#It’s always Carole getting fucked over here in every possible universe it’s always her on the chopping block.

[compacflt]

do you ever think about/write about how maverick threw goose’s dog tags into the ocean? the letterboxd reviews have me thinking again.

yeah that was literally one of the first little things august 2022 me petulantly retconned . fuck that . he kept one.

in my (and many other ppls) opinion those weren’t mavs to throw away they should’ve stayed with carole

and (i try not to talk about this as much as possible but) it suggests Something about mav & goose’s relationship that the filmmakers thought his dog tags should go to mav instead of to Goose’s wife (though i acknowledge and appreciate the usefulness of the visual metaphor of him saying goodbye to goose at the end of TG) (though that visual metaphor was rendered completely moot by the whole of TGM showing that mav HASNT moved on from goose and only moves on once he has the chance to save roosters life [which is why i retconned it])

ALSO? i am sure I’m not the first person to talk about this? But, to add a second layer of confusion & analysis, uh, the dogtags mav throws into the ocean aren’t goose’s.

I’m reading “metcalf, mike” from the backside. Those are VIPER’s dogtags. for some reason.

now i choose to believe that’s a props issue… someone grabbed the wrong set of tags & they were like ehhh no one will notice… script supervisor not doing their fucking job… so i choose to believe the filmmakers MEANT goose’s dogtags & it doesn’t change the end of the movie for me.

But im interested to hear from you—does that change/add anything to anyone’s analysis to know that mav threw VIPER’s tags into the ocean? there are a lot of really weird implications that come from taking what is probably a props fuck-up at face value!!! (Viper giving mav his tags [weird], viper being mav’s surrogate dad figure, thereby this scene becomes about mav saying goodbye to his FATHER finally,.. etc.)

#i am saying nothing #about mav and goose #except all the other times i have said mav & goose are romantic lovers coded #not brave enough to commit to it so i am not committing to it #because poor Carole but #🫢 #when in chapter 6 i wrote Carole telling Ice ‘Pete is a selfish son of a gun’ i was partially referring to the dog tags thing #more evidence for my thesis that original top gun maverick is thoughtless and not a great or likable guy #It’s always Carole getting fucked over here in every possible universe it’s always her on the chopping block. #pete maverick mitchell #nick goose bradshaw #top gun #top gun meta #mike viper metcalf #ive worked as a script sup on some amateur film projects (like gotten paid to do it) this is the kind of stuff you DONTT!!!! want to do. #continuity!! details!!! these things fucking matter!!! #someday someone will watch your project and obsessively analyze it for gay fanfic purposes and your continuity errors will throw them off! #me when tom cruise hands: 🤤

[kingexpl0sionmurder]

What Happens When You Dream? - Bakugou Katsuki - Smut

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder​ Rating: NSFW 18+ Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/F!Reader (Implied Kaminari Denki/Shinsou Hitoshi), Aged up (College), Quirkless AU. Words: 8,624 Warnings: swearing, oral (male receiving), ghosts, hauntings, brief mention of violence, horror movie references, witchy things, Bakugou bad mouths the occult and witches but I do not share his views on the matter. This is probably unnecessary but it should go without saying that seances are no joke and you shouldn’t preform one unless you know what you’re doing (which I certainly do NOT). I pulled what is said off of a damn WikiHow so don’t try this at home. AN: Another collab piece for the BNHarem server! Have some Halloween Bakugou! This came out softer than I imagined it would but I just enjoy writing him as a sarcastic grump. Also, I didn’t mean to put in the Shinkami but it happened so we’re rolling with it.  I honestly don’t know what this is but I hope you enjoy it! Please check out the Masterlist for this collab HERE My Masterlist is HERE Buy me a KoFi HERE --

Every night, you dream at least ten dreams a night Do you remember the dreams? If you do, you're well on your way To having some fantastic times when you close your eyes. - Bring Me The Horizon - Steal Something

Bakugou lugged the last box up the porch steps and into the house, bypassing the living area and depositing it on the kitchen counter. Wiping his brow with the back of his hand, he surveyed the mess around him.

God, he hated moving.

“That’s the last of it?” Kirishima asked as he entered the kitchen behind him. “I’m so tired already.”

Bakugou just grunted in response, turning around to walk back outside and close up the moving truck. It was still early in the day, so they had plenty of time to start unpacking and get the house into some sense of livability before they needed to return the vehicle, and he wanted to get as much done as he could while he still had the energy.

Kirishima was on the phone when he came back inside, chattering happily as he leaned against the counter. When he hung up, he grinned. “The squad is going to come by and help!”

Ignoring the stupid nickname they’d adopted for their friend group, Bakugou shot the redhead a look. “You mean they’re going to come here and fucking distract you.”

“No! Mina hasn’t seen the place yet, and Denki promised to bring food. They want to help us unpack!”

Bakugou snorted. “Sure. Whatever. Just tell them to stay out of my way.” He walked over to a box labeled “dishes” and got to work, unwrapping the newspaper from around them and placing them on the counter.

Kirishima left him alone to move the furniture around in the living room and, presumably, hook up the TV. He let his mind wander, thinking about how they’d ended up finding this place. It was in a little suburban neighborhood, a park across the street with an excellent path for his morning runs, a convenience store around the corner for Kirishima’s late-night beef jerky cravings, a short walk to the train station, and three stops away from their university. 

Rooming with Kirishima was a given, too. He was the only one Bakugou could tolerate for long periods, and he knew how to handle Bakugou’s erratic moods. He didn’t push too hard, gave him space when he needed it, and was moderately neat. Bakugou knew if he’d roomed with someone like Kaminari, he’d spend the rest of his life in a jail cell, so Kirishima was the safe option.

It helped that they were going to the same school, even though they had completely opposite majors. Bakugou was studying physics, and Kirishima was going for sports education. Sometimes he pictured Kirishima as a school gym teacher, and it made him roll his eyes. He’d be perfect for something like that. 

One day Bakugou would be a nuclear physicist and win a Nobel prize. That was the goal, anyway. Number one in his field, his face on the cover of Time magazine, everyone would know his name some day. Nothing was going to stop him from reaching the top.

He had nearly finished unpacking the dishes when Sero walked into the kitchen carrying bags of snacks and soda. Kaminari followed behind him and dropped three pizza boxes on the island in the middle of the room and shot Bakugou a funny look. “Mina is scared to come inside.”

Snorting, he raised his eyebrow. “What?”

“She says she’s got a bad vibe, dude. I don’t know.” Sero shrugged. “You’re the most logical one, maybe you can get her to come in. Kiri’s trying and failing, man.”

Grumbling under his breath, wondering why he even bothered with these idiots, Bakugou stomped out of the room to see Kirishima leaning in the frame of the front door and talking to someone out on the porch.

“...been here all day, Mina. Nothing weird has happened.” 

“Oi, Raccoon Eyes, what’s your problem?” He shoved Kirishima out of the way to get a look at the girl, his eyebrows furrowed.

She looked nervous, her eyes flitting to the windows up on the second floor, her hands clasped in front of her. “I don’t know, Bakugou. Something just doesn’t feel right. I can’t explain it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down. “What are you even talking about?”

“Mina’s always been sensitive to energies and stuff, Bakubro,” Sero said from somewhere behind him. “She burned sage at my apartment when I moved in because she said something felt off.”

He vaguely remembered that Ashido had always been into some weird shit; Ouiji boards and hypnosis, tarot cards and reading people’s auras. Bakugou didn’t believe in that hippy dippy shit, especially being a man of science, but if it ended this dumb standoff on his front porch, he’d let her do whatever. 

Wrinkling his nose, he sighed. “If I let you burn that nasty shit in here, will you come inside?” 

“It might help…” trailing off, she stepped back. “I can just tell that something bad happened here. You don’t feel anything?”

“Fuck no.” 

“It just feels...sad.” Mina shivered, frowning.

“That’s because I haven’t hung up my Crimson Riot posters yet.” Kiri gave Mina a placating smile, stepping forward and placing his hand on her shoulder. “Let me take you to the store to get what you need, huh? We can talk about it in the car.”

Mina looked like she wanted to get as far away from the house as possible as quickly as possible, so she nodded.

Sero handed Kirishima his keys, since he was parked behind Kiri’s dumb ass truck, and the two of them headed out. Bakugou went back inside to finish the rest of his unpacking, slightly annoyed by the whole situation.

“What do you think it is?” Kaminari asked, opening the top pizza box and grabbing a slice. “I’ve never seen her like that before.”

“Maybe there’s a ghost here or something.” Sero chuckled. “Maybe you’ll open up a closet door somewhere upstairs and there will be a portal to the other side.” He wiggled his fingers at Kaminari, laughing. “Carol Ann, go into the light!”

“Idiots. There’s no such thing as ghosts.” Bakugou slammed the cabinet shut after he’d loaded in the last of the glasses. “She’s just being weird, as usual.”

“Hey, man. Don’t be like that.” Licking grease off his thumb (like a heathen, Bakugou thought), Kaminari fixed him with a look. “She looked genuinely terrified. It’s nice of you to let her burn the sage though. It’ll give her peace of mind.”

“Smells awful, though. But she says it worked at my place.” Sero added.

Bakugou had had enough of the conversation, so he just grunted in response, turning and leaving the room. 

He figured it was time to set up his bedroom, that way he didn’t have to worry about it later that night. Plus, it would get him away from dumb and dumber and Kaminari’s inability to use a napkin like a normal human being.

--

Later on, after Mina made the entire house smell like burnt ass, Kirishima took Kaminari with him to return the moving truck, Sero following behind him in his car. Mina stayed with Bakugou in his room as he put together his bookshelf, sitting quietly and making herself useful by unpacking his books and stacking them by author so he could arrange them when he was done. He wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but her silence was irking him. She was never this quiet.

“What’s your problem?” He asked gruffly, frowning at the allen key in his hand as he twisted a screw into the base of the bookshelf.

He glanced up when she sighed, her body moving to lean against the bed, her head falling back so her gaze was fixed on the ceiling. “Nothing. I just feel like the sage didn’t work.” 

Bakugou clicked his tongue. “Why should it? That stuff isn’t real anyway.”

“It is so!” He saw her glare at him from his peripheral. “You shouldn’t dismiss it so quickly.”

“I’m a science major, idiot.” He didn’t feel the need to elaborate further.

“So?”

“So, what? Science can explain away all of the so called phenomena that people like to believe are ghosts. There is no scientific proof that ghosts exist. All of the things that people attribute to hauntings are hallucinations are tricks that your mind plays on you. It’s all in your head.” He stood up, lifting the finished bookshelf to stand beside him. “Besides, you’ve been here all day and nothing bad has happened, has it?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Mina bit her bottom lip. “Well, no. It’s just...it feels anxious and sad in here? So it’s not that I expect anything bad to happen, really. It’s just uncomfortable.” 

Choosing not to comment further, Bakugou pushed the bookcase up against the wall, picking up the drill nearby so he could anchor it into the sheetrock.

When he was done drilling, she continued. “You shouldn’t shit all over my beliefs, either. It’s not nice.”

“Since when have you ever known me to be nice?” He pointed at one of her stacks. “Give me the A’s.”

“Fair point.” Mina stood, picking up a few books from the first stack and handing them to him. “Just do me a favor and be careful. If anything weird happens, let me know, okay?”

Bakugou bit back a groan. “Will it shut you up about it if I agree?” She nodded. “Fine. I’ll let you know if you need to call an old priest and a young priest to perform an exorcism, okay?”

Mina snorted at that, handing him another set of books. “Okay, good.”

--

Bakugou blinked sleepy, pressing his face into his pillow and breathing deeply. Waking up in a new room was disorienting, the light from the window hitting his face in a way he wasn’t used to. He sighed, closing his eyes again, annoyed that he’d woken before his alarm went off. 

He was just convincing himself to go back to sleep until it was time to get up when a soft groan from beside him made him pause, his eyes flying open at the sound. Turning his head, his mouth went dry at the sight of you laying beside him, your hair strewn over the pillow next to his, bare shoulders peeking out from underneath the covers.

Mind racing, he tried to remember who you were and what had led to you sleeping in his bed beside him. The last thing he could recall was shuffling off to bed early as usual, leaving his friends in the living room, the group of them laying haphazardly across the couches as they watched a movie. 

He hadn’t gone out or drank anything, so there was no way he could have met you at a bar. It’d be easier to explain that way, because he was no stranger to drunken one night stands. 

Opening his mouth to ask you what the fuck you were doing in his bed, the words were stuck in his throat when you turned around to gaze sleepily at him.

You were pretty, even with the sleep in your eyes and your unruly bedhead. Your smile was what made him pause, heart stopping and beautiful.

“Morning, Katsu.” You sighed, burrowing your face into his chest.

“What the fuck?” He managed, scooting away and frowning. “Who are you?”

“Ah, the million dollar question.” Giggling, you sat up, one arm moving to keep the sheet covering your obviously bare chest. “Normally I’d be offended that you don’t know it, but, it’s par for the course.” 

“How did you-”

“Get here? Through the front door, just like anyone else.” Shaking your head, you used your free hand to rub at your eyes. “I’m not really sure how this works, honestly. Maybe we just need to try again later.” You frowned, shrugging your shoulders and changing the subject. “You’re very warm, you know that?”

Frustration bubbled up in his chest. Why couldn’t you just answer his questions the way he meant them?

Before he could press further, you yawned, turning and shuffling to the edge of the bed. He watched in silence as you stood, his gaze lingering on your naked backside as you pulled on a pair of panties. He was quiet as you dressed, watching your movements and racking his brain, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Turning to look over at him again, you smiled. “Well, guess I should get out of your hair.”

Your cryptic words left him floundering, his eyes widening as you headed for the bedroom door. “Where the fuck are you going?”

Pausing, you turned to speak to him over your shoulder. “Time’s up. Your alarm is about to go off.”

Eyebrows furrowed, he watched as you opened the door and walked over the threshold. 

The blaring of his alarm startled him into a sitting position, his chest tight as he gasped for breath. What the fuck?

“A dream.” He grumbled, lying back down, his arm reaching out to smack the snooze button on the top of his clock. 

Rubbing his face tiredly, he groaned. It was very rare that he dreamt anything at all, so the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He had no idea who you were, he couldn’t remember ever seeing your face before, so he wasn’t sure why his mind had conjured you up to be the one in his bed.

He remembered reading an article once about dreams, and how it was impossible for your brain to make up people’s faces. It was believed that faces you have seen in passing in a crowd, even those you didn’t consciously look at, were stored somewhere in your memory, and could be brought forth in your mind in a dream. Maybe that’s where you’d come from.

He sighed, shifting in bed until his feet were on the floor, turning off his alarm for good and standing up. Stretching, he decided to forget all about you, focusing on the day ahead. He didn’t have time to dwell on dumb shit like dreams. He blamed it on his mind trying to get used to being in a new place, and left it behind him. 

--

“We really have to stop meeting like this, handsome.”

Bakugou opened his eyes, squinting over at you as you lay beside him, your head propped up on your hand. This was the fourth day in a row, and he was getting tired of it already.

“Again? What the fuck.” He slumped back onto the pillow below him. “Why the hell do I keep dreaming about you? I don’t even know you.”

You giggled, shrugging. “Kirishima sleeps like the dead, so you were my only option.”

“What does that mean? I’m getting tired of your cryptic bullshit, shitty woman.”

“Hey, you don’t need to call me names, Katsu.”

Growling, he sat up. “Well, you won’t tell me your real one, so I have to be creative.” He paused. “And how do you know my name? I don’t even let my hair for brains roommate call me that, and we’ve known each other since we were 16.”

“I figured you wouldn’t mind. I can just call you Bakugou if it makes you more comfortable.” 

“None of this makes me comfortable, you idiot. I don’t even understand what’s going on here.” He was tired. Ever since he’d started dreaming of you he woke up feeling like he’d barely gotten any rest, and it was grating on his nerves. “Why can’t you ever just be straight with me?”

Shrugging, you made yourself more comfortable in his blankets. He jolted when he felt your cold toes press against his calf. “It’s more fun this way, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, maybe for you.” He let himself lay back beside you, folding his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling. “Have we met before?”

Humming thoughtfully, you snuggled up against him again, your fingers ghosting patterns across his bare chest. “Nope. Kind of wish we had though. You’re pretty cute.”

Huffing through his nose, he ignored the fact that he didn’t shy away from your touch like he usually did. “I’m not fucking cute.” Secretly, he liked the praise.

“Would you rather me tell you that you’re hot?” You peered up at him, smirking. 

“Fuck you.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Hm. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The thought had crossed his mind once or twice. The fact that he always woke up in these dreams naked next to you wasn’t helping the matter. “You wish.”

The grin you shot him was almost sinister, and he felt his cock stir beneath the blankets.

What the ever loving fuck.

Almost as if you knew what he was thinking, you pressed against him, your lips brushing against his ear. “Wish we had more time, Katsuki, but your alarm is about to go off again.”

Bakugou shot up in bed, his heart racing and skin damp with sweat, a shiver racing down his spine. He could still feel your warm breath on his ear, like you’d just pulled away. 

When he looked over, he was alone. 

—

“You been sleeping okay, Bakubro?” Kirishima asked him from the doorway to the kitchen, his ridiculously bulky arms crossed over his equally ridiculous chest. 

Bakugou looked up from his toast, his head aching. “Like fuck I have.” 

His friend raised an eyebrow at him. “You look like hell, dude. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.”

“Fuck you.” Sighing, he dropped his toast on his plate, wiping his hand on his napkin and hunching over. “I keep having these weird dreams.” He paused, turning to look at the redhead. “What about you?”

“Me?” Kirishima pushed off the door and walked to the fridge, wrenching open the door and pulling out a carton of orange juice. “I’ve been sleeping fine. Best sleep I’ve had in a while actually. It’s nice not having all the campus noises around and stuff, you know?”

“Kirishima sleeps like the dead, so you were my only option.” Your words rattled around in his brain, and he frowned. 

“I don’t know, dude. I think you’re overworking yourself.”

Bakugou growled. “I’m trying to land that internship. I don’t have time to be a lazy asshole.”

“Hey, I’m not lazy!”

“I didn’t say you were. Guilty conscience?” He couldn’t help the smirk that curled onto his face.

Kirishima took a sip of juice straight from the carton, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he was done. “Shut up.” He grinned, his shark teeth on display. “You should take a day off, maybe. Or just, don’t study all day on Saturday and hang out with me! The squad is coming by for a barbeque. Maybe it’ll help if you just relax.”

He made a disgusted face when Kirishima put the carton of orange juice back in the fridge, making a mental note to buy a new one. Gross. “Being around you idiots will just stress me out some more.” He finished his toast, standing up to put his dish in the sink. “I’ve got a late lab tonight, so order some takeout.”

“You got it, man.” Kirishima grabbed his shoulder as he passed him. “Hey, think about Saturday, okay? I’m kinda worried about you.”

Shrugging him off, Bakugou nodded. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll think about it.”

—

Things progressed in mostly the same way for the remainder of the week. He got up, went to school, stayed late in the lab working on his project for the internship interview, and collapsed into bed when he got home. 

When he closed his eyes, he was back in that dream with you by his side. 

He liked to make you laugh, and it didn’t seem hard to do. You got a kick out of his shitty attitude for some reason, and you liked to listen to stories about his dumb friends. You seemed particularly fond of Kaminari, mentioning you knew someone that would probably like him. You seemed more morose than usual when you talked about your friend, and when he asked why, you just shrugged and said you hadn’t seen him in a while.

“So you aren’t just a figment of my imagination?” Bakugou asked, folding his arms behind his head.

You shook your head, your hair brushing his chin as you laid on his chest. He’d gotten used to the cuddling, and though he enjoyed it, he’d never mention that out loud.

“Of course I’m not, Katsu.” Sighing, you tilted your head to look up at him. “Man, you’re taking way too long to figure this out.”

“You’re not very forthcoming with information about yourself, idiot.” He grumbled, annoyed. “What’s your friend’s name, anyway?”

“Shinsou Hitoshi.” You grinned, a faraway look in your eyes. “He’s my best friend. I kind of miss him.”

“Why don’t you call him?”

“Can’t. It’s fine though.” You sat up further, hovering over him. “Maybe you could get him to meet Kaminari. He needs a little sunshine in his life. He used to work at that cat café over by the university. Bet he’s still there.”

“Cat café?” Bakugou wracked his brain. “Next to that udon place?”

“That’s the one. He’s got purple hair, you literally can’t miss him.” 

Bakugou snorted. He didn’t give two shits about his blonde friend and his love life. But if this Shinsou guy knew you, maybe he could get some answers. 

—

“Since when do you like cats?” Kaminari asked, falling into step beside him.

Bakugou was regretting his entire existence as he walked, wishing he didn’t give enough of a shit to find out more about you. Kaminari had been chattering beside him non-stop the entire train ride over, wondering why Bakugou was insisting on visiting the café and why he had to be the one to accompany him.

“I’ve always liked cats. Just shut up, dunceface.” Huffing, he shoved his hands in his pockets. He was unsure how he was even going to talk to this Shinsou guy, what he was going to say. “Hi, you don’t know me but I think I’m having dreams about your friend?”

“Mauhaus Cat Café?” Kaminari giggled, breaking Bakugou out of his thoughts. “If this place isn’t full of hot goth boys I don’t want any part of it.”

Rolling his eyes, Bakugou opened the door and let Kaminari walk in first. Standing behind the counter looking half asleep and thoroughly done with life stood a man with purple hair. 

“Oh, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Kaminari stopped and stared, and Bakugou nearly walked into his back.

“Oi, idiot, come on.” Grumbling about his friend under his breath, he pushed him further inside, neck craning back to read the neat chalkboard menu over the coffee machines. 

Kaminari, on the other hand, shook his head and waltzed up to the counter, a bright smile on his face. “Hey there, tall, dark, and handsome.”

Amethyst eyes gazed at Kaminari, his facial expression flat. “Oh joy, a loud blonde.”

Bakugou snorted. “Are you Shinsou Hitoshi?”

The man stood up straighter and covered his nametag with his hand. “That depends on who’s asking.”

Kaminari, being Kaminari, grinned a little wider. “I’m Kaminari Denki, and I think I love you.”

Shinsou blinked at him, his eyes alight with amusement. “Oh yeah?” Bakugou saw him glance down at the leather choker on Kaminari’s neck, before his eyes flicked back up to his face.

They’d known each other for two seconds and they were already eye fucking. Wonderful.

“Trust me on this, dude. You and I are going to get along great.” Kaminari turned to Bakugou. “Why have you been hiding this gorgeous boy from me, Bakugou? I thought we were friends.”

“We’re not. Now go away.” He pointed to a brindle colored cat sitting on a table on the far side of the room. “Go pet a cat or something.”

“Oh! Look how pretty!” Kaminari wandered away, not before throwing Shinsou a wink over his shoulder and biting his lip in a way he probably thought was sultry.

Shinsou seemed to be eating it up, but he was a bit more subtle. Bakugou almost felt bad for the guy, before he remembered that he didn’t care.

“How do you know my name?” Shinsou asked, tearing his eyes away from Kaminari. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

Nodding, he shoved his hands deeper in his pockets. “No, we’ve never met. A friend of yours told me about you, and I just...I wanted to ask you something.” Frowning, he pushed on, knowing how weird he was about to sound. “She said you were her best friend.”

Shinsou snorted. “I don’t really have any friends, man. Who was it?”

“That’s just it...I don’t know her name.”

“Okay, but she told you mine? That doesn’t really add up.” Shinsou’s eyes narrowed. “What does she look like?”

Bakugou described you, cutting himself off when he noticed how pale Shinsou suddenly looked. The slight look of horror on his face turned to anger so fast that Bakugou got whiplash.

“Do you think this is funny or something, asshole?” Shinsou’s voice was low and dangerous. “Get the fuck out of my shop before I kick the shit out of you.”

“What? What the fuck is your problem?” Bakugou was always quick to anger, but he especially didn’t like being threatened. 

Kaminari must have sensed that things were about to go south, because he appeared at Bakugou’s side a moment later. “Is everything okay?”

“You think this is some kind of joke? Like I don’t miss her and think about her every day? Like I don’t blame myself for what happened?” Shinsou’s deep voice cracked slightly at the end of his question, and Bakugou was horrified to see tears starting to gather in his eyes.

“What are you even talking about? Who is she?” He was starting to get really frustrated.

Shinsou moved to round the counter. “Fuck you, man. Get the fuck-” 

“Bakugou, who are you talking about?” Kaminari turned to Shinsou, his palm pressing gently to his chest to stop him from reaching Bakugou. “What’s going on?”

“Your friend here thinks it’s funny to come into my shop and rub my best friend’s death in my face.”

Bakugou choked on his own spit. “Death?”

Kaminari looked between the two of them in confusion. “Bakugou?”

He didn’t want to do this in front of Kaminari, but he had no choice. “I’ve been having dreams! Ever since we moved into the house…” Trailing off, he stared at Shinsou. “I didn’t know she - how is this even possible?”

“So, Shinsou’s best friend has been visiting your dreams, and she’s...no longer with us. She told you about Shinsou, so you came here to find out more?” Kaminari summarized, letting his hand drop from Shinsou’s chest when he noticed he wasn’t struggling anymore.

Bakugou just nodded, his fists clenched at his sides. 

“What house?” Shinsou asked. “Is she…”

Bakugou told him the address and Shinsou practically crumpled in on himself, his breath coming out in short pants. Kaminari had enough sense to guide him over to a nearby table and sit him down on a chair. Bakugou was glad the shop was empty.

Somehow completely level headed in this brief moment of crisis, Kaminari went around the shop counter and came back with a cup of water for Shinsou. He then pushed Bakugou, who was still standing frozen in front of the register, into the chair across from Shinsou, and then pulled up his own chair. “Shinsou, hey. Can you tell us about her?”

--

Heart pounding, Bakugou woke up in a dream. 

This was different.

Instead of waking up to you lying beside him, looking disheveled but beautiful as you teased him and held the blankets over your naked chest…

He was sweating, breath coming in short pants, his fingers tangled in someone’s hair, wet heat surrounding his cock.

Bakugou’s eyes flew open, taking in the white ceiling of his bedroom. He let his gaze travel down, the dark comforter on his bed hiding the identity of the person between his legs.

He didn’t need to see them to know who it was.

You hummed around him and his toes curled. He should definitely be freaking out right now, kicking you off of him and flying from the bed to the other side of the room, hiding his modesty as he screeched at you.

But then you did this thing with your tongue that he couldn’t even begin to describe and his eyes rolled back. It had been a while, he reasoned. He was too preoccupied with school and moving and not sleeping right to take care of it himself. 

Letting his fingers card through your hair, he tugged, reveling in the groan that left your throat and shot right through him. He rocked his hips in time with your bobbing mouth, biting down on his bottom lip to hold back his moans.

He felt himself getting close, eyes fluttering shut again as he let himself get lost in the moment. Later, he would contemplate how easily he accepted what you were doing, but for now, he was going to enjoy every second of it.

“Y/N…” He groaned, pushing his head back into the pillows. 

All at once, your mouth was off of him, and he felt the blanket fly off of his body, exposing his hard and aching cock to the cool air.

“What!?” Your voice was wrecked, but he was too keyed up to pay much attention.

Popping his eyes open, he groaned and sat up on his elbows. “What the fuck, shitty woman? I was about to come.”

“How do you know my name?”

Suddenly, everything came rushing back to him. He remembered where he was, who you were, what you were. “Fuck. What the fuck?”

“Learn another word, Katsuki. Jesus Christ.” You were still kneeling between his legs, your hand resting on his thigh. “How did you find out my name?”

Flopping back against the pillow again, he rubbed his hands tiredly over his face. “I met Shinsou today.” His dick was still so hard that it hurt, but he had a feeling you wouldn’t be helping him take care of the problem anymore.

You were quiet, so he peeked through his fingers, frowning. You were crying silently, tears sliding down your cheeks. “He told you?”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” He said finally, letting his hands drop from his face. He didn’t know why he was being so nice. Usually he’d tell someone who cried in front of him to suck it up, but it felt wrong to give you a hard time. Sighing, he threw his arm out to the side. “Come here.”

You sniffled again, climbing over his leg and settling on the bed beside him, your head resting on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you. “I’m sorry, Katsuki.”

“For what? Don’t apologize.” He grunted. “But later we’re going to have a conversation about what was going on when I got here.”

“That’s the first time you were you during it, I think.” Your voice was rough, and you sniffled loudly when you were done speaking.

“What does that even mean?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, that’s happened more than once? What the hell?”

Giggling, you nodded. “What, do you think I just get naked and climb into bed with you every time?” He huffed, and you continued. “It’s like...it’s you of course, but it’s like all of a sudden something clicks.” You snapped your fingers. “I’m not sure if I’m just tapping into your fantasies or what…”

He could feel the blush heating up his cheeks and he hated it, so he chose not to comment. 

“Usually I come in and you’re waiting for me, we get naked, then we fuck, then we cuddle, and that’s when you get here.”

“Tch. No way. I don’t cuddle.” Scoffing, he tightened his grip around you. 

This time you snorted a laugh, your hand sliding over his stomach as you got more comfortable. “Oh? You do with me, teddy bear.”

“Shut the fuck up! Don’t call me that.” He shivered. “That’s the worst pet name I’ve ever heard.”

“I’ll try to be more creative next time.” You shifted again, pulling the blanket over both of your legs. “And, if you don’t cuddle, then what are we doing right now?”

“Having a conversation.” 

“About?” You moved to look at him, raising your eyebrow.

Fighting hard not to smirk, he rolled his eyes. “Not cuddling.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You’re annoying.”  He hissed when you pinched his side. “Ow! What the hell?”

“Shut up and go back to sleep, Katsu.”

--

Bakugou Katsuki did NOT ask for help. The word help was not in his vocabulary. He could do everything and figure everything out on his own, thank you. However, he thought maybe, just this once, he was in over his head. 

He didn’t know shit about ghosts or spirits or hauntings or whatever the fuck this was. Mina, as Kaminari had pointed out to him after they’d left Mauhaus, was practically an expert. He was dreading the moment when she rubbed it in his face that she had been right about the house all along, but his annoyance over it paled in comparison to the need he had for a night of uninterrupted sleep.

Not that he minded, really, because he got to spend time with you.

The sudden affection that he had for you was unnerving. Because, besides the whole not asking for help thing, the other constant in his life was that Bakugou Katsuki did not catch feelings. Feelings were unnecessary. He hated them. He hated being fond of people, the weird ache in his chest made him want to puke. The only person he felt any kind of warmth for was Kirishima, and that was because he was his best friend. He tolerated everyone else to a degree, but he didn’t feel anything for them.

