanted to hit him. In the face. With a brick. Instead, he contented himself with one of Chris’ pillows.

“You.” hit “are.” hit “so.” hit “stupid!”

“Well, that shit ain’t new.” He mumbled, snatching the pillow away and laying on it.

“You are unbearable.” Lix hissed, much like a kitten would. “Go back to her once and for all, for fuck’s sake. I’m sure she’s been waiting for you all day.”

“I can’t.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I’m not ready to fight it.”

“I don’t think you have a chance, at this point.”

“It’s whatever, Lix.”

“SHE- Ugh.” The rage the blonde was feeling felt surreal, his hands aggressively pulling his hair. “She came here to give you an ultimatum, Chan! You absolute buffoon, she’ll think you don’t love her!”

“That’s not-!”

“Then why are you not leaving?!”

“Maybe that’s what’s best for her?!”

“Oh, so now it’s about her?!”

“IT’S ALWAYS BEEN!”

“SO LET HER CHOOSE!”

Silence filled up the room.

“Let her choose if she wants you or not.”

“And let her end up injured again?”

Felix took a deep breath, trying to calm down —and failing—.

“We both know that those kinds of accidents are not that likely to happen.”

“But it did-“

“Shut up.” Felix’s stare could kill any living being within a 3-meter radius. “The 3-year dating ban is over. You can talk to the fans and to JYP about this shit.”

“Still-“

“Nuh-uh. You can make it work, this ain’t some Romeo and Juliet impossible love bullshit or whatever the fuck you’re thinking.” Felix got closer to Chan, his stance still confrontational.

“Never, ever use the ‘I’m doing it for her’ excuse again. Life isn’t some fucked up song where you let go people because you love them, Chris.”

Before he stormed out of the elder’s room, he threw clean clothes at him.

“Get your shit together, go get her, and I’ll think about making more brownies for you, you absolute fucking dummy.”

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

The door in front of him looked exactly the same as how he had left it. The bell sounded the same.

But you, you looked different.

Maybe it was because he felt so touch-starved that you kept glowing around him. You looked ethereal, so much that he was scared to touch you, scared that he’d wake up in his bed again.

“Does this mean you’re keeping it?”

He stared down. He was still wearing your sweater.

You smiled slightly. “It looks better on you anyways.”

He entered your apartment, and you stood behind him.

“Is there anything you’d like to say before?”

He turned around at you, your heart racing.

“Before what?”

“Before I choose to do something else instead of talking things first,” you mentioned, your gaze moving from his eyes and his lips.

He gulped, seeing you getting closer and closer.

“I…”

You took his arms and settled them on your waist, locking yours behind his neck.

“If we’re going to argue, we’re going to do it like this,” you said in a whisper. The light smell of his cologne surrounded you faster than you expected, and you loved it.

His eyes grew big in surprise. Quickly, his hands tightened his grip on your waist, moving them to your face in a sudden action.

“You’re… here.”

The weak tone he used made your insides churn.

“Chan…”

“Mmhm?”

Your hands travelled to his chest, slightly creating distance.

“Please stop before I kiss you,” you whispered. “If I do, I don’t think I could-“

He gave you a small peck, interrupting you. He giggled softly as your expression turned into a surprised one.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling you.

“You look so pretty right now.”

You gasped, hearing his laugh.

“Don’t change the subject, mister!”

You both stood there, hugging each other, feeling like the nightmare was finally over. But Chan still had something to do.

“You don’t deserve what I put you through.”

Your hands caressed his back.

“That’s the excuse?”

“In my defence…”

“I’m listening.”

Chan dived even deeper in the crook of your neck, feeling content just by being in your arms.

“I forgot the excuse. I’m just sorry. I can’t even say it without feeling like a dick. I know it doesn’t make up for what I said or did. I couldn’t even look at you that day because I just wanted to stay with you, but I felt so bad. I love you so much I can’t stand it. I thought that maybe if I left… maybe I could save you.” His embrace tightened.

God, he missed you so much.

“I wasn't sure how much longer I could have taken this..." he said in a huff.

“I know I couldn’t, and your stupid ass wouldn’t do anything about it.”

He took your face in between his hands, his eyes red.

“I told you there was no reason for us to end, dipshit.” You whispered, laughing as you kept on crying, your hands travelling up to his. “We’ll make it work.”

He stroked your hair with one hand, sighing.

“I’m so happy you’re here.”

You couldn’t help but let out a smile, giving him another peck.

“…of course I’m here, idiot. I never left.”

~Kats, who you’ll most likely never see reading angst bc she’s a weak loser, yet here she is, stopping mid-writing cause she couldn’t see past her tears 🕳️👩‍🦯

ps: i wanted to mention @writer-in-the-dark-prompts bc i used some prompts from them and i think it’s a really cool blog!

#stray kids x reader #angst #stray kids angst #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids fanfic #bang chan #skz bang chan #chris bang #stray kids scenarios #skz #stray kids #stray kids felix #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you #skz scenarios #skz stray kids

[snowshowerwriting]

Hayloo!! Big fan of your blog here!💗💗

Just an idea that popped a while ago while I read this prompt! And I thought maybe you could continue it.. please?🥺 because it's really interesting!😊

maybe hero finds out that Villain is hurt and is a single father caring for his toddler daughter and so they help the villain care for his wounds and also parent the child in some way?

*cue in the hurt/comfort*

*fluff ensues in the process* while they bond over their fondness for the daughter or something along those lines?😅

I am so sorry if this is quite specific and confusing😭😭 You can go any way with this and it’s fine if this is not how you want the prompt to continue as a story!!☺

I hope you're doing well! and always take care of yourself!<33

THIS IS SO SWEET ANON WTFF. But no seriously that little short had always sorta stuck w me bc...idky? A villain parent working their ass off for providing for their child to at least give them something they didn't have just hits the emotions. That being said, I did cry while coming up concepts for this :')

---

"What's two plus five?"

There was a moment of silence as the young child spent the next minute counting on her fingers. Villain followed along with his eyes until the kid lit up. "Seven!!" She announced.

Villain gave a proud smile, ruffling his daughter's hair. "That's right, Sophie. Good job, darling," he turned back to the book, pointing at the next set of questions. However, before he could help his daughter work through the questions, the doorbell rang. Villain looked up, eyeing the bedroom door. "Did you invite your friends today?" He asked, looking at Sophie. Her eyes lit up but shook her head.

Villain sighed and smiled at his daughter, pressing a small kiss to her forehead. "Can you work out the rest of the questions while daddy goes and see who's at the door?" He asked, running his hair through her dark locks. Sophie simply smiled and gave a thumbs-up, melting Villain's heart. He got up, groaning a little as his leg began aching again.

Despite the urge to just lay down and rest his sore body, Villain left the bedroom and closed the door firmly behind him before approaching the front door.

Almost as soon as he opened it, his heart dropped, and he swore he would've fallen over if it weren't for the way he leaned against the door. Hero's glowing face greeted him from the other side and Villain could feel his heart stopping.

"Would this be Civilian Name's residency?" Hero asked though Villain only stared, frozen in horror. There were no sounds for a moment, aside from the heart pounding in his chest with the adrenaline that flowed in his blood now. His fingers twitched at the doorknob before Villain rushed to slam it close.

A panicked breath left Villain when Hero had caught the door and pushed it back with surprising ease. "I know this is your apartment, Villain," Hero's voice sounded from beyond the door. With a small grunt, Hero pushed the door back until they could make it past the entryway. They reached down to the set of handcuffs that hung at their belt as Villain stumbled back, wincing as he put a little too much pressure on his healing leg.

"Not today, please." The plea came out of Villain's mouth before either of the two could really process what Villain had said.

"You should've thought about that before you decided to be a criminal," Hero replied, closing the door securely. The crime fighter took in the sight of Villain, taking note of how the other trembled and looked like an animal caught in a trap.

Hero frowned and took a few steps forwards, cornering Villain against the wall of the kitchen and the small hallway. "Hero, please, not today. I can't- I won't fight if you do it some other time. Just not today," Villain continued, trying to bite back the quiver in his voice. There was a pause from Hero, as they took in the teared up and trembling villain ahead of them.

"Papa! I did it!"

Both the adults looked away from eachother, to the voice of a child from the other end of the hallway, outside the kitchen. Hero's eyes widened, and Villain scrambled to stand between his daughter and his nemesis. Hero couldn't help but take notice of the true panic in Villain's eyes now, the shaky breaths he took. There was quiet between the two adults as the small girl looked between Hero and Villain.

"Did you call your work friend, papa?" Sophie asked, innocently walking behind her father and peeking out at Hero.

Before Villain could reply, Hero had spoken up. "Yeah, he did," Hero smiled, dropping down to their knees to Sophie's height.

Villain almost choked on air with how quickly Hero changed their behavior. "Your dad needs a little help with his homework, so I've come to visit him." Hero glanced up at the glassy-eyed villain. "Did I interrupt your homework time? Sorry."

"No, um, it's fine Hero," Villain finally spoke up. He did his best to try and quell the shaking in his voice and his hands. "Why don't you go draw, Sophie? Papa will be there in a little bit after talking with, uh," Villain paused, glancing at Hero. He didn't expect to see the sympathetic look on Hero's face.

As Sophie disappeared, Hero stood, looking at Villain. "Is that your kid?" They asked, much gentler than before. It had caught Villain off guard, and he took a few steps back. Hero glanced down at his leg, before looking up at the father, guilt resting on their expression now. "How old is she?"

Although reluctant to do so, Villain eased his stance. In the few years he had gotten to know Hero, he was sure the other wouldn't hurt any kid, whether it was a civilian's or a villain's. "She just turned 6," he replied quietly, trying to calm his breathing. Hero's gaze dropped down to the other's leg again, and the villain shifted underneath his nemesis's scrutinizing eyes.

"It's been a week and a half since the battle. Has your leg still not healed?" Hero asked. Villain couldn't believe it, but it was even softer than before. He almost sank to his knees and cried in relief. Sophie would be safe. They wouldn't do anything to him or to her.

Villain meekly nodded, leaning against the wall. "I can't go to the hospital. Can't get caught an' stuff," he mumbled, looking down and crossing his arms over his chest. Hero's heart gave out at their nemesis' soft look. Slowly, they approached him, before softly resting their hand over his shoulder. Villain sighed shakily, glancing up at Hero warily.

"Let's get you patched up, first and foremost. And if you're alright with it, I'd love to meet Sophie." Villain almost cried at Hero's offer before he timidly nodded.

#snow.asks #hero x villain #heroes and villains #villain x hero #villains and heroes #writeblr #snippet #not a prompt #parent villain #this was really cute to write #very much fluff #it warms my heart <3 #thank u sm for requesting this anon

[countrymusiclover]

12 - Honeymoon Life

Part 13

The Lion's Bride

"Jaime, we're gonna get caught." I whispered as he pulled me down the stone stairs out to the ocean side we could easily climb in and out of to go swimming. I hold my nightgown up so I don't trip in my other hand with the wind blow through my braided hair. He finally stopped walking seeing him gazing across the water. The moon glows bright in the sky with the stars above our heads. He pulls his tunic shirt over his head smiling back at me, tilting his head towards the water. "Join me, Stark?" Dropping my gaze to the ground I play with part of my dress making him chuckle with a smirk. "Oh come now. You don't have to be bashful around me Juliet." He walks over tracing his fingers across my cheek resting his hand against it.

Tywin had threatened my life where we had a mouth to get a child in me and lose my maidenhood. It's been a couple weeks since we consummated the marriage and I have to admit Jaime and I can barely keep our hands off each other anymore. These past few weeks have felt like a fairytale with Tywin basically running the household. Even though he is supposed to be in King's Landing serving King Joffrey. I haven't gotten a chance to write to Sansa and ask how her marriage is going because I've been distracted with my own. "Do you always have to be cocky, Lannister?" I stick my tongue out at him, smirking before pushing him into the water.

"Seven hells women. How dare you." Jaime gasped shooting up in the water, a stunned expression on his face. I put my hands together in front of me showing a child like grin. "How dare you curse in front of your wife, Ser." Jaime scowled at me until I pull my dress over my head, jumping down into the water. Pushing my arms and legs up I pop my head out of the wall. Finally getting better at swimming since we've been coming out here. Draping my arms around his neck he pulls me against his chest arms wrapped around my waist. "Since we're coming up on a mouth since our engagement. I thought I should get you something." I throw my head back shaking my head at him. He is still cocky half the time but he hasn't given me gifts with all his families wealth. "Jaime, I don't need presents.."

He leans forward perking my lips with a smile he corrected his statement. "Well it's really from my father. But it's sound better coming from me." I shake my head biting my lip tilting my head up to gaze up at the stars. Jaime's eyes lifted to the sky for a split second then back down at you. "They're beautiful aren't they?" I mumbled remembering back at Winterfell the only way you could see them was if you were under the red tree in the Godswoods. "I've found something much more beautiful right in front of me." Jaime's voice pulls me from my trance with a cheeky grin. I lightly blush as he leans forward kissing me gently. I kissed him back raising my left hand twisting my fingers into his hair. "Juli, don't tempt me tonight." He moaned against my lips.

"I'd say your the one trying to seduce tonight, Jaime." I mumbled out a moan feeling him bury his face in the crook of my neck, leaving kisses. I wrap my legs around his waist before pulling out of his grasp swimming back to the rock ledge. Jaime climbed out shaking his head throwing water from his long blonde hair. I twist some water out of mime slipping the nightgown back over my head. He sits down his arms bent behind his head staring at the stars. I lay down beside him, my head resting on his warm bare chest. "Growing up my father was the only one to call me Juli. Until I met you, did you know that?" I lazily traced patterns on his chest until he turns his head.

Jaime shakes his head no brushing his wet hair away that had fallen in front of his eyes. He had been debating on telling you the truth. "You're the only girl I've ever met that can sword fight. Most just squeal and fall at my feet because of my name and looks." I smiled poking at his chest. "There's more to you than both those things. Although they did help you get a wolf girl." He leans forward kissing my forehead softly, pulling away he bites his lip in thought. Jaime got lost in thought just admiring you. He had to admit that he could still see Tyrion smirking at him from King's Landing. Back when they rode to Winterfell his brother could read that she made him happy.

"Juliet, would you feel the same way if I told you a secret...a deep secret?" He trailed off not looking me in the eye directly when asking the question. I grab his chin turning it so he's looking me in the eye. "You can tell me anything. That's how this arrangement should work. We should be able to tell each other anything." Jaime parted his lips staring at you about to speak until two creatures howled. Jaime and I whipped our heads up towards the stairs seeing our direwolves running straight for us. "Lyanna. Striker, come here pups." I sit up patting my lap that they both curl up in. The pair have grown quite a lot since the day we were given them. Jaime ruffled their fur sitting up as well. "Guess our little protectors couldn't stand to be away from us any longer." I smiled glancing back at my husband thinking we never finished our conversation. "So, what was it you were saying earlier?" Jaime blinked his green eyes a couple times shaking his head, scratching Lyanna behind her ears instead. "Oh it was nothing, my wolf. Let's just enjoy this evening." I simply nodded feeling like he had some big weight on his shoulders that he wanted to tell me.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#the lion's bride #jaime lannister #jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister x stark reader #jaime lannister x reader fanfiction #nikolaj coster waldau #tywin lannister #robb stark #richard madden #tyrion lannister #peter dinklage #house lannister #casterly rock #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #wattpad fanfictions #ask box is open for feedback #comments really appreciated #Spotify

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things between them deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing

Masterlist

Chapter 6

Spencer slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the morning light seeping in through the curtains. Jo was resting peacefully on his lap just like how they were during the movie. Unexpectedly however, Y/N was leant up against his shoulder, softly breathing. Spencer wished he could stay like this forever, this is how it should have always been. But then, he noticed the time on his watch and realized it was Monday morning.

Jo was tightly clinging on to his right arm so he slowly lifted his left hand and nudged you slightly. You mumbled and dug yourself further into the crook of his neck, clearly not awake yet.

“Y/N, it’s Monday and it’s 7:30 in the morning,” he whispered.