But then there was you, who he’d known for an entire two weeks. (He wasn’t even going to unpack the fact that you were literally haunting his dreams in which he was apparently fucking you.) Somehow, through the brief interactions you’d had, whether they were real or not, he’d managed to care about you. You were funny, and you didn’t put up with his shit.

It would figure that the only girl he’d ever had feelings for was dead.

He had come to terms with that fact now. His next course of action was to find out why you were coming to him. Mina was the only one he knew who could help him find some answers. (He didn’t really trust the internet.) The problem was getting her alone without the rest of the idiot brigade around. Kaminari knew, obviously, but he just wanted to talk to Mina.

His chance came on Saturday, when everyone came to his and Kirishima’s house for the barbeque. 

Bakugou was slicing vegetables in the kitchen when Mina came inside, offering to help. He grunted, pointing at a bowl of spinach. “Finish making the salad, raccoon eyes.” 

Mina rolled her eyes and stood beside him, taking the tomatoes he’d chopped and adding them to the bowl. “So, how’s the house-”

“What do you know about ghosts?” He blurted. Well, that was one way to ask.

She stiffened beside him. “Did you see something?”

Huffing through his nose, he picked up a cucumber and began slicing it a little harder than necessary to mask his discomfort. “Maybe.”

“Bakugou, what happened?” She grabbed his shirt sleeve, tugging on it. “Is it bad? Do we have to set up surveillance cameras or something?”

He snorted. “No, this isn’t a dumb horror movie.” Shrugging her off of his arm, he pushed the cucumbers towards her. “I’ve been having dreams-“

“How do you know it’s a ghost?” She interrupted, turning back to the salad.

Bakugou decided to be as vague as possible. “It’s the same dream every night, the same person. She never told me her name, but I was able to figure out who she is. She used to live here...” Swallowing thickly, he turned to look at her. “I just don’t know why she’s visiting me.”

“Well, most of the time ghosts are spirits that are still tied to this world in some way. People believe they have unfinished business, something they need to do before they can pass on.” Mina looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe she has regrets?”

Grunting, he went back to chopping. “I don’t know, it’s weird. She said she picked me because she tried Kirishima and she couldn’t reach him or whatever.”

“Maybe she thinks you're cute, Bakubabe.” Mina teased him.

“Fuck you.”

“Okay, alright, sorry!” Mina held up her hands in surrender. “So, she’s here somewhere, huh? I wonder why she hasn’t appeared to you outside of your dreams.”

“No idea. I wish she would though, I haven’t slept right since we moved in.”

“Do you know what happened to her?” 

Bakugou stopped chopping, thinking back to the other day at the cat cafe.

“I was working the late shift that night, and Y/N was home alone.” Shinsou rubbed his face, leaning back in his chair. “There had been a bunch of break ins in the area, so I told her to lock the door and leave the light and the TV on in the living room, that way it looked like someone was up. They must have been watching the house though, because it didn’t deter them.”

Bakugou swallowed thickly, his eyes glued to Shinsou as he stared down at the cup of water Kaminari had gotten him. He felt rage bubbling up in his chest, and he had to talk himself out of going to find whoever did this to you and making them pay. 

��Oh no, Shinsou, I’m so sorry.” Kaminari put his hand on his shoulder. “Did they catch who did it?”

Nodding, Shinsou finally looked up, eyes meeting Bakugou’s. “It was two guys. One of them turned themselves in, and the police were able to catch the other that way. They apparently had never agreed on killing anyone, they were just supposed to be looting. Not like they would have gotten a lot from us anyway, unless they had a thing for Siouxsie and the Banshees records and Funko Pops.”

“How-” Bakugou said suddenly, before closing his mouth and shaking his head. He didn’t really want to know.

“Shot her.” Shinsou said stiffly. 

“Fuck.” Kaminari breathed. 

“What does she say to you.” Bakugou blinked at the purple-haired man, realizing he was speaking to him. 

“Mostly she makes fun of me.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he sat back in the chair. “She was telling me how she missed you, wanted me to introduce you to Pikachu over here.” He nodded his chin at Kaminari. “Said you needed some sunshine or some shit.”

Snorting, Shinsou’s lip curled into a half smile. “Sounds like her.”

“So what now?” Kaminari asked. “Why is she visiting you?”

“Hell if I know. She mentioned this place and you and I kind of just wanted to see if I was making it all up in my head or something.”

“It’s kind of hard to believe. I don’t really know what to make of it.” Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Shinsou sighed. “I know you’re telling me the truth, though. Sorry for yelling at you.”

“Tch. It’s fine.” Bakugou didn’t blame the guy, honestly. 

“I think you should talk to Mina,” Kaminari said suddenly. “She knows a lot about this kind of stuff for some reason. She tried burning that sage, remember?”

“She told me she didn’t think it worked.”

“Sage is used for cleansing. It’s supposed to ward off evil. I don’t think Y/N fits the description.” Shinsou hummed. “She’s a soft hearted nerd.”

Mina gasped, eyes wide. “That’s so awful. That’s why this place feels so sad.” She turned back to the salad in front of her. “We should have a séance.”

Bakugou made a face, picturing that scene from Beetlejuice. “No one is going to be singing that god damn Banana Boat song at my kitchen table, fuck that.”

Snorting, Mina rolled her eyes. “You watch too many movies.” 

When the vegetables were chopped, he moved to the sink to wash his hands. “What will that do?”

“A séance? It’s a way to communicate with the dead. Maybe we can get her to come forward and speak to us, we can try to find out what she wants.”

Bakugou couldn’t explain the flash of panic that he felt suddenly. “Is that...going to get rid of her?”

His pink-haired friend blinked at him owlishly. “You don’t want her to go, do you?” 

He didn’t really have an answer to that, his ears burning hot. He shifted uncomfortably and snapped his mouth closed.

“You like her.” 

It was just a statement, and he couldn’t form the words to deny it. His embarrassment turned quickly to fury when he saw the look of pity in her eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, Katsuki.” She reached out to touch his shoulder and he jerked away. “You can’t-”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t fucking do.” He seethed. “And don’t call me that.”

“She’s dead, Bakugou.”

“You think I don’t know that already? Do I look stupid?” He was trying to keep from lashing out, his hands forming into fists at his side. He could feel himself shaking.

“What is going on here?” Kirishima asked from the doorway, brows furrowed. He looked between his two friends, arms crossed across his chest.

Bakugou shot Mina a pleading look. She quirked her brow in confusion, until she finally caught on. “You didn’t tell him? Bakugou, he lives here too, he has a right to know.”

“Shut up! I know that! I just...haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Tell me what?” Kirishima looked even more confused.

Kaminari chose that moment to waltz into the kitchen, bypassing everyone and plucking a piece of cucumber from the salad on the counter. He shoved it in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Everyone watched him, Bakugou more wary than the rest, until he spun around and shot finger guns at Kirishima. “Your house is haunted, my friend.”

--

Bakugou opened the front door to see Shinsou standing on his front porch, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

The ash blonde shared the sentiment.

Mina was in the dining area, draping a black tablecloth over the table and setting up candles. Kaminari was bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, relaxing infinitesimally when Shinsou walked in the room behind Bakugou.

“Hey, Hitoshi.”

Oh, they were on a first name basis already.

It had been a week since the barbeque, and his forced confession to Kirishima about what had been going on since they’d moved into the house.

Kirishima had taken the news way better than he’d expected.

“Oh, you’ve seen her too?”

“What?” Bakugou froze, his eyebrows disappearing into his hair.

“I mean, I keep seeing shit out of the corner of my eye, and I thought I was going crazy or something.” He shrugged, helping Sero set the plates on the table. “I’d blink and she’d be gone. I guess I kind of got used to it after a while. I never felt scared or anything like that, and she never bothered me. It was like she was just watching.”

“She thinks you’re nice,” Bakugou mumbled, slumping into a chair.

Kirishima chuckled. “I am nice, bro.”

The rest of the evening had consisted of everyone bothering him with questions, and Mina preparing everyone for tonight’s séance. Kaminari had insisted that Shinsou should participate, and Mina had agreed, saying it would help to have someone close to her in the room. She had decided to drop the subject of Bakugou’s other admission, the one only she had heard.

He was kind of in love with you. 

It was selfish, wasn’t it? You didn’t belong here anymore, and he couldn’t have a relationship with you. He would drive himself crazy if he tried to keep going the way he had been, running on little to no sleep and burying himself in his textbooks, spending his free time researching the paranormal and diving into the dark recesses of the web. When he caught himself on a questionable website that talked about resurrection and spells he knew he’d taken a turn down a road he didn’t want to travel. 

He wanted to go back in time, to meet you before your death. Maybe you would have dated him, and you wouldn’t have lived in this house with Shinsou. You wouldn’t have been here when those assholes broke in. You’d still be alive.

Kirishima’s warm hand resting on his shoulder shook him from his thoughts. “You alright, man?”

He shrugged his friend’s hand away. “Peachy. Can we get this over with?”

Shinsou hummed in agreement. “It feels really weird to be in this house with other people’s stuff.” He didn’t need to mention how uncomfortable it felt to be in this place with everything that happened, but he didn’t have to. It was written all over his face.

Mina was lighting candles and calling everyone to the table, her normally bright and cheery expression gone, replaced with a serious and forlorn look. Kaminari introduced Shinsou to all their friends as they all took their seats, Mina at one end of the table and Bakugou at the other.

“Did you bring something of hers?” Mina asked Shinsou.

The purple-haired man nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small battered book. “Her notebook. She carried it around with her and wrote down things to remember, stupid poems, little doodles.” He handed it to Kaminari, who passed it to Mina. “Also, I have this photo, I don’t know if it helps.”

He turned it to show it to Bakugou, and he felt his chest ache. You were smiling, wearing a ridiculous maid’s outfit, your hair frizzed out with a little white bonnet pinned to it. Shinsou stood beside you, wearing a plague doctor’s mask and a button up coat. 

“Halloween a few years ago. She was Magenta from Rocky Horror, and I refused to wear fishnets and heels to be her Dr. Frank-N-Furter.” A small smile appeared on his face. “She was a riot.” He leaned forward and placed the photo next to the notebook in the center of the table.

“That’s perfect, Shinsou, thank you.” Mina said quietly. “Okay everyone, phones off. When you’re ready, take the hand of the person next to you. It’s very important that we keep the circle closed until we’re done, so don’t let go.”

Bakugou grumbled, switching his phone off. He rubbed his sweaty palms on the leg of his pants, and then held his hands out. Shinsou took his hand on his right, Kirishima on his left.

Mina situated the Ouija board in front of herself, and then took Sero and Kaminari’s hands in hers. “Close your eyes and clear your minds. We want to think about our purpose, of contacting Y/N. I’ll say an opening prayer and we’ll wait. I’ll repeat it until we get an answer. Make sure you remember your questions for her.”

Trying to clear his mind and ignore how stupid he felt at that moment, Bakugou let out a breath and closed his eyes. He thought about contacting you this way, wondered if he’d be able to see you.

“Together we ask the spirits this night, to send us only the blessed and bright, we claim protection for everyone here, and no evil beings can come near.” She took a deep breath and continued. “We are reaching out to Y/N. Please join us in our circle tonight when you’re ready.”

Nothing happened for several minutes, so Mina repeated her greeting. 

And that’s when Bakugou felt it. It was like fingers on the back of his neck, blunt nails scraping over his skin and tickling him, warm breath on his ear. “Y/N?”

He felt Kirishima tense beside him, a soft laugh leaving him. “Is that her?”

“What’s she doing?” Mina asked quietly.

“Playing with my hair.” he audibly swallowed. “It’s kind of nice.”

On his other side, Shinsou jerked his arm. “She just pinched me. Typical.” He snorted, chuckling fondly.

Kaminari squeaked, saying it felt like she kissed his cheek. Mina felt her squeeze her shoulder. Sero felt her tug on the ends of his hair.

Shinsou hummed. “She probably thinks you need a haircut. She used to do that to me a lot, too.”

“Y/N, are you with us?” Mina’s voice rang out into the room.

Bakugou opened his eyes, watching as Mina leaned over the board in front of her, a surprised expression on her face as the planchette began to wiggle. 

“She says yes.” Her head snapped up, smiling at all of them. “Okay, who has the first question?”

“I’ll go!” Kirishima said cheerfully. Clearing his throat nervously, he smiled that shark toothed grin of his. “Hey, Y/N. Uh, have you been hanging around and watching me work out?”

Scoffing, Bakugou turned his attention back to Mina. She watched the planchette move, snorting when it stopped moving. “She said ‘sick gains’.” 

Kirishima blushed the color of his hair. “She noticed!”

“Shut up, shitty hair. Who’s next?” Bakugou tried to tamp down the spike of jealousy he felt knowing you had been spying on his best friend.

“My turn!” Kaminari grinned. “I was going to just feed you a pickup line, but Shinsou said no, so I just wanted to thank you for helping me find him. He’s pretty great.”

The planchette wiggled again. “She said ‘notebook’.”

Shinsou sighed. “She wrote down pickup lines in it all the time. I think she wants you to look at them.”

“Yes! Oh man, so cool. Thank you Y/N!”

“She said ‘be happy’. Aw, that’s so nice!” Mina looked at Shinsou. “You want to go?”

Nodding, Shinsou closed his eyes. “Do you forgive me?”

“‘Not your fault.’” Mina read.

“But it is! If I would have been home-” He stopped when the table shook slightly. 

“She moved it to the ‘no’, Shinsou. She doesn’t blame you. I think that’s a good sign you should stop blaming yourself.”

The purple-haired man’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He seemed to look a little less haunted, like he was finally going to accept it.

Sero cleared his throat. “Hi Y/N, we don’t know each other, but I wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened to you. I’ve heard some nice things, I think you would have been a great addition to the squad.”

“It says…” Mina took a minute to follow the rapidly moving heart shaped piece of wood. “‘Beat you at Mario Kart’.”

The whole table laughed, except for Bakugou. He was too busy thinking about his question, his gut wrenching and heart squeezing in his chest. 

“Bakugou?”

Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, and he knew it was because you were near. “Why are you still here? Don’t you want to move on?” He hated asking. He didn’t want the answer.

He felt you move away, his body relaxing slightly, his eyes trained on the board. He couldn’t read it from here, but he could see the planchette move. 

“‘I’m not ready.’”

“Why?” Bakugou heard himself asking.

The entire room was quiet, everyone waiting with bated breath. 

“‘I’m waiting for you, Katsu.’”

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #kingexpl0sionmurder writes #bnharem collab

[oksana-moods]

Ghost of you - Part 9

Summary: Ghost realizes that, no matter how hard she tries, she can't run away from her past. When Carol's presence do more harm than good, the only way to come clean is to take a dive. A/N: Thank you again for all the support, and to let you know that we reached the point where things start to change. Starting for the song theme. Now we’ll go with ‘Writings on the wall’ from Sam Smith. We’re halfway through, lovelies. Trigger Warnings: Violence, language (a bit too much, I believe), mentions of death… if you find others, let me know. Oh, sort of WandaVision spoiler. Angst. “I've spent a lifetime running, and I always get away”

With my hands involuntarily clutching the tag, I’m sitting at the roof watching the sun slowly but inexorably going down in the horizon. Once, I heard that this is what life feels like. We born just like the sun raises, we reach our greatest point then we start to set till night embraces us. Death, just like the sunset, is inevitable. I find myself agreeing with this metaphor.

It’s been a few months since our futile attempt to overturn Thanos’s snap. And now, each one of us went different ways to try to cope with this catastrophe.

Steve, Natasha and I were still living at the compound we had nowhere else to go so we’re pretending that we were taking care of things, that we’re moving on.

Tony and Pepper are about to get married and, honestly, I hope they find happiness. While Bruce went missing again, Thor went to New Asgard, he lost everything but still had a Realm to rule; Rhodey was working for the Government in a high position, or so I heard. Wakanda lost all the royal family but Okoye was holding on, as best as she could. Rocket and Nebula stayed a bit but returned to space with promises of visiting whenever they could.

Oddly, the logo ‘Avengers’ was scattered all over the universe. We were broken, but we would still protect whom needed protection.

And there is The Avenger, the original one. Carol barely touched the ground coming back from Garden and took-off claiming she needed to check on Skrulls. Not even three weeks later she was back, and that caught me off guard. I’ve never expected for her to return, not that quickly, at least.

She’s been trying to talk to me, but I dodged all of her attempts.

Until now.

 “Hey, Mav.” I close my eyes when her voice reaches my ears. “The view from here is amazing.”

I was sitting at the edge of the roof and Carol was leaning with her elbows at the rampart.

“Yes. It is.” I answer. “What do you want, Carol?” We both know she’s not here for the view.

“To talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I got up from my seat, I’m standing in the roof starting to make my way to the door. I flinch away when her hand touches my metal arm. I shoot an outrageous look at her.

“Please.” Her eyes are so soft against my gaze that something inside me stirs. “You’ve been avoiding me. Natasha told me that you lost most part of your memories.” Her brows are so furrowed that is clear she’s upset. Why is she? I turn away from her, I’m looking at the horizon once more. Her gaze was too overwhelming, right now.

“What do you want to know?” I shove my hands inside my pockets. Damn, why am I so nervous? “Most of my memories are gone. The last four years is all I have without gaps. Wanda…” I close my eyes, still hurts to think about her. I think it always will. “She helped me to unbury whatever she could.” I saw Carol leaning at the rampart. She was trying to get closer, but I needed distance.

“I crashed after your crash.” She nodded, of course she knew this. “Whatever happened to you with the tesseract, spattered in me too. That’s why I haven’t changed, just like you.” I could feel my hands shaking inside my pockets, I was uneasy. Something about her was pulling me to the edge.

“But, what about…” She hesitated “What about your arm?”  Why is she pretending to be concerned? She’s getting under my skin and I’m feeling cornered. So, I do what every cornered animal do. They attack.

“Will you fucking stop beating the bush? Ask me what you fucking want to ask.” Oh and so she did, she was exasperated with me acting like an idiot. What was she expecting?

“I came to earth around 2007. I went to Maria’s and she told me you were at war but never make it back. I… I saw your stone. I… I…” She ran a hand through her hair. “I thought you were dead.” Her voice was a whisper but that made something burst inside me. I grieved her, even when I knew she was alive. She chose to go away and wanna play the broken-hearted role?

“You and me both!” My voice was harsh and loud, but I wasn’t yelling yet. Yet. “What do you expect me to say, huh? That I am sorry someone lied to you? That I am sorry you were sad?” The setting sun illuminating her face, making her look gorgeous than ever, made me hate her even more. “Well, news flash for you, hon. YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY ONE! I still see you die every time I fucking close my eyes.” I yelled. I couldn’t take this anymore. “I SAW YOU DIE OVER AND OVER AND OVER.” Her eyes were glossy, there was something shining inside them that I couldn’t decipher. And, Fuck. It hurt so bad. They hurt me so bad. She hurt me.

“I… Lara, I am so, so sorry they did this to you” She whispered again. She didn’t want to fight, but all I know is fight. And I only stop when I see blood.

“When I was taken by Hydra, they made me watch you die, they made me watch you leaving." My voice was low and hard, this time. "So no, I can’t stand this. Hydra took everything from me. They beat me and oh, they hit me hard. They cut off every single piece of me, and they put me through hell. But you Carol, you broke me first.”

I turned in my heels and left the roof. Each step my feet tried to betray me, make me to look back, but I kept going til reach the door. I knew I was far too harsh, my words probably cut her, but if she was bleeding so was I.

 -----------------

 Days went by and I didn’t see Carol since that day in the roof. Steve told me she took a room for her at the compound, she’d be staying a bit longer. Of course she is. Like I didn’t have a lot to deal with already. Since there weren’t any assignments going on, all the workout in the world couldn’t help to ease my mind. Or heart.

  I park my motorcycle at the parking lot and pick up the flowers from inside my jacket. I check it to see if they still look good. I shrug, they’re good enough.

I walked inside the Hospital and expertly made my way to my friend’s room. It pained me to know she was sick, but she was too strong to give in that easy to cancer. She was a fighter. She inspired me. If she could go on even with her decease and losing her child, so could I.

“Buying flowers became a struggle nowadays.” I said with a smile.

Her smile lit up the whole room. “Good thing you’re not going out on dates, then.” My laugh filed the room.

“Please Maria, you’re too old to be that sassy.”

“You’re just as old as I am. The difference is just that you still look good.”

“You still look good, Ma. I’d take you out on a date.” And it was true, she was around her sixties but still look beautiful. Few lines near the eyes, but only complimented her.

“Awn, you flatter me” She put a hand on her chest, faking innocence. “I don’t go out with women, hon. But I’d definitely accept the invitation, I’m craving real food, not whatever this hospital calls food.” Instantly, this blows the air out of my lungs and I’m forced to face reality. My friends are gone and soon, Maria will be gone too. Carol told me once that her biggest fear was to bury all her friends. Fuck. I understand what she meant now.

“Geez, Mav. It was only a joke. Next time, don’t bring me flowers unless you’re bringing fries too.”

I forced a smile at her.

After the whole ordeal with the ‘Accords’ I was arrested alongside Clint, Scott and Sam. Cap came and rescued us, but I went on the road since I was an outlaw too, so my visits to Maria and Monica stopped despite keeping in touch. I wouldn’t forgive myself for the time I lost.

“Carol came to visit me yesterday.” That’s the Maria I came to know, never holding back her words. “Apparently, you’ve been giving her a hard time.”

“Oh. Did she come to cry on your shoulder?” Every time Carol’s name was brought up, I felt my brain short-circuiting. I don’t know why, but I hated it.

“Naa. I was just gossiping around, I’m an old lady, after all.” She laughed lighting up the mood. “Does it feel better to yell, to be a bitch with her?”

“What?”

“C’mon, Mav. You changed a lot, but I can still see through you. You need to vent whatever is stuck in your chest; you need to put it out.” I was frowning at the floor. “That’s the only way both of you will move on.”

“I hate her, Maria. Seeing her makes me feel like my wounds are cutting open once again. I don’t see how we can move past this, how I can forgive her.”

“If that’s true,” She pointed at my chest, and I knew what she was going to say. “Why do you still wear her tag and yours together?” All of a sudden, the Tag was heavy in my chest. Tons and tons of unspoken words, feelings, and pain weighting too much.

“I… I don’t know. It kinda feels right.” God, I’m so confused. Is it possible to be friends with Carol Danvers again? Will I, one day, forget everything Hydra made me feel with those memories? I wonder if that hopeless feeling will ever go away. Because right now, all I can think of is that, at any moment, she’ll turn her back on me or she’ll die. It’s hard to look at someone expecting, waiting for the pain that usually comes with their face.

“I know it does.” And she changed her tone to her bossy one. “So, stop acting like you have a stick shoved inside your ass and talk to her. Promise me you will.”

“All right. I promise.” I answered, it was no use try to avoid this. Maria wouldn’t drop this.

“That’s better.” She had that look like she knew that I’d comply with her request.

“Doesn’t upset you? That she left and forgot about us?” I was looking out of the window, looking at the cars outside, people were, slowly, trying to find their bearings. Trying to figure out what should be normal now. They were trying. Should I try, too?

Maria’s voice made me look at her when she replied. “It used to hurt, yes. But I’m dying, Mav, I don’t have time or patience to fight anymore.”

 After Maria scolded me enough for not talking to Carol, our conversation was lighter. She complained about the overprotective nurse, she complained that tv never had good things to watch, gossiped about other patients, and when I said my goodbyes, she made me promise to sneak some food for my next visit.

However, all the way home I kept overthinking these things I’ve been building up inside me. Something about Carol made me uneasy, like I’m exposed in a field filled with enemies, with nowhere to hide. And I don’t like it on bit. There’s something about her eyes, and I hate the intensity in them when she looks at me, it’s like they can pierce your soul, see what’s underneath… And I’m way too afraid of all the terrors that she might discover. I’m not Lara anymore, I’m not who she thinks I am, no. I’m someone else.

 -----------

 “You stole my spot.” I said as I reached the roof. The woman who I was addressing to, turned her head to look at me.

She was wearing a simple jeans with a blue t-shirt and her hair was framing her flawless face, how this woman could be so beautiful even with so common clothes was beyond me.

She gave me a tide smile that never reached her eyes, they were somewhat tired.

“Oh. It wasn’t my intention; I’ll leave you to be.”  Yes please, leave me alone. I thought to me myself, but then my conversation with Maria from last week came to my mind. Fuck. I hate making promises. She was preparing to leave when I spoke.

“There’s room enough for both of us, though.” I said with a shrug, pretending that I was okay with her company, pretending that I wasn’t uncomfortable with this proximity. Her head snapped at me, she looked at me like I had grown two heads.

“Okay.” Her voice was so soft that immediately put me on edge. I felt exposed again. What was happening with me?

 We stayed there for a while with a heavy silence between us. The tension was so thick that I’m sure we couldn’t move, that’s probably why none of us left the roof yet. There was a sea of unspoken words and as much as I hated it, we couldn’t ignore this anymore. If she’s going to stay, we’ll have to dive into this. We’ll have to work together at some point, this wouldn’t be healthy during even the simplest mission.

“You know, I’ve been in a lot of places, but none of them had such a beautiful sunset.” Her voice startled me; I wasn’t expecting at all.

“Well, it does have something peaceful, doesn’t it?” She seemed to ponder what I just said.

“One may say that this might be a spell. That there are a lot of beautiful places out there, but nothing compares to home.”

“Is it?”

“What?” She looked at me, confusion written all over her face.

“Is Earth you home?” At this, she frowned.

“Look, I know what you’re implying. I… I don’t know how much you remember from… before.” She seemed nervous. “What do you recall?”

And that’s it. There’s no turning back now, I needed to dive into this sea and hopefully I’ll reach the other side alive.

I looked forward; eyes set at the setting sun. I couldn’t deal with this and look at her at the same time. My hands started to shake so I wriggle them together to stop them, somehow.

“I remember us.” I felt a pang in my chest. Shit. What is this? “I remember you were always going back and forth to Earth. I remember when you went for good, ‘we’re too good at goodbyes’, yeah?!”

She signed heavily. “While helping Talos, I realized that a lot of people needed help. I wanted to stay, but I just couldn’t ignore innocent people dying.”

“People were dying here too.” She was frustrated, she threw her arms around impatient, but I continued before she could speak. “I know, I know you wanted to bring peace to whoever you could. And Earth already had its saviors.”  

“It’s not just like that, I…” She turned to fully look at me. “After I found out about your… death,” She struggled with the word, it fell heavily from her tongue. “I felt so helpless, so stupid for wasting away the time I could’ve had with you, I…” She was staring at me, eyes locked, and I felt myself being dragged inside. “I couldn’t forgive myself for loosing you for good.” She half whispered as if afraid of this becoming true. Like I could turn into a mirage, out of blue.

She was diving in the sea of what was left unsaid too, there’s no going back. “And when you died, part of me died too. Then Earth wasn’t home without you on it anymore, that’s why I never came back after. But then I received Fury’s emergency call, only to learn about Thanos… only to find out that you were alive this whole time.” Her eyes were glowing with such intensity, that my feet were glued to the ground. I felt a hand wrapping around mine. “I wanted to come back, back then. After I went through your door, I regretted at the very same instant, Lara.” Her voice was so soft when she spoke my name, it was like her tongue was made of velvet and it took the air out of my lungs. “After all, I wanted… I wanted so damn hard to be happy… with you. But I couldn’t find my way back, it didn’t seem right. I didn’t want to hurt you. I’d only do more damage than I already had. And I’m so, so sorry for hurting you.”

I was so entranced in her eyes while she was speaking that up until now, I hadn’t realized how close she was, or even that her hand was gripping my flesh hand. She’s so close that I could see the fading sunlight brightening her freckles. She was so, so close that my brain was at loss.

I didn’t know if the sun was illuminating her face or if it was the other way around, but such perfection made something inside me stir, I felt strange. I felt an urge to reached out and touch her face, like I needed to feel her skin under my touch just as much as I needed oxygen.   “Why are you here now, Carol?” My voice was so soft that felt foreign, almost like a whisper. “My heart is at Earth.” She whispered back, like she was afraid of breaking this spell, this trance that was keeping both of us from moving away.

#carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x fem!reader #carol danvers x original character #cap marvel #captain marvel #captain marvel x female reader #Ghost #ghost of you #marvel fanfic series #original female character #marvel x reader #angst

[lassieposting]

Bit late and random but it's the anon you leave food out for here to give away I am also bi and I think exactly the same as you about bi val pretty much, every time Derek offers me representation my reaction is to slowly, hesitantly take it and say "thaaaaaaaaanks..." while rolling my eyes, in much the same way one accepts their least favourite flavour of sweet from an annoyingly enthusiastic uncle-type-individual. Ironically I feel I had more in common with her before the bi shit started up.

What I find really amusing is that Landy actually did reasonably well at representation when (and only when) he wasn’t trying. 

Oh god, this got long, anon, my ass rambled.

tldr; I'm glad actual bi people dislike bi val (or how Laundry handled bi val) as much as me, this will probably offend at least one person but i don't really care, Dirty Laundry wrote better rep when he didn't mean to write rep at all, and if he ever starts trying to "represent" groups I'm part of I'll take him out back like a dying horse and shoot him.

Like, yes. He had stupid and potentially offensive shit - I say potentially because what offends one member of a group won’t necessarily offend all of them. His attitude to mentally ill people is, frankly, disgusting. We’ve had “Skulduggery can’t be abused, he doesn’t have feelings”. We’ve had “eVeRyOnE iS bI eVeNtUaLlY”. We had Ping, who seemed to be pretty much universally offensive. And that's what's always going to happen when a straight, cis, white, wealthy, male author tries to write marginalised groups he doesn't know shit about, because inevitably he's going to fall back on stereotypes.

But we also had:

SEXUALITY REP: Phase One's nonstraight characters were treated like the straight ones, and like, isn't that the whole point? There was no need for a massive Coming Out Story TM to grab for those sweet sweet Woke Points, because sexuality isn't supposed to be important to mages. I never understood why Val needed that whole Coming Out Panic storyline. Like...Des and Melissa are ridiculously supportive, encouraging, loving parents. They accepted you dating a ~19 year old when you were ~16. They accepted you revealing you could do fucking magic and that you'd been lying to them for like seven years. They took your undead buddy in stride and the most pressing question your dad had was whether magic toilets exist. There is zero reason to think that "I'm bisexual" is gonna be the thing that makes them flip and throw you into the streets in disgrace, Valkyrie. Come on.