Your eyes shot open and you quickly distanced yourself from him.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-well you know,” you gestured to his shoulder.

“Josephine, baby, you need to get up now. Mommy forgot to set an alarm for school,” you gently shook the kid awake.

You lifted Jo up as she was beginning to wake and carried her upstairs to dress her.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Spencer called out.

“Could you pack her lunch? Give her a juice box, a fruit cup, a bag of cheez-it’s, and a PB&J please,” you shouted back.

Spencer ran to the kitchen, grabbing the empty dinosaur lunch box from Jo’s backpack. He grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer to keep the lunch box cool inside, putting in a fruit punch juice box and a diced peaches fruit cup with a spoon. He poured some cheez-it’s into a ziploc bag and sealed it shut. Then, Spencer located the peanut butter in the cupboards, slathering it on to the other slice of bread.

“Crust on or cut off?” he yelled upstairs.

“On is fine! Thank you!” you replied as you finished brushing Jo’s hair, starting to head downstairs.

“Jo, grab your lunch box from Spencer and thank him for making you lunch, put it in your backpack, and grab a pop-tart for the road. Mommy just needs to grab her work bag,” you said, putting on a tan blazer and pinning your hair back with bobby pins.

Jo nodded and thanked Spencer, grabbing a strawberry frosted pop-tart and running out the front door with her backpack.

“You know pop-tarts have only three grams of protein but are high in refined carbs like high fructose corn syrup. Studies show they actually can make you hungrier,” Spencer stated.

He wasn’t intending to take a jab at Y/N’s choice of breakfast for Jo this morning but you certainly took it that way.

“I’m sorry, have you raised a kid?” you asked sarcastically.

“No but who’s fault is that?” he snapped back, immediately regretting it.

Your hands fell from where they were adjusting your hair in the mirror. You did not look at him or say a single word as you collected your purse and laptop and began to walk to the door.

“Y/N, wait! I didn’t mean that,” he pleaded.

You inhaled and turned around.

“You don’t get to sit on your high horse and act like I didn’t do you a favor, Spencer,” you clenched your jaw.

“A FAVOR?” he asked incredulously, “You call missing six years of my daughter’s life a favor?”

“You’re seriously going to look me in the eye and tell me that if I called you seven years ago saying I was pregnant, you would have quit the FBI and moved back,” you questioned.

“I-”

“Even if you did quit, you would have ended up resenting us for not getting to fulfill your dreams so yeah I did you a favor.”

“So you think our daughter is some massive burden that you ‘took the bullet’ on? If you truly think that, then maybe I’ll just fight you for custody.”

“I was fully aware of my options back then. I chose to have Jo because she was my dream. But she clearly wasn’t yours because you left me the second you had something better lined up. And I’d like to see you fucking try to fight for custody, news flash! Your name isn’t on the birth certificate. You have no legal rights over Jo. But how dare you even threaten to take my child away from me over a fucking pop-tart, you asshole,” you stormed out the house, slamming the front door behind you.

The feeling in Spencer’s chest now the exact opposite of when he woke up this morning.

-

Please call me. I’m sorry, I was out of line.

You had a multitude of missed calls and texts from Spencer that you didn’t reply to but that was the first one he sent. One of them said he was being called away on a case so luckily he wasn’t showing up at your door every day.

It was Saturday night and Jo had fallen asleep on the couch watching Tom & Jerry cartoons. You clicked the TV off and carried her up the stairs. You tucked her under her dinosaur comforter and kissed her forehead.

“Bedtime story, Mommy,” she mumbled.

“Okay, which one?” you asked, looking at the bookshelf.

“Caltechia,” she said, opening her eyes slightly.

“What?” you furrowed your brow.

“Spencer told it to me. You know the one with the goofy knight that loves the elegant queen and pretty princess of Caltechia,” Jo stated matter-of-factly.

You smiled softly, “I’m sorry, Baby J, I don’t know how that one ends. Maybe Spencer can finish it for you some day. How about The Very Hungry Caterpillar instead?”

She nodded and her eyes fluttered shut once again as you began to read.

-

After flicking the lights off and gently shutting Jo’s door, you returned downstairs to grade some papers.

You got through about five when there was a soft hesitant knock on the door. You sighed, closing your laptop. Your TV was on as background noise and the lights in the living room were on so it was obvious you were home and still awake. You already knew who it was without even looking.

You opened the door slightly to see Spencer standing there with swollen puffy eyes and nervous fidgety hands.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly.

You opened the door all the way and plopped yourself back down on the couch.

“Jo is sleeping so if you came here to yell at me again, save it,” you huffed.

“No, I came here to apologize. I wasn’t trying to criticize your parenting. I was just stating a random fact I read, it was stupid. I’m sorry. And I’m also sorry that I escalated the argument instead of trying to defuse it,” he spoke softly.

“I’m sorry too. I should have known that it was just another statistic. Some things never change,” you laughed softly.

“But Y/N, you knew that I had a father that abandoned me and my worst fear was becoming him and you still kept Jo from me anyways,” he whispered with watery eyes.

“You know how you claimed you broke up with me to protect me? I thought keeping Jo from you so you didn’t have to make that decision was kind of like protecting you. You can’t abandon a child you didn’t know existed.”

“Well, I know about her now and I’m not abandoning her. I don’t want to. Can you please let me be her dad and not just her father?” he pleaded, wiping away the tear that rolled down his cheek.

“We can tell her at breakfast in the morning and you can come with us to the park tomorrow. I guess we could work out some days that you can drop her off at school or pick her up and keep her for dinner. But she sleeps here, I’m not budging on that for now. She needs some consistency if we are going to spring this on her,” you replied.

“Yes! Yes! Thank you,” he excitedly whisper-shouted.

Without even realizing what he was doing, Spencer pulled you in for a hug. He soon realized when you tensed in his arms.

“Oh-uh I’m sorry,” he stuttered, pulling his arms back, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

He awkwardly waved as he made his way to the door.

“Good night, Spencer.”

“Night, Y/N.”

You pulled back the window curtain a little to watch Spencer walk out of your driveway. He had his back turned to you but you saw him pump his fist in the air and jump up and down a few times before collecting himself and beginning to walk away with a smile on his face. You laughed to yourself. Still the same old goofy Spencer.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer reid #reid x reader #cm fic #spencer reid x you

[random-outsiders-shiz]

Bugs, Snails, and Frog Hunting

Sodapop Curtis watched the boy, maybe a few months older than him, sitting on the ground. He was sitting in the Lot, where he and his friend Two-Bit would go sometimes to joke around, maybe smoke. At least, Two-Bit would. Sodapop didn't like smoking unless he was bothered or wanted to try looking tough. 

But this boy wasn't smoking. He had a stick in his hand, poking something. It made Soda curious. He ran to the boy, who looked up at him with squinty eyes and a raised eyebrow. "What're you doin'?" he asked, looking down at the boy.

"Pokin' a bug," the older boy replied, going back to poking what looked like a beetle with thr broken twig in his hand. "What're you doin'?"

Sodapop looked at the beetle and shrugged. "Nothin'." It was the truth. He'd been sitting and watching him from the porch for a moment now. He saw him at school sometimes, and the boy seemed to make as good grades as Sodapop did. 

The boy stood, dropping his stick and wiping dirt covered hands on his dirtied up jeans. "I'm Steve Randle," he said, holding out his hand with dirt and oil all over it.

Soda smiled and grabbed the boy's hand, not thinking about whatever Darry and their mom would say. "Sodapop Curtis."

Steve's eyebrow went back up, and Sodapop automatically knew why. "That's your real name?" Steve asked. Soda waited for him to make fun once he nodded, but Steve just looked excited. "That's pretty tuff, man."

"Thanks," Sodapop said, giving him the same smile that had fallen from his face just a second before. He decided that he already liked this kid.

*~*~*~*

A couple of weeks later, the Curtis family was having breakfast at their dining room table. Ponyboy, seven years old at the time, looked sad about something, and Sodapop knew it was the same thing he was sad over.

"It's not the end of the world," their mother, Sandra Curtis, said as she took a quick bite of milk, "if you don't get chocolate cake, boys." Even Darry looked sad over it. All of the boys of the family (even their mom) loved chocolate stuff. It never felt right to not have it.

They heard the front door open, and in walked Steve Randle. Sandra sighed, shaking her head. Soda (and evidently, she herself) had thought she'd locked the door, and Steve wouldn't be able to come inside. She winced at the dirt the boy brought into the house.

"I brought you somethin'," he said, gesturing his cupped hands to their mother. He set down a small object, and Soda recognized it as a snail shell. "Found it out in the Lot."

Sandra raised an eyebrow and smiled. Although messy, she liked the boy. She picked up the shell, looking at it closely in case a head popped out. "Nothin's in there, Miss Curtis." 

"Thanks for making sure," she said, taking a sip of orange juice. She was the only one at the table without chocolate milk, even Darrel Curtis Sr. drinking some. "You're a good kid, Stevie."

Steve seemed to brighten a bit at her words, and Soda noticed a black ring around his eye. He knew that his dad yelled at him a lot, but no way woild he hit him...

Right...?

*~*~*~*

"Naw, Sodapop,"  a fourteen year old Steve said from where he stood in the lake, water lapping at his face ankles. He stood only in his plain white boxers, clothes being left on the grass. "You just gotta know where to look."

Soda rolled his eyes, slipping off his shirt. "I don't see no frogs, Stevie-boy," he said, shaking his head. It was a Saturday, and Soda finally got some time off of school. Steve didn't have to go anymore, a dropout. 

"Bullshit."

"Bullfrogs," Soda remarked with a grin.

Steve glared at him. "Don't you start that shit, Sodapop Curtis," he warned playfully. 

Sodapop laughed as he rolled up the cuffs of his jeans. "Five bucks says we ain't finding nothing," he said, and Steve nodded.

"I'm willing to take that bet."

#sodapop curtis #steve randle #the outsiders #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #darrel curtis sr. #sandra curtis (name headcanon by moi-) #kinda stevepop if you squint #stevepop #tiny steve randle #tiny sodapop curtis #i t r i e d #shorty short short oneshot #oneshort?

[jungkookiebus]

Grain of Sand | jjk

Genre: smut x fluff x established relationship x slice of life Pairing: blind!jjk x reader Rating: 18+ Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: cunnilingus, (light) ass play, fingering, jungkook fucks you against the kitchen sink so i guess that can be a warning, creampie Summary: Blind since the age of 18 from a genetic disorder, Jungkook walked through life as if he never lost it, but on one fateful day seven years ago he literally almost runs into you. He fell in love nearly immediately. Fast forward to the present and it’s just another day in your quiet life with him by your side.

Bright, warm sunshine filled the hallway of your home from the windows that lined the wall. It was one of the reasons you picked this house. You imagined hanging pictures up on the wall for the morning sun to rise upon and, at night, you could still easily see them in the light of the moon. And that’s exactly what you did when you moved in two years ago. Jungkook walked ahead of you, fingers delicately skimming the wall right beneath the pictures. The wall there looked more worn than the rest, a little oily sheen to it from his fingertips. Walls all over your home had these trails. They were like highways for him, directing him to the living room, kitchen, and every room in between. Sometimes, like now, you’d run your fingers along his path lovingly, grazing your fingers underneath your wedding photo.

“What would you like for breakfast?” he asked, and you saw as he tilted his head a little, knowing you were following quietly behind him.

You hummed in thought. You never really were that hungry as soon as you woke up, but the smell of breakfast always made your stomach growl.

“What about…eggs and bacon?”

“Toast?”

“Oh, yes, Taehyung gave us some fresh strawberry jam he made.”

He hummed in a content agreement, turning the corner ahead of you, two fingers brushing the dull edge as he continued down the hallway. The light overhead was still off, and the early morning sun had yet to reach this part of the house, but Jungkook moved by memory and his worn wall path before moving into the kitchen. As he walked into the room, you reached for the light switch and flicked it on.

“What would you like me to do?” you asked. You leaned against the counter as you watched his hands skim the cabinets, and you knew he was counting in his head, until he got to the one he wanted. He pulled out a pan as his other hand reached for the stove, hand finding the burner, before moving it to sit the pan down.

“Uh, if you want to grab the ingredients, that will help.”

“Sure thing, sweet pea.”

Jungkook laughed as he reached for the oil that sat by the stove.

“I should be calling you pet names.”

“You do all the time and you’re just too cute not to.”

Opening the refrigerator, you pulled out the necessary amount of eggs and bacon as not to cause confusion with a clutter of items.

Jungkook lost his sight at the ripe, but terrible age of 18. Retinitis pigmentosa was the cause of his progressive vision loss. Around 10, he started showing signs when he complained about not being able to see outside when he played later in the afternoon, even when the sun was still bright on the horizon. His parents’ worst fears were confirmed with his diagnosis and the heartache of explaining to their son that he would lose his vision completely was devastating. But Jungkook proved strong and focused on studying Braille and doing whatever he could to prepare himself. Over the years, his vision worsened, he didn’t get to get his driver’s license with his friends, and he missed out on many things, but that didn’t stop him from pursuing his passion in music. He felt a connection when he made music because without his vision, it made him that much more acute in his studies. You met Jungkook in college, both music majors, and the reason you had met was because he had accidentally thwacked you with his white cane.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” he had said reaching in your direction.

You had laughed and at first his face was set into a confused expression until you spoke.

“Oh, that little thing couldn’t even leave a mark if you had done it intentionally.”

His face screwed up as he tried to hold in a laugh but was unable to do so at your incessant giggling. When you spoke again was when he thinks he fell in love with you, but there were too many moments to count for him.

You nudged the end of his completely white cane with your foot, no red or other markings. “Completely blind, huh?”

You hadn’t said it with any disdain or judgement; you had said it as if you were just having curious, casual conversation. Most of the time Jungkook felt as if his blindness made him invisible to people as if it were some curse to have and if they accidentally came close to him, they’d hurt him or themselves. Of course, he had his close friends and family that didn’t even remember he was blind half the time, but society always kind of sucked that way.

But you, you were the first girl he had ever met that so blatantly astonished him within the first few minutes and his heart flipped in his chest. He didn’t even need to see you to know that you were perfect, and he would end up with you one day. And, sure enough, five years later you were married and looking for a new home.

“How does this one sound?” you asked one night over your tub of chocolate ice cream.

You both sat at your small kitchen table in your small apartment. Jungkook had one headphone in listening to an audiobook, head resting in his hand as his other played absently on yours. You were scrolling through houses on your phone, trying to find the both of you the perfect one. Jungkook hit pause on his book and looked in your direction. Despite his blindness, nothing about his eyes had really changed; they were still a beautiful brown and they were your favorite to see in the evening light, sunset set his eyes aflame.

“Babe, as long as the layout is easy to memorize and it’s what you want, it’s perfect for me.”

“I love you,” you whispered. Tears filled your eyes at the content look on his face, a slight smile played on his lips. You were truly happy with him, sharing every moment together, and to the fullest, but parts of you did feel sad that he couldn’t see it.

“My god,” he whispered somewhat dramatically and suddenly your tears became a small laugh because you knew where this was going. “If your love were a grain of sand…”

“Mine would be a universe of beaches,” you whispered back.

Now, here you were, in your home with its innocuous fingertip paths lining your walls in an intimate artwork that was priceless to you.  

With your back to the counter you leaned and watched as he moved. You only offered help occasionally and when he asked for it, but you were content to watch. His hands always moved lithely, so smooth, as he reached for objects. He cracked the eggs easily into the hot pan as he began to hum. He’d sometimes hum, sometimes sing, but he’d always choose a song about the same length each time and that was how he timed his cooking. The bacon popped loudly.

“Oops, fire’s too high.” He turned the knob to lower the flame before carefully putting his hand back on the handle of his pan. He picked his song up a few seconds after where he left off. The eggs were frying perfectly in the pan, not that you expected any less.

You pushed away from the counter to start grabbing plates as he neared the end of his song. Before long, he had both plates perfectly set with eggs and bacon as you carried the toast to the table. You buttered and spread the strawberry jam on two pieces, dropping one on his plate as you brought them over. He followed behind you, hand on your waist lightly before sitting down at the table.

“What are we gonna do today?” you asked as you bit into the toast. “Holy shit Taehyung knows what he’s doing with this stuff.”

His smile was bright as he cut into his eggs. “What do you feel like doing?”

The sun was now up over the horizon, spilling into the windows and across your kitchen. You had hung various glass artwork throughout the house and right now the stained glass flower you had hung above the kitchen sink cast an array of colors into the room. Jungkook looked like moving artwork across from you. The colors shifted and changed as he moved, leaning back in his chair then forward again, elbow on the table, moving for a napkin, and each time he did splashes of red, green, blue, and yellow painted his skin.

You hadn’t realized you had fallen silent until Jungkook cleared his throat. “Babe?”

“Sorry, I was thinking.”

“About what?”

“The stained glass is casting a lot of pretty colors on you right now and I got distracted.”

“I bet it looks wonderful.”

He smiled softly as he reached for his glass of milk.

“Describe it to me?” He pushed his plate to the middle of the table as he finished. Placing his head in his hands, he looked in your direction, his eyes averted just down from your eyes and somewhere near the apples of your cheeks. Even if he rarely ever made eye contact, your soft voice always lulled him in and pointed him in the right direction.

“Remember when we’d get those cheap plastic kaleidoscopes as kids?” You pulled his plate towards you and stacked it on your own.

He laughed softly at the memory. “I used to think they were so cool, but the pieces inside were just as cheap as the outside.”

“Well think of that…just prettier.” His smile grew wider as his eyes closed and you knew he was thinking back on a memory. Probably a summer day down by the shore, the salty sea air, and the sun on his face. His mom is with him and everything is so bright. He sees the water and the way it stretches to the horizon, but in his peripheral it’s a little darker. For now, he’ll enjoy the waves.

You stood up and took the plates to the sink and began pulling the pots off the stove and putting them under the water with the rest. The sun still shone through the stained glass in front of you. You got lost in thought, hand still under the water waiting for it to heat up as you stared unblinking and the slightly swaying piece of glass. You jumped when a pair of hands softly caressed your hips.

“Shit,” you whispered. You were snapped out of your daydream and you shakily grabbed the sponge before pouring soap over it.

His lips came down on your neck. “Did I scare you?”

“Yea that was real dickish of you.”

He laughed against your neck as he snaked his arms fully around you and held you close. You began scrubbing at a pan as he hummed lightly, placing yet another kiss to your skin. He inhaled deeply and let his warm breath out slowly.

“You smell good,” he murmured.

“Well, I did take a shower last night….” You put the pan in the drying rack before reaching for another one.

His arms tightened around you and he brought himself a little more flush with your body. He hummed again as he moved his lips along the top of your exposed shoulder.  

“What, pray tell, are you doing?” you asked in a mock accent as your hands dove blindly into the water as you searched for more dishes.

“Kissing you,” he said between small pecks.

“Okay.” You pulled a spoon from the filthy depths of the dish water when Jungkook’s hands moved back to your hips and his fingers dug lightly into them.

“Don’t move,” he whispered before dropping to his knees behind you.

Folding his fingers under the waistband of your shorts, he slowly began to pull them past your hips.

“What are you-“ You tried to turn around but keep your hands over the sink at the same time and you could only swivel so far at the hip.

“Shhh.” He kissed the small of your back and then the swell of your ass as he began to palm your ass cheeks. Slowly, he spread them further and further as he placed kisses along your skin. Your body had gotten whiplash; one second you were washing dishes and the next Jungkook was on his knees behind you. You shook slightly and your internal temperature began to rise. Suddenly, having your hands in the warm water became overbearing. You pulled them out and then clung desperately to a dish towel, but there was no way you were drying your hands right now. You felt his lips again and they were on the underside of your ass this time. You clutched the edge of the sink as you stared into the intricate flower in the glass.

Behind you, Jungkook spread your ass and dipped his head, tongue finding your cunt immediately. He hummed into you and you clenched. He spread them further as he licked at your center before he moved to your ass.

“A-ah,” you stuttered as you leaned more into the counter. His face was buried in your ass eating you out until he almost had your thighs shaking before he moved back to your now embarrassingly wet cunt. His moan was deeper this time as you dripped deliciously onto his tongue. Your mind seemed to exit the room as he shook his head, deepening this lewd kiss. He pushed himself up more on his knees, wanting to get as deep into you as he could. Your cries rose in pitch as your thighs began to shake. Your palms dug into the edges of the counters but all you could think about was him. He moaned the more you clenched, getting closer and closer to the release he wanted to give you. You could barely breathe now, and you were nearly on your tiptoes. All the while, Jungkook had his hands firmly on your thighs now with his face anchoring him to your body. You rocked back into his face and his moans began to pitch now, hands almost kneading at your thighs as he wrapped his hands around the front of them, pulling you harder into his face. Your mind felt as if it were on the brink of shutting down as your whole body began to shake. Every muscle in your stomach tensed as you felt yourself tumbling forward.

Different variations of his name fell from your lips in rapid succession as you crested the hill of your release. You fell over it when a large breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your body shuddered and it felt as if all the blood inside rushed to your cunt. Jungkook was still eating you out as you came on his face, nearly crying into the kitchen sink. His grip on your thighs loosened first and then his tongue slowed. Your body shuddered every now and then from the aftershock. He kissed the underside of your ass again before standing. He pulled you into him again and held you close as you caught your breath. He kissed the side of your neck as his cheek rested against your skin.

“You taste good, too,” he mumbled.

You let out a shaky laugh. He had said it so nonchalantly as if he weren’t on his knees, face nowhere to be seen, just minutes before.

“Now, my kaleidoscope eyes,” he reached for the back of your knee and brought your leg upwards, “I need you to rest this here.”

He had your leg up on the counter comfortably and then he dipped his hand back between them. Your hips jerked involuntarily as he played with your painfully swollen clit. He circled the tips of his fingers on it softly. He kissed your skin delicately, reverently. The sun rose higher in the sky and from behind your eyelids you could see various colors of orange, blue, and red.

“You always describe the world so beautifully to me,” he whispered.

“I-I don’t want you t-to miss out.” You were a mess and he was making you an even bigger mess.

“Your vision of the world is far better than anything I could dream up.”

His fingers pressed a little harder and you wanted to clench around something only to be met with air. You whined a little as his breath picked up against your skin and he rutted into you. You felt his cock through his sweats and your mouth instantly watered. He hummed again as you began to drip on his fingers as he dipped them before pushing inside of you. He let out a shuddering breath as you swallowed his fingers fully, clenching hard around him. He pushed into you again, cock hard against your ass and he leaned into you as you pressed further into the counter.

“Tell me what you want,” he said gruffly as he pumped his fingers inside of you.

Your toes curled against the countertop, knee hitting a mug across the marble surface but neither of you bothered to acknowledge it. Jungkook was rutting into you now and breathing hotly into your ear. His other hand was on your breast kneading it roughly.

“God, Jungkook, just fuck me already.” You were doubled over with him hot on your back. His fingers pumped faster and faster and you were on your tiptoe again. You pushed your hips into him as he gave two more hard thrusts into you before pulling his fingers away.

His hands were only gone for what seemed like seconds before he had one on your hip and the other rubbing his cock between your folds. You moaned as you anticipated him. You didn’t have to wait long before he was sliding inside of you easily. His body was hot against yours and his skin against your ass was even hotter. His hand was at your breast again kneading as his heavy cock slid in and out of you slowly as if he were trying to make this moment last forever.

“What colors do you see now?” he whispered. His voice sounded strained like he was holding back. How were you supposed to concentrate?

You squinted when you were finally able to open your eyes; the sun was higher and brighter in the sky since you last looked. All you could think about was his cock softly nudging against the nerves inside of you, but he wasn’t going fast enough to really stimulate anything. You pushed your hips back into him again, but he didn’t take the bait as he pinched your nipple through your shirt. His other hand was anchoring your leg to the counter so you couldn’t move it from where he placed it. Plentiful soap suds were all over the sink and slowly popping but there was enough for the colors to be cast in a strange refracted way. The angle of the light caused more rainbows to shine from the hundreds of tiny bubbles. You reached out and braced yourself on the windowsill above the sink before you spoke.

“All of t-them. They’re shining on the soap now.” You were no stranger to describing things to Jungkook, but during sex was a new one.

He seemed satisfied as his pace quickened. His lips were on your neck, wet, and travelling upwards until he bit your earlobe between his teeth. Once again, you were pushing your hips into him as much as he’d let you. He was much too strong pushing you against the counter and his hand on your leg limited your movements.

“Jungkook, please.” You were breathless now, travelling up to that peak again but you needed more than this. He didn’t need to ask to hear your underlying question. He pressed against you harder while at the same time quickening his pace. The hand on your breast splayed across your chest before he moved it slowly down your stomach. Your breath caught in your throat as your stomach tightened. He was dipping his fingers between your legs again and pressed two fingers to your clit. Your chest came flush with the edge of the counter now and you felt Jungkook’s cheek on your shoulder blade. You reached for anything to brace yourself after your sweaty palm slid from the windowsill. You knocked soap and various other items down, sending some splashing into the water and others into the empty side of the steel sink. Jungkook ignored the clattering of items as he began to snap his hips harder. The pressure he had on your clit was barely there but enough to have you straining and willing your body to fall, but you just whimpered as you cried into the sink. He controlled your orgasm and all you could do was fall into the delectable pleasure he was giving you because you knew he always delivered. There was no way he was letting you physically walk away from this.  

The room grew hotter the higher the sun climbed as it cast its menagerie of colors onto your face. The ends of your hair gathered the water droplets collected in the sink as your body shifted with each thrust. Without his sight, Jungkook was acutely more aware to other parts of your body. Like the way your cunt would flutter and tighten like a vice the closer you got your orgasm. He could practically feel the muscles in your back tense up as you focused all your attention to the burning in your abdomen. He pressed his fingers a little harder before moving them faster on your clit. The nerve endings inside were lit on fire, sending the hot flames licking in your core and up into your chest as every hair on your body stood on end as your skin flushed with goosebumps. You began to tremble, thighs cramping as you brought yourself fully up on your toes, other leg sweating against the marble counter. Jungkook’s large hand was still firm on the back of your thigh, keeping your leg up on the edge as he fucked into you faster and harder. You were crying loudly now, not holding anything back as he led you towards the end. Your orgasm hit with an explosion of colors behind your eyelids, aided by the stained glass. Jungkook’s fingers abandoned your clit in favor of bringing you more upright to turn your face enough for a searing kiss; his lips skated across your cheek before he found yours and you moaned into his mouth. He still thrust, ready to follow you down the other side and you clenched harder around him almost making it impossible for him to stay inside, but he had his hips hard against yours and into the counter in front of you. He braced himself against your thigh, his other hand on the counter now, and his lips still on yours as he spilled inside of you. Hot cum began to leak immediately around him and onto the floor. Usually you had your closed legs to keep it contained but now he was dripping all over the kitchen floor. Not that you minded. His moans dropped in pitch as he continued to thrust, overwhelmed by the feeling of you and his cum filling you up and then spilling out. With hips stuttering a few more times, he stilled. Without his movements you could now feel the slip of his cum as it came out of you. Slowly, he let go of your thigh and eased it to the floor. You winced as your cramped muscles begged for relief, but he was gentle in his movements, letting you adjust. He kissed your temple and the side of your face while you tried to regain your breath. Your legs felt as if they’d give out at any moment as they wobbled dangerously, but his steadfast grasp around your waist kept you upright.

The early morning sun still climbed in the sky, now out of view of the stained glass. The kitchen was yet again cast in the muted glow as it hid behind the trees, a display of leaves now covered the room in a strange dance. Jungkook was silent behind you, but still holding you close as he waited for your legs to regain their strength. The dishes sat scattered and forgotten in the sink and on the counter. The last of the soap bubbles were popping away and any hint of the colorful display was gone except for the stained glass now hanging somewhat plainly in the window.

He pulled you impossibly closer, face nuzzled into your neck as he hummed a nonsensical tune.

“Thank you,” he whispered. You were silent, knowing he had more to say. “Thank you for bringing color into my world.”

You squeezed his hand that was around your waist. You didn’t have to say much for him to understand, but what he didn’t know was how much he had brought into yours.

“If your love were a grain of sand…” you began.

“Mine,” he said with a whisper and a kiss to your exposed shoulder, “would be a universe of beaches.”

#smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook #blind!jungkook #jungkook x reader #reader insert #established relationship #nonidol!au #slice of life

[viperbarnes]

The Tie That Binds – [Two of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: This is entirely un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!

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The room is cold enough that you can see your breath in the air. Around you, the low hum of activity signals the debrief after a mission well-done, various personnel seeing to their jobs as you do yours.

The Winter Soldier sits as still as a statue in the chair set out for him, already waiting when you’d arrived. You’d been in the middle of some of the best sleep you’d had in weeks when your cell door had flung open, and you’d been unceremoniously dragged from your bed. Even though they blindfolded you every time, by now you knew the way to the debrief room by heart.

You aren’t sure how long they’ve had you, time passes strangely when you only ever saw the inside of a cell. You’d attempted to keep track at first, but eventually you’d lost count of how many days had passed, or if they had at all… for all you know, you’d been counting nights, anyway.

It must have been years at this point.

You work quietly on the Soldier’s arm, the incredible piece of machinery and engineering the only bright spot in your confined life, but even that had worn thin some time ago. You were never permitted to really look at it, just fix any faults or problems that it had. And it certainly had its faults. After you’d first been taken, and you’d realised there was no way you were ever leaving here alive, you’d tried to make do, to make the best of your situation.

After every mission, the Soldier would need repairs made to the artificial limb which, while an astounding piece of biomechanical engineering, seemed to be oddly fragile. You had kept yourself busy, thinking up ways to improve elements of the arm, so that it wouldn't need so many repairs, but when you had approached someone vaguely in charge about it, you’d been told to keep your mouth shut.

Interestingly, a few of your proposed improvements seemed to present the next time you’d worked on him, though, none were executed in ways that made them truly useful.

You keep your head down as you work, eager to finish as soon as possible. You didn’t often pay much mind to the goings-on around you when you were called to service, but the heated conversation happening several meters away from where you sat beside the Soldier put you on edge.

A man in a suit and a man in nondescript military fatigues seemed to be having a barely civil discussion, moving in and out of English, and what you think may be Russian. The man in the military fatigues was one you’d seen plenty of times before. He never spoke to you directly, but the soldiers and guards of the facility responded to him like the lash of a whip. You’d heard him referred to as Karpov, and you can only assume he was in command of this facility.

The man in the suit however, you’d only seen a few times, and only ever in the debrief room when the Soldier had returned from a mission. He was American, his accent made that much clear, but further than that you didn’t know.

You’re still leant over the metal limb, several of its outer panels peeled open and removed so that you may access the mechanics inside, when the heated conversation gets nearer. You flinch at the movement out of the corner of your vision, causing your tweezers to tap into a wire that they really shouldn’t. The result is a small spark, and a slight shock for your ‘patient’, and though he doesn’t move an inch, when you hiss at your own mistake, and swivel your eyes up worriedly, you find he’s dipped his chin enough to watch you out of the corner of his eye.

You can’t tell if he’s glaring or not, his face always sullen and morose, but briefly you feel the urge to apologise.

You don’t however, fearing a reprimand from either of the arguing men who still near.

“You hide behind that book, Karpov.” The American man shakes his head.

“Without me and my book, you are nothing.” Karpov all but spits back. You feel your body stiffen as they begin to circle around the Soldier, and you by extension.

“Is that right?” The American man taunts, stopping on the other side of the chair to you and planting his feet. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Солдат, убей ее.” He commands in perfect Russian.

Before you can even register what is happening, there is a hand around your throat, forcing you back and up, until your feet have left the ground. A crashing sound joins the sudden chaos, your small workbench of tools upended and scattered over the concrete floor, all other personnel in the room backing themselves against walls or desks as they watch on in shock and surprise.

You can only gasp as your airway is constricted, and you’re left to claw pathetically at the hand that has raised you from the ground. Fear and adrenaline fuel your futile fight, and you look desperately to Karpov, who watches on in thinly veiled horror.