Tanith had girlfriends and it was just mentioned casually, because it's normal.

China had massive UST with Eliza. That was an opportunity right there to not only include a f/f relationship, but also to bring back one of the few precious surviving characters from Phase One, using characters and a relationship that already had several books' worth of setup and tension and interest from fans.

The Monster Hunters have a casual conversation about which one of the Dead Men they'd date.

Ghastly has a conversation with Fletcher about the pain he's been through being in love. He never uses any pronouns.

It was confirmed at one point re: the Dead Men that at this point, after 300-odd years, everyone's been with everyone else at some point.

Thrasher is gay, and while Scapegrace's...everything...is treated as a joke/comedic relief, Thrasher's love for him isn't. He's completely devoted to Scapegrace, and that in itself is not played for laughs, even though the rest of the scene usually is. Thrasher's description of their first meeting is essentially a love-at-first-sight situation for him.

"ABNORMAL" RELATIONSHIP REP: Age gap relationships are normal for mages. Off the top of my head, using only canon, canon-implied or almost-canon ships:

Ghastly/Tanith (~350 year age difference)

Tanith/Sanguine (~250+ year age difference)

Tanith/Saracen (~350 year age difference)

Caisson/Solace (~250 year age difference)

China/Gordon (~400 year age difference)

Kierre/Temper (~500+ year age difference)

If you include fan ships, there's also things like Mevolent/Serpine or my Mevolent/Vile, which are both ~600 year minimum age gaps based on the timeline, or Valdug (and its variations) which is ~400 years.

Now, whether you consider this kind of rep positive or negative is up to you, but it’s there.

MENTAL ILLNESS REP: more like "Which characters in this series don't have a mental illness or a personality disorder?" I have some of these issues, but not all of them, so this is just how I read it, but:

ADHD: Skulduggery

Dissociative Identity Disorder: Skulduggery & Vile

Dissociation: Skulduggery again, most notably in DD and DB

Schizophrenia (or similar): Valkyrie & Darquesse, Valkyrie "seeing" Darquesse's ghost thing in Phase Two

Impostor Syndrome: Reflectionie

Autism: Clarabelle

Trauma/PTSD/CPTSD: Skulduggery, Valkyrie, China, Ghastly, Erskine...pretty much everyone has a believable, understandable, morally grey trauma response in this series. People struggling with trauma are spoilt for choice of characters to see themselves in.

TRAUMA REP: This series is a trauma conga line, but everyone has a believable, understandable, morally grey trauma response in this series. I see little bits of myself in more than one Phase One character.

Childhood Abuse (of varying degrees & types): Skulduggery, Carol & Crystal, Omen, Fletcher, Ghastly, China, Bliss, Sanguine...

Estranged Family: Skulduggery abandoning his crest, Fergus & Gordon, China & Bliss

Bad Romantic Relationship: Skulduggery is also very clearly an abuse victim. He’s got a solid history of romantic attachments to women who manipulate, use and gaslight him for their own agendas.  There's a whole paragraph in SPX about how Abyssinia broke him down, isolated him from his friends and preyed on his desperate need to be loved, all classic abuse tactics.

And I’m personally a huge fan of this backstory for two reasons:

1) Society likes a plucky victim in media. The "My suffering made me stronger" type of victim. And it's not always like that in real life. Not all survivors come out of their abuse stronger or kinder or more understanding. Some of us come out cold and fucked up. Some of us end up as emotionally stunted, bloodied-nails-and-bared-teeth survivors, broken in ways that can't be fixed and sustained by enough rage to power a small sun. But society doesn't like to tell the story of that kind of survivor, because we're not usually a likeable protagonist. When we're shown in media, we're usually the sympathetic villain, or maybe the antihero. But Skug is someone who's done awful things and lost pretty much all his faith in humanity and been burned more times than he can count, and he still makes the conscious choice to try and be the good guy when he could so easily go Evil Supervillain on the world, and I don't know about any of y'all, but I've modelled myself on him in that. I've made the choice to do something good when all I really want to do is just become a horrible, shrivelled ball of nastiness and revenge. And that's because I saw him do it and realised that I could do that too.

Skug is an incredibly capable, strong, masculine Man's Man. He gets in fights all the time, and he usually wins. He's military, an industry that's Really Bad for stigmatizing weakness and mental illness, and he's right up at the top of the hierarchy. Almost everyone is afraid of him. He's a straight up cold-blooded killer. Skulduggery Pleasant is precisely the type of person who's not normally portrayed as a victim of anything. Nothing about him screams "victim" at all. But his abuse history is insidious. He's so conditioned to respond in a certain way to abuse from the women in his life, probably from a very young age, that despite all that strength and capability and stubbornness and ego, he just goes along with it. And it's an established pattern going back hundreds of years. He keeps going back to China, even though he knows she's bad for him and his friends keep telling him to stay away from her. Abyssinia latched onto him when he was traumatized and vulnerable and weaponized it against him to make him easier to control - and when she reappears, hundreds of years later, she jumps straight back into using, tmanipulating and gaslighting him and not only does he let her, he doesn't even seem to realise that behaviour is abusive. He thinks it's normal! That's how he's always been treated by his long-term girlfriends, with the notable exception of Wifey. Even when Val is being fucking nasty to him in the first couple books of Phase Two, sniping and lying and blaming him for everything under the sun, he just takes it. There's no attempt to tell her she's being unreasonable, no telling her to fuck right off and give her head a wobble, no defending himself even when she's bitching over something that isn't even his doing. And this is a man who has an absolutely gleaming steel spine the rest of the time; Skug has no problem saying no to anybody else, but he can't get past the way he's been taught to treat the important ladies in his life. Skug is a walking reminder that anyone can be a victim of abuse, even the ones who seem least likely to be susceptible.

GENDER REP: This one is the most iffy out of the bunch and definitely was not done very well in the eyes of the people who matter most, but I'll include it anyway because it mattered to some.

So there's Nye, who's...agender? Genderless? And uses "it" pronouns? Nye was generally considered horrible rep because it's also a war criminal and experiments on people and I've seen people say "Well I don't want to be seen like that" but? It's still possible to be a war criminal and also genderless. I never saw the two things as being related or relevant to each other.

There's also Mantis, who's in exactly the same gender/pronouns boat as Nye and always seems to be forgotten about, which sucks because Mantis is a war hero. It fought for the Sanctuary during the War and they never lost a battle when it was in command. It's called out of retirement to fight for the Supreme Council in LSODM, ends up fighting alongside Skulduggery during the Battle of Roarhaven, and ultimately dies attempting a very brave, very risky strategy. Mantis is, unreservedly, one of the good guys. It was also my introduction to sentient beings using "it" pronouns, and did it in a way that felt natural, so when I met my first person online who used "it" pronouns and hated to be referred to as he/she, it was...weird, but not as weird as it would otherwise have been, because I was like, "Oh yeah, like the Crenga. Okay."

And then there's the Scapegrace sex change plotline, which...I might have an unpopular opinion on this one. From what I’ve seen, trans people don’t seem to think was handled well or with any sensitivity at all. I’m not trans, so if the trans community says he was being offensive to them, I’m not going to claim otherwise. But...I first read the Scapegrace plotline as a young teenager in a tiny rural school with zero diversity, going through a period of being deeply confused about my own gender identity. He was more or less my first introduction to the idea that genitals =/= gender. I was relieved, at that point in my life, to read someone having a lot of the same thoughts I was having about being in the wrong body. So while it may have been badly done and yeah, the series would probably have been better without it, it did make at least one kid suspecting she might not be cis go “Huh! So there are other people who feel like this.”

Thrasher is also implied to be legitimately trans/gender-questioning, and that's not played for laughs either.

So? Phase One, while it absolutely had faults and issues and things that were just "Oh god why", was actually full of rep, at least compared to the other series that I read as a child/teen. But? As soon as Dirty Laundry started trying to be woke? He fucking sucks ass at it. Aside from confirming Phase One's hints that Skug has a background of abusive relationships, every single attempt at shoehorning rep into Phase Two is Bad.

The painfully OOC, forced, badly-written awkwardness of Val suddenly being rabidly horny for women out of fucking nowhere. The stilted, forced cringiness between her and any of the women she's flirted with - contrast that with Sorrowscorn's interactions, full of natural chemistry that had us all like 👀 I mean, I never shipped Val/Melancholia, but I could always see why people did - they had miles more chemistry than Val/anyone in Phase Two.

The fucking mess that is v*litsa, because if someone says "I'm really not interested in friendships/relationships right now", clearly the route to true love is to bulldoze their boundaries and forcibly insert yourself into their life and proceed to treat them like a delicate soft uwu flower, completely ignoring the horrible things they've done, while gleefully damning their best friend as an irredeemable monster for the exact same things, which is. You know. Gonna affect your so-called love's self-confidence and self-esteem because she knows she's no different to him. Y'all know I love an angsty ship, an unhealthy ship, a ship with fucked power dynamics, but I literally cannot roll my eyes any further back in my head at this shit. I never read Demon Road, but from what I've heard from friends who did, it does seem like every time Laundry tries to write an f/f ship, he comes up with a cringey abusive/manipulative caricature and tries to call it rep, and he needs to Stop.

Val's Mental IllnessTM arc. It's funny how he wrote Skulduggery as a wonderfully complex character with deep-rooted psychological damage and long-lasting trauma, but believes he wrote a character with "no feelings" - but when he tries to delve into the damage the world of magic has done to Val, he turned her into a weak, whiny drug addict who treats everyone around her like garbage and is so selfish and dislikeable that I? Honestly can't even reconcile Phase Two val with Phase One val. They're two completely different people. He's shown on Twitter that he doesn't have any respect for mentally ill people, and it shows. Other mentally ill people might see it differently, but the whole thing just makes me go "yikes".

Never, who has no personality outside of being genderfluid, and whose pronouns make no sense. I'm sorry, I have never met an nb person who insists that you change from male to female pronouns multiple times in a sentence, every time you refer to them. It's confusing as fuck. Now I have been told that Never has apparently received some character development in the last couple books, and if so, fair play, but I quit reading after Midnight, and Never and the rest of the personality-less new characters introduced in Phase Two who just seemed to be 2D Stereotypes to snag Woke Points were a big part of why, so. Development too late, I'm afraid.

(Now, if anyone is looking for a well-written genderfluid character, I recommend the Tawny Man trilogy by Robin Hobb. I have a lot of issues with her as a writer, and unfortunately I hate her POV character which puts me off the series as a whole, but she wrote the Fool/Amber/Lord Golden and their gender identity/approach to sexuality with so much more respect and realism. That is the kind of rep nb people should be getting: 3D, complex, realistic characters whose gender is only a tiny fragment of their personality, not the be-all-and-end-all of their existence. You know. Like cis people get. Nobody wants to be represented by a 2D cardboard cutout stereotype.)

Anyway idk how much sense this makes it just really amuses me that Laundry would include all this rep completely unintentionally and then go on Twitter and remind us all that actually he's a massive asshole via insensitive/offensive tweets about the groups he'd actually done a fair job of including (i.e. Skulduggery has no feelings, mentally ill people should find another series to read, the bullshit about Val being "heteromantic bisexual" on Twitter and then spouting all the "the woman she loved uwu" shit in the books (proving he has no idea what he's talking about), eVeRyOnE iS bI eVeNtUaLlY. He can only write half-decent rep when he's not trying and he inevitably outs himself as having a really shitty attitude towards those people anyway, proving that ultimately it's all either unintentional rep or performative wokeness.

#skulduggery pleasant #sp meta #derek landy hate blog #Anon #fire message #anti valitsa #anti val #anti phase two tbh #phase two fans will not enjoy this post

[iwantitiwriteit]

Love Lockdown - Part 5

Back to December - Part 1

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: In the December prior to the pandemic, you spend Christmas with Chris in Boston, a first time meeting between you and his extended family. You struggle with implications of seriousness this milestone has on your relationship with Chris.

Warnings: Angst, Pandemic backdrop, Profanity, healthy dose of Fluff, sprinkle of Sexual suggestiveness

Notes: So much was really working against me getting this up for y’all lol, but nothing worth having comes easy, right? Anyways, tried some new stuff I learned in some articles I read, more showing, less telling. Allusions and metaphors. We’ll see how it comes across. Christmas in October anyone? Read the previous part here!

The ding DONG of the doorbell echoes so exaggeratedly, it had to have been your imagination. No, I’m really here now. With your blood pumping loudly in your ears, you stare straight ahead at the barrier to entry,  and seemingly to your happy future. 

A Christmas-covered front door shouldn’t cause you this much stress, but here you were, feeling mocked by smiling snowmen and delicate, origami snowflakes. 

You try to focus instead on one of the many thoughts flurrying your mind.

What if they hate me? Valid question, but sooo not the vibe right now. You go for another.

What if I hate THEM? Nice. None of these thoughts are stilling your rapidly beating heart.

“Ow! Loosen up the vice grip, will ya?”

“Oh,” you look down at where yours and Chris’ glove-clad hands are joined, releasing them almost instantly. “I’m sor—“

“It’s alright, babe,” Chris chuckles. As if you could muster a strength close enough to hurt this man. He’s sure not to let your hand get too far, taking it back into his and bringing it up to his rosy lips for a chaste kiss. 

You wish you could feel it, the warmth of his lips on your knuckles, but that would mean braving the Boston blitz without a piece of your knit armour. You’re not sure you’re ready for that. You’re also not sure how he does it. He’s wearing significantly less layers than you, yet he’s perfectly content as if it’s a Summer’s day, while you are, quite literally, quaking in your boots.

He notices your shivering shoulders, knows it’s not just the cold getting to you. With his right hand in your left, and his left hand wrapped around a gift, he nudges you with his words. 

“Hey,” he starts, but sees the opulent wreath on the door still has your attention. “Hey you,” he tries again. You finally look up at him. You lock your widened eyes with his ocean calm ones as he scans your face. Your brows could almost touch with how deeply furrowed you have them and your lips are fixed in a tight line.

“Typically it takes a lot to get my girl all nervous and whatnot,” he states, but you knew it was more of a question of what's up with you.

“Yeah, well… I’m not nervous, Chris.”

“Really? Cos the bruise on my hand would say otherwise,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes at him trying not to laugh. “Even if I was nervous, which I’m not, could you blame me? This is a lot. This is big. This... This is your family.” Your features soften and voice drops in volume. “I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“Impossible.”

“You sure? Think I already did by taking this long,” you mumbled. You look away, unable to hold Chris' intense gaze anymore. Being in front of his childhood home, for the first time since you’ve started dating over 2 years ago, you can’t help but feel… guilty. 

No use in taking the conversation there at this moment. Especially knowing that lately it led to some sort of shouting match. The ‘I can’t’s’ and ‘next time’s’ didn’t suffice anymore. 

Chris only responds with a sigh as he rings the doorbell for the second time. He looks back over to you, a snowflake floating then landing on your lash. You’re unaware of how whimsical you look to him. How well you’re going to fit in with his family and friends. 

He takes his thumb to brush the snowflake off and cup your cheek. Watching as you swallow thickly, Chris moves his thumb to your throat to massage away the lump you try to move on your own. You relax into his touch, and he flicks his eyes down to your gently smiling lips then back up to your eyes. You know what he’s silently asking. Placing your hand on his wrist was your silent answer. He leans in slowly, and you wish you could stay like this, just for a little while longer. But all good things...

“Uncle Chris!” a youthful voice exclaims as the door swings open. Chris swiftly removes his suggestive hand from your neck and himself from your personal space. He prays there’s some mistletoe hanging inside.

“Hey Kiddo!” Chris huffs out as he picks the child up, replacing her spot on the floor with the present in his hand. She goes to wrap her small arms around his neck as he asks her, “Did you grow since just last night?”

“No!” She giggles as he pinches her cheeks. “I missed you Uncle Chris! You weren’t here when we woke up,” his niece pouts. You look at Chris to see him with matching puppy dog eyes and poked out lip. 

“Oh, Kiddo, I’m sorry. I--”

“It’s ok,” she cut him off, causing you to chuckle at her brashness, “I saved the gift from you and your special friend to open last!”

“Well, speaking of...” Chris pulls you in closer to him by your hand, “This is her! I went to get her from the airport,” he beams down at you. The little cutie in Chris’ arm has turned more shy when speaking to you as you exchange names and a quaint handshake. 

In a not-so-quiet whisper, she tells Chris, “She’s really pretty. Good job,” with an added thumbs-up and shoulder pat. You can’t fight your giggle and the heat that rises to your face, and Chris can’t fight the laughter that erupts from himself.

Chris is joined in a chorus of laughter, the foyer now filled with Evans’ of all ages, tickled by one of their youngest and no doubt happy that Chris is home… and brought company. This is it… you think.

It’d been a long while since you’d ‘met the family’, having not made it that far with the relationships leading up to this one with Chris. You wonder if it’s like riding a bike, or if you should’ve read an article on how to during your last minute flight.

In the crowd of smiling Evans’, you spot Chris’ mom and brother. You’ve met them on numerous occasions, all in L.A., and know them pretty well. However, everyone else you knew from a picture, a story or would be meeting for the first time this afternoon. There was going to be a lot of meeting, greeting, questioning, explaining… 

You steel yourself for the day ahead. Chris looks at you and gives you a reassuring smile and squeeze on your hand. You reciprocate, tension releasing only the slightest as you look at his sunny face, your reminder of why this must go well.

——————————————————————————

The first couple hours you were sure would be the hardest. It was a time of first impressions, and you only get one of those. Tasked with making the rounds to about 30 or so aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, in-laws, childhood this and that, Chris wanted to make sure you met every. Single. Body. And as soon possible.

“That way, we get you comfortable faster!” He rejoiced. Chris’ excitement was always infectious so you try to let wash over and enthuse you. 

You lost count of how many times you fake laughed at ‘Chris has finally brought you home! We were starting to think you weren’t real!’. But with Chris by your side, the worn out joke was just bearable. He found new ways to respond each time, no doubt to at least keep you entertained. ‘Who do you owe money, then?’ or ‘When you find a treasure, you try to keep it to yourself as long as possible *wink*’ or ‘She’s not even here… she’s a hallucination’ never failed to make you laugh or make your cheeks burn.

It’s actually really endearing to know that there was some anticipation for your arrival. Unbeknownst to you, Chris had been hyping you up to his family. Telling them your accomplishments and aspirations in your writing career, which apparently impressed them. He told them your hobbies and other passions that sparked conversations about their own, and prompted advice on your life trajectory. 

All in all, breaking the ice was more delightful than you thought it would be, and hoped that by sticking by Chris’ side the rest of the day would go in that way. But the universe had other plans.

At one point, you get whisked away to the kitchen by Chris’ mom, Lisa, under the guise of needing help with some dishes for dinner. You quickly realize that it's a set-up of sorts, with most of the women of the Evans family gathered around the island putting finishing touches on their dishes and slyly sipping spiked eggnog. These are the people who you feel you have to impress.

Their chatter and laughter came to a halt as they eyed you cautiously crossing the kitchen to the spot Lisa designated you. It was only a matter of time before the interrogation began.

“So… we’ll cut straight to the chase: why is it we’re just now meeting you? You’ve been with our Chris how long now?”

“Vicky!” Lisa smacks her arm warningly. “Have you no filter? You’ll scare the poor girl off before dinner!”

Chris has told you about his infamous Aunt Vicky. “A true cream puff; soft and sweet… once you get past the tough outside,” you remember him telling you.

“It’s fine,” you start, not willing to cower from the inquiry, “Chris and I have been together 2-½ years— 3 in June. And we’ve been happily taking things slow.”

“Good on you for taking things slow. Most women would— and do— jump at the chance to lock down our Chris. But not you, you’re a woman with her own sense of self. We like that,” you’re affirmed with a wink.

Whew.

“You are as pretty as our kid spy said; thought she was exaggerating.”

“Um thank you…?”

“She’s pretty, but can she cook?”

“Carole!” Lisa warns another woman and apologizes to you with her eyes. Chris also told you about his aunt Carole, Vicky’s ‘side kick’. The two of them made for a dubious duo.

“Yeah, what’s Chris’ favorite dish of yours?” Aunt Vicky prodded.

“I can cook, but not that often for Chris,” you respond, to which you’re met with crickets and cock-headed looks. You add, “He’s out of town a lot, and when he is in town, he’s the one doing the showing and proving of why I should stay with him,” you joke (kind of), and to your relief, they find it funny.

“Oooo I like her!” Vicky and Carole say in unison, causing the kitchen of women to laugh. You really did try to keep your expectations low for this visit, not necessarily wanting to seek Chris’ extended family’s acceptance, but you can’t help the relief you feel in this moment.

The next couple hours pass of helping out with dinner dishes and dessert, giggling over glasses of cocktails and family stories. You’d narrowly avoided questions about marriage and babies, but that’s to be expected. For the first time today, you’re able to forget your worries and your boyfriend and actually enjoy yourself. Speaking of...

“Hey you,” Chris is waiting by your seat that’s next to his which he pulls out for you when you arrive at it. An early Christmas dinner is about to be served, and you and Chris are reunited at the table for the first time in hours. “Missed you,” he says with a kiss on your temple. “Can’t wait to hear about your day,” he adds. But there wasn’t much talking between you two throughout the meal, though. 

No, the Evans’ family theatrics don’t allow for it. All of them talk with complete genuineness, laugh with their entire beings, opine with their whole chests, and you see where Chris gets it from. Turning to your boyfriend, you find him smiling and laughing along with the rest of the table, looking full of warmth and love. Completed by his family. Your heart gets a little heavier thinking about how he doesn’t have these moments as often as he’d like. In part by his job, yes, but a small part of you feels like you may also have something to do with that. A thought that pains you to wade in too long.

After dinner you try to help with the dishes, packing away leftovers and to-go plates. You don’t get too far, instead get shooed out of the kitchen by the elders, being told to ‘spend the rest of the evening with your man’. You oblige, realizing you barely talked to each other since earlier in the day. In your quick scan of the house, you couldn’t find him, so you shoot him a text.

Some of the kids and teenagers were gathered around some games in the den. Their antics and wittiness remind you of your nieces. They happily let you join in, and at one point, you acquired a little one on your lap as your game partner. The two of you bond over beating her cousins in these games as you school them in a few rounds of Uno, Connect Four, and Jenga. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you smile as you check it.

“Oooooo is it from Uncle Chris?” she cheekily asks as you get up, setting her on your spot on the floor.

“They’re probably gonna go make out under the mistletoe,” one of the older kids teased. The room of adolescents erupt into a fit of giggles and chorus of ‘ews’

“Are you two gonna get married?” the little cutie randomly asks you. “I heard my Grandma and Aunts talking about it!”

“Oh, wow, um… I gotta, I’ll see you all later.” With that you dash out of the room, as symphony ‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G…’ fading behind you.

——————————————————————————

The sky was shades of baby blues, pinks, purples and oranges. It’s a beautiful backdrop to the snow and ice kissed tree branches and lawns. The road had been freshly salted and freed of winter obstacles making it easier to stroll along as you and Chris often did after a meal.

It’s even more beautiful than he said, you think to yourself. For a second you wonder why you were ever hesitant to come here. There was no real reason, yet you used a million excuses. But this time around, you finally ran out.

Not that you weren’t tired of your fear. That was it. The real reason… was fear.

You look down at your boots, the ones you dust off just one week a year now. Striding beside them are a larger, more expensive pair; they too only see the snow on rare occasions. Your eyes follow up the long legs they belong to, taking in the nice slacks and chunky cable knit sweater under a heavy, well-made piece of outerwear. Your eyes finally land on the face of the man in the fine threads. 

Looking at Chris right now, you’ve never seen him fit in so perfectly somewhere. But why wouldn’t he on the roads he cut his teeth on. He could make you forget every fear and every doubt you’ve ever had. Hell, he could make you forget your name on a good day. And on those days, you didn’t know what to do with all of that, what to make of it. But it’s the most wonderful time of the year, so 

“Come here,” you say just above a whisper, tugging on Chris’ hand causing him to turn to you. You bring your hands to his broad shoulders, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles there. You languidly drag your right hand over to his chest as you notice a red stain on the light colored knit. “My love…” you humoredly drag out as you tap on the food stain.

“I know, I know. My mother already beat you to the scolding,” he chuckles.

“You’d think by this age you’d have learned to be more careful.”

“Hmm, now what fun would that be…” his sultry tone didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your eyes on his tailored, dinner party clothes, hoping to find a relief for your emotions somewhere between the stitches. You never know where to begin with your feelings. Surely it would be to start with the easy stuff, but it all seems hard. 

You rub your hands on his chest, not quite meeting his eyes. “What’s up? Whatcha thinking about?” Chris asks with a lopsided grin, resting his hands on either side of your waist. You smile at him nervously. Before you could say anything, there’s a gust of sharp, cold wind. You clutch on to Chris’ sweater, burying your face in his chest seeking refuge and warmth.

“M’thinking about how you got me out in this damn cold! You know my southern bones can’t take it,” your whines muffled by his sweater. He chuckles at your antics.

Chris slowly drags his large palms up from your waist, and this just ensures that there are goosebumps on your skin under your layers if the wind hasn't done so already. He rests one hand on your shoulder pulling you apart just enough for you to look into his hazy blue eyes. His other hand continues it’s trek until it’s rested on the side of your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw. “I know of a way to get you warm…”

“Was this part of your plan?”

“Mmmm… maybe…” Chris leans in close, surely to kiss you, but you have other plans.

“How’s it feel to be back home?” you inquired with faux aloofness, slipping out of his hold and continuing your walk towards his mother’s home.

Chris hesitates for a second, wondering if you really just swerved a kiss from him. He clears his throat, “Uh… yeah it’s great! There’s nothing like family, I know you can agree to that. Even if they are loud… and crazy,” to which you both chuckle. “So…” he starts as he wraps his arms around your middle causing you both to waddle up the front lawn. “How do you feel? Not so bad, was it?”

“No! Far from it! I really, really love your family Chris,” you say as you crane your neck to look at him briefly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Although, I strongly disagree with some of their choices in best music of all time, but I’ll learn to get over that. I got over it with you,”

Chris spins you around in his arms, hands firmly on your waist. “I don’t care what you say; Joel is the best music Billy of ALL TIME!”

“Yeah, ok.” you retort with an eye roll to his amusement.

“I’m glad you had a good time babe. They’ve been hounding me to meet you for a while now. I’m happy we made it happen.”

The words are right there on your lips. I’m sorry it took so long. I’m sorry I acted silly. I’m sorry I was scared to take the next step. But what if I’m not ready? What if we get it wrong? Your throat is dry, as it often is when it’s time to bare a little of your soul. At least Chris always has something to say.

“I can’t wait for you to see me this nervous when I meet your family…” You don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse. Chris looks into your eyes expectantly, lovingly. His features are soft and tender, and you think it’s the most beautiful sight on a man, on this man. Your man.

Chris looks at your lips then at your eyes. There goes that silent question again. You’ve never been one to give Chris what he wants when he wants it. He’ll never admit, but it’s one of the things he loves most about you. So, in true you-fashion, you make a run for it.

He’s baffled, but doesn’t waste much time in playing into your little game. You’re laughing hysterically as you look over your shoulder to see him bounding after you on the front lawn. You high tail it around the side of his childhood home, kind of hoping he catches you. Not even you, as stubborn as you are, would want to be running forever.

Chris walks into the backyard cautiously, but not cautiously enough as he’s met with a snowball in the temple. And your maniacal laughter.

“Oh, you’re in for it now!” Chris sneers as he scoops up the most perfectly compacted snowball.

“Oh shit!” You slowly make for the backdoor, walking up the deck stairs backwards, hands up in surrender “C’mon babe, you don’t have to do this,” you plead.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Cos all I wanted was an innocent, sweet kiss.”

“I’ll give you a kiss! Just put the snowball down.”

“It’s too late, sweetheart.” The look in his eyes is sending butterflies straight to your heat. As much as you wouldn’t mind ‘losing’ this game, there’s too much at stake.

“Think of my hair!” You whine to appeal to his better nature. That gave Chris pause, but only for a moment.

“It’s in braids; you’ll be ok.” When Chris takes a step towards you, you take a step back, but instead of eating snow as you anticipate, you slip on a patch of ice and fall flat on your ass.

Chris is quick to race over to your side. “Babe! Are you ok?” he’s slightly panicked as he lifts your torso in his arms, checking your eyes for consciousness.

“Got the wind knocked out of me, but I’m fine, yeah,” you say through a dry laugh.

“Oh, thank god.” He says with a sigh of relief and a wide smile. You smile back at him as he strokes your cheek and says, “Now I won’t feel bad about this.”

“Wha—“ You see white as your face freezes over. Chris is dying of laughter as you sputter the snowball out of your mouth. 

“Ha ha ha. Keep laughing... you won’t get that kiss you’re wanting so bad.” He immediately stops laughing, deflates, and pouts, causing you to giggle. “Oh my goodness! Is it that serious?” you teased him a little further. Chris was done playing, though. He stood up and folded his thick arms over his chest to show you he was serious.

You stood up too, and began to tap and poke at his shoulders, chest and stomach. Chris wouldn’t look at you, trying his best to stand firm and not smile. “Look up, dummy!” you say eventually. He acts as if he’s doing you a favor, but can’t hide his giddiness at the sight on the ceiling.

A leafy green plant, with a cluster of red inedible berries, secured with a red ribbon.

You take his face into your hands, lightly grazing your fingers over Chris’ full, trimmed beard. The world is out of focus as you and Chris are now eye to eye. Neither of you can hide your eagerness. You rub your thumb over his plump bottom lip and wonder why you would ever deny yourself this man.

Pulling him into you, the gap is closed between your mouths. The kiss is gentle, shy even, after first. It dawns on you that you’d only shared a quick peck at the airport, and before then, had gone a couple weeks missing each other’s touch.

The neediness and desire within you is heightened at the thought. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer. You start to get lost in him, in his warm taste and touch. You feel the yearning in Chris too. He wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly to himself. His hands start to travel to places you desperately want them to be, but he catches himself, remembering where you are.

“Let’s go say our goodbyes,” he says through an out-of-breath smirk. You bite your bottom lip and reply with a quick nod of your head. 

The pair of you head inside to make your last rounds for the evening. Chris keeps it pretty brief with everyone, the both of you promising to see them again sometime soon in the new year. Early Spring seems to work for most everyone; the kids will be on spring break, Chris will be home before jetting off for a press tour, and you’ll have settled in to your new writing job, that isn’t exactly your dream gig, but a step in… a direction.

As you got into Chris’ car to head for his Boston home, waving to his family as you backed out the driveway, none of you could predict or prepare yourselves for the very different, sordid world that waits in the months ahead. How drastically it would change on grand and small scales.

You look adoringly at Chris from your spot in the passenger seat, unaware the beginning of your relationship’s treacherous slope was just a few days away. Had you known, you wouldn’t have left that kiss so soon, would’ve cherished his heated embrace a little more later tonight.

But it’s already been written.

——————————————————————————

What’d you think?

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans series #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans fan fiction #love lockdown series

[yoonsshadow]

BLIZZARD BLUES ⎯ myg

⇰ summary ; There’s a storm coming. Literally. And some idiot is standing outside singing Christmas carols.

⇰ pairing ; yoongi x fem!reader

⇰ genres ; strangers to friends to lovers[?], snowstorm!au, romance, fast burn [?]

⇰ themes ; fluff, a bit of crack

⇰ warnings ; talk of a natural disaster [blizzard], lots of banter, brief talk of male genitalia [balls lol], a bunch of sweetness

⇰ word count ; 1.8k

⇰ note ; Happy holidays everybody!! I hope that you all have a safe and happy day, no matter what you are celebrating. [Also this is largely unedited.] xx

It doesn’t always snow on Christmas Eve. Sometimes, when the sky feels selfish, it will open its clouds and welcome through the sunlight, especially harsh against the previous snowfall that is melting on the ground. What was once a white wonderland, snowflakes clustered together in a fine powder, becomes a muddy expanse of grass, dampened by the flowing tears of the melted icicles.

The magic of Christmas, so often associated with the pure white sheen of snowfall, is gone within hours of a clear sky.

But not today.

Today, the sky is selfish in a very distinctly opposite way.

“Temperatures will be reaching a record-low tonight, and snowfall is expected to only get heavier. With the possibility of a blizzard on the way, citizens are urged to stay indoors tonight.”

“Aish.” Licking droplets of mulled wine from your lips, you sigh at the latest news update. Just yesterday, you had been complaining of the warmth in the air, expecting yet another disappointment out of Christmas Eve. The universe seems to have answered your pessimism with a natural disaster.

Thankfully, you are one of the many lucky ones with a roof over your head tonight. The townhouse is small by standard means, but it feels so big to you. Though it may be cosy, it holds everything that is important to you, every memory that you have collected over your life, every momentum that has ever brought you joy. It is an extension of yourself, of your innermost being, and now it even protects you from the howling wind that you can hear picking up outside.

As you sit in front of your roaring fireplace, wrapped in blankets and listening to the Michael Bublé christmas album play on your scratchy record player, you think that maybe this is serenity; this feeling of calm, of contentment, when chaos surrounds you.

A harsh knock at your front door breaks through the sound of the wind.

At first, you think that maybe it was a trick of the mind, or perhaps a branch hitting a window, but the rapid knock-knock-knock against the wood is far too deliberate to be a mistake. Plus, when it’s followed by several more⎯⎯less patient⎯⎯knocks, you know that someone is here. At your house. At ten o’clock at night, as a blizzard is brewing.

It takes a moment to detangle yourself from your comfortable cocoon of blankets, but you eventually shuffle to the door as quickly as your cold toes [the things just never seem to be warm] will allow. You’re expecting an emergency official telling you to evacuate, or a neighbour asking to borrow supplies.

You don’t expect a shivering, disgruntled man reluctantly singing ‘Oh Christmas Tree’.

“Your boughs so green in summertime...stay bravely green in wintertime...O tannenbaum, O Christmas Tree...How lovely are thy branches…”

“Are you seriously carolling right now?”

The man stops his ‘singing’ to glare at you, as if you’ve just interrupted the most important performance of his life. “Hey, either let me finish the song or let me move on. It’s fucking cold out here.”

“No, but like, why are you singing at all? Didn’t you see the news?” The chill of the wind is biting at you even through all of your layers, so you don’t know how he’s surviving right now.

The man sighs, the air fogging in front of his face. “Look, lady, I lost a bet, okay? I gotta sing these carols, and I’m not backing out just because it feels like my internal organs are shutting down. So, what’ll it be? I can take song requests, if you’re feeling spicy.”

It takes you barely a moment to make your decision. “Option C. Come here.”

And you all but drag him into your house.

“Y’know, this could be considered kidnapping,” the stranger says as he slides out of his soaked jacket and toes off his boots. Despite his words, he doesn’t seem at all reluctant to be within your warm abode. “You could at least take me to dinner before inviting me in.’

His voice sounds harsh, mean even, but for some reason you aren’t intimidated by him. Maybe it’s the way his nose shines pink from the cold.

“Well,” you say, already gathering some towels for him, “it seems as though you haven’t watched the news in the last three hours. There’s a blizzard on the way, buddy, and you looked about halfway to frozen already. I thought that I would save the neighbours the trauma of digging your body out of the snow.”

“How considerate.”

“What’s your name, by the way? Since I’m extending my home and hospitality to you. I’m Y/N.”

“Yoongi. Also, you barely extended anything. More like forced. But, I’m a kind man, so I’ll let you believe that you’re being selfless. It is Christmas, after all.”

“And a merry Christmas to you too, mister Yoongi.”

“Ugh. Don’t call me mister.”

“Whatever. You should go take a shower to warm up, I should have some of my dad’s clothes for you to wear. I also have a shit-tonne of blankets and a big pot of mulled wine, so whenever you’re done just come downstairs and sit by the fire. And don’t steal anything. Or piss on the carpets.”

“Oddly specific, but okay. Thanks, generous kidnapper.”

Yoongi takes nearly an hour before he re-emerges from upstairs, to the point where you wonder if he’s actually pissing in your carpets. He looks clean, though, and flushed with warmth. And absolutely adorable in the ugly, oversized Christmas sweater that you laid out for him.

“This is fucking horrendous.”

A snort escapes you at his blunt statement, watching as he sinks into an armchair opposite you. His hair is sticking out from where he’s hastily dried it. “Thank you. My dad is the reigning champion in his workplace ugly sweater competition. He takes immense pride in inducing nausea. Want some wine?”

“Absolutely.”

When you pass him a mug, the liquid steaming and aromatic, he seems to pause, hesitation in the grip of his fingers. You give him the time he needs to arrange his words.

“I guess, um...thank you. For bringing me inside.” Yoongi isn’t meeting your eyes, but the tips of his ears are turning pink. “I was probably too stubborn to realise how bad it was and...I don’t know, it could’ve ended up really bad. So. Thanks.”

“Hey.” His eyes flicker up, briefly, but enough to see the bashfulness hiding behind all that sarcasm. “It’s seriously fine, but you’ve got to make a habit out of taking care of yourself. I’ve known you for two hours and even I can tell that you don’t take yourself very seriously. Hell, I could’ve been a serial killer, and you still just walked into my house.”

“I could’ve been a serial killer as well, hypocrite.”

“Killer Caroller does have a certain ring to it,” you admit. He’s deflecting, but you accept the divergence easily. “So, mister serial killer-”

“Don’t call me mister.”

“-Why don’t you tell me about yourself? There’s a chance that you’ll be here for a little while, so we may as well become acquainted.”

Taking a lingering sip from his mug, Yoongi keeps his eyes trained on the fire before him. “My name is Yoongi, I’m a Pisces, and I enjoy long walks on the beach.”

“Romantic.”

“I was born in Daegu.”

“Makes sense.”

“I’m a music producer.”

“Impressive.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, though they hold more mirth than annoyance. “Oh, and what about you, miss charity? Tell me about yourself.”

Biting back a chuckle, you reposition yourself in the armchair to face him better. “Well, my name is Y/N, and I have never been to a beach.”

“That’s sad.”

“I take self-defense classes.”

“Convenient.”

“And I’m a social worker.”

“Very fitting.”

The quick banter between the two of you pulls a smile across your face before you can tamp it down, but it seems like Yoongi is fighting one of his own.

Somehow, you have both converged to your larger couch, huddled together in a wine-drunk, giggly mess.

“No, I seriously would’ve won! But then he totally caught me off guard. I was sabotaged.”

Yoongi’s recounting of the story of how he lost his bet is nothing short of hysterical. “This Jeongguk guy sounds like a menace,” you say, throwing your legs over his lap. “I mean, who swings their balls in a friend’s face just to distract them? That’s just low.”

“Right?!” His voice is so loud, but your little bubble is barely disturbed. “And they were all hairy, too. I swear that I found a pube in my hoodie.”

This sets you off, for some reason, and your chest erupts in light giggles. Yoongi has only told you a few stories about his six male friends, and it has filled you with a kind of joy that you don’t remember ever feeling.

“It’s just...I bet that women aren’t this immature with each other. Am I right?”

You hum. “Sort of, but also not really. A friend of mine once stole my diva cup just because she was mad at me for using her hair brush. I tried to explain that it was an accident, but man was she pissed.”

Yoongi pauses. “What’s a diva cup?”

Blinking at the man that you’re draped across, you bring a hand up to pat his soft cheek. “Oh, honey,” you whisper, offering a small smile.

Slowly but suddenly, his hand comes up to cover yours, keeping it on his face. Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t notice.

“You’re really nice,” he says. His pupils are blown from drinking, and maybe from your faces being so close. Your cheeks are flushed for the same reasons. “And totally not a serial killer.”

“I’m still undecided about you,” you joke, breathing out a laugh. “But I do know that you’re pretty nice, too. And not as bad of a guest as I thought you might be.”

“Is it-” Yoongi cuts himself off, takes a slow breath as he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he seems determined, if a little nervous. “Is it weird if I say that I enjoy spending time with you? And would, maybe, want to spend more time with you in the future?”

A lazy grin stretches your cheeks as you tuck yourself a little closer to him. It’s peculiar, maybe, that you’ve just met a man that you feel you’ve known your whole life. Curious, perhaps, that conversation with him feels more natural than with most people you know.

But weird?

No, you don’t think so.

“No. Not weird.” You lean forward a bit, shyly; wait for him to maybe do the same. “You do owe me the rest of a Christmas carol, after all.

He does lean forward, just a bit, and just as shy.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts oneshot #bts reader insert #bts scenario #yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #yoongi oneshot #yoongi scenario #min yoongi #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi oneshot #min yoongi scenario #blizzard blues #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts suga x reader

[lovelyirony]

Moony-Eyed

@bironfam i hope this is okay! 

Tony didn’t think that their new astronaut was going to be anything special. 

Well. 

That’s a lie. 

You kind of have to be special if you’re going to be an astronaut for NASA. You have to keep your cool, have good eyesight, and be okay with the possibility of dying. Maybe. Maybe you have to be cool with that. 

Tony is rather good at his job. From revolutionizing how space suits are made to making the functions of the ship easier to manage, Tony is NASA’s secret weapon, the handyman of all handymen. 

He’s usually squirreled away in his workshop, at his apartment that he honestly needs to clean far more than he does, or arguing with Potts about why he needs eight different coffee mugs. 

They know him as a guy who doesn’t exactly give a rat’s ass about the chain of command, or dress code. 

“You can’t fire me,” he had told Happy, after he had tried once again to stop Tony from entering areas containing sensitive information in sweatpants and a sweatshirt that proclaimed him the “MIT class of 1992.” 

Tony is good at his job, nearly too good. He likes it that way. 

But back to the astronaut. 

Danvers had taken leave to take care of her family, and honestly? Space usually isn’t a lifetime event for astronauts. You see too much of it, you need time away. A lot of time away. 

Pepper is giddy. She loved Carol, but Carol was happily married with a baby girl, and this one? This one wasn’t. 

Not that Pepper was looking for anyone. No, she and her partner Nat had standing date nights every Saturday evening, and she loved them too much to even think about anything else. 

But Tony? Tony needed someone. He never really dated anybody, at least not anybody that he genuinely liked. 

Stark was a powerful name, and it got tossed around a little bit, but Tony mostly kept to himself and only responded to it when he was at a party or Happy was mad at him for forgetting his ID badge yet again. 

James Rhodes was a nicely built man with a strong, confident aura, and single. 

(Pepper had checked.) 

She thought that he and Tony would get along quite well, if anything. 

James is shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He’d rather just get to work on what he needs to do. Getting into the air is one of the best feelings, and the sooner he can experience it, the sooner he’ll be fine. 

He always pushed the limits, and space is just the last limit he gets to push. He’s excited. He’s always wanted to work for NASA, be on their roster of astronauts. He wants little kids who identify with him to know that they can do it too. 

So he’s ready to work with the best and brightest of their era. 

“Where the fuck are my nachos?!” 

His head whips around to a man who is wearing an ill-fitting cardigan (that is most likely not his), old jeans that have what look to be equations written on one thigh, and glasses that are most definitely broken sitting at an angle. 

“Your nachos were too close to the computers,” one woman says without looking up. “Stop bringing nachos here or I’m going to fucking kill you.” 

“You can’t kill me,” the man retorts. 

“Tony,” comes another voice. James turns and sees who must be Pepper Potts. “Go to your office. Now. Change your pants, you wrote on them again.” 

“I did?” 

He looks down and swears. 

“Son of a bitch!” He then looks at Jim. “Wait, who are you? Are you the new astronaut?” 

“Uh, yes? I’m James.” 

He sticks out his hand. 

Who seems to be Tony stares at his hand. 

“Your name is seriously James?” 

“Do you think I’m bad at jokes?” he asks, eyebrows raised. 

Tony grins. 

“No, I think you’re gonna be a riot. But I’m not calling you James.” 

“Jim, then.” 

“No,” Tony says. “You’re not an old man, you’re still attractive.” 

His eyebrows raise. 

Tony’s face pales. 

“I’m going to. Go. I have math on my pants.” 

Pepper snorts, readjusting her grip on her clipboard. 

“Welcome to NASA, Colonel Rhodes. I can promise you that we don’t usually yell about our lunch location or write on articles of clothing.” 

- 

Surprisingly, James doesn’t see Tony for two weeks. Apparently, he’s been working outside with a couple of the interns to calculate some stuff, rework some of the older ships for experience, and stay out of the way of Pepper, who says that he’s attempting to murder her via headaches to deal with. 

He seems interesting, however. There are sticky notes and papers all over the offices and breakrooms reminding people of what Tony had for breakfast/lunch/dinner, or where the extra coffee supplies are. 

“You provide for him?” he asks Pepper one time. 

“He gets too much into his own head sometimes,” Pepper says. “He focuses too much on a program or an improvement and forgets that he works around other people. You wouldn’t believe how many times we had miniature science experiments based off of lunches that he would leave in the fridge.” 

Rhodes nods. “Well. I’ll look forward to working with him.” 

- 

Tony has been working outside of the office for two reasons: 

1.) To legitimately help the interns. (Ned and Peter are making improvements!) 

2.) James Rhodes is the hottest guy on earth. Maybe in the universe. For real. Seriously. 

He hates Pepper for this. Didn’t even tell Tony what the new astronaut looked like, and then shows up with a god of a man. Rude and unfair. 

And he had to be the dumbass with the equation on his pants. 

He didn’t even have spare pants! He had to stay in his office for the whole day because the equation was actually really important and he needed it. 

“Why didn’t you just transfer it over on paper?” Bruce asks over the phone. Bruce is his friend who works in a technically classified, off-the-books, not-exactly-government-issued building. He’s cool. He also points out the obvious. 

“I’m the biggest idiot on the planet,” Tony groans. “There was just a new guy at work, and he threw me off balance, so-” 

“What’s he look like?” 

“Why, you not crushing on that hot Nordic space dude?” 

“No, still am. But I still remember when Barton came to work for you guys and you didn’t know that his name wasn’t George until about six months into him working there.” 

“In my defense, he works mostly with physical therapy and prep for no gravity,” Tony says. “I work with math and shit.” 

“Still,” Bruce says. “You wouldn’t have pointed him out if you didn’t think he was cute. What’s he like?” 

“I...don’t exactly know.” 

“Oh my god, you’ve been avoiding him?” 

“Oh what, like you didn’t jump out of a window when Thor almost saw you in a tank top?” 

“I have a farmer’s tan! Totally different circumstance!” 

“Is it?” 

“I hate you.” 

“Get to dating Thor and then we’ll talk again. Have fun re-revolutionizing green energy, Dr. Banner.” 

“Look to the stars, Tony.” 

- 

James has to get fitted for his suit. 

He faces Tony, who looks quite different from when he first saw him. His hair is somewhat less messy, he has one of those geeky NASA-logo shirts that they sell at Target, and is wearing khaki pants with about a million different pockets. 

(Something in his mind is whispering that he definitely shouldn’t find him attractive. But he will anyways.) 

“Alright space-cowboy, let’s get your measurements,” Tony says. “You feeling okay today?” 

“Right as rain.” 

“Rain is never good, sunshine,” Tony quips. “Now, about your nickname from me...hm. Rhodey.” 

“How’d you figure that out?” 

“Substituted the ‘s’ for a ‘y’, just simple stuff,” he says with a shrug. “You approve?” 

“I...guess.” 

“Good. Now Rhodey, how are you feeling?” 

“Like sunshine and gumdrops,” he responds sarcastically. 

Tony smiles, and damn if it makes his heart thump a bit. 

“Better answer, soldier. Extend those arms, please.” 

Tony smells really nice. Subtle cologne and clean laundry. Rhodey finds that he likes it. 

“How’ve you been doing, Tony?” 

“Like a gentle breeze on a day that’s seventy-two degrees,” Tony answers. “Work’s been good today. Helen made tacos.” 

“I had some of those, they were pretty good.” 

“Mm,” Tony answers. “Legs a bit more apart, thank you.” 

Rhodey shifts his stance a little bit, carefully not watching Tony bend down just a tad to get the bottom of his foot. 

(But oof, that was hard.) 

Tony comes back up again, looking into Rhodey’s eyes. For a moment, for a brief moment, his breath is taken away. 

“I need to wrap my measuring tape around your waist. You okay with that?” 

“More than.” 

“Don’t get saucy,” Tony winks. “No one likes more than one floozy at the office, and that’s what got me this job anyways.” 

Rhodey lets out a laugh, and Tony grins. 

He likes making him laugh. Likes it more than he should. 

- 

They spend more and more time together. Tony always makes adjustments, Rhodey realizes that Tony doesn’t exactly keep track of when he eats, so they have lunch together. 

They like it a lot. 

On good-weather days, they eat outside on a bench. Tony leans against one said, foot brushing Rhodey’s calf, and Rhodey doesn’t really mind because he’ll lean over occasionally and steal whatever Tony’s eating. 

“This is theft, you know.” 

“You eat like a bird, what do you know about food theft?” 

Tony almost always stays later than anyone else except for nights with Rhodey. 

Once a month, they have dinner together. Rhodey’s new to the area and Tony’s almost never social with anyone, so they’ve been working through a list of the three-star-rated restaurants and seeing which ones they like. 

“It’s kind of like a date,” Pepper says, on her monthly hangout with Tony (and also kind of a clean-up party for his house). 

“Not dates,” Tony says. “Just friends. I’m sure he has his eye on someone in or out of the office.” 

“Like you?” 

“His first impression of me was me writing an equation on my pair of jeans, and then I haven’t exactly upgraded my style since,” Tony deadpans. “He’s seen me in neon orange sweatpants, Pep. You don’t exactly come back from that.” 

“Maybe he likes you for who you are!” 

“God that’s such a bullshit answer,” Tony whines. “You sound like a straight-to-video movie that came out in 1997!” 

“That’s too specific.” 

“And? You still get the point!” 

Pepper flings a pillow his way. 

“Where is your wine?” 

“In the same cabinet you always leave it.” 

“Goody.” 

While Pepper sways to bed, Tony thinks about what she said. 

It could be possible. Tony had never exactly asked him about himself in that capacity, but Rhodey never had an odd reaction to a statement that involved talking about a partner of the same-sex or a one-liner about it. 

Maybe? 

...no. 

Guys like Rhodey deserved someone better than someone who forgot to eat lunch four out of the seven days of the week. (And maybe four was being generous.) 

- 

On the flipside, Rhodey was currently telling his woes to Carol, who was laughing at him. 

“You nerd!” she says. “You like Tony, and you’ve done nothing about it? Have you even told him that you also like guys? Cuffed your pants?” 

“No,” Rhodey says. “I just...why would he like someone like me? I’m...boring.” 

“You’re not boring,” Carol says. 

“Yeah you are!” Maria calls from the kitchen. “You’re very boring, Mr. ‘Only-Drinks-Black-Coffee’!” 

Carol giggles. 

“Maybe Maria has a point. Maybe.” 

Rhodey groans, leaning against the couch. 

“I’m so fucked.” 

“On the contrary-” 

“Oh shut up.” 

- 

Pepper is tired of people’s problems. They’re getting closer and closer to launch, and Clint’s out sick and Helen is being weird again, and Jane is off somewhere to a secret government-but-not-government launch to discuss things with two potential boyfriends. (Maybe boyfriends. Maybe.) 

Tony is getting stressed. 

Usually, he’s the only one who’s fine during a launch. He’s still cracking jokes, making fun events, and calming down people who are a bit too nervous. 

But usually, he’s not as close to the astronaut as this. 

He’s been thinking about the accidents they’ve had over the years. He doesn’t want a repeat. He’s been pulling all-nighters, avoiding sleep, and checking in on Rhodey consistently, to the point where Rhodey has to drag him outside and tell him that things will be fine. 

(In Pepper’s professional opinion, they’d be fine if they just did a goodbye kiss or whatever, but okay.) 

Tony’s getting into his own head. 

So is Rhodey. 

He’s going to be gone for a long time. He’s going to miss the holidays. And Tony won’t be able to talk to him everyday. 

“You should tell him,” Pepper murmurs. “I think you both would benefit from it.” 

“I’m not going to play that unfair card,” Rhodey murmurs back. “I either confess my love and go to a dangerous mission knowing that he loves me back and I said it when I can’t return, or he doesn’t and I just played a guilt-trip card.” 

“It’s not like that.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

Rhodey shakes his head. 

“I...I can’t do that to him. Wouldn’t be right. After the mission.” 

“After, then,” Pepper says. “When you come home.” 

Rhodey grins. 

- 

The day of launch happens far quicker than anyone wants it to, most of all Tony. 

Pepper actually kicked him out of his office, told him to shower, and wear something nice for once. 

“Make sure he knows he has someone to come home to,” Pepper says. “Wear your turtleneck!” 

“It’s only September,” Tony scowls. “And he’s his own person who’s about to launch himself into space.” 

“He will be fine,” Pepper says. “With your research and work, we’ve cut down overlooked mistakes by about forty percent.” 

“Still not half.” 

“Because we’re NASA,” Pepper sniffs. “Our mistakes matter more, so we make less of them.” 

Tony nods. 

-

He ends up almost being late to the launch because of Pepper’s stupid wardrobe advice. 

He’s wearing his nicest pair of pants, a button-up that’s been at the back of his closet for quite some time, and he’s feeling stupid because he had to play AC/DC in the car so he would actually focus on what was going on. 

Now he’s waiting for Rhodey to exit wearing the space suit that he made and to tell everyone that it was an honor and a privilege to be going to space where things happen and Tony can’t be there to help. 

Life sucks. 

But it goes on, and there’s Rhodey in the brilliantly-designed suit, and Tony’s never been more proud and more sad, but he sucks up his tears and walks up anyways. 

“Hey space-cowboy. Ready to explore the frontier?” 

“As ever,” Rhodey says. “You ready to forget to eat your lunch all over again?” 

Tony smiles. 

“You’ll have to check in with me soon, then,” Tony says. “Cut the mission short?” 

Rhodey laughs. 

“Wish I could. But I’ll send you pictures,” he says. “I promise.” 

Tony stops for a moment, smile dropping from his face. 

“Promise me one more thing.” 

“Anything,” Rhodey says. “Anything you want.”  

“Come back safe. Swear to me that you will.” 

Rhodey grins. 

“Safe and sound, honey. Safe and sound.” 

Tony watches him board the ship, wave to the cameras, and wink at him. 

He rolls his eyes, but blows a kiss anyways. 

-

Tony’s a nervous wreck. 

Pepper has decided that Rhodey needs to not go on missions anymore, or at least take Tony with him because he’s annoying. 

“Can you stop crying on the second floor bathroom? It’s getting annoying,” Pepper says. “Clint says he can hear you and feels bad.” 

“Well how are we supposed to know that Rhodey’s okay?!” Tony says. “For all I know, he could be dead!” 

“I really hope you don’t mean that,” comes a voice from behind. 

Tony whips around, seeing Rhodey’s grainy face from the big screen. 

“You bitch!” 

He laughs, and it doesn’t sound real, but he can see him. 

“Hey Tony. You been making sure no one is pissed at you for forgetting your dinner in the fridge?” 

“Well, now I will,” he admits. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” Rhodey smiles. “How’s everything been down there?” 

“Boring,” Tony says. “When are you coming back?” 

“I got about two more months,” Rhodey says. “And then I’ll be back.” 

“Quit hogging all the screen time,” Natasha teases. “You lovebirds can have your moment on earth.” 

Tony blinks. 

“What.” 

But by that time, Natasha and Sam have already been asking a million questions, and Pepper is filling Rhodey in on what he’s missed. 

Tony is still stuck on the whole ‘lovebirds’ thing that Natasha suggested. 

...that couldn’t be possible. And yet if other people saw it that way...

“Tony? Tony?” 

He blinks again, looking back up at the screen. 

Rhodey is smiling at him, that smile that means that he’s happy to see someone. 

“I’ll see you soon, honey.” 

“Right back at you, space-cowboy.” 

The screen goes to black, and Tony smiles a bit. 

“Aw, you nerd,” Clint teases. “So, you gonna ask him out on a date?” 

“Clint, I will cut off your leg,” Tony says cheerily. “I have to go finish some paperwork!” 

Tony’s done all of his paperwork, it’s one of the few times that Pepper’s had it done on time. 

He has to keep doing things to stop thinking about Rhodey. 

-

He writes him letters. He knows that he won’t ever read them, but writing letters helps and sometimes it makes his hands less jittery. 

He’s not ever going to send them. Ever. Letters are cheesy and they feel...personal. 

Pepper tells him that he’s being lame. 

“I’m not being lame!” Tony cries. “I am just. Protecting myself!” 

“You have the reasoning of a Jane Austen love interest,” she says flatly. “I swear if you don’t tell him, then I’ll meddle. And you know how bad I am when I meddle.” 

“You literally have made things so much worse for so many people,” Tony responds. 

“Not worse, per se.” 

“Oh right, how could I forget?” Tony exclaims sarcastically. “You made things the worst.” 

“If we weren’t such good friends, you’d be dead,” Pepper says. 

“Then let’s be worst enemies,” Tony mutters. “You still ready for pizza night?” 

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Pepper says. “Meet at your place at seven, right?” 

“Right.” 

-

Here is what Tony does not know: Rhodey’s coming back down earlier than expected, and Pepper knows this. 

So she’s been busying Tony with work while she’s acclimating Rhodey to life on earth again. 

“Has he really missed me?” Rhodey asks for about the twentieth time in about two hours. 

“Yes,” Pepper says. “I hope these aren’t your talking points for your interviews. If people know you’re this much of a love-struck idiot in real life, they won’t take you seriously.” 

“I just missed him!” 

“Oh sure,” she responds, rolling her eyes. “And I’m sure you’ll tell the news reporters that you missed me with as many stars in your eyes as now. You like him, you absolute geek.” 

“Well, maybe a little,” Rhodey mutters. “But you’re sure he’ll like the surprise?” 

“One hundred percent.” 

-

Tony is having, perhaps, the worst day in his life. Maybe in history, if he’s being quite honest. 

His car, for one thing, won’t start for more than is done-away-with concern, so he has to call Pepper and say that he’s going to be late since he has to fix his own car. 

“Will you get coffee on the way here?” Pepper asks. 

“Your usual order?” 

“Yeah, you know the drill.” 

Then the line is long because some stupid person wanted to complain, and Tony was this close to just threatening to buy the entire store to make it stop, and he cried on his way to work because he saw a duck cross the road and it reminded him of how Rhodey crashed his first car avoiding a duck that was crossing the road. 

Yeah. It’s rough. 

Then he parks in the wrong parking spot because some asshole with a stupid rental car took his usual spot, and then he stepped in a puddle. 

He hates today. 

“Pepper!” he declares as he enters the building. “I wore jeans today, I got your coffee, and I’m already done with the day. I swear to god if one more unexpected thing happens, I’ll just say ‘fuck it’ and go work for the Soviets!” 

“The Soviets aren’t a thing, Tones.” 

He knows that voice. 

He fucking knows that voice. He isn’t supposed to be back from that mission for another month. 

Tony doesn’t turn around. 

“I’m hallucinating. Oh my god, I’m hallucinating.” 

Hands wrap around his neck, hugging him. 

“This feel like a hallucination?” 

(Okay so Tony drops the coffee.) 

Rhodey’s smile is blinding, and he’s...he’s here. Right in front of him with those not-supposed-to-be-that-hot polo shirts, those eyes that he could get lost in, and just...

Well. 

He hugs him and he hugs him tightly. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back so soon?!” 

“Pepper organized it,” Rhodey says, giddy. “Decided it would be a nice surprise for you.” 

Tony looks over at Pepper, who’s trying to hide a grin behind her hands. 

“Pepper if I wasn’t so over-the-moon right now, your heels would be snapped.” 

She shrugs. 

“Worth it. You requested today off, by the way.” She winks as she turns back to her office. 

“Well, what do you say?” Rhodey asked. “Help me get used to having my feet back on the ground?” 

Tony grins. 

“Dinner sounds like a good start. Gotta get you some good earth food, none of that dehydrated crap.” 

“Do you know how long it’s been since I had a decent slice of pizza?” 

Tony grins. 

“I can fix that.” 

#lovelyirony writes #YES THE TITLE IS FUCKING PUNNY I'M HILARIOUS WHAT ABOUT IT #rhodeytony #tonyrhodey #ironhusbands #rhfe #rhodey #tony stark #iron man #war machine #pepper potts

[lixiefe]

when the darkness falls apart - h.js

grim reaper! reader x mortal! jisung

⎆ Words: approx 10k

⎆ Disclaimer: the entirety of it is brewed from my imagination. But there’s one theory of ‘sacrificing demonic lifeline to turn back time’ which is inspired from ‘A Sealed Contract’ by @mrbangchannie​ (If you see this, i hope you don’t mind) . Everything else is under all rights reserved.