Your eyes feel ready to pop from their sockets, your ears filled with nothing but the sound of your own blood when you’re suddenly released, dropping to the ground like a sack of bricks.

You gasp for air, the cold burning your throat and lungs as you drink it down. You scurry back out of pure instinct, spluttering and terrified, sending your fallen tools even further in every direction.

The American turns to his companion, a smug expression smeared across his features. You can’t hear what he says, your senses still too scrambled to pick it up properly, but he gestures to you, leaving Karpov with some final words before he turns on his heel and leaves.

You’re still shaking, gasping for air in terror when Karpov finally turns back to you.

He orders you to finish your work, and then he leaves.

You wake with a soft gasp.

Swallowing thickly, you force your eyes shut again as you take in several deep breaths, calming yourself as best you can. Unable to help yourself, you lift a hand to delicately touch your throat, where the bruises from your dream feel all too real for several seconds, before they fade into memory.

You could have died then, you’re sure of it. All your suffering, all the effort HYDRA went into seeking you out, it would have amounted to nothing. And for what? A petty power play?

It makes you feel small, which makes you angry.

You know they were an evil Nazi organisation and all, but they’d upended your entire life, completely ruined any semblance of normalcy you could ever hope to have again, and they hadn’t even had the decency to act as if you weren’t replaceable.

For all you did know about HYDRA and it’s going ons, there was so much you didn’t know. After you’d been freed, you hadn’t gone out of your way to seek out information, everything you knew was everything you’d found out about during your court hearings.

When Captain Rogers had brought down SHIELD and HYDRA, there had been a dozen raids on known facilities, the one you’d been at at the time being one of them. But bureaucracy would be bureaucracy and they’d had to officially investigate and clear your name before you were truly free to go.

There wasn’t much question about your innocence though, HYDRA hadn’t really bothered to code any of their notes or files on you or your capture.

By the time they’d let you go, you were more than willing to disappear and never hear about HYDRA or SHIELD or anything else to do with it ever again.

You’d managed it for almost seven years, too, until The Winter Soldie– Bucky– had shown up.

You chew on your lip and glare up at your ceiling, and then, with a hefty sigh, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, and the slip of paper tucked beneath it.

---

Once more, you marvel that the man before you is the same as the one who occasionally haunted your dreams.

It was rather incredible what simple expression could do to change a face.

Bucky Barnes sits in the corner of the coffeeshop looking both innocuous and extremely out of place as he fiddles with the gloves he still wears. His distraction must be true, because he only notices you once you’re already halfway to the booth, his face lighting up with recognition. For a moment he looks as though he might stand up to greet you, but you give him no time to do so, quickly sliding yourself in across from him with a thin smile.

“Thank you for meeting me.” You greet, settling yourself into the seat. Bucky waves you off with a shake of his head and seems to adjust himself in his place.

“Of course… is something wrong…?”

It’s strange to you, that you can pick out nervousness in his voice, that he would let himself be so readable, but then you wonder if he even realises. You give him another thin smile and shake your head, but reach for the menu.

“No. Nothing is wrong. Have you ordered?”

After two coffees are delivered to your table, yours a simple latte, and his a caramel mocha with marshmallows that you have to raise your brow at, you settle in once more and focus on why you’d asked him to come.

“You said… when you approached me, you said you were trying to make amends…?” You say, but it comes out more like a question than you intend. Bucky’s brows knit together and he nods.

“To be of service.” He confirms. A part of you bristles at that, a part that thinks he’s done quite enough of serving others for one lifetime, but you brush the thought aside.

“I– I thought of something that maybe you could help me with…” You aren’t expecting his face to light up the way it does, or for him to lean forward almost unwittingly. Momentarily you’re reminded of a very good dog.

“I don’t know much about HYDRA. Or why they did what they did… but I want to know.” You find yourself unable to meet his eye fully as you say this, instead focusing on gently turning your coffee cup around in place on its saucer.

“If you have questions, I’ll answer everything I know.” Bucky tells you a moment later. Something in his voice makes you feel as though he understood, and you wonder if he’d felt the same at some point. You look up at him briefly, grateful for the lack of judgement.

“Do you remember everything that you did? Were you aware of what was happening, or does it just feel sort of dream-like now?” You can’t help but blurt out seconds later, as if the opportunity might be gone in a few few minutes. Bucky blinks, and you can see him restraining the small quirk of his lips as he takes a sip from his cup and places it back down again.

“It’s a little bit of both. I remember everything, but it does feel ‘dream-like’, in retrospect.” He tells you.

“Who was Karpov?” Your next question makes him pause, a brief, almost undetectable flash of disgust and anger crossing his features before he clears his throat and speaks again.

“A Soviet, then Russian intelligence officer… He ran the program for a time…” Bucky frowns as he speaks. You nod, having thought as much.

“He’s dead, now.” He adds after a moment, and you glance up at him questioningly.

“Wasn’t me.”

You proceed to poke and prod at his brain for the next hour, and to his credit, he answers every single one of your questions as best he can. Even subjects that you think he may not normally broach, or things that seem like they might be classified, he tells you honestly.

You’ve both gone through two coffees when you’re finally coming to the end of your questioning, your mind filled up with more information than you could possibly hope to remember at length, but that wasn’t the point.

The odd ease you’d felt the last time, when he’d shadowed you around the grocery store, is gone. You no longer felt as though he posed some kind of threat, which was ridiculous, because the sheer size of him should have instilled that in you. The fact that you had so many traumatic memories tied to him should have sealed the deal, but somehow, it’s like none of that mattered.

That in itself gives off its own unease.

You feel like you’re in a constant limbo.

A comfortable silence had settled between you since your last question (and answer), and you watch Bucky finish off his drink. He’d removed his gloves halfway through your talk, and you’d done your best to steer your eyes away from the shiny black and gold of his new metal limb. Now though, you find your curiosity piqued at the sight of a strange black mark on the underside of his wrist, only visible when his sleeve pulls back just so.

You’d never noticed it before, though why would you have? You were always too focused on his metal limb. It makes you wonder though, which leads you to staring at your own hand, at the discreet lumpy white scar on the back of your palm.

“Do you know why they removed my soulmark?” The question comes quieter than all the others, and you don’t look at him as you ask it, though you see from the corner of your eye that he stops and stares down at your hand too.

He doesn’t reply at first, and you almost think he may not have heard you. When you do look up at him, he seems to jump, blinking rapidly and tearing his gaze from your hand.

“My guess is they didn’t want any loose ends…” He says slowly, but frowns.

“They didn’t remove yours?” You nod to his wrist, which he looks down at, clearly resisting the urge to cover it up again.

“They tried… but the serum… I guess it prevented them from doing any last damage to it.” Bucky tells you, finally meeting your eye again. He looked pained, but you don’t understand why. It wasn’t as though he really did lose his mark. Not like you.

For a brief few moments a burning jealousy overcomes you.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that he should keep his and you should lose yours! You would forever be left wondering, no matter how much you healed from your ordeal, you would forever be left with the scars of it, unable to truly move past it.

You stare down at your hand again and feel the anger fuel you.

“They took everything from me. My life, my career… even love,” You wave your hand briefly before scoffing and shoving it into your lap. You didn’t want to look at it anymore. You didn’t want anybody to look at it anymore. Bucky sits quietly, face drawn into an intense scowl.

“I should hate you. I want to, believe me…” You purse your lips and shake your head, blinking away any tears that spring to your eyes. Now was not the time.

“But I can’t, ‘cause even though what they did to you was worse… You’re the only other person who understands. And I don’t have anybody else.” You shake your head again and feel the tension leave your body with your words.

It’s as if saying them out loud releases the anxiety in your bones. You feel lighter all of a sudden, the heaviness that you’d felt since gaining your freedom, the tiredness, it seems to diminish somewhat.

When you can finally bring yourself to meet his eye again, Bucky is watching you with something like sympathy, though, it feels softer than that.

“I was alone, and I thought I was fine with that.” You ball your hands into fists and let out a deep breath.

“And then you showed up.”

Bucky’s lips quirk, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it.

“Does that mean you’re no longer alone, or that you’re no longer fine with it?” He asks, and you can’t help but chortle.

“I don’t know yet.”

---

The burning question Bucky had had since he last saw you, the one he’d not known how to answer, resolves itself in the worst way possible.

He stares at the lumpy white scar on the back of your hand and feels his blood run cold. He’d been scared that you’d realised the truth, or that he’d have to tell you sooner or later, but this is far, far, worse than that.

They’d removed your soulmark.

Bucky knows they’d tried with him, remembers the searing pain, but it had never worked. With you however…

His chest aches just thinking about how you must feel. It was clear by the look on your face how much it affected you, and regardless of how you would have reacted had your soulmark been untouched, to find out he was your soulmate, Bucky wishes this were the one thing he could go back and change.

It leaves a hole deep in his chest.

But something else nags at his mind, long after he’s parted ways with you. You had no idea who you were to one another. It feels like a cruel joke played by the universe. Bucky clearly still made you uneasy, and even if you felt as though you could understand one another, that was very different to wanting to be soulmates.

No.

Bucky decides that you deserved more than a cruel joke. After everything you’d been through, you deserved true happiness.

And Bucky Barnes would rather see his soulmate happy without him, than miserable because of him.

If you like and enjoy, a comment or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #story: tttb

[cjsinkythoughts]

FATWS One Shot #7 - Revels

Word Count: 2921

Warnings: Cursing, That’s All, it’s a Really Tame One Shot

Setting/Characters: Party Scene in Avengers: Age of Ultron; Lots of Characters so I’m Not Gonna Name Them All

A/N: I know…it’s very late. I wanted to have it out on Friday, but I dunno, guys. My motivation as of late has been very low. I finally decided to just sit down and write tonight. So here it finally is!

This one is pretty mild compared to others. There’s a few feeling things in here, but it’s mainly just the reader hanging out with the team. The ending’s written a bit weird, but I didn’t know what to cut it off because the writers did a nice job of making the Mjolnir scene flow into the scene with Ultron’s appearance, but I didn’t want to write the whole fight with Ultron, I just wanted the lifting scene.

Listen here, though! Prepare yourselves to be conflicted even more with Steve! I made it a lot more…touchy than I was planning on. Don’t come at me! It needs to be done! This’ll be one of the last ones focused on Steve like that though. The next one is reader and Wanda bonding and then after that I don’t have any more planned for AoU, so we’ll be going to Civil War, which is where reader meets Bucky officially. So Bucky’s coming soon!

I’m gonna update my WIP List and - maybe - my One Shot list and post those later, along with a poll because I dunno which series I wanna start on next.

Thank you all so much for your patience, understanding, and support! As always, not beta’d, so please excuse the mistakes, all are mine! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy and stay tuned!

FATWS Series Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

*******

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

You set your bag down and looked at your phone, vibrating from where you just left it on the counter. You looked at the time and squinted. Seven. You supposed it wasn’t too late, but you weren’t expecting any calls. 

Tired, your feet dragged as you moved across the room to get your phone. You were helping Fury set up the Helicarrier again while still remaining “dead” to everyone. It was the last thing you were doing before joining the Avengers full time. You were a bit hesitant to be in the spotlight after all these years, but after much pressuring from your team, especially a certain blonde, you finally caved. It was time for a change anyways. It might even be good for you.

Speaking of blondes, Bubba flashed across your screen, a picture of him with some scruff that you took one day in spite of his protests because you’d never seen him with a beard before lighting up behind the contact name.

You answered it, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hands as you did so. “Hi, bubs. What’s-”

“Where are you? I miss you. Are you coming soon?”

You chuckled at his whines, an eyebrow raising as you processed his words. “Whaddya mean? I’m at my place. Where am I supposed to be?”

“Honey!” You giggled at his groan, finding it amusing how childish he could be at times. “The party? Tonight? Remember? You promised you’d come. I don’t wanna be here without you.”

“Oh shit,” you hiss out. “That’s tonight?” Moving across the kitchen to check your calendar, you scrunch up your face when you see ‘Avenger’s Tower 6 pm’ written in the square. “It’s Saturday. Aw, Stevie. I totally forgot.”

“Oh. So…are you - are you not coming, then?”

Frowning at his fallen tone, you shake your head. “I’ll be there. Just…give me a bit.”

“No, no. It’s okay. You sound tired. You don’t have to-”

“I’m on my way, Steve. I did promise after all. I’m an hour out.”

You could hear his surprise in his voice. “An hour? You’re not in D.C.?”

“I’m a little bit upstate. Just in a safehouse while I help Fury work on something.”

He let out a contemplative hum from the other side of the line. “That secret project you still won’t tell me anything about?”

A smile appeared across your lips as you walked to the bedroom to change into something a little more appropriate, settling for a comfortable romper instead of dealing with a dress. “You know I can’t, bubs. You haven’t told anyone, right?”

“No ma’am.”

You giggle softly. “Alright. Thank you. You’ll find out soon, probably. It’s almost done. Promise.”

“Then you’ll come live here? With me - the team, I mean? I miss you. The team missed you. On the raid.”

“Oh yeah. How was it?”

“Get here and I’ll tell you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m coming, I’m coming. See you then, bubba.”

“Okay, honey. See ya then.”

*****************

It was nearly nine when you got to the Tower, but any party thrown by Stark didn’t end until at least ten, so you knew you were fine. Just…fashionably late. A concept you knew Tony understood and you wouldn’t hesitate to remind him if he brought it up.

You were pleasantly surprised by how tame the party was. Sure there were a hundred people you doubted even Tony knew, but no flashing lights, the music wasn’t blaring, and no one was grinding on anyone. Everyone was just talking, drinking, and having a good time.

“Hey! There you are! Capsicle said he called you, but that was hours ago!”

Speak of the devil. You grinned and let Tony pull you into a hug before taking the drink he offered. “Yeah, well, I had a few things to do today.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “A few things, huh? Anything I should know about?”

“Nope!” You popped your lips and gave him a smirk. “Not everything’s about you, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, well, we missed you this week. Fun raid.” He looked you up and down and nodded, gesturing to your outfit. “Alright, you know what? I accept this. This is okay. Not what I had in mind, but you pull it off.”

You laughed, shoving his shoulder playfully. “It’s comfortable, okay? Where’s Steve?”

The billionaire rolled his eyes and gave you a look. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. He’s over playing pool with Wilson. C’mon! I wanna get you drunk and complain about my perfect, heroic, billionaire life to my favorite teammate!”

“I just need to tell him I’m here.” You snicker. “And don’t let anyone here you say that. I don’t want my rep to become Tony’s favorite.”

He chuckled with you and gave you another squeeze. “Alright, alright. Come find me later, though. I do have something I need to show you.”

You shook your head, already knowing where the conversation was heading. “Tony! No! I don’t need a suit! Thank you, I appreciate it, but I’m really okay. I like fighting in sweatpants.”

“Fine!” He huffed out. “But at least let me show you some designs I came up with. I put a lot of hard work into them, you know.”

Tapping his chest, you nodded. “I’m sure you did. I’ll come find you and you can show me, but that’s it.”

He smirked, drawing an ‘x’ over his heart with his finger. “Cross my heart.”

“I’m serious, Tony!” You point at him as he started walking away. He just blew a kiss towards you, making you laugh and roll your eyes again.

Turning, you scanned the room for the pool table where, supposedly, Steve was playing with Sam, who you had no idea was gonna be here. You’d been helping him out with the whole James - Bucky, you reminded yourself - Barnes thing during your free time. No such luck yet. The man was literally a ghost, even for you.

You couldn’t stop the smile on your lips when you finally caught sight of him, his brown leather jacket hugging his shoulders a grin on his face as Sam talked to him about something. Quickly making your way over, your arms wrapped around that ridiculously tiny waist, crossing over his stomach. You felt him tense at the sudden contact, before he relaxed at a kiss to the nape of his neck and spun around.

The beam he gave you made your heart flip, his muscled arms winding around your neck. “Y/N! You made it!”

His boyish excitement made you laugh. “I told you I’d come. Hi, Sam.”

Sam nodded and waved. “What’s good, Y/N?”

“Who’s winning?” Slipping out of Steve’s hold, you leaned over the table to study the games process.