⎆ Summery: When you’re ordered to collect the soul of someone you’re inclined to protect, you can’t but end up saving the mortal. And as time transpires, you find yourself irrevocably in love with him. But that’s greatly forbidden and punishable. So what happens next?

⎆ Genre: aquintances-to-lovers, fantasy, fluff, angst, oneshot.

⎆ Warning: violence, mentions of death.

Prologue: little happiness

The bell chimes in sweet winter, the smell of diverse flowers filling up the store and honeying the atmosphere with a comfortable hue. It was yet another tranquil day, with the citizens snuggling up in warm clothes and walking through the fog in rushed steps. Yet another winter morning, yet another blissful silence, and yet another day of marveling at the colorful flowers. Maybe buying some, but the vases of your home were already stocked with multiple bunch of peonies, roses, orchids, daisies, anything you could name. 

Little, blissful clandestine happiness, things that gave you a beatific nostalgia, which took you to places you couldn’t forget. And you mouth the saleswoman to decorate you yet another bouquet of fresh flowers, because, it’s a small happiness, a small blink of beauty, little appreciation. You loved the feeling of it. So, why not?

"You are very beautiful."

A childlike voice interrupts. You pivot back instantly, eyes falling over the young kid who’s staring at you with heart eyes brimming with coruscating sparkles. You can’t help but break out into a smile. He was so utterly cute, pink fanning his rosy cheeks and jutted lips spread in a small smile. His ruffled black hair amplified his adorable appeal, gorgeous wisps falling over his cute little eyes.

Another happiness? 

"Ah, you think so?" you ask, bending down to his eye-level as a fond smile decorates your lips.

"Yes, miss is really pretty!" He beams up even more, lightly jumping on his heels. You can’t contain the giggle that escapes you at his hopeful cute eyes and that cute button nose. It seemed as if he’d already become one of your worldly weaknesses, debilitated your heart and printed a permanent smile on your face.

“But you’re prettier, sweet guy.”

The pink of his round cheeks get more prominent, his tiny hands attempt to shy his face away from you and a jaw-breaking, precious smile graces him. His squirrel cheeks puff up adorably, enabling you to feel an uncanny urge of squishing them.

Oh how you wanted to squish his fluffy pink cheeks!

"Does miss have a boyfriend?" He asks, blinking heavily as his lashes flutter. You’re charmed, as much you already knew, even more than how the flowers captivate you, even more than you thought you could.

You pretend to think as he awaits your answer. No, you didn’t have one, there wasn’t even a chance to have one. But even so, you wanted to test the waters, to see how he’d react if you had one. So you put on a sympathetic pretense, "Hmm, let me think. Your missy does!" you say.

The boy pouts, doe eyes losing a little of it’s winsome glow, “Miss does?"

"But I like you more, i can leave him for you. What do you say?" you offer mischievously, encasing his soft hands into yours. You suppress the urge of pressing his palm against yours too much, because his small hands were so wretchedly soft, and so so smooth that you wanted to graze your cheeks against them. 

"Miss will be my girlfriend?" He beams up, jumping on his toes for the second time. “Will miss date me?”

"Yes! Who wouldn't want a sweet little boyfriend like you?"

He jounces up and down, smiling with visible gums as his hold on your hands get tighter. You almost can’t believe the way he endears you, soft baby hands providing a warmth you’ve long missed, a solitude you’ve almost forgotten. 

"Miss is my girlfriend now! Can i give you a kiss?"

The proposal takes you off guard, but there’s no way you can refuse. You smile widely at him, a light hearted laugh emanating you effortlessly.

"Of course, here you go." you advance your cheeks towards him, tapping on the flesh as you signal him to go for it. He jumps on his toes excitedly, cheering himself as if he's won a trophy, a little shy too. Nonetheless, he doesn't delay, instantly planting a moist little peck on your cheek, in the cutest way possible.

You chuckle heartily, ruffling his hair as you return the kiss on both of this soft cheeks.

"You're such a cute boy."

You

You're an immortal messenger of the devil who delivered souls that brought upon their own demise. You’ve never liked the job, never sincerely delivered in the sadistic way they’d presumed you would. You almost hated it. You hated how you felt so much more than the emotionless beings of your comrades, hated the fact that they’d thought you were like them. But there was nothing you could do but comply. For the countless eternities and decades of promotion after promotion.

So you’d taken up the facade of being like them, pretended under a veiled mask that you’d felt nothing, seen nothing, heard nothing. But only you knew how agonizing their cries were, how a little more assuration, a little comfort could’ve prevented their fate, how their will to escape staggered them in every way. The pain they held, eyes shimmering with the wee life force before it was gone into nothing but a splatter of blood and lifelessness. 

The worst part of it was that, you felt them too.

That is exactly why you feigned indifference, bit into hard rock and pinched your skin to just bear with it. it was agonizing yes, but what was to be done? The last thing you could do was give them the little assuration, the little support, the little provision which they could not receive in their livelihood. So you’ve always asked them what they desired the most, what they wanted to see, what they wanted to know before the life was taken away from them.

All their wishes were trivial and easy to fulfill, except one. You still remembered it vividly, the man in his thirties, with fraught desperation, told you in choked words.

“I want you to look after my son, make sure he doesn’t die early. I want him to live a fulfilled life. Would you please? This is my last wish.”

It was impossible for you ensure a prolonged life. You had no control over their death, if the council informed you to collect their souls, you’d have to, painfully and fraudulently watch them embrace eternal slumber, guide their suffered souls into underworld. The best you could do, was hope his reaper would not be the likes of you.

But you sure could watch over him. Watch him grow.

“Han Jisung is his name, he’s the most adorable kid in the entire universe. He’d almost remind you of a squirrel.”

“Don’t know if you’d reciprocate, but he’s the apple of my eye. He’s been born as the best child by default you know.”

Of course you knew Han Jisung. And he really was the best kid. You watched him grow bit by bit, observed as he injured himself but did not cry, watched as he fell on his knees and stared at the ground, as he waddled to his mother’s room at night and wiped her dry tears with his tiny hands, you saw when he learned everything by himself, did everything by himself and placed a pure kiss on his mother’s cheeks before he took off to school.

You could cry because of him, yet you improvised him as long as you could. You watched when his mother came home after a hectic day, he’d always have a glass of cold water and snacks prepared. He’d relish in his mother’s embrace and showcase that same beautiful smile. And that’s all he’s ever wanted. He knew from such a young age what his mother was capable of and what she wasn’t. A quiescent kid he was.

He became your biggest happiness in a short time never prophesied.

But soon enough, you’d gotten tangled up into purgatory work and forgotten about your duty in a whole. That is until one day, you received a card in all its luxurious parchment glory, with the same name and an adult face stamped in the middle. A face too much like him.

“The fuck?”                                                                                                         You've never cared so much when it came to collecting close to death souls. Even though you've always made sure to arrive before time, so that they could get their one wish, but this time, reaching before the catastrophe wasn't your main concern. You wanted to be impossibly early, to prevent, to advert the incident from occurring.

The fear grips you like never before, hands in a frightful fist as your brain engages in arbitrary functioning, the location more like a blur than a clear map in your head. Somehow, as you remember his sweet smile and baby antics, the thought of ‘no, he couldn't die' circles as a repetitive carol in the spans of your head.

What really happened when you weren't there? How had he been? How had he stumbled upon such situation?

Keeping those questions aside, you scramble to gather the mist in your palms as it camouflages you into an eggshell of smoke and transports you into the map you’ve envisaged in your mind. It’s utterly confusing how a letter you’d gotten just four minutes ago was a predicament for someone already dying in sun’s wake. Because, you’d naturally be there to witness a series of painful conjugations, be there to listen to voice in their head, suffer with them.

But now? The scenery unravels in front of you with the boy already falling in grand aptitude from high above what you surmised was a student hostel. A current of sheer panic washes over you greater than ocean waves, with your brain scrambling for any solution to preclude what was to happen. No, he couldn’t die, he couldn’t. On an unforeseen impulse, impetuosity took the best of you and before you could control your nerves, you were enforcing an opaque parapet right above your head, inhibiting his fall on a sudden note.

This was bad, very bad. It went against all the rules and regulations of underworld reaper committee, but what could you do now? The reapers held strong prohibitions on the case of saving someone, or even administering personal power for human beings. And the entire reaper population were to abide by it, were to live in anonymity like obsequious beings for the underworld.

And you didn’t just break it, you severed and thrashed open the bondage of regulations, and used your abilities to save someone whose heart still beat, blood still flowed.

How you were doomed!  

Even though the tension of ‘no, he couldn’t die’ dissipated with you inhibiting him in the air, another steam of panic settles in your guts. What were you going to do now? How could you save yourself?

It was all in your hands. What if you don’t write the post-duty reports? What if you burn every little evidence of him even dying in the first place? What if you erased all the traces of your forbidden deed? Would you able to save yourself?

Even if it did not work, it was worth a shot. Because at the short momentum, that’s all you could think of, that’s all the solution that occurs to you.

You set him close to the ground, the wall you empowered still supporting his back. In a hassle, you bring out the card and snap your fingers. Purple fire instantly engulfs the magical parchment, traces of pastel fragments emanating from it as it burned down to ashes. It took terse time and terse patience, before the burned ashes disappeared into oblivion.

Anything of underworld did not co-exist in living universe.

And so, burning it was the best choice you could make when it wouldn’t disappear by itself.

Because you hadn’t done your job in the first place.

You look at him through distraught eyes. He was there, sound unconscious and alive, breathing. You huff out a relieved sigh. You’ve saved him. Under formidable and punishable efforts, you’ve still saved him.

“I’m keeping your promise through thick and thin, you old soul. Do you see, mister?”

Han Jisung

He’d woken up in a scurry of hazardous dilemma, questioning his entire existence and a possible amnesia because, “How the fuck did I end up here?” So you did best and knocked him out under slumber’s spell, and went back to admiring how well he’d grown.

Han Jisung did not sleep like you’d envisioned him to, instead he tucked himself in a cocoon, hogging the blanket under his arms and legs and forming himself in a pithy, s shaped gnome. However, he slept peacefully, too tensionless and too comfortably,

His head was a tuft of messy black locks, akin to the fluffy hair you’d seen when he was just a young boy. Under all improvised circumstances, he was pretty- pretty handsome. Lips apart and breathing softly, you were sure he was deep asleep. Smidgens of the little boy you’d known was still there, but sketched and furnished into a beautiful young man that took your breath away.

But what really happened? What drove him to jump from such a high balcony? Where was the optimistic cheerful persona you knew? Then again, life could’ve hard, he’d had to fend for himself and his mother too. It must’ve been difficult.  

You weren’t even there.

You’d decided to stay there, get a little sleep even though you didn’t need it and disappear before he awakens. He wouldn’t be able to see you anyways.

Well, that was the plan to say the least.

“OH MY- fuck!!!” the loud, booming voice jolts you up from your pretentious slumber, a haphazard stretch of limbs being the first thing you focus on. You’d be panicked, freaked out by the way he’d oh so strangely bellowed to the fuck. But it’d be utter stupidity to stress over something that cannot happen. It was an established fact that you could not be seen unless it was the dead, so you blew a raspberry and grabbed your hat.

You took a look at him, seeing his panicked eyes staring right into your own, but that cannot happen right? You stretch your lips into a monotonous line, tight lipped and expressing the exhaustion you harbored.

You’d be sure to check on him.

“WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” he screams, backing up against the wooden surface of the bed, sheer fright and tremor evident in his crusade.

What?

“If you’re a thief, I swear I have nothing here. I’m dirt poor and I’d really like some financial help right now, please just don’t take away my tuition fees, I have worked so hard for them. I’d trade my life if you want but please just don’t--”

You blankly gape at him and his hands gesturing the desperation of his tone into what looked like a praying stance. He rambles on, until, he looks to have been struck by lightning; some sort of momentous realization meeting him midway as he stills in his place.

“Wait, didn’t I fall from the balcony?”

He seems to have completely forgotten about your existence, completely unbothered by your silent intrusion. But his question leaves you breathless. What if he asks you anything about that, what would you say? What can you say?

His head snaps back to you, the same fright overtaking his orbs as he stares at you in horror. “Did I die? Are you the angel that’ll take me to heaven?” he assumes. As much trenchancy you felt to have been called a heaven angel, despite being an atrocious hellish soul collector, you opted to respond. But your gaping lips were what remained, not a word able to disclose as you were abruptly interrupted by another one of his ridiculous suppositions.

“Nonono, you don’t look even a bit like an angel. Am I going to hell then? Oh my god! Oh my lord! What have I done in these short years of life?!” he exclaims, wailing his hands over his head. A sentimental horror passes by him as if you looked appalling to the eyes. Even though being offended was uncharacteristic to you, you couldn’t help but feel snubbed at the way he looked at you.

“Is this how it ends? I couldn’t even receive my last salary, it was due in only a week! I really really wanted to drink that oreo smoothie again, oh my god, that was my last wish. What will happen now? What will turn of me? Felix would be so disappointed, we even had a gaming appointment! Now what-”

“You’re not dead.”

He halts dead in his ramble, one of his hands tangled into the mess of his hair and the other in accordance to his expression. The relief almost launders over him, but the terror in his eyes don’t disappear. He’s still harboring the doe eyes and tremulous lips even as you return monotonous gaze.

“Then? Then what happened?” he questions.

“You…..you didn’t fall.”

You’d hoped he’d swallow up that answer and not interrogate further. But even though his rambles prove him to be specified under dim-witted species, he doesn’t take up your reasoning.

“That’s scientifically impossible. According to my weight, if I fell from a thirty meter height with a gravitational velocity of almost nine point eight meter per second, taking the air friction in consideration, I’d have crushed to the ground in approximately three point zero six one seconds. I live alone, so someone holding me up is out of the question, its also not possible to rescue me at the middle point, because which superhero Robin would sweep me away when I was practically flying? I could only be saved at point C; which is the end. Saying I didn’t fall is factually incorrect.” He rambles, deep into thinking and in his calculative mental space.

You sport an astonished look at his rather immaculate mathematical perceptive, your nervous system pointing you stupid instead. Eyes wide and mouth gawked open, you wonder how on earth such a person can ramble on and on about heaven and hell’s angel when he’d calculated the entire situation and someone’s inability to save him in mere seconds; that too, in a ramble.

But your mind instantly scurries back to how you’d respond to that, how you’d present an explanation to him that’d be reasonable for his perspective.

“You- you. I saved you! At point C!” you reply hastily, snaking your hands together into a convincing hold.

“That’s not considerable either. Did I not fall ontop of you? How are you unscathed?” he questions, placing his index finger under his chin in an improvisation of logical thinking.

“No, no I mean..” your words trail off, but there’s barely anything you can think of. So you take the first bait that enlightens you and splutter, “You were dreaming! Yes, you were dreaming. I heard you say I saved you in your sleep. yeah.”

“Is that so? I never knew I sleep talked,” he looks to be in even more doubt now, more so in an internal distrust with his self-critic that hadn’t told him of his sleep habits; but bites onto it anyways. “That was such a realistic dream then.”

“Yeah, haha. How funny, right?” you exclaim, stemming a nervous laughter to seem as natural as you can. But years of isolation had decreased your speaking skill to a level so beneath that you couldn’t even apprehend how low it went. Nonetheless, you anticipate his reaction.

He wears a confused look, his hands now proceeding to leisurely rest above his lap. “What are you doing here by the way? How did you get in here?” he narrows his eyes at you.

Shit, what now?

You let out another whimsical laughter, buying yourself a little time to think of any reasonable excuse. Please, mind, please don’t disappoint me.  “Oh me? i- yeah! I was moving here. And your door was open, so I mistook your apartment as mine, yeah.”

The words come out in a stutter, but he doesn’t pay any heed to it. Instead he maintains his confused state, brows together in a scrunch as if he’s been ripped off of his information rights. “I didn’t hear any news about that, how-”

“It was sudden! Haha, the landowner was informed just today.” You say, rubbing your hands together.

He smacks his lips together, seemingly have bought nice and fair onto your situational lie. He smiles afterwards, short and sweet, compelling your fingers to stop rubbing against each other.

“Well then, welcome here.”

Your mouth takes an oval shape, a little relief also careening its way through into your heart. Because, you’ve survived it. You’re successfully passed the dreadful moment with your terrible social skills.

“Yes, thank you.”

You both stare at each other in the unreasonable silence. You being the out of place bone as he signals you something with his eyes. You’re not sure if you want to smack your head with a hammer for being so utterly stupid that you cannot get him, but you’re sure you’re dumb enough for him to look done after a few seconds.

You stand to your place, awkwardly returning his gaze and him repeatedly wrinkling his eyes. When suddenly, he releases a huff, offering you a tight lipped smile.

“Would you mind getting out then?”

The next day, you’re in grave danger, head straight into a hole you’ve carved for yourself. You’d oh so foolishly told him that you were moving, which in reality you didn’t even require an abode, but let’s stick to the situation. So you’ve inquired with the land owner to assist you into getting an apartment in the building. She’d refused quite gently, persisting that there were no empty flats.

Until when you opted to leave with dejected steps, she hollered you back and offered you a shared home, mentioning how the boy was looking for a roommate for a long time because of his rather pitiful financial stability. At first, you’d been anxious, on the way to reject the suggestion straight away.

“Ah, it’s a boy named Han Jisung, room number 614.”

Of course you had no problem with that. Even more so, it could quite righteously justify your early actions. With an elaborate nod, you agreed to it. Now all that remained was the struggle of moving. Which brought you to the ultimate overwhelming coincidence of meeting him again, because you swore to the lord, you hadn’t a single idea of modern world and communication ways.

“Hello! Nice to meet you, I’m your new roommate, mister?” you exclaim, trying your best to mask your internal conflicts in the sanctity of your brain. But your lips still twitch a little as you struggle to whack a smile on your face.

“Oh, I’m Han Jisung. Nice to meet you too. But I thought you were moving yesterday?” he questiones, making way for you to get in with your rather small luggage. You look around in faux awe, as if you’d observed his abode for the first time.

It wasn’t a pleasant sight.

Shoes scattered along the sides of the front door, the door mat completely hidden under the pile. Pillows littered over the cushion and an iconic pair of popcorn bowl and coke bottle atop the ground. The curtains were in a disorderly manner, tangled along the objects on the floor. In all, the home depicted his natural bed hair, yet was livable to say the least.

“Oh, that got delayed because of an urgent work.” You reply, much-thrilled.

“I see.”

After that started your little adventure of staying visible throughout every human interaction and introducing yourself as an aspiring fashion designer who lived as roommates with Han Jisung. Staying at home had been fairly easy, because apparently, Jisung saw you even when you were shrouded behind reapers magic, by some uncoordinated miracle. Or maybe, he was the miracle.

Other than the background information about him, which you already knew, you’ve got to know he’d thankfully had his own friend circle, an active social life and nice company. He was quite amiable among his camaraderie, often seen face timing a certain lad named Felix. Even though he appeared less than diligent in domestic chores, he still got them done at the end of the day.

By the thread.

You’d also gotten to know that the incident of that day was in no way, him striving towards death. It wasn’t pessimism crawling up his conscience and actions driven by distress. It wasn’t what you’d imagined at all. Instead, he’d very innocently slipped on his balcony floor and flailed his hands to get a reach of any hard surface. But it was too late and by that time, he was screaming and soaring in the air like an airborne chicken.

Such a foolish way to die, you thought.  

“Oh my god, Jisung! Watch out.”

You holler as you notice a puddle of water on the floor, about to be stepped on by the sock clad feet of han Jisung who’d so graciously walked around like he wasn’t any sort of untidy. You hope to rescue him from digging his own expiry, but he responds rather late, offering you the same doe eyed confused look when his feet was already drenched by the liquid.

“What-” he slips with a demonic screech, landing ass first onto the hard floor. He instantly grimaces and yelps in pain, mumbling a series of profanities at his rotten luck. However, he seems to be more bothered by the fact that his sock was drenched in water, and not the probability that his hipbones could be dislocated.

Unique in his own way.

His feet arbitrary with their every step, and his mind far into mare’s nest; you didn’t know how he’d survived before you came. You were a stark contrast to his disorderly attitude, spruce and tidy in your every work. As the days passed by and you both became much closer, your eyes stuck into his brown orbs a little too much, exchanged prolonged stares a little too much, burst smiles too effortlessly and engaged in playful contact too spontaneously.

“Crying is alright, Jisung. I think it’s what makes us stronger, don’t you think?” you ask, thumb gliding over the apple of his cheek in an attempt to wipe the sadness away along with the tears garnishing his cheeks.

He looks into your eyes in the same fervor, glossed with prickling tears and holding miles of constellation in the confines of two clinquant orbs. You wound your arms around his neck, pulling him in and sighing as his tears soak into your clothes.

That’s all you could do, provide him the peace, the comfort he needed. No words, no nothing. Just a simple, innocent security you shared in each other’s sympathy.

“Mmm…..you’re warm,” he murmurs into your neck, “I don’t want to wake up.”

“Wake up?”

“This feels like a dream. Too good to be true, is it not?” he asks, lashes fluttering against your skin. A huff leaves his lips, fanning your neck and the slight tickle makes you shiver.  

You’re left speechless, his words spinning in your brain like some sort of chant in impending festivals wake. Too good to be true, was it really? His hold tightens for a brief second, before you feel him attempting to break away.

But you pull him back, softly twirling his hair as you let the bliss take over you. You feel him tense against you, a little surprised at something so unlikely to have happened, or maybe, maybe at the close proximity he wouldn’t have suspected to last for longer than a few puny seconds. Just for now. Just once. “No no, you can’t get away. You’re my prisoner for now,” you demand, fondly smiling.

Jisung reciprocates with even more effort, instantly pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you. Even though the tables have turned and now, you were the prisoner trapped in his cozy arms, you couldn’t have cherished this more. You make a mental effort to forget about the repercussions that followed, and simply smile- capture every second of the warmth you shared, encrypt it into your brain and let the consequences follow time.

“That’s fine by me.”

You nod, then fell silent again, simply relishing in the bliss time provided you. You wanted to make the best out of it, let your feelings control you. You didn’t want a lecture of logical reasoning on how this was formidable for someone like you, from your own brain. And as the paradise engulfed and overpowered your every senses, you couldn’t even think in coherent thoughts.

“Kiss me.”

Then your cheeks tinted pink, the flushed hue being an involuntary delegate to the feelings you could not hide. The moment you shared under the moonlight and the faint, tiny whisper of confessions ahead of time. So painfully transient, yet so surreal, chimerical. At least for someone like you.

The universe is so cruel, so conceited. So against you.

That night, the moon was drunk, the stars intoxicated. With the sins of the sun and the sadness of the sky. Shifts and blurs from the earth’s horizon and you stare, wondering why the universe never loved you back.

It seemed like a divine miracle that someone you'd never have thought to be associated with turned into your greatest pleasure. The world an imminent distraction with the time adhering into a conspiracy against your every wishes, gleaming at the abomination you'd caused yourself. He was your ephemeral salvation. An acute path of escape, from the atrocities of the universe that envied your blasphemous destiny and the ravaging ethics of your very being.

From wherever he emerged from, involving himself into your life like an iridescent crystal, glowing against your dark heart with its indestructible luminosity. You were above in the sky, in gratitude of the blessing fate offered you. Inspite of you trying your best to push him away, to avoid the disappointment that came with love, he'd slowly but surely crept his way into your freezing heart. Canopying it in his warmth with such dulcet fervor, such determination, until you felt like a vulnerable human, one that encapsulated a beating heart. But in a good way, because, he was the witness of your tainted self, not anyone else.

How can he struggle to open a door when the whole wall was nothing but an illusion?

At this point, he turned into your weakness, into something that held back the infamous grim reaper. Your pillar that upheld you with vigor, restraining your every desolation, your every pessimism. And you knew, your dependence was not something you now abhorred. Instead, you couldn’t be glad enough that it was him.

Before you knew it, you enjoyed your abbreviate alone times, thought of him after every deliver, desired to see the smile of his face in your free time. Albeit every trivial desires were discreet, concealed and inclined from deep within you, but you couldn’t help giving into what were worldly fantasies for you.

Just a little more, just one more look, one more second, one more touch.

This was wrong, so so wrong. The council couldn’t know about it, not at all. If news got out that the rock hard grim reaper who transited pained souls has caught feelings for a mortal, you would be done for. Not only did it go far against the most strict rules activated, but also went against the flow of realms. You, a practical demon from the underworld could never entangle yourself with temporal realm humans.

But the universe was never on your side as it seemed. Because the council had gotten leaked information that you’d given life to someone who was already dead in their notes. There was no way Han Jisung could live, the higher ups had to remove every trace of the mortal ever being saved. If the principal gods sniff a hint of such mishaps, you, along with the council that controlled your every movement would be buried and thrown into purgatory before you retired from the given duties.

As always, everything was against you, against your forbidden happiness and the love you’d brewed out of a cold heart.

Like whisper from the air, a note drops onto your lap. You know it’s another death call by the same uniform parchment and scrubby texture of the paper. You sigh, picking it up as you flip it around.

Han Jisung.

20:12 o’clock

Your eyes widen in horror, hands already shaking as you fumble to look for your watch. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t. You’re on the verge of breaking down when the terror creeps into you like it’s always belonged there, the fear gripping your heart like incandescent steel.

20:22 o’clock

They played you, they delayed it intentionally.

In a hassle with your brain locating his whereabouts, purple mist smokescreens around you as it transports you into a different environment.

Your heart aches with even more trepidation when you look around to find the said tussock of hazel hair. But your eyes divert to a commotion on your right, people surrounding into thick crowd. You pinpoint the place, throwing your hat onto the road and push past the crowd.

There he was, drenched in blood with scattered grocery around him; eyes closed with no signs of breathing.

“No!” you scream, instantly breaking into a demented sob. Crouching down, you gather his hands into yours. You didn’t care if the blood stained you, didn’t care if you looked frantic. The wails broke out of your chest with a stinging pain coursing within. You look up at the sky with a ferocity you never knew you had, cursing the upper lords and the council.

It was entirely your fault, you knew it too. But you couldn’t contain the hatred towards the council.

“Is this what you wanted huh?” pressing a bite on your lips, you continue, “To take everything away from me just like this?”

You scoff, chagrined. “ I never agreed to be the undead, never wanted an eternal life feeding onto souls that have suffered, souls that repented for their innocence, repented for the life you gave them. Is this how you punish me?”

“You sent me, a grim reaper for grieved souls, to collect a soul that wasn’t even murdered! You’ve never offered me normalcy, people who died of age, instead choosing to torment me along with them.” You grimace, even more detestation overtaking your very being.

A sadistic smile rips out of your chest, the singular thoughts of saving him circulating around your every rational perceptive. You abruptly kneel down, sneering at the sky as you state your final words, “I do not want such punishment. Burn me in the fires of hell, but I quit the status you so graciously bestowed upon me. Upper lord, Hades! I offer you my span of life in exchange of time.”

It’s almost as if you could hear the council cursing your existence, much words of slander recurring with hushed repetitions. It’s almost as if they drown you out, they condense and monopolize around your head like canon smoke from a warred terrain. You didn’t particularly care if you did the right thing or not, you just had to defame the council, show them that their sly skills weren’t one to be proud of.

Even if it meant giving yourself away.

Swoosh!

Rotate right, rotate left, flip over.

Pushed aside, dragged down, rotate right, rotate left and-

“Oh my god!” you huff heavily, slapping at your chest as you struggle to breath. The air is completely knocked out of your chest, your stomach and throat accompanying the pain as they burn sorely. But you do not dwell on it. Right after, your mind strikes with the grotesque images of dying Jisung; not talking, not moving, not watching, not breathing, not alive.

Ah yes, time. I turned back time.

“Jisung, Jisung!” you whisper through strained throat, noticing that this’d been your last recruit location. You scramble to sit up, planking on your elbows as you push yourself up.

19:50

If he died at 12 minutes near the house, that too, after buying groceries. He must be home right now.

Without a second thought, you vanish out of the settlement and re-appear in front of your shared apartment. With adrenaline rushing in you to the best, you twist the doorknob, immediately sprinting inside. You frantically search for the familiar silhouette, breathing, moving, walking.

“y/n?”

Jisung.

You whip around instantly, eyes wide at the sight of your worried Jisung. He looks at you with his glimmering set of eyes and lips in a frowned pout. You’ve succeeded, you’ve retrieved back time and here he is, in his stupid glory and alive- breathing, walking, speaking.

And that’s when all your synthetic guard falls apart in sobs of relief, along do you; fall to the ground with a foreign liquid streaming down your cheeks. Mind static and limbs unwilling to work. You don’t hold back either, you let the wave take over you, you let the weakness show in the tremble of your hands.

He’s alive, breathing, speaking. Alive.

You cry your heart out.

“W-why are you crying?” he asks, voice shaken. He crouches down in front of you, cupping both of your hands into his as he searches for your eyes. You clutch onto his hands tighter- they were warm, and soft, very soft; nothing like the cold, lifeless hands you’d held minutes ago. Your sobs get heavier, cries erupting from within as you lean into him, dropping your head onto his chest.

“Please, tell me. What happened? What’s wrong?” he soothes in sheer desperation, reciprocating the tenacious hold of your hands in an attempt to comfort you. “Please talk to me about it. I can’t bear you crying like this, please.”

Your sniffs come to a gradual halt as your limbs gain a little strength. You disentangle your fingers and wreathe your arms around his torso. He stiffens up for a second, before easing up and slanting closer to you.

You respire a huffed breath, “You’re here with me right?” 

Jisung wraps you into him, resting his chin on your head. You feel his jaw shift into a smile as he speaks, “I’m always here with you. I’ll always be here with you.”

Such hopeful words. You wish you could tell him how wrong he was, how diaphanous, how unrealistic it was to think you’d always stay together. It’s forbidden from every aspect, extremely, utterly, terribly wrong. Yet so pure, so real. But you don’t burst his little bubble of happiness.

“Please don’t go out. We can buy groceries later, not now please. Not today,” you mumble, hoping he’d catch you. For some reason, he doesn’t question you, doesn’t ask how you know he was going out for groceries. He simply agrees with a comforting smile, saying, “Sure, alright I won’t go today. I’ll be here with you, hmm?”

Little tranquility, little happiness, little appreciation.

No, you’d like to rephrase that. Because Han Jisung was your pillar, a gigantic supplier of happiness. He was the very tranquility, the very happiness, the very appreciation. There was just nothing little, nothing scarce.

You stay silent for a few, trying to convince yourself that you have succeeded, he’s alive and with you. He’s not going anywhere, at least for the time being.

 In the momentary heat, your mouth speaks ahead of your mind and fingers grasp onto his shirt ahead of thinking. In the momentary bliss, as something takes over you, you whisper clear and low, “I-I love you Jisung, I really do.”

The realization dawns upon you right the next second. Your cheeks flare pink and face shies from him. You bury yourself even more, pressing your lips as the shyness fleets its way into you in big, battering waves. But so does the cruelty of the reality that you didn’t want to live in.

“I-I….” Jisung stutters. His fingers loosen from your back and you’re almost scared. Scared of what he’d say. Maybe he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, or maybe he wasn’t ready for the commitment that followed, even though there couldn’t be any. However it was, you respond before him,

“I just wanted you to know. That I think the world of you. You make me so incredibly happy, for no reason at all. I don’t want to live in the reality, Jisung. Please take me away.”

Something about the desperation in your tone shakes him, but the breathy stutters of your tone tells him you have more to say. So he waits, anticipating your next words.  

“All I want is you, take me away Jisung.” you say.

Jisung doesn’t question again, instead he rubs circles onto your back. You feel him breaking away from you, hands trailing up your arms as he cups your cheeks. Smiling softly, “Then, do you want me to make you something warm and forget about everything that’s troubling you?” he offers.

You relish in the smile he gives you. Lets just enjoy the last moments you’d get, make the most of it. 

You smile back, wiping your tears with you sleeves as you nod vigorously. He’s always known the best solutions for you, your little habits and what consoled you best.

“A big mug. I can share with you.”

“Deal.”

Then he plants a sweet, truncate kiss on your forehead, keeping his lips there longer than anticipated. If it weren’t for the blasphemy your destiny had to offer, you’d have said, surety in your veins, that the moon in it’s vicarious ways blessed and secured you. The sun, in it’s rapturous ways scorned the upper lords and formulated you shelter with the apricity.

But how the universe was against you!

Jisung is very acutely introduced and indulged into pointless overthinking. But this time, his mind didn’t wander to the fishes of the sea or the regal mermaids or the plushies he threw away. Surreal, absolutely unrealistic. That’s how he’d describe you. Because there was no way he could get the images of that night away from his mind. Soft and succulent lips moulded with his in such perfectness, such grace. That’s the first time he’s cried in front of someone, shed tears upon tears and vanquished the bottled feelings.

That’s also the first night he realized, he was so utterly, purely and innocently in love.

Engaging himself into watching the previous episode of the on going sitcom because you were currently bathing was not the best idea. Because he realized by the next fifteen minutes that he’s been replaying his memories over and over and has miraculously finished the bowl of popcorn. He peers over to the room, watching for any signs that you’d be likely to come back soon enough.

But there’s nothing. He slumps over, pausing the tv as he does so.

All of a sudden, there’s a blinding light, fluorescent and disturbingly shiny. Jisung shields his eyes almost immediately. The light is too much, too bright and too warm that he feels as if hes standing under straight sunlight. But it also eludes a type of comforting blanket, warm and fresh.

The light begins to lighten and he unveils his hands, coming face to knee with three or so equally bright beings. They stand tall, clad in pure white clothing with a pair of magnimous wings by their arms. Jisungs mouth lacks open, in better than best confusion and wilderment. What is even happening?

Jisung doesn’t know to how to feel, how to react. He simply stands up, eyes widened as he eyes over the tall men; and their peculiar wings. Feathers purer than milk and glimmering with a glory he’s never known. Fear, confusion, anticipation, he doesn’t know what emotions consume him. But hes sure enough that anger is one of them.

But why? Its another question he has yet to decipher.

“We are here to recruit Han Jisung to the gates of the underworld.” The one at front speaks, voice orotund and drop down intimidating. He sports no amount of assurance on his face, just plain impassivity and calm monstrosity. Jisung wonders how they knew his name, furthermore, why they would recruit him to underworld.

“W-what?” Jisung questions, much-afraid.

The man walks closer to him, squinting his eyes in ulterior judgment as he rakes his eyes from Jisung’s top to bottom. His gray empty eyes look into Jisung’s warm brown ones, lips in a thin line. “Are you Han Jisung?” he enquires.

Jisung is shaken to the core, part of him wanting to even façade a brave aura, and the other part wanting succumb to the situation and see what happens. However, the confusion doesn’t suffice, instead grows even stronger.

“I mean, yeah, yes I am,”

They give him a pointed look, as if almost disgusted at him for an unknown cause. But the man raises a hand, white translucent smoke emerging from his palms. Jisung sees a reflection of himself in the smoke ball, him walking near his balcony. It was the same day, the same dream, and the same clothes. But the scene doesn’t continue after he slips, it only repeats, as if there is no continuation; there never was.

The lighted man shifts his eyes back to Jisung, “You are supposed to be dead in the realm of the living. There is whatsoever no record of your existence in the reports of the archangels. Worry not, you will not suffer for her mistakes. The angels shall make sure of it.”

What?

Furrowed brows and a dreaded confusion takes elongated homage on Jisung’s face. A type of hollow terror sets inside his chest, carving its sanctity inside the warmth within him. He opens his mouth so speak, but stutters in the air.

“Whose mistake are you talking about?” Jisung asks, alarm filling him.

“The demon reaper who saved you on 10th of july. It is strictly prohibited to prevent natural death of humans, reaper’s duty is to collect the soul, not burn every traces of you being dead. She will bear the punishment of her deeds.” The man recites, eyes vacant and visually annoyed.

The flashbacks trail after his thoughts. Your pretty face and the way you talked to him. The way you sat there and spoke of words he couldn’t but be convinced by. He realizes he was such a fool, to have to effortlessly believed you.

“You- you. I saved you! At point C!”

“You were dreaming!”

White lies, weren’t they?

“No no no, what are you even saying?” 

Jisung clicks his tongue, palms tacky with perspiration that dread offered so graciously. His fingers move about in an oblique gesture, a thing he’s grown to stem whenever situations slipped out of his grasp.

There’s a low thudding, cautious and concise footsteps resonating through the thick tension in the air. but jisung’s too cossetted into his own jumbled thoughts to notice that, instead continues stemming the same oblique rhythms with his fingers. He doesn’t even notice as the man snickers obnoxiously, eyes caught onto something behind him.

“Wretched wench.” The man curses, and that’s when jisung’s eyes snap behind him; and to you. He turns around completely, part of his nerves finding solace in your teary eyes, reddened nose, quivering lips; in you. No, this can’t happen, this can’t be true.

It was hard to believe something other worldly, something out of his far imaginations. Was he really in love with the grim reaper that was ordered to collect his soul? That sounded too foolish, too illogical. You, a human of blood and flesh; you couldn’t be a reaper; or could you?

“y/n, is this true?”

You nod, mustering the little voice you could, “Yes, it is.”

The look he gives you is enough to shed down layers upon layers of confidence you’d built, coats upon coats of preparation for this very moment and years upon years of strength.

“Why did you lie then? Why did you not tell me that you were….you were not human?”

A carving, threatening pain is what you feel. It’s time, it’s over. Everything was over now. Consternation and guilt gathers you in their inviting arms, raising, imbuing the feelings you knew were to come. Hopeless, you were hopeless.

You look down, biting your lips. Arms limp by your side, you say nothing, do nothing.

I couldn’t tell you, I’m sorry, Jisung.

“And she shall be punished for committing the forbidden and falling in love with a mortal. Also for turning back time to save the same mortal, which has also deducted 2/3 of her lifespan.”

It’s like the ceiling, the roof, the sky falls down on Jisung as the inexpressive man relays his verdict. In no worlds would he have thought you’d sacrifice your life to turn back time, that too with such a trivial purpose of saving him. He looks at you in disbelief, also something along the notes of sadness, dejection. But there’s also love, a love that seeps out of him in gradient waves as if he doesn’t want the reality to transpire more cruelty. He finally gets you, understands all the times you wanted time to stop, reality to shift.

How could you do this for him? With no care for yourself?

“I’m so sorry, Jisung. I just…I’m sorry.” Your tears burst forth like water from a dam, knees bucking underneath and hard onto the floor. A demon gifted with selflessness, is not a demon. Can never be. At this moment, you do not care about the pretense of cruelty you maintained all through the years, the sadistic image you brewed for the higher ups, the estrangement you were caught in.

So perhaps it may be an oddity to thank your tears and be proud to cry, yet if that's what saves you from becoming a monster, a person indifferent to suffering and sorrow, then crying is the smartest thing you could do.

“Are you sorry for falling in love with me?”

A simplistic, straight forward question with a same, sempiternal answer that would never change, at least not for you.

“Not in a single lifetime,” you speak, clear and loud.

Through the emancipating dread and quagmire of mixed tension, he smiles at you. Why, you wonder; but then again, it was Han Jisung, someone who found little happiness, little appreciations in the minutest caricatures, even more efficaciously than you. The angels just stand there, wings spread and apart as if to swallow him in them. He proceeds towards you, not knowing the consequences, not knowing the regulations.

You figured he wouldn’t care anyways.

It takes the angels less than a second to react consequentially as Jisung is immediately wreathed and constrained into the hold of the guard angels. Instincts work the fastest for Jisung and he thrashes against them.

“Give me some fucking time!”

They knew, you knew, it was to no avail. It was impossible to emancipate oneself from angel’s guards; it would take great strength to even loosen one of their hold, much less get away. But you don’t tell him that. What would happen is the best for him, much better than a life that followed loving a demon like you.

Hopeless thoughts and you couldn’t even stop the tears.

At this moment, your wings cleave out of your back in tethering tentacles, the first form of demonic wings. You fall down, a hiss following suit. They spread wide around you, canopying you into a cocoon the second after. You know that ugly, dark red blood drops down your back, stains the scars of your wings unpleasantly. 

Jisung wants to rush to you so badly, but can’t, not at all.

“Are you not afraid? Not disgusted?” you ask, scathing wings trembling along with you.

“No, why would i be?” Jisung replies, slowing down against the metal hold on his arms.

He seems to get a hold of the balustrade he’s stuck in, slowing down his desperate attempts of liberty. But his consistency doesn’t fade, neither does the words he would’ve preferred to say to you personally.

Eyes vacillating yet keeping a straight contact to yours, he gives you a smile. How someone could look so hopeful in a situation like this, you didn’t know. his optimistic eyes provide little comfort to you, but what kind of comfort is it? vain, reasonless, pointless or hopeless?

And a hopeless comfort.

“You don’t deserve hell, baby. But please have hopes, for yourself and for us. Because I love you.”

Your body freezes in place, a plethora of emotions you couldn’t properly explain swirling in the glosses of his eyes. The corners of your mouth turn up in the slightest way as your head tilts, marveling at the greatness he’s put you upon. But in no way are you great, in no way are you what he thinks of you. Because you are a messenger of hell’s fire itself, entangled with sins’ etched onto every part of your body.  

“You don’t know my sins’, Han.”

At this point, the emotions, the vulnerability you allow to show takes an uncontrollable turn. And the tears, the sobs that leave you are relentless, irrepressible.  Even though you know every bits of their capability, their limitations and their aggregations and also the fact that they’re quite freely allowed to kills you and burn you into encompassible ashes; you stand up as you saunter towards him.

But white, raging chains bind around your wings. They harshly push you onto the ground, tightening around your feathers by the second. You try to restrain, try to move even with those heavy manacles circling around you.

Another pair of peeved chains pair up to the back of your wings in a prison grip, the poisoned metal of them equivalent to burns upon burns on your skin. An agonizing cry rips out of you, straining against the choleric grips of the angels’ taunting magic. The pain swathes and sears you in ways visually impossible to see, and too impeccable, too spruce scald marks engraving onto the skin underneath your feathers.  

The sound of your screams engulf those of Jisung’s, the both of you protesting against the torture inflicted upon you.

“Love,”

Your screams halt, so do you. You manage to lift your head through crimson eyes and look into his. The smile on his face is unsure, as if forced by himself for a clandestine hope that you could never muster. He signals for you to take a few steady breaths, but he’s barely holding himself together. Nonetheless, you comply along with him.

“Just one thing, please,” he says as the guards begin to drag him. Much to your amazement, they do listen, holding him in place.

“y/n,” he says.

“Whatever happens in this story of you and I, I hope you know there wasn’t one day I didn’t choose you. There was never one minute where you were a second choice. No….never. I’ll love you till the end of time, in this life, in the next life, in any life. It’s you, it’s always been you. And one day, have hope, it will be me and you, dancing along to the perfect timing, toasting to forever.” The hesitant assurance that follows enables you to cry even more, not at the pain on your wings but the raw, catching despondency that you share under grieved roof.

“Miss y/n l/n, you are hereby expelled from your position as a soul reaper. You shall proceed to purgatory and repent for your sins’,” the head guard deadpans, forming a symbol with his fingers in the shape of an order. And you prepare yourself for the worst, body taut and eyes clenched shut.

Then two swords clash against your back, and before you know it, another pained scream rips out of your chest and your wings are gone. Crimson blood gushing out of the remnants as your black, scarred wings fall beside you.

“Ah, no!” Jisung laments, rebelling against the hands once more. He yanks with his greatest strength, managing to break free from one of them. He pulls harsher, ripping out of the other arm that held him, much to your surprise.

Through the haze and blood centering around you, you watch him rush towards you, taking your face in his hands as he frantically examines your face. Your lips take up a scant smile at the close propinquity. One the verge of death you are, but still yearning for his hands to brush against your cheeks one more time.

For once, the universe doesn’t swat away your wishes like a despotic entity.

Jisung rests his forehead on yours, hands cupping your cheeks as his tears fall onto your face, trailing down and mixing with the blood under you. “I am so sorry, love,” he says, lips trembling.

“I wish I could take your pain away.”

And then he kisses your lips feverishly. It was the last kiss, the last comfort, the last form of love you’d feel. You reciprocate back, swathing his wrists with your bloodied hands. Jisung then places his lips beside you ear, hands holding you from falling down and submitting to excruciating pain.

How shameless of you, to be acting such way in front of angel’s eyes.

“I will come back for you. I will find a way, any way,”

You peer into the constellation of his eyes one last time, relish in the love his shimmering orbs represent. You try your best to not look at him with the inscrutable, glazed eyes of death overtaking your life, so you smile anyway, nodding at him.

“I hope you do, Han Jisung.”

And then, the guards rip him away from you with petulant force, flying up into the white abyss formulated above. Jisung holds your eyes till the last minute, till the wings fly him away far enough, till the last breath you release.

An absconder like you would’ve pre-determined that you were at no point of life where you could achieve joy so easily, so effortlessly. And you clang onto that happiness as your “Life”. However, your life wasn’t there anymore. But he probably would be, in another life, another existence, another universe, in hopes or in despair, in reality or in imagination; as long as you weren’t reaper’s reincarnate.

There was no scream, nor a shrieking plea of survival, nor any sound of devastation, that was until the ground was met with your heavy body and a thud so loud. It almost seemed to you that your last heartbeat was as loud as that. Yet you didn’t forget to clad a smile on your face to the last minute, remembering your first encounter with the love of your life and reminiscing those little happiness’s, little appreciations, little love.

At the end of the day and I’m helpless,

Will you keep me close? Will you love me most?

And that’s how the darkness fell apart.

#i dont like this one #but since i wrote it so.... #skzwritersclub #inkidz #stray kids #skz #stray kids han #han jisung #jisung ff #jisung fluff #jisung angst #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #fantasy #grim reaper au #fantasy au #stray kids han jisung #skz han jisung #romance #stray kids reaction #mythical au #lmao okay #i love stray kids

[zayray030]

Jordan Family Party

Summary: Hal gets invited to the Jordan Family Party. This time he brings Bruce. Yeah, we wonders why he ever thought this'll work.

“No!”

“C’mon Hal! What's the worst that could possibly happen? !” asked Bruce, speed walking to catch up with his already angry lover. In hindsight, bringing up the invitation to the Jordan family party probably had been a horrible idea but Bruce wasn't one to really think straight when it came to his boyfriend.

“Oh, I don't know? How about the last time I tried to show my face I got kicked out and called an uncaring asshole and a fag?” snapped Hal, spinning around to glare at Bruce. He was out of his lantern costume so the effect was ruined and the fact that he was slightly shorter than Bruce didn't help.

Bruce's eyes turned stormy at the word and Hal winced internally. He really should not have said that.

“Who?” hissed Bruce. For some reason, he looked extremely threatening in his suit and Hal worried if he had been in the bat suit it would have made his scream in fright.

“Not important! What's important that I ignore this and then they never have to see me and-” Before Hal could finish Bruce had rudely cut him off with a kiss, pulling Hal in with an arm around his waist.

“How about you don't ignore this and you show them what they've been missing out on.” Bruce said huskily and Hal felt himself become slightly dizzy. He shook his head and pushed Bruce away.

“That's cheating! And God, how much do you weigh?” asked Hal when he couldn't even move Bruce off by an inch. On the contrary, Bruce just pulled him closer and chuckled on his ear.

“Is it baby? And I weigh 210 pounds.” Bruce answered and Hal rolled his eyes. Bruce gently grasped his chin and lifted his face to see him. Bruce was no longer smirking, instead giving him a soft smile and there was love in his eyes. “Baby it's going to be alright.” he said softly.

“No, it's not.” mumbled Hal, turning away from his and facing away from him. ‘He would not cry, he would not cry, he would not cry.’ he repeated that in his head like a matra.

Bruce said nothing, just kept him in arms, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

“Fine, you asshole. I'll go. But you're so coming with me.” Hal finally snapped, lifting his face up to glare at Bruce. Bruce smirked slightly but it had a touch of concern.

“Are you sure baby? I don't want to push you and-?”

“Yes I'm sure. Now let me go so I can call Jim and tell him we're going. Also get Alfred to get me coffee. I'm going to need it.”

“This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea. This is a-” Hal repeated over and over again from where he stood in front of his family house. It looked like it had looked before when he was younger except more older and worn.

“Hal, honey, come on. If you do this I'll let you fly the bat plane.” Bruce promised in his ear and that made Hal’s mind up. Bruce's plane was amazing and he was so not going to pass up the opportunity to fly it.

“Fine.” Hal huffed and took excruciatingly slow steps towards the door. Bruce rolled his eyes at his boyfriend's childishness and picked him and carried him to the door. Hal squawked in indignation.

“Act like a child, get treated like a child.” was all Bruce said before putting his indignant boyfriend back down. Hal shot him a  glare without any real heat before turning to the bell in front of him. Hal stared at it for what felt like an eternity before he gave up and turned to Bruce.

“I can't do it.”

“Yes you can! You know why? Because you're Green Lantern. You snuck into the Air Force and you magically managed to make Damian like you all within two minutes of meeting you. That's amazing.” Bruce said.

Hal blushed at the praise, turning away. Before he could respond however the door swung open to reveal his older brother, Jack.

“Hal.” he said coldly, sneering at him slightly. Hal felt himself stiffen but an arm going around his waist helped him relax slightly.

“Jack.” he said back, slightly warmer than his brother.

“So you did come. Guess you weren't lying for once.” he said mockingly and Hal so wanted to turn right back round and ignore this family bit Bruce's strong presence kept him rounded. He wouldn't fail Bruce.

“Yup. I'm here.” it came out more awkwardly than Hal desired but Hal counted his wins. Jack just scoffed at him before his attention diverted to Bruce. His eyes widened slightly before going back to their normal size, if not slightly disgusted.

“So you managed to tap Bruce Wayne?” he asked in a not so nice tone. Hal blushed but didn't shrink down. Instead he shot a cocky smirk that screamed Hal Jordan through and through.

“More like he managed to tap me. But who wouldn't? My ass is flawless.” Hal said. To anyone who wouldn't know him he sounded arrogant to people he did know he sounded teasing. To Bruce it sounded like an invite.

Jack didn't smile, just continued glaring at Hal. “Name's Jack Jordan. His older brother.” he finally said, extending a hand to Bruce.

“Bruce Wayne, this one's boyfriend.” he said. His face was blank but Hal could see the cold fury in them. Shit, this wasn't going good.

“Well, come on in.” Jack said, moving out of the way to let them through. Hal walked in quickly and Bruce followed after him.

“Uncle Hal!” yelled his niece, hurling herself at him.

“Hey honey. How are you?” he asked, bending down to be Eye level with the small girl.

“I'm good. And who are you?” she asked curiously when she saw Bruce. Bruce bent down until his eye level with the small girl.

“I'm Bruce. Hal's boyfriend.” There was a collective gasp going around the room but damn Bruce if he gave one.

“Cool!” she said, too young to understand why everyone was acting so weirdly. She quickly bounded off to her mother when she heard her name being called though.

“Hey Hal!” said Jim. Hal just smiled back, not going over to his younger brother. Bruce hugged him from behind and he could feel glares going all across the room.

“What happened to that Carol girl?” asked a voice Hal will always remember. There, sitting in front of the room sat his mother, eyes glaring and sneering deeply.

“Uh, we broke it off.” Hal said. He heard several scoffs go around the room and he felt Bruce's arms around him tighten. It was a good thing Damian wasn't here.

“Of course you wouldn't be able to handle a relationship with a woman so you decide to whore yourself-” his mother said in her disappointed/angry voice that she would always use on him and the last time he had heard it was when she found out he had joined the Air Force.

“Can I just say something?” Bruce interrupted her rant. Hal felt slightly shocked but leaned back against his boyfriend.

“No you may-” his mother started but Bruce cut her off again.

“Well I don't care, woman. Now, each and every single one of you except for the kids are awful and should go and die.” Bruce snapped. “He's one of the most selfless people I have ever met. He has helped hundreds of people out there, even thousands and he deserves more than you. He has done good thing, after good thing but the universe decides to fuck with him constantly. He's been beat down constantly yet he always rises back up. He's been insulted and degraded but he didn't pay attention to any of that and continued to be strong and prove everyone wrong.”

And it continued, Bruce praising him constantly and by the end of it Hal was a blushing mess and he could see some of his fewer nicer relatives looking down in shame. His mother, however, stayed the same.

“Now, I'm going to take my boyfriend back home and away from the undeserving.” Bruce finally snapped before dragging Hal away and to the door again. When Hal turned to look at Jack he could see some shame but Hal didn't spare a second to talk to him, just walked out the door with Bruce.

They both got in the car and the drive back to the Manor was silent. Eventually they got there and Bruce steeped out before walking right back round and opening his door up and picking him up.

“How romantic.” Hal said sarcastically. Bruce just smirked at him but it wasn't the same as his usual smirks. This one had regret.

“Would you like me to run you a rose-petal bath?” he asked sarcastically. Hal just snorted before relaxing right back into Bruce's chest.

Bruce walked to the Manor and when he went inside, instead of going all the way up to his room he chose the guest room and quickly placed Hal on the bed.

“I'm so sorry, honey.” Bruce whispered.

“It's okay.” Hal tried to soothe him but Bruce just shook his head.

“You said you didn't want to and I pushed you.” he said mournfully.

“If you hadn't pushed me then one of your kids would have.” Hal said.

“Still. Let me make it up for you.” Bruce whispered in his ear and Hal squeaked when he felt a hand squeeze his ass.

“Two presents in one day? I must be getting lucky.” Hal gasped.

“You deserve all the presents in the world.” Bruce whispered again and the night was lost in love and passion.

Obviously the next day Bruce spoiled Hal within an inch of his life.

#batman #bruce wayne #damian wayne #Robin #hal jordan #green lantern #bottom hal jordan #Jack Jordan #jim jordan #Jessica Jordan #Batlantern #Bruhal #Cute #Angst #Hal Jordan needs a hug #Hal Jordan deserves better #Hal's niece #I don't know her name #Hal's family are asshole's #Homophobia #Protective Bruce Wayne #He loves Hal so much

[elisaphoenix13]

A Full Party

Thanks to a donation, this has been made available to read!

Athena and Tibbs greeted them like anyone else that was considered a friend, they barely even paid any attention when they stepped off the elevator. Athena briefly flicked an ear in their direction before returning her attention to the rare belly rub she let herself enjoy that Bucky was giving her, and Tibbs rubbed up against their legs before he dashed over to Peter when he shook the treat bag. But Flynn? His reaction was...interesting to say the least.

Everyone was relaxing and spending time with each other while Wanda and Cassie made dinner and snacks for their regular team bonding day (otherwise known as movie night), when the fox suddenly screeched. Quill was on his feet quicker than anyone could turn their heads, but when he saw who the kit was screaming at, he groaned and stomped over to pick him up by his scruff.

"Hey! Relax! Do you see Athena freaking out?" The god huffed and Flynn immediately fell quiet. Whether it was because he was safely in Quill's grasp or if he understood him was a mystery though. "They're friends!"

Shuri bent over cackling and T'Challa merely shook his head as Flynn squirmed in Quill's grasp to try and get to his shoulders. The celestial held him up and let the fox curl around his shoulders, and Flynn sniffed the fingers that Shuri offered after she was done laughing. She pet his head a few times before he playfully snapped at her and she took her hand back.

"I swear he's not racist." Quill said. "He doesn't do that shit with Sam or Rhodey."

"They're new to him. He hasn't seen them before." Stephen said as he approached them. "I'm glad you could find some time to get away." He said to T'Challa.

The king smiles. "We needed a break and we wanted to visit."

"You came at the perfect moment. We're having our monthly movie night. How long are you staying?" Stephen asked as Quill stepped away.

"A week if that's alright." T'Challa said.

"No can do kitty-cat." Tony says from the couch. "There's no room. You'll have to sleep in the dumpster outside."

Stephen rolls his eyes. "Don't listen to him. There's plenty of room. You can stay on Sam's floor."

"Thank you."

T'Challa and Shuri step out further into the floor to socialize, the king going over to Steve and Bucky, and Shuri of course joining the teens. She did eventually end up with Diana and Valerie a little while later and both girls were enraptured by stories of her brother's good deeds. It was nice to see the baby warm up to her so quickly since they rarely saw the royal pair. But it also rubbed Stephen the wrong way because that meant she was becoming less attached to him. At least in his mind she was. If he asked anyone else, Valerie was just as attached to him as she usually was. She was the baby that he could have every single day and wasn't expected to change back to normal within 24 hours or completely miss out on. He enjoyed when the boys and Cassie had been changed but they weren't actual babies. Valerie was, and she was growing up too fast. Sometimes it felt like he had been snapped again because it seemed like just yesterday that he brought her into the world.

He missed her tiny hands and feet, the way she curled against him, and even missed the times she would fall asleep on his shoulder and drool all over it. It was amazing how much he had changed. The old him before the accident would have scoffed at the idea of having kids. Now, he actually thought of the accident as a blessing in disguise. It humbled him. Gave him the opportunity to meet Tony, to have this huge family instead of being alone for possibly the rest of his life.

Stephen really did want another one. He could have ten and Tony would barely blink. He'd just look at however many kids Stephen brought home (whether adopted or magical) and put aside some money for college for every single one of them. He already did that for the twins. Everyone joked about Stephen bringing home the next kid, but sometimes he thinks they forgot who brought home the first two.

Peter and Harley were Tony's first. Stephen just swooped in and took over. Peter very easily cracked the ice around his heart, Harley stuck a chisel in it, and Diana dealt the finishing blow and smashed the ice to smithereens when he accidentally brought her into the world. Stephen's heart was now soft and mushy, and grew with each kid.

He was the fucking Grinch of kids.

"Honey, why do you look like you ate something sour?" Tony asked and Stephen looked at him.

"I…" he blushed. "No reason. Just thinking to myself."

There was another screech from Flynn and an irritated "why are you like this?!" from Quill and Stephen looked over to find Carol on the balcony. Considering she didn't use the elevator, she probably flew here and might have spooked the fox, so he didn't really blame Flynn this time. Tibbs happily trotted over to the woman and rubbed up against her leg before looking around her.

Carol laughed as she crouched down to scratch behind his ears, "sorry fuzzball. No Goose this time."

Tibbs actually sounded like he meowed in disappointment, but he enjoyed the scratches and followed her back inside.

Carol smirked as Stephen approached her. "Have any popcorn?"

"It's for movie night!" Cassie called from the kitchen and Carol raised an eyebrow. "Dinner's almost ready!"

"Guess I'll go get cozy." She said as she scooped up Tibbs in one of her arms and sauntered over to the couch.

Peter seemed to give up on the cat once Carol arrived, knowing Tibbs would spend as much time as possible with her since he rarely saw her. She was in the top three of the cat's favorite humans, Peter and Tony being the other two. Quill finally found himself on the couch again with Flynn contently curled up on his lap and both T'Challa and Carol looked at them.

"Even I know the fox is new," Carol said. "What was with the screaming?"

"Stephen thinks it's because you're new to him. I think it's just because he's a brat." Quill huffed. "The universe decided that I needed the neediest fucking animal alive."

"He can't be that bad." T'Challa said and Scott snorted from his spot on the ground where he was playing cards on the coffee table with Sam and Clint.

"He's that bad. He cries if Quill goes anywhere without him. Hey! I saw that!" Scott said to Clint who had tried to slip a card away for later.

Things got a little too busy for Valerie so she joined Stephen on the couch when he finally sat down. Athena did too once Bucky finished giving her obnoxious belly rubs, and dinner ended up having to be brought to the sorcerer and Valerie when it was ready. Thankfully, Vision was kind enough to do just that and they both thanked him. Tony managed to find his way next to Stephen with his own dinner, and when everyone was settled with a plate, a family friendly movie was started. If only for the sake of the younger children. Once they went to bed, the older kids would go watch another movie in one of their bedrooms, and the adults would drink.

Stephen really needed a night to let loose. It had been a while.

So when the younger kids went to bed and the older kids squirreled away into one of the bedrooms with endless snacks, Stephen didn't even bother replacing them like he usually did. Tonight was a freebie. He was going to drink and he would let his kids get sugar high and consume a concerning amount of other junk food. They knew the adults were going to be drinking, so they knew leaving the bedroom would be at their own risk. It was a good thing William knew how to make portals and teleport.

"Mom, I swear if that's a bottle of wine I see, I'm going to stage an intervention." Clint said with a groan.

Stephen raises a brow as he opens the bottle in the kitchen, then rejoins everyone. "This is mine. I don't know what you're all going to drink." He said with a smug smirk.

"Oh, wow. Who's being a bad influence on him?" Carol asked.