“We just started a new one.” Steve informed you. “Wanna join?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You sure you wanna be embarrassed in front of all these nice people?”

“Oooh!” Sam winced. “Smack! Alright. Put your money where your mouth is, Y/L/N. Ten bucks says I win.”

“You’re on, Wilson.”

A few more drinks, a couple games, and thirty extra bucks later, Tony called you over impatiently. Steve gave you a questioning look as you heated up, Tony waving his arms dramatically and shouting your name. God, he’s so embarrassing.

“He wants me to look at suit designs.”

Steve frowned at your explanation. “I thought you told him no?”

You chuckled. “I did. I’ll be right back, bubs.” After kissing his cheek, you head over to Tony. From there, you end up bouncing around from teammate to teammate, laughing and joking around with them.

Until Steve dragged you back with him again. “Excuse me.” He interrupted you, Clint, and Natasha’s chatter, grabbing your elbow and taking the drink you had in your hand. “I’m stealing you.”

“C’mon, man! It’s called sharing!”

Natasha laughed and nodded in agreement with Clint’s statement. “Everyone’s gotta have a turn, Rogers.”

Steve hummed, walking backwards and pulling you as you giggled in amusement. “You just had your turn, Romanoff.”

“Sorry guys.” You shrugged when the two looked at you incredulously. “Captain’s orders.”

“Damn right.” Steve nodded firmly.

“Watch your language!” Clint shouted with a pointed finger.

You raised an amused eyebrow at Steve’s groan. “Your language? They do know that you have, quite possibly, the worst mouth on the planet, right?”

He sighed, pulling you to the side of the room and wrapping his arms around your waist. “It’s something that happened on the mission. Which you would know if you were there.”

“Steven.”

He blinked innocently at you. “What?” At your pointed look, he let out a sigh, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Did I do something wrong? Is that why you’re avoiding me?”

“Who said I’m avoiding you?”

“C’mon, honey.” He lifted his head, his eyebrows furrowed together. “Don’t hurt me even more. I know you have.”

You shook your head, lips turning down and hand raising to cup his cheek. “Stevie, I’m not. I promise. I’ve just…I’ve just been busy.”

He pouted. “With Fury?”

Giving him a weird look you shook your head. “No. I mean, yes, but I’ve also been helping Sam out with your friend while you help the team with the rest of the HYDRA bases. You know that. What’s going on with you?”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, ducking his head to your shoulder again. “I’ve just missed you.”

“I know, bubba. I’ve missed you too.”

The real truth was you had been avoiding him. Not on purpose. Kinda. You just felt something different around him. Something you’d never dealt with before. And you didn’t want to deal with it now, so you haven’t been. It was why you were so hesitant about becoming a full time Avenger. Well, that and the fact that you’d been in the shadows for a decade and you weren’t sure how well you’d do in the light.

“Where’s Sam?”

“He had to head home. Long drive. His excuse, not mine.”

You gasped in offense. “And he didn’t even say bye?! Rude!”

Steve chuckled, his nose brushing against the skin of your throat, breath tickling your collarbone. “I’m sure he’ll call you in the morning or something. Apologize for leaving so abruptly.”

You hummed, swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in your throat. “Tell me about the language thing. What happened?”

He groaned, but straightened and told you about him accidentally scolding Tony, before he proceeded to tell you about the rest of the mission, including the Maximoff twins. 

“Why is it that war always seems to breed more war?” You asked with a sigh.

“They’re just kids trying to do what’s right.”

“We all start out that way, don’t we?” You shook your head. Kids. they shouldn’t be fighting in a war. They shouldn’t have to deal with that. “It’s just a shame.” Your voice is muffled by his shirt after you pressed against his chest.

“Yeah.” He sighed out. “Wanna go get a drink?”

Pulling back from him and looking around, you noted that most guests had already gone and it was dwindling down to just the Avengers and a couple allies. “Yeah. Wanna sit down too. I’m kinda tired.”

“Alright, honey. Let’s go sit down.”

It wasn’t even half an hour later when you were all sitting around the middle of the room, everyone else having gone, but Dr. Helen Cho, Rhodey, Maria, and the team. You were in the same boat as Helen, who was basically passed out on an armchair. You’re legs thrown over Steve’s lap, stretched out to let your feet rest on Thor’s thigh, who was on the chair on the other side of the captain. You were hugging Steve’s arm, your head resting against his shoulder, a small smile of content across your features as you listened to the team banter and tease.

You started laughing at Clint’s comments towards Thor’s hammer while spinning the drumstick he had for whatever reason. “Ah, whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power! Whatever, man! It’s a trick!”

You and Steve exchanged amused grins as Thor challenged Clint, who stood up with no hesitation and headed to the hammer.

“This is gonna be good.” You chirped, taking the bottle Steve handed you as the archer stopped in front of where it was placed on the table.

Clint stuck his tongue out at you, before turning back to Thor and gripping the handle. He tugged for a moment, grunting, before laughing in slight embarrassment. Chuckling, you snuggled closer to Steve’s side, your eyes feeling heavy. He turned his head to nose your temple and kiss your cheek.

“Oh brother.” You giggled, sitting up with interest as Tony stood up and unbuttoned his suit jacket.

“Alright, so if I lift it, I-I then rule Asgard?” Tony asked in clarification, slipping his hand through the strap.

“Yes, of course.” Thor confirmed with an amused smirk, shooting you a wink when you nudged his knee with your foot.

Tony braced himself, setting his foot on the table. “I will be reinstituting prima nocta.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Oh God, Tony.” Steve squeezed your knee with a slight chuckle as the billionaire tried lifting it to no avail. You gave him a weird look, watching him leave the room, before turning to Steve. “What’s he-?”

“Alright! Let’s try this again!”

Another fit of laughter left you and the team when Tony strutted back in with his Iron Man glove on. And when that didn’t work, Rhodey joined him with his War Machine glove. 

Your eyes were watering and you tried holding in your laughter, but you couldn’t help it, pressing your face into Steve’s arm to muffle the sounds. You felt his shoulders shake with silent chuckles, which didn’t help your own.

When Bruce went up, an awkward silence filled the air after he tried Hulking out, but then you started laughing again.

“Your turn, bubba.” You nudged the blonde, who gave you a look, before shrugging and patting your thigh. 

“You gotta get off then, honey.”

You rolled your eyes but swung your legs off him, letting him stand up. He rolled his sleeves up, stepping up to Mjolnir, a few encouragements from the team, before pulling on the hammer. You thought you saw it shake a little, but Steve yanked some more and it didn’t move, so you figured you were imagining it.

Steve sighed and let go, putting his hands up in surrender with a grin like the good sport he was. Thor laughed. “Nothing.”

You shrugged at the super soldier who plopped back down besides you as the others tried getting Natasha to go up. “You tried.” 

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and leaning back. “Well if Romanoff isn’t going…your turn.”

“Wh-what?” Your eyes went wide.

“I did it.” He gestured to the hammer. “Now you gotta.”

“Hold on, hold on. We didn’t agree on th-”

“Honey.” He gave you a little pout, cocking his head to the hammer. “C’mon. Just a tug.”

You narrowed your eyes, but your lips turned up and you straightened off the couch. “This is peer pressure. Captain America, everyone.” He chuckled as you stepped over to Mjolnir. “It’s not gonna work.”

Tony snorted. “Not with that attitude.”

“C’mon, Tones. If none of you could.”

The billionaire shrugged with a grin. “Never know if you don’t try.”

You deadpanned at him, gripping the handle and trying, in vain, to pull it. You didn’t put nearly as much effort as everyone else. “Wow. Look at that. What a surprise.”

“What was that?! You barely touched it!”

Giving a shrug, you started back to your seat. “I’m guessing if you’re worthy or whatever, it wouldn’t take that much to lift it.” You fell onto the couch, your head landing in Steve’s lap as you looked upside down at Thor and pointed at him. “But I do have a question for you.” The god looked at you in interest, gesturing for you to continue. “What does worthy mean? Like, what makes a person worthy to lift it? You couldn’t lift it a while back - I know, I read the files. SHIELD agent, remember?” You added when you saw him open his mouth to question you.

You blinked at him curiously, tilting your head, watching as his brow furrowed. Tony cackled and clapped at the silence in answer. “Oooh! She got you! All difference to the Man Who Wouldn’t Be King, but it’s rigged. And the lack of response to Y/N’s question just makes it more obvious.”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“You bet your ass.”

You rolled your eyes, letting it go as Maria teased Steve about Clint’s foul language. “Did you tell everyone about that?” Tony ignored Steve’s question and continued to ride on Thor and his hammer.

“Why are they trying to make sense of it?” You questioned, highly entertained, but also very tired, turning to press against Steve’s stomach.

“It’s Tony. I couldn’t tell you. C’mere.” Steve shifted you so that you were sitting up, but he was holding you more comfortably. “Try getting some sleep.”

You hummed and nodded against him, but a high pitched whine made you wince and stand up, Steve unconsciously standing a bit in front of you. A suit of Tony’s, damaged with wires hanging down and oil leaking out or places that didn’t have metal keeping them in, came in and you inwardly sighed at the bad feeling tugging at your gut.

So much for sleep.

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All Works Taglist (Open):

@happygoreading @bibliophilewednesday @breadqueen95 @marvelettesassemble @w-wolfhxrd @the-larry-romance​ @abitofeverythinggg

#cjswriting #fatws series oneshots #fatws series oneshot 7 #fatws series #falcon and the winter soldier series oneshots #revels oneshot #steve rogers x reader #kinda #💛🧭 #❤🐦💙🦾⏪

[lovee-infected]

Husband!Leona x Housewife!Reader: Birthday surprise

As you have your birthday today, Leona has a plan to prepare a party for his one and only beloved wife; however, uncle Ruggie and your babies almost burn the house down to ashes when you're out...

Happy birthday @jessamine-rose !♡ Now suffer-

Warning(s): None, just a review on Leona's chaotic father experiment trying to babysit his neko babies.

Note: This work is the continuation of a personal au I wrote for @jessamine-rose s/o and Leona have 3 adorable kittens (babies) in this au; The elder two are twins , a girl named Kaede and a son named Haruki while the baby gremlin is a sweet but chaotic cinnamon roll girl named Lucy (Lulu).

At last, it's here: The big day. Not only Leona seems have been expecting this day to arrive for months, or perhaps, he's been waiting ever since you had your previous birthday last year.

Not that you thought previous birthday celebrations with them lacked anything specific or was incomplete in a recognizable way; but it didn't change the fact that you didn't seem to have enjoyed them either.

Leona is the prince of the afterglow Savannah, after all. As her wife your birthday was nothing less than a national holdiday and he always tented to prepare royal celebrations ever since you married him.

But for some reason, that formal and majestic aura seemed to bother you in a way; perhaps because you preferred to be actually spending time with Leona and your family instead of having to stay in the same spot for hours with your back straightened as you greet thousands of strangers and the rest of the royal family.

Not that you ever spoke of how uncomfortabe and annoying all of those birthday ceremonies were, but you almost let out a relived sigh when Leona tells he isn't going to put out another of those extravagant celebrations.

The night before your birthday, Leona comes to you and mentions hoe it's been a while since the last time you had some time for your own, and he's right: From the day you gave birth to lulu you've been awfully busy with housework and caressing your babies; not that your life could be any sweeter than it is now but you had to admit- You somehow missed the old days when you had more time to spend on your own...

Leona recommends you take a day off, as a birthday treat! You're free to go shopping, take a short vacation to the beach or simply go to your favorite cafe and enjoy your favorite drinks and beverages in peace, meanwhile Leona would take care of the house and kittens so you can have today for your own and all~

Of course you accept his offer, you give him a small kiss on cheek and thank him, the two of you head to your bedroom and you are given the opportunity to sleep on Leona's warm chest for the rest of the night.

Thus you leave the house the next morning after, and now it's time for Leona's secret plan. He's already prepared anything, your favorite flowers, your favorite desserts and food, a very expensive perfume you had liked before, color-matching costumes for both him and the kittens, tiny cute accessories to decorate the house with and at last, tens of gifts from different things he sure knows that you'll love.

Ruggie is charge of cooking, so he gets to preparing muffins and cupcakes while Leona takes care of decorations: Designing the entire house with flower petals, baloons and colorful ribbons would've taken him hours if he were to do that by hand, but using his extraordinary magic skills, the whole house is perfectly decorated and prepared in a second *Chef's kiss.*

Just as Leona is about to let out a proud smirk and return to kitchen to see how Ruggie is doing with he cooking, he hears a sound. He turns his head to find no one but baby Lulu, chewing the decorations.

He runs to her and takes the ribbons out of her mouth, opening her mouth a second time and carefully look through it to see if she's eaten any of them or not. Oh God, he promised that he'd take care of everything when you're out, he just can't let you return home and find out that your baby has swallowed paper, what will you even think of him? Irresponsible partner? Unworthy father? No, he must make sure that baby lulu would be all same and sound until you return home.

He hugs Lulu and puts her on a corner with several baloons to play with, far from anything dangerous she could chew but then baby Lulu discovers a new hobby: popping balloons.

Her tiny fangs have just popped out and her gums often hurt, so she just wants to get her fangies on anything she could chew or bite and wow, this baby is not only totally unaffected by the loud sound of balloons popping right into her face but also finds it quite amusing. Baby begins to laugh loudly and chase after more balloons to chew as she has discovered a new hobby, and before Leona could've stopped her, she pops 5 more balloons with just one bite-

Leona picks her up immediately because if Lulu continued to chew balloons like this nothing of them would be left until you get home-

- But all of a sudden, he smells something rotten, followed by a trail of smoke coming from kitchen. He immediately puts Lulu down and runs back to the kitchen to see what in the great seven's name is happening there-

Leona jumps into the kitchen- just to find Kaede and Haruki screaming and crying as Ruggie's trying to take the black-rotten cupcakes out of the oven. Leona asks what the hell has happened and Ruggie explains he was too busy separating the twins because they couldn't stop arguing whether their mama would like caramel syrup as the topping or sprinkles, so Ruggie totally forgets about the overcooked muffins and cupcakes in the middle of their arguments.

Leona tells him to pull himself and start over- But Ruggie aruges that he won't be able to concentrate on both babysitting and cooking if that's how it's going to be. Leona growls and tell Ruggie to stop being such a wacky hyena and just get back to work without messing up again- And Ruggie explodes.

He starts shouting, Ruggie legit starts shouting in a rare, angry tune which terrified everyone even Leona. He roars that he won't be doing shit until Leona actually pays him for once, and the two start arguing. Just as the chaos is burning the kitchen down, Lulu decides uncle Ruggie's leg looks quite delicious to bite, and in a matter of second Ruggie is screaming as the baby lion's fangs literally pierced into his flesh.

The whole house is filled with smoke, Lulu has taken the entire decorations down and Leona's trying to seprate baby Lulu's fangs from Ruggie's leg. Twins are terrified, so the silently sneak out of the kitchen to call the right person to come for help...

It's past 10 pm when you're done with your day off. You've been giggling over how a day off was just what you needed after a long time, you had told Leona to call if anything went wrong, and thankfully, you didn't receive any calls from him while you were out. Leona really seems to have toughed it out as a father, huh?

You knock at the door, waiting for someone to open it. After a 3 minute delay you take a small look through the house and realize the lights are off. You just get in using your keys and suddenly, a loud "SURPRISE!" makes you jump back and the lights are back on, revealing Farena, Cheka, your kittens and very, very very tired-looking Leona and Ruggie standing in front of you. Leona gives you a weak smile as your confused gaze meets him, at last, they managed to clean the mess up before you got home.

Twins welcome you with a warm hug as they lock their tiny arms around your waist, digging their faces into soft fabrics of your clothes as if they hadn't met you in days, and of course, 12 hours of chaos without mama at home is enough to make them want to never be left alone in the house with uncle Ruggie and dad again-

Ruggie is trying his best not to be rude but he quickly approaches you, wishes you a very happy birthday and excuses himself saying he really needs to be home by this hour. You question the bandages wrapped around his leg, asking if he's alright? Ruggie just- Gulps nervously before turning his head back and stare at Leona who is holding Lulu... Ruggie nods quickly and leaves your house asap, poor boy... maybe you should call him sometime later and asking if he's doing fine?