Everyone looked at Thor who looked back with a little offense.

"Why are you all looking at me?" The Asgardian asked.

"Thor had nothing to do with it." Stephen said after draining a fourth of the bottle. Tony had watched in amazement with a hint of concern. "I just need this. I parent...I don't even know anymore." He mumbled.

Sam cackled after he came from the bar with bottles of hard liquor and every single shot glass Tony owned. "I'll drink to that. We children are pretty wound up from missions."

Everyone else laughed and started off with a shot before deciding on a drinking game. Stephen took his time on the rest of his bottle of wine while everyone else decided on a game of Never Have I Ever. Steve, Bucky, Thor, Carol, and Quill drank Thor's Asgardian stuff to even the odds, but even then, everyone was pretty shit-faced pretty quickly. They all knew a concerning amount about each other's sex life or whatever else they were drinking to, except Scott and Quill's sex life wasn't a surprise. Shame wasn't in their vocabulary.

Stephen finally polished off his bottle and joined the game just as Laura said, "Never have I ever done it while a child was in the room."

Stephen and Tony each took a drink and everyone stared at them. The sorcerer simply chuckled and shrugged.

"Valerie was asleep."

Bucky was the one to burst into laughter. "Even I didn't think you'd go that far!"

"I take it where I can get it." Stephen said. "Whose turn is it?"

"T'Challa's." Scott hiccupped.

"Never have I ever been thrown out of a bar or club." The king said.

No one was surprised when Quill took a drink.

"It's not what you think!" He exclaims after swallowing the ale. "It was during a fire. One of my buddies actually threw me out the window...it was before they knew about my powers."

"He probably always wanted to do it." Sam laughed and Quill shrugged.

"Probably."

"Alright," Natasha said to get everybody's attention. "Never have I ever sent a sext to the wrong person."

Every single person took a drink. The ones with kids blushed bright red...and Quill even grabbed the bottle of ale while mumbling something like, "Cass and my work buddies probably need therapy."

Stephen coughed at the god's words and his eyes water from the burning in his nose. "Please don't tell me you sent your daughter an unsolicited dick pic."

Quill groaned. "I did. Thankfully we were both home so I was able to keep her from seeing it. I never got out of bed so fast."

"I should put filters on the kids phones." Tony mumbled. "Or add their personal AI's or Friday to them. Friday, make a note of that."

"Yes, Boss." The AI said.

The game went on for another couple of hours until everyone passed out where they had been sitting. It was weird seeing the king of Wakanda passed out on the couch from drinking, but Tony figured the weird level of that was very low on the list of what he'd seen. He hadn't drank nearly as much as his friends and decided to go out on the balcony and sit in a chair with a cigar. It was something he rarely indulged in, but it was the perfect time to do it. The kids were all asleep and the smoke wouldn't bother anyone, but halfway through it, Stephen had gracefully stumbled out onto the balcony and landed in his lap.

Tony chuckled. "Hi honey. Thought you were dead to the world."

"You left." Stephen mumbled. "Are you smoking?"

"A cigar. A rare treat." Tony admitted.

"Hmm...I like the smell on you." Stephen hummed pleasantly.

"When you're not in danger of puking, I'll make it up to you."

"That's too bad." Stephen whispered. "I thought maybe we could do it right here."

"Tempting...but we do have thirty something kids." Tony laughed.

"I want another one." Stephen slurred as he dozed off on Tony's shoulder and the mechanic rubs his shoulder with his free hand.

"I know. Soon." He promised to his sleeping spouse.

He liked having Stephen in his lap like this. Maybe next time his wife would be sober and they could enjoy the stars from next to the fire at the lake house. He would indulge in a cigar again, have the man cuddled up to him in his lap just like this...and they would look up at the stars. Better yet, it would even be relaxing for Tony. No triggers from looking up into the vast expanse of space, just pure enjoyment.

"We'll have as many as you want." He whispered before placing a soft kiss to Stephen's brow.

#ironstrange #stephen strange #tony stark #supremefamily #mama bear stephen strange #the avengers #the avengers kids

[vipclifford]

Wildflower - Chapter 2

here’s the previous chapter

Soulmate AU where things in your life appear as flowers tattooed on your skin, each with their own meaning.

Calum inspected his newly acquired bloom in the mirror the next morning. It was small in size, which was good despite the fact that the bright blue petals made his skin look bruised. He rubbed frustratedly at the flower in hopes to make it go away, but that only made the petunia stand out more against his reddened skin. His actions were futile and he knew it. He pulled his shirt down in anger before storming out of the bathroom, unwilling to stare at the reflection of a cursed man a second longer.

He hated the fact that a stranger he had met twice had managed to mark his skin with such ease. He hated the fact that of all people, Calum was forced to associate his bloom with Rory, the girl he could only describe as a bitch. Because she was a bitch. He hated the fact that his body now housed two undesirable blooms.

Duke’s paws padded against the wooden floorboards as he made his way over to Calum, nudging his dad’s calf with his furry head to remind him that it was time for his daily walk. He crouched down to stroke the dog’s head, a gentle smile tugging at his lips for the first time that day. A walk could do them good.

The park was busier than usual, presumably to do with the fact that a small Christmas market had established itself there for the duration of the month. The smell of cinnamon and chocolate lured Calum closer to the stands that each year he fought hard to avoid. Maybe it was because he missed home, but Calum was always reluctant to embrace the wintertime Christmas culture. It made him feel like he was losing the person he used to be.

Calum remembers his first Christmas away from home.

He was staying in London with his four best friends, excitement in their eyes as they watched snowflakes fall for the first time in their lives. Christmas carols were playing in the background to get them in the yuletide mood; the roast dinner smelled amazing and multiple gifts were tucked neatly beneath the Christmas tree.

But everything felt so wrong to Calum as he sat down to eat his dinner. The fact that the sun had set at 4pm and that the temperature outside was below zero felt wrong. The fact that his usual barbecue had been replaced by a roasted chicken felt wrong. The fact that he was trapped inside a thick jumper when Calum was used to spending a shirtless day by the pool also felt wrong. All he could think about was his family, spending Christmas day in the sun as God intended. And it was that very day, at that very dinner table, that Calum bloomed a sprig of golden wattle on his forearm. The spirit of the Australian people.

He wrapped his coat tighter around his torso as he searched the makeshift aisles for the hot chocolate stand. The market was filled to the brim with children running around, racing each other to see who could reach the small grotto first to meet Santa. Calum smiled to himself as he noticed the excitement on their faces, ecstatic to meet the man who supposedly left them gifts every year.

The smell of chocolate became stronger and stronger with every step he took until Calum was finally standing in front of the place he was looking for. The hot chocolate stand.

“Hi Calum,” said the person he least wanted to see at that moment, standing across the wooden counter with a small smile on her lips. Rory.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the odds of meeting her here. “What can I get you?”

“Medium hot chocolate,” he grumbled.

Calum stared at the ground as she prepared his drink, hoping to minimise their interaction as much as possible. She placed his drink on the counter but when he went to grab it, Rory pulled it away from his grasp. “Can I help you?” he muttered in confusion at her antics.

“It’s on the house if we could have a quick chat,” Rory said somewhat hopefully.

Calum pulled out the money that was due from his wallet and placed it upon the counter, pushing it slightly towards her with an unamused expression. “In that case, I’m even more inclined to pay.”

“In that case, I’m not giving you a choice. We’re having a chat,” Rory told him with determination, pushing the five dollar bill back towards him. She told her coworker she was talking her break before leaving from the side of the stall, Calum’s hot chocolate gripped between her fingers.

Calum released a frustrated sigh as he tucked the green note back into his wallet before following behind her. His hands scrunched up into fists as he thought about things he hated. Rory, the fact that he was following Rory like a whipped fool and Michael for indirectly putting him in this situation in the first place.

She sat down at a bench and waited for him to join her before speaking.

“I think I should apologise for whatever happened last night. I don’t actually know what you bloomed but you’re clearly pissed off at me so I wanted to say sorry,” Rory explained, watching as Calum unhooked the leash from Duke’s collar to let the dog run around freely. “I’m sorry.”

Calum took a long sip of his drink and fuck did it taste as good as it smelled. Rory took his silence as a hint that he still didn’t want to talk.

“You were right, you know? I was never validated as a child. Mommy never complimented my drawings. Daddy never came to any of my ballet recitals. But I wasn’t bullied for my bra size, thank you very much. I was bullied for the yellow carnations on my back.” Disappointment. The universe had deemed her a disappointment and Calum was feeling sorry for himself because of the small petunia on his hip. Calum’s angry bloom suddenly didn’t seem so bad. “So yeah, I’ve got an inferiority complex and I’m a bitch. But I’m a bitch that’s sorry.”

“I don’t need your apology,” he mocked, keeping a straight face. “Your words can’t change what happened, they do literally nothing to help me.” Calum held back a teasing smile when he saw Rory roll her eyes playfully from the corner of his.

“Touché,” she commended, tightening her ponytail. “What did you bloom?”

“Why do you work at the Christmas market?”

“I’m volunteering.”

“How selfless of you,” Calum nodded, not quite expecting that response from Rory. Duke ran back towards the bench and hopped onto Calum’s lap, muddy paws dirtying his jeans. “Fucking hell, Duke,” he sighed, placing his drink beside him before lowering Duke onto the ground. He grimaced at the sight of his trousers, hands trying to wipe the dirt off of his jeans.

“He’s a good boy,” Rory remarked with a playful tone, watching Calum hook the leash back onto Duke’s collar.

“The goodest boy,” he affirmed, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He picked up his drink as he stood up, holding it out in the air to draw Rory’s attention to the cup. “So, we’re good? I don’t owe you anything?”

Rory shook her head, tucking her hands into the pockets of her coat as she stood up. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Happy New Year!” greeted Calum as he let the friends of his friends flood into his home, ready to drink into the next year with semi-familiar faces.

Calum was hosting the New Years Eve party this year with his roommate Roy. Over the past three years, Calum and his band mates had taken turns throwing the annual celebration and this time the responsibility had fallen onto his lap. Calum didn’t mind though. New Year’s Eve felt the same wherever he was in the world, and Calum wasn’t one to turn down any excuse to party.

The speakers blasted classics through the decades, bouncing from one hit to the next for hours on end. LEDs lit the apartment in colours ranging from red to green to blue as he bounced to the rhythm of the music with his friends.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” he told Luke who shook his head incredulously at him, lips tilting upwards when his tipsy boyfriend began pressing kisses to his cheek.

“Weren’t you going to quit?” Luke yelled over the music, arms wrapping around Adrian’s neck to pull him closer. And then they were kissing, lost in their own little world before Calum got a chance to reply.

A small part of Calum envied them. He envied the forget-me-nots that covered the skin of Luke’s shoulder blade, matching the ones on Adrian’s hand. He envied the way they held each other softly, lovingly, like the only thing that mattered to them in that moment was the man in their arms. Calum longed to feel that way about someone. He yearned to have what they had.

Roy yelled that there were fifteen seconds left until midnight, turning down the music to let his voice be heard, and soon enough the whole apartment was counting down the remaining seconds. Calum was glad Roy had interrupted his envious thoughts before a jealous hydrangea bloomed on his forehead.

Excitement bubbled in Calum’s chest as he thought of the year ahead, happy that at least he’d be starting it off right; drunk and surrounded by all of his friends.

So much can change in a year.

His eyes met Rory’s across the room as they pronounced the last number and the clock struck twelve. Surrounding couples joined their lips together while the rest of the room erupted into cheers. It was only when Luke and Adrian wrapped their arms around him, excitedly yelling ‘Happy New Year!’, did Calum come out of his daze.

“Happy New Year guys, I love you,” Calum grinned, embracing his two friends back. He playfully rolled his eyes as they mocked his words of affection before going to find his other friends to wish them the same thing.

“You came,” he noted, somewhat surprised when he found Rory up on the roof terrace, leaning on the metallic railing beside her. She gave him a quick nod while she blew out a cloud of smoke.

“Michael invited me. You don’t mind, right?” Calum shook his head, hand reaching out to grab the cigarette she offered him.

“It’s New Years, anyone is welcome here tonight,” he smiled softly before taking a drag. “Happy New Year, by the way.”

“Happy New Year,” Rory repeated as she reclaimed the cigarette, fingers almost brushing against his during the exchange. Almost. “Any resolutions?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” he shrugged, brows furrowing when he heard the music turn off downstairs. “Excuse me,” Calum muttered as he made his way back down to the party.

Everyone appeared annoyed despite their inebriated state, trudging their legs towards the front door. Calum pushed past his guests to reach the front of the crowd, finding a policeman standing menacingly beneath the doorway.

Sounds about right, he thought.

Calum felt helpless as he watched his friends flood out of his home. His neighbours just had to file enough noise complaints to shut his party down, one hour into New Year’s day. They just had to ruin his first glimpse at the new year, tainting the months ahead with a feeling of dread. If the first hour had been bad, Calum didn’t want to know what else was coming his way.

He eventually walked back into his living room, confused when he saw Rory frantically searching for something around the room. Calum leaned against the door frame, watching her with an intrigued expression. “You alright?” Calum questioned, turning on the normal lights to brighten up the place.

“I can’t find my fucking jacket,” she complained as she retraced her steps a third time. “Both my phone and my keys are in there.”

Calum looked around the apartment with Rory for wherever it could’ve been misplaced, the pair of them ending up empty handed.

“I’ll ask around, it should turn up tomorrow if anyone’s got it. Do you have a way to get back home? Or to get in?”

“Uh, yeah, I live around six blocks from here and I’ve got a key tucked into a top secret hiding spot just in case. So, uh, see you next time.”

“I’m walking you home,” Calum stated, already making his way to the hallway where he could grab his coat and keys. Rory chased behind him speaking words of disapproval, telling him over and over that she would be fine on her own, that she didn’t need him to protect her. “You can’t change my mind, Rory,” Calum said pointedly, opening the front door. “I’m walking you home.”

“At least make me a hot chocolate for the road.”

They found themselves in his kitchen a few minutes later, countertops filled with spilt whiskey and empty beer cans. Rory managed to find a clean spot she could hoist herself onto as Calum carefully read the instructions at the back of the packaging. His curls covered his forehead, trying their hardest to reach his eyes but failing.

“Did you forget how to make it, or what?” Rory teased.

“I just want to get it right.”

A warm mug of hot chocolate eventually made its way into Rory’s hands who hummed in delight after the first sip.

“Task completed successfully.”

There was an air of awkwardness surrounding the pair as they walked down the barely lit streets, sodium lampposts painting what little they saw around them yellow. Music could be heard from the windows of apartments nearby and Calum did all but curse their neighbours for not getting their parties shut down as well.

“I think that my New Year resolution is to work out more,” said Calum, answering the question she posed at the rooftop in hopes to interrupt the silence.

“That’s such a shit resolution,” Rory snorted with a soft shake to her head. “It’s up there with quitting chocolate and procrastination. It’s the kind of standard goal that boring people set themselves because they have no true aspirations.” Calum rolled his eyes playfully at her words, kicking the can that was resting in his path.

“What does an interesting person like you choose for their New Years resolution, then? I need inspiration since apparently I’m so boring.”

“Can’t tell you or else it won’t come true,” she shrugged, tone nonchalant.

“It’s not a birthday wish,” he said incredulously, concentrating on not letting Rory kick the metallic can away from him. “Or are you too ashamed to admit that you’re boring too?”

“I guess we’ll never know,” she replied, a mischievous smile on her lips once she finally managed to kick the can onto the parallel road.

Calum was forced to face the adjacent door to Rory’s apartment once they reached it, not allowed to find out where she kept hidden her secret key.

The place was small, though it was also the perfect size for a person living alone. Paintings of flower-covered skin filled every inch of her walls. The colourful petals looked vibrant against drawings of shoulders and ribcages, standing out beautifully against flesh of different tones. Calum took a few fascinated steps closer to study the artwork, astounded by the realism and detail.

“You’re an artist?” Calum asked, turning his head away from the wildflowers on the wall.

“Aspiring artist,” clarified Rory, stepping towards the windows to close the curtains. “I work at a tattoo parlour though, so I still get to produce art in a way. On people, not canvases, but we’ll get there one day.”

“I’m sure you will,” Calum hummed, knowing from experience that if you really want something, it will happen. Or perhaps he was just lucky. “You’re really talented.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, throwing her hair over the chrysanthemums on her shoulder. Calum nodded politely as he took a few steps back towards the open front door. “I think I better get going.”

“Why did you walk me home?”

“What do you mean?” he questioned with a confused demeanour, hand resting on the doorknob.

“You know what I mean,” she insisted calmly, making her way to stand in front of him. Rory was tall, taller than average, and yet she still had to lift her chin up to face Calum. “Why did you walk me home?”

“Why did you let me into your apartment?” Calum challenged with a teasing grin, leaning his arm on the wooden door frame. “I only planned on walking you to the building to make sure you were safe, but you insisted on me making sure I took you to the door. You also asked me to make you a hot chocolate.”

“What are you trying to say?” she spoke almost menacingly, though there was a playful layer wrapped around her voice.

“I think those were all tactics to spend time with me,” he explained cheekily, mischief in his eyes. “You like me.”

“I do not,” Rory huffed, horror painted on her every feature.

“I’m only teasing,” Calum chuckled softly, stepping backwards into the hallway. Rory rolled her eyes at him, clearly unamused. “This was fun,” he admitted, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. “We should do it again sometime.”

“In your dreams, Hood.”

The sun was beginning to rise as he walked the empty streets, occasionally walking past a drunk group of friends that made their way back home after a wild night. Calum felt the familiar tingle on the back of his calf, waiting a few nervous seconds to see the new bloom upon his skin. It was a lotus flower. New beginnings.

Calum’s lips curled into a smile as he looked down at the soft pink petals, excited for what the year had to bring.

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[kinetic-elaboration]

December 29: The Wrath of Khan

Today’s movie watching was Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

My overall impression versus TMP is that this is clearly a smoother and more consistently entertaining film. It has a definite story with very little filler, good pacing, a lot of great little dialogue and character moments, and a strong conflict at its center.

But its sci fi bona fides are much weaker. Like by a lot.

Mom and I are talking a bit about Genesis and the more we talk, the weaker it appears to me. First, it’s not really as believable, imo, as a lot of Star Trek. Maybe it’s because it’s not alien based, but I just have a harder time suspending disbelief to think this is possible. Second, it’s not clear why anyone thought this was a good idea. I mean, as McCoy immediately pointed out, it just seems so CLEARLY dangerous: an object meant to foster creation that could so easily be the worst weapon the universe has ever known--nothing could go awry there! Third, the reason for creating such a device isn’t obvious at all. Carol mentions the “growing population” and “food scarcity” but nothing we’ve ever seen of the Federation implies they’re running out of space. Or, frankly (Tarsus IV aside), food. And fourth, there really isn’t any point to Genesis in all its particulars in this film. Like, obviously, its actual purpose is a plot device to resurrect Spock. Within just this film, it doesn’t do anything. Khan wants it, for some reason I’ve already forgotten even though I just saw the film, and he gets it, but I didn’t even notice that happening, because it was so unimportant. His REAL mission is his single minded revenge fantasy on Kirk. Genesis is just a McGuffin/space filler/plot device for the next film.

And honestly that’s not such a big deal, except that when you compare it to TMP, ,and its central idea of a human made probe that gained so much knowledge, doing what we taught it to do, that it became sentient and then started searching for the meaning of life, and how this relates to the search for meaning experienced by the main alien lead, and how his search, in that film and throughout the series, is a mirror for humans and OUR need for purpose... well it just seems really weak. “We made this really dangerous and unrealistic thing for no reason whoops!”

Mom is now criticizing Kirk for being too slow on the uptake when he first encounters the Reliant, which is fair. That’s pretty OOC of him. The idea that he’s too old for space is both one that I must personally disregard, and one that the film would have you discard, since we’ve already heard from TWO characters, the people who know him best, that his best destiny is as a starship captain, and command is his proper role. And that he might be a little rusty is also not a great explanation imo, because the rust was supposed to have come off in TMP. So, plot hole probably.

We were trying to do some math--TMP is at least 2 years post 5YM and TWOK is at least 10 years post TMP, so at least 8 years post TMP. I can understand more rust growing but like... he was already an Admiral in TMP and the idea that he was out of practice with actual command was a big part of his arc there. So it doesn’t seem warranted to do that again.

Also, the way he was commanding poorly in TMP was very IC: he was pushing too hard, trying too much, caring too much about the mission and not enough about...the laws of physics. That’s very Kirk. Being slow on the uptake, caught with his britches down--that’s not Kirk. Plus, with no one to call him out on it, like Decker did in TMP, his poor command doesn’t seem like a big character obstacle to overcome but just like...sloppiness all around.

I thought Khan was over all... just not that interesting. I guess I’m just not into the obsession/revenge plot. Also...idk man he didn’t seem that super to me. He outsmarted Kirk, like, once, and Kirk outsmarted him like 4 times. He tortured some people--but regular humans can do that. He used those sandworm thingies, which is also something humans could do. Overall, he didn’t seem to have any particularly special skills. The only time he really seemed like a worthy adversary for Kirk was when Kirk wasn’t really being IC himself.

I’m also not into the fridging of his wife. Think how much cooler it would have been if she’d still been alive! The only non-super human in the bunch and she’s still there! Ex-Starfleet and bitter!

The K/S in this film is very soothing. Imo they are clearly together here, and the whole film is better if you assume they’re boyfriends and everyone knows. That Vulcan convo that Spock and Saavik have? Waaaaay funnier if you think she’s talking about his boyfriend (”not what I expected....very human” “Well no one’s perfect”). Every time they call each other ‘friend’ like ““friend”“? All the Looks? The birthday gift?

Also the “I have been and always shall be your [friend]” scene is a wedding I will not be taking criticism on this opinion. Could it have been written more like a vow? I think not. It’s not quite This Simple Feeling but it’s the best this film has in that regard.

I liked Saavik and I do think she’s one of the better later-movie additions (though I only like her, as far as I can remember, when played by Kirstie Alley). She didn’t necessarily strike me as super alien, though, at least not at first... But I appreciated how persistent she was about the stupid test, and her regulation quoting. I enjoyed her. I also liked how she was obviously Spock’s protege, which makes her Kirk’s step-protege, and they had just a little bit of that awkward dynamic going on. (”Did you change your hair?”)

The Bones and Kirk relationship was great in this film. You can really feel their friendship and their history with each other. Bones knows him so well and can be honest with him, just when Kirk needs it most.

I also love how Kirk has the SAME conversation with both Bones and Spock (re: being a captain again) but with Spock it’s sooooo much flirtier. In case you weren’t sure what the difference in these two relationships is.

Bonus: this bit of dialogue: Spock: “Be careful, Jim.” / Bones: “WE will.” Lol Spock people who aren’t your boyfriend do exist.

Obviously, I cried during THAT scene. Honestly AOS should have taken note about how to do emotional scenes like that: they come after the main action is over and the villain is defeated. Then they hit at the right time and to the right degree. Kirk just slumping down after Spock dies....like he’s boneless...like he doesn’t know what to do... I CANNOT.

I feel so bad for him that I’ll even forgive him that awful eulogy. Spock died for Genesis? Uh, no, he died for the Enterprise, and for YOU. Spock is the “most human”? You shut your whoreson mouth

I remember hating both Carol and David but I actually hated them less this time, Carol especially. My mom is being really harsh about her, though, which makes me feel less confident in my assessment. I mean first off, she’s the inventor of Genesis, which is a pretty big strike against her. Second...pretty lame to keep Kirk from David. Although I did some vague math and Kirk would only have been about 21, still in the Academy, when David was born, so you can see how that would work out. Also, she distinctly says “Were we together?” which means they were not--this was a fuck buddy arrangement for sure. More complicated. But it still feels weird to retcon that, like, he’s known THIS WHOLE TIME that he’s a dad and we’re only learning about it now, as an audience.

Anyway I’m getting off track. Carol. What to make of her? Is she unstable? Is she still mad at Kirk? My mom points out that she just decided on her own that David would want to join Starfleet if he knew Kirk was his father--whereas what seems to have happened instead is he didn’t just become a civilian scientist like his mom but became her specific protege--working on a project where everyone was probably handpicked by her? I would assume? Also..he hates Starfleet. Not to put everything on the mom, but how did that happen?

Also...going down the rabbit hole of this and feeling awkward about it... but David KNEW Kirk. As “that guy you hung around with.” That means Kirk was in his life for quite a while, long enough for him to have memories, and long enough for those memories to still be with him even into his 20s. But he was never allowed to know who Kirk was. That means Carol’s rule must have been “You can see your son but you can’t tell him who you are” which in some way seems meaner to me than just “please don’t contact us again.” If he was already on his way into space, that could even make sense--”I know you’re not going to be able to be a family with us, so let’s not pretend, let’s make a clean break now.” But that wasn’t what happened!

Anyway whatever not to be HAICG!Kirk about this or anything lol

David is mostly annoying because he’s so anti-Kirk lol. I found him least annoying when he came around to Kirk at the end. Another big strike against him: he wore his sweater tied over his shoulders in such a Preppy manner. I honestly don’t see what about him is supposed to be reminiscent of Kirk.

David/Saavik was definitely happening lol. I wish I could have heard that conversation. It sounds like she told him a lot!!! Not sure why she attached herself to this particular annoying human so fast but I guess she did.

....I think that might be all. The uniforms and general styling were much better than TMP (though less funny/entertaining), and it was certainly an enjoyable overall yarn. A lot to pick apart and critique but in a fun way. Will probably watch The Search for Spock soon.

#the year 2020 #2020: star trek #2020: fandom thoughts #star trek tos

[maevelin]

So I have been receiving some lovely reviews for my story including some constructive criticism which I acknowledge fully. That been said I think that one of the good things that comes from such reviews is the chance to not only think about certain things but also to be able to have a constructive discussion too.

Some of the reviews I have gotten are not showing as of now in the site once I accept them but I have read them from my email too. Fanfiction net is malfunctioning so I assume all the reviews eventually will show up. 

Anyhow... Now since the two reviewers that left me basically the same review (are you two or one?....sorry I had to ask lol) were on guest and I can’t reply to them by private messaging I am going to do it from here so they’ll know my mentality over the things they are questioning and how I see things as I write the story and my characters. Replying on tumblr is not ideal and possibly they won’t be able to see the answer here but eventually when I post a new chapter in my story I will point them towards this post.

That been said I have a few things to cover mostly.

This story is a parallel to Seasons 1-3 and somewhat 4 of TVD. I haven’t watched TVD after that point and neither anything connected to that universe. I found the show to be doing a disservice to its characters and I found the writing poor so I stopped watching. So any allegory that can be found in my story that is connected with TVD and its characters is up to S4 of the show. 

After a point my story is going to diverge from that and for now there are parallels and I am trying to not write the characters extremely OOC but after breaking a certain word limit the characters you write, either they are part of fanfiction or based on some other characters that inspired you...well they start to get a voice of their own.

I acknowledge 100% the fact that a reader may not like some of my characters. It happens. We can’t all have the same perspective or taste and so on. 

So this is not me being critical over the reviews or trying to change anyone’s opinion. I am just here to point out how I view certain things and characters as I write them.

But let me clarify some things because this may not be a story for you after all.

1. If you are expecting Klaus Mikaelson to have a redemption arc in my story then this is not a story for you. Yes there are some glimpses of humanity where Caroline is concerned and as I will get into the second phase of the story and as Klaus’ background and main plot will get into the forefront more of these glimpses will appear. Along with more of his darkness.

This is why I chose this particular alternative universe as a setting for my story. Because vampires are monsters so I wanted a human version of despicable monsters too. 

I also chose an environment that is steeped in misogyny and is not progressive because if I wanted to parallel TVD I had to have such elements in the story since the writing in TVD was awfully misogynistic, racist and homophobic. My plan though, and I hope to be able to succeed on that, is to eventually subvert those tropes in my story which is exactly it is set that way in the beginning.

Back to Klaus now...I am not going to woobify the villain. I am not going to have love ‘save’ him. He isn’t going to change for the sake of love. Any development that happens to his character and to his relationship with Caroline won’t turn him into another character. He is an adult, a criminal, a psychopath really. Those aren’t traits to change.

2. I NEVER ever saw Caroline as a good or moral person even in TVD. So don’t expect that in my story either.

The fact that the writing in TVD told us so doesn’t make Caroline a good person. Since the narrative of her actions and character contradicted it. Yes she had good sides. She may have wanted to be good too. But she was still a Vampire. Which came along with a certain darkness despite the writers wanting to have their cake and eat it too by writing the vampires of the inner circle of TVD as Mary Sue vampires while they still murdered and killed and yet they somehow were the good guys.  

Caroline’s potential for me was that she was meant to have agency. To be a vampire and relish in the dark parts too. That was one of the reasons why I liked Klaroline so much. Not in order for Klaus to become better. Or Caroline to simply become worse. But in order to show the true nature of vampirism will all that came along with it. To focus on the mythology, the legend, the immortality and freedom, to the creatures of the night. And you know...blood, desire, gore and slaughter. Simple every day stuff really.

I wanted Caroline that sided by the ripper of Monterey because he was her savior but did so despite knowing that he ate children. Caroline that was raped by Damon but overcame the horror, that stood by Elena when she committed genocide, that took Mason down, that was tortured by the werewolves and then said goodbye to girly girl Caroline and said screw it all I will be cheery but I will be a survivor too and thrive. The Caroline that fought the tomb vampires. The Caroline that tricked Katherine. The Caroline that in order to save her friend murdered 12 witches in cold blood. The Caroline that manipulated Klaus’ affections to save herself and despite seeing the good parts in him was never fooled by those and saw him for the villain and menace he was and never coddled him. The Caroline that distracted the worst monster of them all and had fun while doing so. The Caroline that traded a date for the life of another person (a friend of the man she loved back then) because it suited her purposes. The Caroline that joined a game of life and death with Klaus Mikaelson and found the silver lining and was pulled towards him despite how much she fought against it. The Caroline that was a hypocrite in believing she and her friends were better than Klaus and still got the plan to put him Rebekah’s body and bury him forever. The Caroline that when Klaus saved her in the corridor she still toasted over his demise later on the same day. The Caroline that Silas saw how she wanted her perfect feathers ruffled. The Caroline that screwed Klaus despite him having murdered Jenna and Carol Lockwood, and Elena and having tortured all her friends. The man that despite doing all that and sending her boyfriend to exile she still wanted and was still attracted to him. Because she couldn’t underestimate the allure of darkness no matter how much she tried. Because it was a part of her too with or without Klaus.