Back to the party, Farena chuckles as he tells you how his younger brother has been DESPERATELY making plans for his beloved wife's birthday for nearly two months-! Farena explains that Leona even refused to accept Farena's help when he was firstly coming up with the plans, but Leona insisted that he wanted to manage everything on his own.

Aaaaaw Leona's face is a must-see now, his ears dropped down in mild embarrassment and frustration, feeling like a silly child in front of you. Damn- If it was on him he wouldn't have asked for Farena's help once in a thousand years even if if Ruggie and him had ended up burning the entire house; but he must admit, he's glad that twins asked for his help because- It would've been impossible to manange to do all the work on time without his help.

Aaah at least your birthday party didn't turn out to be a horrible mess, but at what cost? Great seven, he was supposed to be your one and only man tonight but right now he's nothing but a fuzzy cat wanting to pass put on his bed.

Yet he still manages to keep his eyes open, at least until you're done with the birthday party and Farena and Cheka are finally out; leaving him alone with you. Gosh, he looks so- you can't even find tje right adjective to describe this but all you can say for now is that you've never seen him this tired before.

You gently take Lulu, who has already fallen asleep in his arms and take her to her bed, asking Leona if babysitting her was difficult by any means. Leona tiredly shakes his head in a no, saying how much of a wonderful girl she was when you were away, and you can tell how much of an awful liar he is.

When the kids are asleep, you come to sit next to a lifeless Leona on couch, damn, just what happened to this household when you weren't around?

Leona's too tired to explain, he just sighs and apologizes for your birthday not being even *close to the best it could be, just to meet your laughter.

Oh lord, he is being quite desperate at the moment ha? Leona was always the dominative and demanding one, to have him serve ypu on your birthday... Oh dear, isn't that already the best birthday gift possible?

You excitedly start to tell him how this birthday was just the best you could've ever asked for: Freedom, A golden time to be spent for your own desires and not anyone else, and aside all of these, you return home just to face a secret party waiting for you!

But most importantly: He had gone through all of these... for you, to make you happy.

You tightly hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing his face closer to yours. Aaaa he looks so cute like this, just like a tired pouty can wanting you to spoil him and to be honest, he's going to need you spoil him for a week at least for him to recovers from that 12 hours of chaos.

It's been a long day, for both you and him. So he just kisses your forehead and bridal carries you to your bedroom afterwards; wrapping his strong arms and thighs around you and jailing you in his embrace. You gasp at the warmth, truth be told having your face burried in Leona's firm chest like this was something you never got used to even after being married to him for years. Damn lion knew how to leave a flushed mess out of you, huh? You chuckle as you struggle to release yourself but hell, the jerk simply pretends that he's already fallen asleep.

Just as Leona's arms are jailing you into his embrace he wonders, today probably didn't turn out to be as good as he'd planmed but well... at least you're happy. That's what he wanted when he whet out of his way planning for today, after all. But he can tell the experiment made him come to appreciate you even more, thinking that you've been caressing all three of your babies for years all on your own while Leona wouldn't have even made it for half a day if Farena hadn't saved him...

#twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ruggie bucchi #f/reader #headcanon #Meh I was too lazy to proofread www- Will edit this later

[dontcare77ghj]

Inked

Natasha x reader x Wanda

"You know those cause cancer, right?" Mal asked, entering your office. "And you're gonna stink out your office."

"The window's open." You shrugged, exhaling slowly and sending the smoke out the open window. "And you and I both know, cancer isn't something I'm scared of."

"Yeah, yeah, death licks your boots." Mal rolled her eyes, blowing a strand of blue hair out of her eyes. "Anyway, I'm going on break, Blaine's with a customer, and we've got a walk-in."

"I'll handle it." You promised, putting out your cigarette. "You going to pick up Erin?" You asked the younger girl.

"Yeah, I'm gonna drop her off with a neighbor. May offered and wouldn't let me refuse." She told you.

"Well, here. Get Erin something sweet for me." You said, shoving a twenty into her hands.

"Y/N, I can't." Mal started, trying to give you the money back.

"I insist." You cut her off. "I want to be her favorite aunt." You shrugged, forcing her to curl her fingers around the money. "Go, get your kid, and give her a hug for me."

"Will do, boss." She nodded before leaving.

"Hi, welcome to SkinPolish. How can I help you?" You asked, entering the main room to see the back of a man. He was looking over the walls of the store but turned at your entrance.

"Just so you know, I'm not here to get stabbed a thousand times," Clint told you with a grin.

"I think your day job provides you with enough of that." You joked, wrapping your arms around him. Clint chuckled as he returned your hug, pulling you close. "It's been too long, geezer."

"I know, you've got at least four more tattoos since the last time I saw you, you hoodlum." Clint teased you.

"It's been two years, Clint. Some of us had to change our identities." You reminded him, pulling back. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help." He told you.

"Blaine, watch the shop." You said without taking your eyes off the man before you.

"You got it, Y/N!"

"Follow me." You told Clint. You led Clint out of the front of the store and into your office. "Clint, I left when SHIELD fell. I handed in my clearance and took off." You said, lighting another cigarette. "I'm not doing any more work for them."

"Don't be like that." Clint groaned, sitting on your desk. 

"First off, get the fuck off my desk. Where are the manners Laura shoved down your throat? And secondly, I can't come back. Fucking HYDRA was running SHIELD for years, and none of us knew. All our information was in their hands. Who knows what they took? I have people I care about, Clint. I can't risk anyone's lives." You told him.

"I'm not asking you to do anything for SHIELD. I'm asking you to help the Avengers." Clint explained.

"Even better, a more public job." You scoffed. "Clint, we're friends. We've been through a lot. I get why you're here, but why the fuck would I risk the people I care about for another mission?"

"Argentina." He said simply.

"That is a dick move, and you know it." You groaned, finishing your smoke.  

"I do know it, but I have to use it. We need your help." Clint said, rising from your desk to stand in front of you. "We need your help, kid. I wouldn't be asking if I had another choice." 

"Fine." You relented after a minute. "When do you need me?"

"Tomorrow," Clint told you. "I'll pick you up." He added before going to leave.

"You don't know where I live." You protested.

"Yeah, I do." Clint corrected you. "I'll see you at nine." He said, and with that, he was gone.

"Fuck me." You sighed, rubbing your hand across your face.

"Remind me why I agreed to this again?" You asked, watching as the Avengers Compound grew closer through the window.

"Because you love me," Clint responded cheekily.

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart." You rolled your eyes. "You never even told me what I'm needed for."

"Briefing's in half-hour," Clint told you. "Which gives you enough time to get acquainted with everyone." He added as the car slowed to a stop.

"You know how I feel about crowds of people." 

"It's not a crowd. It's the team and Maria. You're fine, kid, I promise." He said.

"Fine, let's get this over with." You sighed, unclicking your belt.

"Avengers!" Clint called as the two of you moved further into the maze of a building. "I have a surprise for you all!" 

"Is it a unicorn?" A male voice asked as you both entered what looked to be a meeting room.

"Even better. Gentlemen, and Wanda,"

"Smooth Barton." A redhead coughed.

"This is Y/N L/N." Clint continued his introduction. "A specialist in all fields, especially disguise, and the only reason we might do our job today."

"Oh, so I'm doing your work for you again, Barton? Nothing's changed, I see." You commented. 

"Hey! That's not true! Name one time that's ever been true!"

"I can list fifty off the top of my head." You said, raising a brow at him.

"I can add sixty-seven to your list." The redhead piped in. "Natasha Romanoff." She introduced herself.

"Pleasure Agent Romanoff." You smiled. "C'mon Barton, formal introductions, please."

"Yeah, Barton. Introduce us." 

"Y/N, this is Tony, Steve, Bruce, Thor, and Wanda." Clint gestured. "Are you all satisfied?"

"Not particularly, since you still haven't told me what you need my help for." You said, crossing your arms.

"You haven't even told her that. Jesus Barton." Wanda snorted.

"I was getting to that. I was waiting for you all to meet." Clint whined. 

"Well, we're met." You said, taking an empty seat beside Natasha. "C'mon, what am I doing here?"

"There's a gala tonight," Natasha said, handing you a file. "A man named Jayden Reeds is going to be in attendance. Reeds has stock in several large companies, but that's just a front. Reeds actually has ties to HYDRA and deals in human trafficking. From what we've gathered, Reeds kidnaps people who will seemingly not be missed. They're then delivered to HYDRA bases around the world and never heard from again."

"Am I here to kill him? Because I can get behind that." You said, shaking your head.

"Wait till you hear the rest," Clint told you.

"There is a possibility Reeds also has his own collection. He's been spotted with several women who have all disappeared shortly after."

"What's the connection between them?" You asked.

"They're all French brunettes."

"So let me guess, my job is to go undercover tonight and see if he takes the bait. And when he does, I bring him in."

"Bingo Boingo," Tony told you.

"Well, I guess I better find a long sleeve dress. Oh, and maybe a wig."

"You know, if I didn't know better, I would have assumed your accent was real myself," Wanda commented later that night.

The mission had gone as smoothly as could be. Reeds had fallen for your act believing you to be a young French brunette on vacation in America's busiest city.

You hadn't even needed to corner him as he'd followed you into a woman's bathroom with two other men. 

You hadn't given any of them a chance to move or say anything before you had them unconscious on the ground.

Now you were heading home, still decked out in your gala gown, with Natasha, Wanda, Clint, and Tony.

"It's not that good. No matter how much I practice, even my Italian's better than my French." You shrugged.

"Not that good?" Tony snorted, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. "Sweetheart, if I weren't engaged and I met you in Paris, I'd take you back to Hotel Plaza Athenee and show you a time."

"Cute, Starky boy, but you're not my type."

"I'm everyone's type."

"Sorry, hon, but I like women." You told him. "This is my stop." You added as Tony pulled over.

"You live here?" Natasha asked, looking around the neighborhood in distaste. You could understand her aversion to the area. Any one of your neighbors would move in an instant if given the choice.

"Yep." You said, unclicking your belt. "Been here since SHIELD crashed."

"Did SHIELD pay this bad?" Tony questioned you.

"SHIELD pay wasn't great, but it was something. I saved most of it, but a lot of it went to making sure Y/N Smith, the tattoo artist from the wrong side, wasn't connected with Y/N L/N, SHIELD agent." You shrugged. "Didn't see a point in moving after." You added. "This was fun. We should do it again sometime." You said, sliding out and holding the door open.

"We'll give you a call if we need someone to do all the work for us." Clint nodded.

"Great. Come by the shop if you ever want a free tattoo. Clint knows where it is." 

A part of you was sure you wouldn't see any of the team again. They led much more busy lives than you did, and their schedules were forever changing.

So imagine your surprise when Natasha and Wanda entered your shop the next day just to simply chat. And they continued to do so for a week. Sometimes Clint would come, Steve had popped in for a few minutes while on a run, but Natasha and Wanda visited every day. 

On the seventh day, the two came in at one in the afternoon with Tony.

"Hey, Tony. I didn't know you were coming to lunch with us." You said, continuing to lock up the shop. "I'll be ready in a couple minutes."

"Great, but there's been a slight change of plans," Natasha said, watching you closely.

"As long as foods still involved, I won't be too bothered." You shrugged.

"Food is involved. It's just going to take us a while to get to it." Tony cryptically informed you.

"Guys, I'm running on twenty minutes of sleep and caffeine. Please, no cryptics." You sighed, narrowing your eyes at the three.

"Relax, we're not trying to hurt your head." Tony chuckled. "We have something to tell you."

"But first, step this way, away from any possibly hidden weapons," Natasha said, gesturing you forward. "No-one should get a knife to the head because they shocked you."

"Haha." You rolled your eyes, walking forward. "For the record, I did that once. And Clint caught it." You added. "What did you three do?"

"Technically, Tony did it," Wanda said, pointing a thumb at the billionaire.

"Real smooth, Sabrina." Tony scoffed. "Alright, yes, I did this, but I did it out of pure kindness."

"Did what?" 

"I've had all your stuff moved out of your apartment. I've had it moved into a spare room in the Compound," Tony announced. 

"Put it back, Tony." You demanded, crossing your arms. "My things aren't yours to touch."

"You live in a shitty neighborhood." Tony defended himself. "You have eight security systems of your own just to keep yourself safe. You won't find a new place of your own volition, so I found one for you."

"Tony, you moved my things into the Avengers Compound." You sighed. "I'm not an Avenger."

"Yet." Tony cut you off. "You are more than qualified to join the team. The way you helped us the other night, the way you took those men out and got the information quicker than we would have done. You can be an Avenger."

"I'm not risking those closest to me." You shook your head. "I gave up Y/N L/N when I left SHIELD. I have people in my life now, civilian people, who could get hurt because of me."

"Than don't let them," Natasha said. "I've been through your records, know how many people you helped and protected. Protect those you love just as you did all the strangers. You can still lead this life as well as one where you can protect people again."

"At least try temporarily," Wanda suggested. "Give it a month trial period and see if you can remember what it feels like. If it doesn't work out, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. And if it does work, you can join our team. Please." She added, giving you puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. A trial period." You sighed, pushing your hair back. "But no more using those eyes. It's evil, and you know it." You said, pointing at the witch.

"Yes, she does." Natasha smiled, putting her arm around her girlfriend's waist. "C'mon, there's a car waiting to take us back to the Compound."

"Where Tony ordered lunch," Wanda added, putting her hand out to you to take.

"At least he did one thing right." You joked, taking her petite hand.

"Hey!"

You had been staying at the Compound for almost a month. There were four days before the end of your trial period, but you hadn't made your decision yet. 

There was still a part of you that thought it would no longer be safe for the civilians in your life if you joined the team. If you entered the Avengers, you might have to give up this identity and everything and everyone that came with it.

But there was something about being around the team that ignited a spark within you. A spark you long thought had burned out. You longed for adventure, for that adrenaline rush that came with being undercover and the pride you felt at helping someone. 

You were torn between two worlds. Torn between two personalities.

"Jesus Christ, you smell like an ashtray," Natasha complained as she suddenly appeared by your side. You snapped out of your daze just in time to see Natasha take the smoke out of your hand and take a drag for herself.

"Didn't know you smoked." You commented, watching her exhale the smoke slowly.

"I don't. Not anymore." Natasha shook her head. "Just couldn't resist."

"Don't expect me to kiss you until you brush your teeth," Wanda said, skipping into the room and crossing her arms as she stared at the two of you. "I want a tattoo." She announced, staring you dead in the eye.

"Okay. Do you want me to find a parlor for you in the morning? I have a couple friends who owe me a favor or two." You suggested.

"No, I want you to do it," Wanda told you firmly. "As soon as possible if you would." 

"And you're sure about this?" You asked, raising a brow. "You're sure you want a tattoo and that you want me to do it?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"Alright, then. Follow me." You said, leading the two back into the Compound and into your room.

"You have a gun and inks in your room?" Natasha asked, looking your makeshift parlor over.

"Yep. Set it up the night I arrived, gave myself this the next." You said, lifting your shirt to reveal the healing tattoo on your hip.

"Geez, you know most people drink a bottle of scotch to welcome themselves to a new place? Not give themselves a tattoo." Natasha informed you.

"Probably." You nodded, beginning to set up your station. "Okay, Wanda, what did you have in mind?"

"I want the words, 'Ty namnogo bol'she' to wrap around my wrist," Wanda said, tracing around her thin wrist with her finger.

"Alright, I can definitely do that. But you might have to write it down for me. My Russian's not that great." You informed her.

"We'll have to work on that," Natasha said as Wanda began to write it down.

"Alright." You began after Wanda handed you the spelling. "Let's get started."

"I love it." Wanda smiled, watching as you gently wrapped her wrist. "It's perfect." 

"I like to do my best." You grinned, putting the last of the tape down. "Make sure that stays moist. And do not scratch it under any circumstances." You instructed her as you began to shove your equipment away in plastic tubs.

"You need a better system," Natasha commented. "Yours is kind of a mess."

"I'll update my system when I change this room around." You said, looking around the nearly bare room. Everything you owned was in plastic tubs or bags. You hadn't been bothered to unpack yet.

"Does that mean you're planning on staying?" Natasha asked. "Have you made your decision yet? To join the team or not?"

"Not yet. I'm still trying to decide." You sighed, leaning against the wall. "I like not giving a shit. I like waking up in the morning and paying too much for a shitty cup of coffee. I like going to work and being around people who've never had to see the shit we have. I like not having to feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, but I miss it. 

I miss being a part of a team. I liked saving people. I enjoyed going on missions, creating new personas to get what I needed done. I miss being around people who've seen the shit I have. Who know what the weight of the world feels like. 

Now I don't where to go. What I need more in my life." You told them.

"We told you, you don't need to pick one world," Wanda said, standing from her stool. "You can still save people and drink over-priced coffee. You can still be with people who share your trauma and be with those who don't. You don't have to pick one world."

"Can we help your decision along by us asking you out to dinner?" Natasha asked, breaking your pensive silence.

"Excuse me?" You asked, for once being taken aback by another person. "I think I went temporarily deaf there. Can you repeat yourself?"

"Let us take you on a date," Natasha repeated slowly. "We were thinking about dinner and wine and then a night at the opera." She said, causing your nose to scrunch up without thought.

"She's kidding." Wanda giggled. "Actually, we were thinking we get a couple beers, order a pizza, and watch a movie in our room."

"Can I pick the movie?" You asked her.

"With your crappy taste, no." Wanda shook her head.

"Okay, now she's kidding," Natasha said, taking three steps forward to stand beside her girlfriend. "Of course, you can pick the movie."

"And this wouldn't hurt your relationship?" You asked tentatively. "I wouldn't ruin what you already have?"

"You could only add." Wanda smiled.

"So, what do you say? You wanna go on a date with us?" Natasha questioned you.

"I'd love to."

"Go away.” You groaned, rolling away and under the covers into Natasha’s body.

“Wakey, wakey. Up and at ‘em you two.” Wanda ordered, pulling the blankets off the pair of you. 

“Wanda!” 

“Both of you will forgive me when I tell you I have coffee.” Wanda rolled her eyes, sitting on the bed beside you.

“The overpriced kind?”

“What other kind is there?” Wanda asked. “C’mon sit up or no coffee for either of you.”

“Alright, alright, we’re up.” Natasha said, sitting up with you on her chest. “Thank you, sweetheart.” 

“I love you.” You groaned after taking the first sip of your steaming beverage.

“Are you talking to me or the coffee?” 

“Can’t it be both?” You shrugged before grabbing her hand and kissing her palm softly.

“As long as there’s love for me too, it can.” Natasha told you.

“I love you too, Nat.” You promised, kissing her collarbone.

“After today’s meeting, I want you to give me a tattoo.” Natasha announced. “I don’t care where is is, but I want ‘YA zasluzhivayu lyubvi’.” She told you. 

“Alright then. I like this plan.” You smiled, looking up at your girlfriend. “You know I think I’m due for some new ink myself.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you can choose for me.” You shrugged. “I trust you both, always.”

Once, you left SHIELD and it’s lifestyle behind. And then one day Clint Barton walked into your shop and brought you back into it. 

He brought you back to the life you missed and brought you to Natasha and Wanda.

Remember all Taglists are open as are requests. 

Taglist

@rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx @hopingforbarnes @starlingelliot @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @jelly-fishy-babie @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @reann-loves-sebstan @skadikh @summergeezburr @buckybarton03 @sunshinepower17 @bindythedemon @natasharomanoffismywife @keenmarvellover @bbybarness @storiesbystarlight @buckybarnesplumwhore @bromieeeomieee @marvelmenarebeautiful @niki-is-a-thing @pauloonig @abyssiniapleasant @beautybyfire @officalmarvelbaby

Natasha Romanoff Taglist

@natasha-danvers @5aftermidnight @ohfuckno

All women Taglist

@imnotasuperhero

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader

[quirkisms]

OFF YOUR CHEST - M. TOGATA (i)

pairing: mirio togata x fem!reader

summary: Mirio tears himself apart, and you're there to heal the pieces.

word count: 2k

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, strangers(ish) to lovers, AU where UA is college, not highschool (i dont want 2 write about minors), mirio is quirkless and is Dealing With It, slow burn, trauma and anxiety coping 

ao3

He splits another knuckle open.

It’s no different than any other exercise or training, but he’s different. He’s stronger now, and smarter but he’s still less. He punches the wall again, willing it to go through. For a second, he thinks he can feel the soft tendrils of the void past the surface beckoning him, urging him forth. It’s asking him where he’s been, that it missed him and that he’s back. For that second, it’s real. His hand is sinking through and he’s back.

But the rough texture of the wall sinks into the cuts he’s ripped into his skin and he’s pulling back, sucking in air through his teeth and withholding curses.

He cradles his right hand with his left, blood trailing down the grooves of the taught tendons on both battered hands.

Mirio’s chest is heaving, his breaths varying from deep to shallow, his heart rate erratic. The buzz in his pocket disrupts his stare at the red stains his punches had left.

TAMAKI

where r u

It hurts to curl his hand around the device, but he does anyway. He wipes the other hand on his pants before responding.

Training! What’s up?

TAMAKI

patrolling tn. just wanted to lyk

Okay - Stay safe! 😀

Mirio pockets his phone. He wants to manually rub the grime out of the cuts or even just leave them the way they are. The sting is a juxtaposition from how his life was before. No longer can he float in the nothingness, phase through infinity until he needs to come up for air.

He feels everything now.

He makes his way towards UA’s medical clinic. It’s late, past dinner at least, which means it’ll be empty save for one person. Recovery Girl doesn’t work the hours like she used to, not since you came in. The clinic after hours feels safe, secretive and his. You’re always there late, as far as Mirio knows. Since the first time he injured himself by pushing himself past his newfound limits (which were significantly less than what they used to be) you’d always been there when he’d sneak in.

Tonight, you were hunched over textbooks, highlighter dangling out of your mouth. If he could’ve, he would’ve lingered in the doorway to watch you. Instead, the few droplets of blood spilling from his hands alerted you of his presence. You peek over your shoulder at him before capping the marker and nodding for him to sit on one of the empty exam beds. It was routine.

“You outdid yourself this time,” You said as you cleaned the open wounds. He’d beaten the flesh raw, almost exposing bone and you wanted to scold him but you knew it was useless. He’d just brush you off with a shrug, a smile and tell you it’s not that big of a deal. Pain is part of getting stronger.

Mirio doesn’t respond. Instead, he chooses to let his eyes flick around the room. Recovery Girl’s absence is notable - no more jar of candy, and you’ve taken over her desk and littered it with your own knicknacks. Your textbooks, an All Might water bottle, a Kamui Woods pez dispenser. It’s cute, he thinks.

“Did you have a punching match with one of those hardening quirks?” You’re frowning as you pop a piece of jerky in your mouth. “Maybe Cementoss?”

“Cementoss,” he confirms, only because that would be the only way he’d have so much...particulate within the splits. Cementoss was made of rock, and Mirio would rather die than admit to you he was relentlessly punching a wall.

You snort, shaking your head as you chew. You both know he’s full of it, but you drop it. You always do.

A soft, blue glow escapes from underneath your hand. His hand feels fuzzy, like it's fallen asleep before it dissipates and you remove your hand, motioning for him to lift his other so you can begin the same process.

As you clean the other hand, Mirio watches you work. You ignore the weight of his gaze the best you can, focusing on repairing the skin and not how strong and smooth his fingers are. His hand is heavy in yours, and the glow of your quirk flickers as you lose focus imaging what his grip would feel like on you.

“Done,” you said, flicking your used gloves into the wastebasket by your feet. Mirio flexes his fingers. Healed. “Y’know, after all these visits,” You raise an eyebrow, “I think you owe me.”

Mirio looks up from his hands to tilt his head at you.

“Tell me how you really get these injuries,” you grab one of his hands loosely and run your thumb over the freshly regenerated skin.

He wasn’t expecting that.

Mirio gapes at you like a fish out of water, like you’re Thirteen and you’ve sucked all of the air out of the room. He pulls himself from your grip to rest his hands in his lap. He’s uncomfortable, uneasy now. He’s liked this place, liked you because questions weren’t asked that he had to give real answers to. It’s not betrayal that Mirio feels, it’s more like loss. It’s the loss that comes with the realization that you can’t outrun everything you want forever. With all the training, all the work Mirio had put in, he thought he could.

“They’re self-inflicted. The bruising, the wound placements. It’s like you’re training yourself to death.”

“It’s not like that - I’m fine, I promise!” Mirio throws his hands up in a defensive motion. He’s summoning the sunlight, the optimism and charm that swooned UA and motivated him to keep working, keep training, to save a million people. He can feel it churning in his chest, but it’s been pressed so deep he’s grasping at the edges and they don’t want to meet his fingertips.

Mirio knew you never believed his excuses - you knew he knew that and you’d been pulled thin between wanting to show concern and ask what was up and respecting his privacy. But at the previous state of his knuckles, you couldn’t drag your feet any longer.

You watch him, face soft and stoic. You’re not coddling, but you’re not cold either. He realizes that you’re just simply waiting.

“I just train too hard,” he gives in, just a little. You raise your eyebrows a fraction and he continues. “I have a lot to make up for, so I tend to overdo it!” He laughs it off - the injuries are a joke, truly. They’re funny to him.

“You get more banged up than Midoriya,” you look at him over the clear frame of the glasses you seem to only wear at the clinic. “How does your training get you more banged up than the other heroes?”

“I’m not a hero,” he’s quick to say, and it stings more than it should. He was, should’ve been, should be.

Your face is soft again, and it’s an art you’ve mastered over time. You’re good at composing your features to appear passive and static. In your many hero encounters, pity is the quickest way to lose trust. So you watch Mirio, with his soft smile and now long hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He’s analyzing you just as you are him, and you keep your eyes from flicking to his knuckles when you respond with, “Okay.”

His stomach is churning, still sour with his words but he rubs his hands on his thighs. Why are they so sweaty?

In his distracted state, Mirio doesn’t notice you scribbling down something on a notecard shaped like an anatomical heart. You hand it to him, knocking him out of his trance.

Seven digits, followed by the letters 3G, and four more digits.

“What’s this?” he asks. Obviously the first line is your number, but you lost him with the rest.

“My number,” you aren’t looking at him. Instead you choose to refold the sleeves of your white coat as you continue, “and the passcode to get into my dorm building.”

Mirio does white. The passcode? Why would he need that?”

“I can’t be staying here late every night in case you show up.” You hated trudging back to your dorm on the nights he didn’t show, both eyelids and textbooks weighing you down. “Just stop by my dorm if it’s late like this.”

Mirio opens his mouth but you cut him off.

“Floor 5F, my name is on the door.”

He closes his mouth and smiles, nodding and bowing in thanks. He doesn’t trust his voice, not right now. You’re packing up your textbooks as he exits the clinic.

It doesn’t hit him until he gets back to the 3A dorms that he doesn’t know your name.

He beats himself up about it the whole night. He wishes he could go into Tamaki’s room to distract himself, to ask him about the person who’s basically taken over Recovery Girl’s mantle. Tamaki frequented the clinic as well - used it as an excuse to get out of the heroics lessons and sleep. He’d definitely know your name, unlike his golden counterpart who visited her frequently and never thought to ask.

Mirio tried to comfort himself by thinking that maybe you didn’t know his name either. You’d never asked. But then again, Mirio is (was?) part of UA’s Big Three. The aftermath of the Shie Hassaikai was all anyone talked about for weeks. You’d definitely have to know who he was. Mirio Togata, the kid who lost his quirk. Le Million, the hero who gave and lost everything. You went to UA yourself - there was no way.

He didn’t want to be that sob story to you. But he was constantly coming to you with injuries - split knuckles, a dislocated shoulder, a torn achilles. Maybe he wasn’t exactly that sob story, but he knew you pitied him regardless. Maybe that’s why you always stayed so late - you felt bad for him.

The thoughts makes Mirio uncomfortable.

And so much so that to make himself feel better, he adds your number to his phone. Typing in the numbers, he thinks about how he likes that your handwriting was shitty. Another little thing you let him see, let him learn about you. In lieu of a name, he makes your contact name the stethoscope emoji. He laughs to himself when he saves the contact and types out a message:

How late is too late?

He hesitates, but hits send. It delivers, and after fifteen minutes, Mirio is worried he confused one of your twos for a seven or vice versa. Or, maybe he should’ve introduced himself instead of just sending you a basic question that revealed his identity in no way whatsoever. In the eighteenth minute, you buzz back a response.

🩺

Why?

Might break a bone tomorrow.

It only takes eleven minutes for you to respond this time, and Mirio hates that he’s counting.

🩺

I’ll be sure to eat breakfast then.

No later than midnight, tho.

Okay!

Seven minutes this time. He wasn’t expecting a response.

🩺

You don’t need an injury to stop by, you know.

Mirio grins. A real one.

If you insist. Still might have a scratch or two, though. 😀

Two minutes. Mirio is oblivious to the fact that you are cringing hard at his emoji usage.

🩺

don’t be taking advantage of my quirk :(

You’re right… promise you will be compensated for your time. 👍

It’s immediate.

If it’s not edible, I don’t want it.

Mirio decides he might take it a little easy when he trains tomorrow.

#mirio togata #my hero academia #my hero academia fic #mha fic #mirio togata x reader #mirio x reader #mirio x you #mirio x femreader #reader has a regeneration quirk #slow burn #hurt/comfort #angst #mirio is quirkless #oyc #tamaki amakiji #suneater #kirishima eijiro fanart #fluff #sad mirio tbh #its ok tho

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers: Part 10 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

synopsis: reveal, don't conceal.

wc: 1.4k

tw: none

masterlist

"Come out one at a time with your hands up."

You stand idly by as the militia pulls people out of the SUVs; lingering behind Suguru as he watches the former members of the CSB kneel on the ground and be restrained with zip ties. When you see the familiar pink hair of Yuji Itadori, you start a little, eyes widening as he lays on the ground and is zip tied before being brought to his feet and made to kneel beside another comrade of his.

Of yours.

You can't see all of the faces, but the fact that Yuji made it out alive meant that he would try his best to get the others out alive. And that's enough for you.

A sea of about eighty people are kneeling on the cold floor of the aircraft hangar beside the main building, and every single one of them is restrained.

"Your entire organization has been burnt to the ground," Suguru begins. "And you come to me to get answers?" No one speaks. The implications of his words are enough to make everyone in the area gulp hard. "Why not ask your Grand Council?" Suguru wonders and chuckles from the guards echo around the room.

"We did," a voice - Nobara Kugisaki - calls out, and you raise onto the tips of your toes to try and see her. "but they sent us away without an answer."

"What about your leaders?"

Another silence.

"One of you tell me what truly happened. And be quick about it, my patience does not extend far."

"They sent..." Choso. "They sent in people we did not know to gun us down. We were all gathered in the Grand Hall, where we originally thought we would be informed about the next steps to take since we filed our grievances."

"And?"

"They told us to go to our barracks and wait for further instruction. The massacre started as soon as lights went out."

"It was so dark," someone cries out, sniffling. "They shot my partner before... before--" Various people begin to sob, and you grab Suguru's arm, looking over at the group sadly. Every single one of them had escaped from hell, and now they're here, looking to the both of you for help. Suguru peers over his shoulder at you, face set in a grim expression.

"Maybe we should give them some time before we ask them about everything," you whisper.

"The sooner we know as much as we can, the safer we'll be," he replies, turning back to the crowd in front of him. "All of those who work for us will be brought to the conference room. The rest of you will be given a good meal and put in temporary residences. You will be heavily guarded and watched. You will not be permitted to leave the Fallen Sun District until we have determined that everything is safe. Communication with your families that reside outside of the district will be cut off, and communication with the media will be punished. Guard set A, take those who are our agents. Guard set B, take the others away."

_____________________________________________________________

You sit beside Suguru in the conference room, arms crossed. You all look at the agents filing in, and Choso comes in as the last one - which isn't really a surprise - capping off the small crowd of ten double agents.

"I need details," Suguru states, and looks back at the person at the door, who nods and switches off the lights. A projector switches on, and an aerial map of the CSB headquarters comes on the whiteboard wall. "Where did the chaos begin? Where was Toji? Yuki? Gojo? And where are they now?"

"From the South Wing down to the Cafeteria, then the killers split up and took the East, North, and West Wing," someone mentions, and Suguru draws lines in accordance with the account.

"And the leaders of each faction?"

"Gojo disappeared long before the massacre began, but I know Toji orchestrated the attack," Choso answers.

"How?" you wonder, squinting your eyes. "And don't tell me you caught him talking about it in the open and said nothing."

"That's how it happened," Choso states grimly. "I'm the one who sent the email. I thought you would come and help us, Suguru." Suguru doesn't reply, staring at the aerial map and biting the inside of his cheek. "Those people died because you didn't come to help us. Do you know how many bodies I had to crawl over just to get to freedom? How many people had been shot down in their beds?"

"You know I know what that's like," Suguru replies tersely. "You know I know what it's like to have no fucking help."

"Then why? Why did you let us be slaughtered like animals, Suguru? Why couldn't you just do the right thing and come and help us? You put us in that mess! And you left us to die!" Choso stands up suddenly and produces a revolver from the inside of his coat, and points it at you. Guards instantly unholster their weapons and aim them at Choso, red lights pointed at his entire body.

"Don't shoot!" you cry out, hands up. "Don't shoot him!"

"Is it because of her?" Choso wonders, eyes empty and devoid of compassion. "Did she tell you to stay put?"

"Don't shoot!" you repeat, bullets of sweat running down your body inside of the vest. "Don't shoot."

"She told me to go and get you." Suguru finally answers, his own weapon pointed at Choso. "She wanted to save everyone's life."

"And why didn't you?" Choso whispers, gun still aimed at you.

"Because I didn't have time. And I didn't have the resources. You, out of everyone here, should know I would put my life on the line for my people when I can." Choso chokes out a sob, dropping the gun and collapsing onto the floor in a fit of tears. His piercing cries echo in the small room, and you rush to his side, holding him close to you. He sobs into your shoulder, whispering apologies and shaking furiously.

"Don't apologize," you whisper, rubbing his back slowly and methodically. "It's okay. You've been through a lot, and just need to rest."

_____________________________________________________________

"I'm going to the media to break the story," you mention, facing Suguru as he brushes his teeth.

"What?" he cries out, mouth full of white foam. "No. You're not going anywhere. Too risky."

"Send a guard with me, then."

"No." He spits into the sink, and you cross your arms, frowning. "I'm not giving you permission to do that. If Toji pops up, you're fucked. I'm not taking that chance."

"So you can't leak an interview with me? Like the ones we recovered from the Archives?" Suguru braces himself on the sink, hair falling down his face and shielding his expression from view.

"Babe," Suguru breathes, sighing and shaking his head. "It's possible."

"I'll tell my story. I'll leave you out of it."

"You can't tell your story without me," Suguru whispers, tying his hair back with the rubber band around his wrist. "Do you think we should get other stories corroborating ours?"

"Yes," you answer immediately. "A thousand times, yes." Suguru's onyx eyes drop to the sink, and you come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his large frame. "Do you trust me?"

He places his hands on yours and nods slowly.

"I trust you," he murmurs. "And I love you."

"I love you, too."

Four hours later, you're sitting in front of a camera, eyes staring into the lens with the intensity of your mother and father's expressions in their own videos.

"Ready?" Suguru wonders, leaning over and touching your hand from behind the camera.

"Ready." He clicks the record button, and a red light begins to flash.

"My name is Y/n, and I am a former Kitsune. Over seven months ago, I began my career with the CSB, and since my time there, I have learned so much about their inner workings, their scandal coverups, and how they tried to end my life not too long ago." You swallow hard, tears coming to your eyes. But you inhale deeply, pushing the emotion down as far as it will go. "You may have heard that I was kidnapped by those who run the Fallen Sun district. But that is simply not true," you assert, shaking your head once. "Everything you know about the CSB is a lie."

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#geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #getou suguru

[percival-c-mcleach]

Haunted Not By Ghosts- a McLeach fic.

The atmosphere was as heavy and thick as smog, stuck in time. The house, the barn and the ramshackle sheds were worn down from years of neglect, the barn having been particularly hard hit by time, half of its body rotted and given way to mushrooms.

The house's exterior had once been blue, now stripped almost completely to its wood and brick, with speckles of paint the only indication of what it might had been. The windows were cracked, rusted with dust. Weeds had forced themselves up between the boards of the porch, nearly obscuring the wood. Hidden among the vegetation was a dog bowl, a bright firetruck red that had now faded to a dull pink in the blistering sun, the faintest of childish block writing had faded too much to be read.

Taking a shaky breath, McLeach surveyed his childhood home. For forty years, it had laid abandoned, but it felt just as forboding now as it did back then, if not worse. Anxiety roiled in the man's stomach as he forced himself up the sunken steps, feeling the wood groan beneath him.

Joanna followed her master's footsteps almost exactly, not trusting the structural integrity of the building. She watched as McLeach hesitated with the doorknob, as if it would suddenly come to life and bite him. He gave a gentle twist of the knob- no luck.

"Aw hell.." McLeach huffed, twisting the knob harder. He jiggled the door, but the ancient wood refused to give. He crouched to examine the old doggie door-one he used as his personal entrance to the house-but he was now too old and too round for such an endeavor. Joanna looked between him and the door, noticing his pointed look. She shook her head hurriedly-no way would she be able to fit through there, and she was not looking to get splinters in her sides. Letting loose a curse, McLeach kicked the door-and it popped open nearly effortlessly. Quickly shaking off his surprise, he shouldered the heavy oak the rest of the way open, coughing as a wave of musty air washed over them both.

Once natural sunlight fell over the place, McLeach felt his breath catch in his throat- sans a thick coating of dust, the hallway looked almost exactly as he remembered it being. It was as if the other three McLeaches hadn't left the house; most of the decor still hung in place, with the addition of cobwebs. The coat rack still held his father's old bag, four pairs of slippers lined up beneath the side table, waiting for owners who would never return.

The house felt haunted. Not in the way most people came to think of haunted houses, brimming with ghosts; haunted in the sense that you could feel everything that had happened in this place. The anxiety only grew stronger, the further the pair ventured in. The carpet had faded from direct sunlight, but the patches in the shade of the furniture still remained its dark green color. Dust rose in clouds as man and lizard ventured carefully down the hall, with Joanna trying her best to hold in her coughing.

The family portrait was still there, hanging above a boarded-up fireplace. McLeach didn't blame anyone for leaving it, it wasn't something you'd want to have in your house. The sepia-colored photograph was dust-covered, but the man could still feel the cold, hard glare of his father through it. He raised his hand to wipe away the dust. The first to emerge was his mother. Thin-faced and tired, with her dark hair pulled up in an untidy bun. In one arm she cradled the newly-born Casey in his thick wool blanket, the other dangled down, gently squeezing the hand of a seven-year-old Percival. He had been small back then, missing two of his front teeth and a head full of hair like his mother's, dark and messy. Rubbing away the rest of the dust, Mr. McLeach soon followed. Towering over his wife and children, not even the shadow from the brim of his hat could have hid the starkness of his unnaturally light eyes. His large hand had a rough grip on Percival's shoulder then, the man grimaced at the memory. He couldn't bring himself to look longer at his father than was necessary. Even in photographs, he seemed to be glaring directly at his eldest.

Feeling claws on his leg, McLeach glanced down to see Joanna attempting to raise herself higher, she wanted a view too. He scooped her up as one would a toddler, though with some difficulty given her hefty weight. "Ay, you know who that is?" McLeach smiled, pointing to his mother. Joanna tilted her head quizzically- the human woman looked very distinctively familiar, even though she knew they had never met. "That's your namesake," McLeach continued, "My mama, Joanna. I promised that I'd name my firstborn daughter after her...and well, you count, I guess." Joanna wasn't able to understand just how important that was, but she felt it was very, very important. She waggled her tail happily, inching her snout closer to the frame. She clearly recognized the young Percival, and let out a rasp that sounded much like a wheezing laugh. "Go ahead, you looked weird when you were a kid too." McLeach rolled his eyes. His arms had started to ache, and he set her back down. He continued down the hall, and froze for a brief moment when he came to the wall opposite the sitting room's entrance. Beneath a framed picture of Casey with his model airplane, a round hole was at shoulder-height, the impact having shredded and burnt the faded yellow wallpaper. "..Damn idiot didn't bother to get it fixed after I left, eh?" He scoffed, "You see this, Joanna? You can tell I didn't get my marksmanship from Pops. He couldn't hit the broad-side of a barn." A slightly alarmed chirrup arose from Joanna's throat as she realized what that hole was, but McLeach didn't seem bothered by it. He breezed past the bullet-hole and past the sitting room, after taking a quick glance inside and finding that the armchair and couch were overrun with a brackish mold.

The kitchen was small, and had once been cozy. The kitchen window had broken, and one of his mother's prized climbing rosebushes had wormed its way in, leaving a layer of generations of rotting petals over the linoleum. Nevertheless, the rosebush itself was thriving, its creamy white petals shining in the golden sunlight. Reaching out to touch, McLeach couldn't help but to pluck one of the roses off, holding it in his palm. He had forgotten how silky-soft the petals felt, and how sweet it smelled; he closed his eyes and inhaled, feeling a sharp pang in his middle. A sharp pang of an emotion he couldn't quite describe. It was happiness and sadness rolled into one, and it left an ache. The smell reminded him of sitting outside with his mother, tending to the rosebushes together; if a blossom had just fallen, his mother would pluck apart the petals and keep them in a jar, preserved in the icebox until she got around to making soap and hand-cream. McLeach opened his eyes. The strange emotion only grew. He dropped the rose onto the floor, to join the rest of the fallen flowers.

Joanna had gotten braver, and went ahead of the poacher. She still felt intimidated by the house; she seen that her owner was as well. It was odd, to see him so on edge in a place that was so familiar to him. Maybe if she showed she was brave, he'd feel better. Crawling up a set of stairs, she gazed down the dim hallway. Four doors, only one of them was left ajar. Curiosity got the better of her, and the goanna went to take a peek.

The bedroom looked as if its occupant had left in a hurry. She could still see old toys and picture books on the shelves, a small, rickety wooden bed with moth-eaten blankets neatly made, with a shapeless lump that at one point had been a teddy bear sitting atop the covers. The walls were wallpapered, though it was difficult to tell what color they had been, for it was now all a dull grey. The posters on the walls were faded yellow, with vague shapes of rubberhose cartoon characters etched onto them.

Hearing McLeach wheeze his way to the top of the stairs, Joanna looked over her shoulder, and sat outside the door until McLeach could join her. He leant in the doorway of his old bedroom, soaking in the scene. After what seemed like minutes, he finally walked into the room, slow and quiet.

The thing of interest for McLeach were the picture albums on one of his shelves. The ones left exposed to the sun were faded-but maybe these were saved. He grabbed on and flipped it open, feeling a large lump rise in his throat when he seen that they were untouched. Smelled a little mildewy, but were still visible. He choked down the lump, flipping through each page slowly, wanting to savor every picture. His baby brother in his bassinet, wearing a goofy-looking baby bonnet. Flip. Their old dog, Blueberry, sleeping on the rug in the sitting room, a chewbone lolling out of his mouth. Flip. A photo of his parents on their wedding day, both looking much younger and happier than he had ever remembered them seeing; Mr. McLeach had looked kinder then, gazing at his bride with all the love and adoration that a husband was supposed to have for his life partner. Flip. His childhood friend, Ruby, sitting with the nine-year-old Percy on the river's rocks, holding baby ducklings. Flip. Flip. Flip.

These were happy memories; why did his heart ache so much looking at them? He shouldn't feel like this, looking back on what were the happier years of his life. Flip. Flip.

Percival's heart sank to the bottom of his stomach.

Of course there had to be pictures of Mr. Wells in here; back then, the McLeaches considered him as good as family. A tall, scrawny, unassuming man with shoulder-length brown hair, who had kindly and selflessly looked after Joanna and the boys while Mr. McLeach was away in the army- a second father figure, the reliant one, one who wouldn't yell and scream at the smallest of slights. After spending the summer with Mr. Wells as a boy, Percival wished he had stayed home. At least his father didn't play mind games with him, and when he hurt him, it was out of rage, and not premeditated. Not passed off as accidents that were all Percival's own fault. Not passed off as something he deserved, for something he couldn't even recall doing. The picture seemed so innocent. Just a kindly man with the boy he called his honorary son, on the back of a old mule at the fair. Percival knew better; he knew that under his child self's sweater was a nasty deep bruise, a bruise that hurt for weeks. Mr. Wells had claimed it had been an accident, that he hadn't meant to swing the shovel so hard into him. It was Percival's fault, for sneaking up on him like that.

'You'll be hurting for a while, Percy..' He could still hear that soft voice, too soft to note any real remorse, 'You frightened me something awful...I guess we learned our lesson on sneaking up on people, didn't we?'

We. As if it was a lesson they both learnt. As if it wasn't just one of the many thinly-veiled excuses used to hurt him. As if he didn't do worse, as if he did not permanently scar him physically and mentally. As if he didn't one day stop giving his excuses, once Percival had gotten too old to fall for them. As if it was the both of them having a knife held to the soft skin of their throat. As if it were the both of them who had to endure a full day and night in the skinning shed, surrounded by the dead, staring eyes of hogs. As if it were the both of them who had to endure nightmares, long after the torment had stopped.

It had always been 'We'. Never a 'I'm sorry.' It was always 'You.'

He had been brave only once. Brave enough to go to his father for help. How foolish of Percival to believe that his father would have stood up for his son. He never did such a thing before. The entire ordeal had been Percival's fault-his fault for being too stubborn, too much of a brat. If he had behaved better, Wells wouldn't have resorted to harsher punishments-it had been his fault he was treated so poorly.

For once, Percival stood up for himself.

Mrs. McLeach had tried to deescalate the fight. Mr. McLeach found himself with a broken nose, as Percival helped Joanna off the floor and out of the room. He only heard the safety click off before he had dove down the hall, sprinting from the door and into the night. "DON'T YOU EVER COME HOME!" For forty years he stayed away.

The strangled scream had terrified Joanna spitless. The goanna had been nosing around underneath McLeach's old bed, when her master emitted a sound so animalistic, that for a moment she feared that a big-cat had been hiding somewhere in the room. She immediately balled herself against the corner as the photo album was flung into the desk hard enough to shatter the frail wooden handle. The lump was back in McLeach's throat again, tighter and more painful than before, forcing tears to swell and blur his vision. His breathing came in ragged gasps, trying to keep the deep pain in his middle from winning. He crouched where he had stood, clenching his hands so tight that he felt as though they may break. He shouldn't be getting upset over this. He shouldn't be getting this upset over a goddamn picture.

It had been forty years. Why does it still hurt so bad? Why does it still feel so fresh?

The sudden warm weight crawling onto his lap tore him back into the present. Joanna scrambled as far up on him as she could. Percival hugged her as tight as he could, until his heart rate slowed back to normal, until he could breathe without choking. "Thanks." His voice was barely more than a croak. He took his bandana to dry his eyes with, "I'm sorry..I just.." he couldn't explain what had happened. Joanna understood though. She gently headbutted his shoulder, before slithering off of him and towards the photo album, picking it up in her jaws. McLeach took it from her, holding it in his lap. He'd tear out the pictures he wanted to keep, and leave the rest to rot in this forsaken house. The sun had just started to set as they made their way back to the truck, parked in the barren field next to the rotting barn. McLeach didn't even bother to give the house one last look before they drove off. Maybe now hadn't been the right time to come back. Maybe there never would be a 'right time.' Eventually, something had to be done about the place. Maybe he'd torch that haunted house to the ground. A house haunted, not by ghosts.

#Disney #disney villains #percival mcleach #the rescuers down under #fanfic