That Caroline that for me was never a good person. It is just too simplistic to claim that she was. 

3. Sometimes sexual desire and connection is not translated by good actions. You don’t have to be a good person to feel lust for someone. To be infatuated. To be tempted. 

Sometimes it is physical. Sometimes it is intellectual. It doesn’t have to be love. It can be desire. Some times you can desire assholes too. It is instinct.

Do Klaus and Caroline love each other in my story? No. Not yet. Don’t know about the future.

Do they have the hots for each other and want to bone each other? Yes. Definitely.

And if we are being honest ...did that desire came out of nowhere? 

I don’t know ...didn’t it came out of the blue in the show too?

Here in my story the slow burn has been building up for more than 200.000 words. Maybe you feel I failed on communicating that correctly. Maybe I did. But I wouldn’t say that desire is always reasonable or gets there in a straight line step by step.

This is still a story based on the trope of enemies to lovers so of course those two are enemies now. Maybe you don’t approve or like that stage or makes no sense to you. But some times enemies can have desire for each other even without reason. If that isn’t a trope for you I digress.

Even in TVD though Caroline was never head over heels for Klaus. She covered her darkest desires and their connection with hostility. She always had walls up. She had put herself on a pedestal against him despite her own terrible actions and her own darkness she still wanted the villain. She was still at the beginning of the journey that give or take 1000 years would turn her into Klaus’ door as she by them she wouldn’t be that different from him. 

4. Is Klaus dragging Caroline to darkness in my story? Yes. In her own darkness that was already there to begin with all the potential. In the same way in TVD he was an Original and she was a baby vampire and he saw in her parts of himself. “We are the same Caroline”. “The allure of darkness.” “The darkness desires.” and so on. Klaus that in TVD his version of mercy and kindness also equaled darkness and pain.

So those are things that inspired me to write my story so here we are. Caroline is unlocking emotions in Klaus. Emotions that he never had before and he doesn’t know how to deal with or what they mean and gets destructive and confused because of them. While he still basically worships the ground Caroline walks on while he also still plays his fucked up mind games. In the same way Caroline is finding freedom in the darkness he opens up in her too and still wants to bring him down.

5. In the same way love can’t change a person fundamentally but show the best and worst versions of one’s character which is something that applies for Klaus in my story then in the same way the same counts for Caroline.

Her agency won’t be forgotten. She is not all of the sudden going to forget her plans and her desire for freedom because she feels desire or even love for a man. It doesn’t work that way. And she won’t be simply good, the vanilla version of good or simply evil or pulled to darkness. There is going to be a struggle of what she feels. Both for Klaus and for herself. That won’t change. It won’t be sacrificed in my story.

Caroline for Caroline comes first. Klaroline comes second. At this point I would even debate that comes third after her family too. 

Caroline won’t change to a doormat for any man. Not in my story. Not simply because I ship Klaroline.

If that makes her unlikable. Then so be it. If it makes her selfish then good.

If this is somehow lost in translation for you I get it. Maybe I didn’t write it as clearly as I could. 

But if you want to get a better feel of who Caroline is through the Klaroline ship in my story and her connection to Klaus and all her reactions to him and the ship in general then I am afraid you’ve lost the meaning of my story. You won’t be able to get who Caroline is only through shipping goggles here. I am not writing her like this despite this being a Klaroline fanfiction. 

And of course she is confused btw and not certain for things and is still building up her character through mistakes and uncertainty. Her age, her background and her current situation add to that. 

6. Disclaimer:  If anyone is expecting anything similar to what I have seen from TO in gifs (I didn’t bother watching those seens) regarding Klaroline then ...NO. I don’t know how more forward I can be with this. I cringed beyond belief by what TO had shown for Klaroline from what I saw here in tumblr. I double tripled cringed by any gifs I have see from TVD after S4 when it came to Caroline (O_O) and there is no level of cringe that can describe how I felt when it came to TO in general. So if anyone is expecting that or is basing their opinion of what they see in my story over THAT perspective...then I get it...yeah..my story will most definitely disappoint you. No questions asked about that.

And last but not least.

I get what you are saying about the long descriptions and not as much dialogue in my story but then again I am afraid that’s my writing style here. I won’t change that anytime soon.

Let me be honest here by saying that IF I was publishing this as a book I would probably be trying to contain the long winded texts more, to make a better pace and so on. The descriptions would still be longer than the dialogue though. Because that’s my style. That been said this is still fanfiction and I am writing it in order to have fun so this is me having fun. Letting go and even writing all this writing vomit lol...I get it. It is not always easy to read. It can be tiresome and jarring. But that’s how I write and I do feel that my writing is not for everyone. I am not saying you are wrong in your criticism here. Objectively you are right. I recognize that too. But it is what I like and feel inclined to write so...yeah.

Anyhow. This is my long winded answer too (see? That’s HOW I WRITE lol...if it is not dissertation what’s the point ha ha)...I hope I’ll get more reviews from you and thank you for your compliments in those reviews too. I am always open for more discussions of this sort either you are on guest or not.

Thank you and take care.

#klaroline fanfiction #possession update #guest reviewer #possession guest reviewer

[perpetuallyfive]

some thoughts on Endgame

I always find it a lot easier to write very long rants about things I dislike than praise about things that I like. It just feels like the good things are obvious, you know? So compiling them in lists feels a little pointless.

It’s why I haven’t written anything about Endgame yet. I honestly thought Infinity War was pretty average at best, so the fact that I fucking loved practically every single minute of Endgame kind of caught me by surprise. It checked so many of my boxes that it’s almost hard to even articulate. 

So much of what was good about it honestly felt almost inevitable.

Mark me down as pretty confused then as I read some of the negative responses. Like... obviously, I’m just being dense. Nothing exists, especially on the internet, without some negative response. And I don’t even mean that in a pithy way. People are really different and what works for one person doesn’t work for everyone.

Which brings me back to my earlier point.

Just because I thought some of this stuff was obvious or amazing doesn’t mean everyone did, so here are a few observations, in an unordered list:

The way that time travel works in the movie is deliberately left a little vague, in my opinion, to allow wiggle room for the multiverse moving forward, especially as they expand into streaming services.

They do however clearly say that you cannot change your own past. Bruce says it. This means that Steve absolutely is not in our timeline, whatever the writers might say about it now. He’s not. In our timeline, he knew Peggy married someone else. That’s in his past. He cannot change his past in his own timeline. Therefor he cannot change who Peggy marries in his own timeline.

Seriously, he’s not in our timeline. They’re just wrong.

This means you have a million possibilities in fanfic for all the things Steve did that sent out ripples in his own new timeline or the many multiverses he could have created. It’s a fucking candy shop.

Try not to be too hard on the writers for having no idea what they’re talking about, I guess; it’s hard writing characters that are way smarter than you.

Am I less than charitable toward the writers because of their dumb takes on Natasha in defending why she’s not a part of the funeral at the end? Yes.

Just put a fucking second wreath there, god damn, would it have been so hard.

Framing Nebula’s storyline as a bad thing, which I’ve seen a few times now, is frankly insane to me. She isn’t, as the daily dot put it, killing herself. She missed her chance to save her sister five years ago and has regretted it every since. The second Gamora is at stake this time, she makes it clear that she would sacrifice anything (even someone who looked like her), to prevent losing her sister again. That’s great shit!

I am bummed we don’t get original Gamora back, but I’m also intrigued by the soft reset this does on her relationship with everyone in the Guardians. I wonder what their plans are with that in Vol 3. In many ways, her healing process away from Thanos was sidelined in the first two films and this allows the possibility of reframing that as more central to the focus in the third. Fingers crossed.

More Gamora and Nebula in general but especially in Guardians 3 please; I might threaten to retroactively like this movie less if this is the last we get of this much attention on their relationship, please and thank you.

The problem with the MCU crossover movies is they have to exist as two things at once. They have to be a movie that works as its own thing with good timing, pacing, structure, and an end that feels conclusive. They also have to pay off minor characters that mainstream audiences might not care about, as part of larger world building and the stories shared across an entire universe. Endgame, in my opinion, did a much better job of it than Infinity War or Ultron. (it’s hard to compare it with Avengers, when the scale was much more intimate.) 

No but really, I don’t think a lot of us in fandom have an appreciation for how many people don’t know any of this shit we take for granted. A shocking number of the people I have spoken to IRL who are entirely apart from fandom didn’t even know what “on your left” was a reference to and were actually a little confused by that moment. 

Just think about that and understand the levels this movie has to operate on at all times. It’s almost enough to make me feel bad for the writers, except they still said dumb shit about Nat, so I’m good.

I did actually love all the more subtle callbacks, like Natasha’s necklace and T’Challa knowing Clint’s name, but the direct quotes were pretty great too, especially Steve’s reaction to “I could do this all day.” Super charming.

Another awkward thing about the crossovers is they have to try to level the playing field slightly and there are some Avengers who are just way more powerful than others. Carol was disappointingly absent, but she’s also insanely OP. It’s why Thor got depressed and it’s why the Russos now say that Hulk will have limited use of one arm. They nerfed some of the classic Avengers, but kept Carol full powered just off in space. That’s preferable, so long as she gets more screen time later and jesus please fix the wig. Or just do the actual haircut now that it doesn’t have to be a secret.

Please dear god the hair is great in concept but seriously if there’s anything about the straight agenda ruining Endgame it’s how borderline soccer mom they managed to make that hair look.

Natasha deserved better and I think we can all agree on that, but here’s hoping that her prequel is deliberately designed to echo the destination we know she’s headed toward and to give her a better resolution more in line with what she deserved. I want to believe that they didn’t give her a full ending entirely because they knew she still had a movie coming up and didn’t want to create that sense of finality that might keep audiences from seeing it. Here’s hoping they can make it work. 

Like specifically with very different writers, please. Hopefully a woman. You’ve maybe heard of them before, one of them wrote Guardians, the movie that nobody thought could work and fucking made it work. Yeah.

Tony and Steve were always headed in opposing directions at the end of their arc. This has been covered. Tony went from living selfishly to living selflessly. He went from a playboy bachelor, to a husband, to a father. His one priority when he decided he had to save the world wasn’t even himself, it was specifically keeping his daughter in existence. He went from a selfish dick with daddy issues to someone whose only priority was being a dad.

it was perfect. Like people can say otherwise... but they’re wrong.

 I’m an expert on this, clearly. Tony’s death was perfect. 

THEY FINALLY GAVE ME RESCUE. I loved everything about it, from Tony planning it carefully for a long time -- like obviously I think it’s because he was customizing the design to be more in line with Pepper’s wants and values, like it is in the comics -- to the fact that it actually does look more defensively focused but still super capable in battle. I want to watch this movie a billion times, honestly, but this scene in particular. I need to know everything about what her suit can do.

Steve was always going to end up settling down. We don’t actually know what he did in his own timeline -- again, IT’S NOT OURS -- so there’s a chance he was still a bit of a troublemaker, but honestly the five years seemed to take a lot out of him. He doesn’t always need a war, and that actually is forward momentum and growth. I get that some people are against the idea and think that getting to be with Peggy was somehow a step back, but I’m not sure I buy that.

Tony taking out the arc reaction at the end of IM3 wasn’t actually about him erasing his trauma or leaving it behind, and Steve getting to be with Peggy doesn’t erase his growth. It was part of it.

Theoretically Sharon was always an option, except the audience (and fandom) response to her was pretty terrible, so actually she wasn’t.

And not to just keep harping on points made in an article that I think is frankly pretty terrible, but Steve going back to the past instead of settling in the present wasn’t about compulsory heterosexuality so much as it was about a franchise that is going to keep making movies needing to keep the next decade of films in mind. 

If Steve is still around in the now, that will always linger as a nagging question. The same way that people can’t shut up about where Carol was for the last decade, Steve hanging around in retirement refusing to help would hang over the next phases of movies like a cloud. Putting him in the past lets him live (which he deserves) and clears the slate.

Let Steve rest but, more than that, dear god won’t you please let Chris Evans rest too.

This goes back to how these movies, especially the crossovers, have to work on almost too many levels and it’s frankly shocking that they manage to do it and still have moments of sincere humanity and sweetness. 

Like I’m not going to try to oversell it, but seriously fucking think about the fact that one of the most successful blockbuster movies of all time actually has quiet moments where people talk about trauma, loss, parental abuse or neglect, failure, and depression. 

Hey remember when the movie gave us acknowledgement of Rhodey and Nebula’s disabilities? In the possibly going to be most successful movie of all time, they had characters with disabilities say how they’re different now but it’s okay, they work with what they got, and they bonded over that and it was so fucking shocking for me and BEAUTIFUL. Just a reminder for us all that THAT happened in the movie that may actually pass Avatar to become the MOST SUCCESSFUL FILM OF ALL TIME.

Just allowing another moment to let that sink in while I try to wrap this up (for now).

ps I can’t believe this movie made me have nice thoughts on Ultron, which I fucking despise with most of my being. 

Actually I might have to take back every nice thing I said, just because of the Ultron thing. How dare you, film.

But still lol at the fact that even talking about Ultron for a few seconds was enough to make Tony Stark pass the fuck out. Hard same, Tony. 

LOOK OBVIOUSLY I LOVED MORGAN STARK. I AM EXCITED ABOUT MORGAN STARK. SHE IS A PRECIOUS PERFECT ANGEL AND I LOVE HER.

SHIT.

So this is a totally incomplete list but here you go. Some of my thoughts on Endgame.

#avengers 4 spoilers #avengers endgame #avengers endgame spoilers #marvel

[blkmxrvel]

Carol Danvers Fluff A-Z Headcanon

Pairing: Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel x Female!Reader

Request: -

Warnings: None

A/N: I’m pretty sure you all saw this coming. And if you didn’t.....well.

A = affection (how affectionate are they in day to day life? Do they show affection publicly or keep that more in private?)

Growing up on Hala (we all know she didn’t but you know what I mean), Carol was always taught the less affection the better. She willed herself to never care or let her personal feelings get in the way. To her, the mission at task was always the most important.

But when she met you, all of that changed. She never understood why she wanted to hold your hand, or why she always started glowing when someone said something remotely offensive to you. 

Once she got over all of that however, you can best your bottom dollar that Carol was the most affectionate person you’d ever met. She doesn’t believe in showing you off in front of anybody, or anything like that. She knew you were hers, so affection didnt’t happen much when you were in public. But! At home around people you were both comfortable around, she would never stop with the pet names, holding, and random kisses. You never complained, and she never stopped.

B =best memory (what is the best memory they have with you)

She has two, even though they didn’t happen at the same time they’re both the same thing. The first time she met you. 

Before she had gone missing, you two were in the same troop in the Air Force. The day she walked on the field, she couldn’t take here eyes off of you. You smiled at her and she had committed to her memory. You two had became the best of friends after that.

After the six years, you were at Monica’s house when she and Fury came to the house. And Carol swears that everything came back to her in that moment. It was like you were the one with powers, the way a orange silhouette followed you around. She soaked in the way your body felt against hers when you hugged her.

Everything came flooding back. The laughs, the cries, the anger and the love. She had remembered it all.

C = cat or dog person

Cats, duh. Have you met Goose? Okay we know that he’s not an actual cat, but the way he looks, how fluffy he is has inspired Carol to never own any other animal. D = dreams (what do they want to do in life?)

To protect. That's always been her purpose. On Kree and even before the crash, she always wanted to protect her people. You, Monica, Maria, Fury; are her people, and she will be damned if she lets anything happen to any of you. E = evenings (how do they spend their evening? So they go out? Do they read?)

Sleep, sleep, sleep and more sleep. Trying to save planets and the universe really takes a toll, so she naps as much as possible. Most nights though, she loves to just cut on her favorite slow music grab a book and lose herself in it. Its her second favorite relaxation method. F = first date (what was it like?)

Fucking extravagant. Who would've thought carol was such a romantic. There were candles everywhere, soft music playing and an empty restaurant just for the two of you. You spent the entire evening having your every desire filled and it couldn't get any better than that.

G = giggle (what is their laugh like? What makes them laugh?)

Im- We all know, and if you don't I'm so sorry. With her stature and build you would think her giggle is dominant and deep, but no no. It's light, airy and makes your stomach do flips. It's adorable and you love to watch her eyes scrunch up when she does it. H = hugs (do they like hug? What kind of hugs do the give?)

Carol has the absolute best hugs. She's tall so naturally her arms go for the middle, and they're long so she's able to wrap them alllllll the way around and pull you in. She squeezes firm but not hard enough to make you lose your breath. Her eyes always close a little bit to savor the moment as she rests her head on top of yours. And She always smells like apples and vanilla so it makes the experience that much better. I = instrument (do they play an instrument?)

She loves the piano. The soft, serene music it makes is a sharp contrast to what she's usually used to: chaos, chaos, chaos. So she's delighted to let herself go in something so...grounding. J = joy (what brings them joy in life?)

You, Maria, Monica and Of course goose are her favorite people. She prides herself on human interactions with the ones she loves, so being around you guys makes her the happiest. Fighting to protect you all is great, but that means nothing if she doesn't have a bond with the ones she is protecting, you know? K = kisses (what kind of kisser are they? Shy? Passionate?)

You know….Carol is a certified #top but I think her kisses would be so soft and gentle most of time. She’d grab you by your face and start with your nose and cheeks, before placing the softest of kisses on your lips. It's so soft it tickles, making you and in turn her always laugh.

There are those occasions after a near-death mission or event where softness is not the needed medium. In those cases, passion is everything. Actions speak louder than words, and she’ll make sure that she speaks clearly.

L = love (how do they act when they have a crush)

When Carol Danvers wants something, she makes sure everyone knows it. She never missed an opportunity to compliment or flirt with you. She regularly invaded your personal space with hugs, cheek kisses and high five. Whenever someone would try to make advances on you, all she had to do was make her first glow a little bit and boom.

And it wasn't just her trying to make sure no one made a move on you. She would consistently dodge everyone else who tries to slide on her. If it wasn't you, then she didn't want them.

M = memory (what’s their favourite memory?)

Oddly enough, the night in the bar she'd spent with Maria. It was after a really long day training, and they decided to let off some steam. After getting more drunk than what medical professionals recommend, they had spent all night singing karaoke. They didn't get a single word or melody right, but who cares?

N = no (what is their pet peeve?)

The three i’s: Intolerance, Ignorance, Insolence. She absolutely cannot stand (ironically enough) people who have no respect for others. In the air force, she has been treated way less than everyone else just because she had a vagina. And Maria had it worse than her, just because she was black and had a vagina. They both got shit for liking women. The skrulls has their entire planet and families destroyed, just because the Kree people thought they were better than them. She couldn't ever wrap her head around people like that, but she could blast them into a new galaxy :)

O = occupation (what’s their dream job?)

Serving her country. But since she has too much power to be just doing that, she wants to serve, protect and restore the entire universe. She wants to shield everyone from harm and avenge the death of everyone Thanos took from them. (See what I did there?)

P = parent (what kind of parent would they be?)

Oh, Carol would most definitely be the parent who's their kids best friend. She knows how to get down with the best of them, and her children are no exception. Can you imagine what it would be like having a mini carol blasting around the house? All the little (and big) things they would get into? My, Oh, My. Q = questions (do they believe in the super natural? Aliens? Anything along those lines)

What do you think? R = romantic (are they romantic during the relationship?)

Carol puts romanticism to shame. If she isn't constantly sweeping you off your feet,  whether literally or figuratively, then she's doing something wrong.

Flowers and foods from different planets. Vacations to different galaxies. Never having to make breakfast or drive ever again. Long soliloquies when she can't wait to see after a long mission. Never having to go a day without her after they defeat Thanos. Sometimes they can get overwhelming,  but you know she's coming from a place of love.

S = smile (what makes them smile without fail)

Happy you, happy maria, happy Monica,  happy goose, happy life, happy universe, Happy Carol.

T = together (how clingy are they? How long do you two spend together per day on average)

Because of her current task of trying to fix the universe, she doesn't see you nearly as much as she would like to. But when she is without dont expect to be able to shake her off, not that you'd ever want to. She would be all over you with kisses, hugs, cuddles, sex and love. She had to get as much of you as she could before she had to leave again.

U = unbearable (what habit do they have that’s unbearable? What habit do you have that they find unbearable)

You hate to be the kind of s/o where they say they’re absolutely perfect...but Carol is absolutely perfect. There isn’t anything wrong with her. You could ask for anyone better. V = videos (do they take lots of videos or photos during your relationship?)

Surprisingly, yes. Obviously she's not from this era, being born in the 60s and on other planets for the past 15 years. Her first time seeing a cell phone was one thing, but seeing her face on one in real time, doing what she was doing was a different breed. Once you taught her how to use the camera as well as social media (“so you're telling me that I can see what someone else is doing on the other side of the world?) all she could do was document her life. Her life that consisted mainly of you, Monica and Maria was all over snapchat, Instagram and Facebook. It was the small things she chose to record and photograph. The things that were important but not big enough to where she can automatically recall. She chose to record things that she wouldn't even think of on a regular basis, things that would jog her memory and make her smile. Because who knows? Maybe someone else can come along and take her memory again. Or read her thoughts. She needs something that can make her remember.

W = wedding (what was the wedding like?)

Everything the both of you could ever ask for. It was outdoors, both your families (avengers, skrulls, flerkens, the usual) were there. You both work pristine beautiful dresses that had everyone in awe. There wasn't a dry eye in the courtyard as you two were pronounced wife and wife.

X = eXtra (what’s an interesting fact about them that they don’t tell anyone about?)

Psssttt. She loves country music and painting, dont tell anyone.

Y = yuck (what do they hate? Could be a food, sent, word anything)

Besides those special type of people, carol absolutely despises the summer. You would think, living in California, she'd be used to it but no. She hated the sticky sweat and the humid air. Winter was the summer for her. Z = zzzz (how heavy of a sleeper are they? How do they sleep? What mood do they wake up in? Really any sleeping headcanons)

Carol sleeps like she's heavily, heavily sedated. It's quite remarkable, you think. She usually sleeps on her back, or side but she's always attaches to you. Whether you're on her chest or she's facing you with your arms around each other.

Now, I've seen sooooo many people say that Carol is a morning person, but I have to disagree. Do you really think she's gonna do all that work, sleep that hard and wake up chipper? I think not! She does everything in her power to stay asleep, you are not going to object, you hate the mornings too.

It's always a game to see who can sleep in the longest. Spoiler alert: Carol usually wins.

#Captain Marvel #Carol Danvers #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers x reader #Brie Larson #brie larson x reader #marvel #marvel hc #iconicwlw

[kamechan98]

Young, Stupid, Broke And Ridiculously Happy

Prompt: “When I picture myself happy… it’s with you.”

Tony sighed for the umpteenth time in the last fifteen minutes and looked down at his watch again. 17:48. A minute had passed since the last time he looked at it. He sighed again and took a sip of his coffee. It was his third cup of coffee and the barista had looked at him a little funny when he had come back for the third time for another one, but Tony just couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d been waiting for hours now and the coffee help his worry, if only a little.

The waiting had already been unbearable ever since Steve had left for 10 months; he had to make it worse by being late? And it wouldn’t be so bad if he was only a few minutes late, like ten minutes or so, and that was including the time it took to get off the plane, get through the arrival terminal and getting his bags. But he was almost thirty-seven minutes late by now and Tony was really getting antsier by the minute.

Sigh and groan.

Another sip of coffee.

Tony had always been told he needed to work on his patience, but considering Tony had been waiting for 10 months for this day to come, dragging it out like this felt really unnecessary, not to mention unbearable. And maybe it was the caffeine or his own inability to stay still for more than a few seconds at a time or a combination of the two, but he was practically vibrating in place and had to fight against himself so wouldn’t start jumping around or run back and forth between here and the gate or something else that would make him like stupid.

Steve had promised that this would be the last time. “One last tour, Tony. One last tour and then I’m here to stay. I promise, just give me these last 10 months and then I’m all yours. I’ll leave the army forever and we’ll build a life and home together. I give you my word.”

Tony had of course not liked this. How could he? Another ten months of his boyfriend putting himself in danger and possibly dying in some morgue in Syria, yeah wasn’t that the dream of every young man in the world? But of course he’d eventually been forced to accept it all and had driven Steve to the airport a few weeks later, followed him to the security check and hugged and kissed him goodbye. It had taken all of Tony’s strength not to break down into a sobbing mess on the floor when Steve had placed his dog tags around Tony’s neck, like he always did before leaving for a tour, and had given him one last kiss before leaving and disappearing into the crowd, leaving Tony to drive home to an empty apartment.

The first few days had been torture and had spent a lot of time in bed, on the couch watching TV or sleeping through his classes at MIT. But eventually he’d been forced to get off his ass and get his life back on track. He went to his classes, got his second PhD at MIT and started to work on getting a third one while also working his part-time job as a car mechanic. He hung out with his friends one occasion, as they graduated all college and started to live their own busy adult lives. He hung out with Rhodey and helped him pick out an engagement ring for Carol and eventually try to propose (she totally beat him to it!), he, Clint, Rhodey, Sam and Thor had their Guys’ Night once a week, either getting drinks at a bar or went bowling or whatever and he bonded with Natasha over having your boyfriend overseas while they were stuck at home not knowing what was happening to their significant other. Though Tony couldn’t help but feel jealous of her, since Bucky was still home had already left the army on account of his amputated arm from his last tour.

The months did pass, if slowly, and he did receive letters from Steve- he was old-fashioned like that- telling him what was going on (as much as he could, anyway) and reassuring him that he was alright and everything was going well. He would tell him how much he loved and missed him, how he couldn’t wait to see him and would give little details or ideas for the future they wanted together.

‘We’d have to take simple jobs for while, obviously, but when we get enough money, we’ll move back to New York. Both of us are born and bred New Yorkers, we both love it there and we could have a really nice- though probably small- apartment in our city.’

‘Imagine a view over Central Park. Obviously that would be years away, even with the best of jobs to offer for kids like us. But a nice penthouse in with view like that, wouldn’t that be something?’

‘How would you feel about getting a dog? Or maybe a cat? I know we haven’t talked much about pets, but I have always wanted a dog, so how would you feel about it?’

‘I know I’ve said it like a thousand times, but God I really want to marry you someday. And I know we don’t have a lot of money right now, but once we do, I’d love to marry you. We’ll have a great wedding and we’ll invite all our friends and family and have a great time. But I really just want to spend the rest of my life with you.’

Tony smiled, just a tad dopily, in the middle of the busy, crowded airport just thinking about those letters with his hand tightly clenching the dog tags around his neck. Steve always had that effect on him, with all his sappiness and lovey-dovey words and promises. And for all of Tony’s big talk of how ridiculous and overly sappy he was and how he needed to stop being so sappy, he really loved it. Maybe it was because of the lack of love his family had showed him over the course of his life, but Steve had always found ways to get through Tony’s tough exterior and the walls he surrounded his heart with, even back when they had first met in grade school and especially after they had started dating in high school.

He had dated other people before Steve, of course he had, but no one had been like Steve. Steve, who was loving, caring and kind and the sweetest and most amazing man on the planet. Steve, who was honest and sincere utterly devoted to Tony and making sure he was happy, either by making Tony coffee every morning before he went to class or making sure he ate and slept somewhat regularly. Steve, who told Tony he loved him every single day and kissed Tony good morning and good night.

Steve had been everything he ever wanted in a boyfriend and more; he was kind and caring, funny, witty and always seemed to be able to make Tony smile. He was one of the few people in the world that could out-stubborn him and wasn’t not afraid to call him on his bullshit or get into arguments- both light-hearted ones and more serious ones- with him and refuse to back down before Tony did or before one of them made a good enough point to prove that the other was wrong. He was also always there to ground Tony whenever he was getting lost in work or just needed to get his head out of his crazy ideas and reined him in when he was being reckless.

And while Steve had started out being skinny and shorter than Tony, he eventually hit a major growth spurt and shot past Tony and grew muscles in places Tony didn’t know had muscles, which not only made him very attractive (not that Tony hadn’t thought he was before, but c’mon, the guy had serious abs and muscles) but also developed a protective streak and would stand up to anyone who tried to hurt or bully Tony. Steve had always been an amazing friend, one of Tony’s best friends ever, but after having asked him out and eventually confessed his feelings, he had become the kind of boyfriend that only seemed to exist in those ‘Relationship Goals’ posts he saw on Instagram. But as sappy and lovey-dovey as Steve was, Tony had fallen head over heels in love with him and knew he never wanted to let go of him.

Howard had blown a gasket over Tony falling for the ‘broke, lowly nobody from Brooklyn’ he had met in grade school and that had been the point where he really wanted to disown Tony, which he eventually did once Tony went to college, moved into a small apartment with Steve and made it very clear he wasn’t going to do whatever Howard wanted him to do with his life, i.e. take over Stark Industries and make weapons like him. Tony, however, had never let that bother him too much. He was young and in love and who was Howard to tell him to live his life anyway? Steve was the best thing that had ever happened to him and Tony would be the biggest moron on this side of the universe if he ever let him go. Jarvis had told him on the day he had graduated college, after Steve had hugged him and kissed him and told him how proud he was of him, that “finding someone as loving, devoted and loyal this is a rare, once in a blue moon occurrence, especially at your age. Don’t waste it, Young sir.” And it was a piece of advice that he was very happy to follow, even three years later.

Tony smiled again, his eyes getting a little wet with emotion and still clutching those dog tags very tightly, when a voice broke through his thoughts, making his head jerk up and his breath got stuck in his throat.

“Tony!”

Finally.

Steve was coming in through the gates, running as fast as he could with all the people around him, more or less shoving people aside when he couldn’t run around them. He was looking around the airport, clearly looking for someone; his face was a mix of eager impatience and held back anticipation.

“Tony!”

Steve. Steve was here, alive and whole and all right.

He was finally home.

Tony was running before he even fully realized he was moving at all. He bumped into some guy, the half-full take-away cup of coffee flying out of his hand and onto the floor and he almost slipped in the puddle of coffee as he ran faster. He heard somewhere behind him someone yelling at him for making a mess, but he couldn’t care less, because Steve was home and he was here, only a few feet away from him and fuck it if Tony was gonna waste another second waiting any longer. He cried out “Steve!” but just that second there was an announcement over the loudspeakers, which kinda drowned out his voice.

Steve must’ve heard the yell however, or spotted Tony moving, because he finally turned in his direction and the smile that spread across his face threatened to split his face in two. He threw his bags down and started running too and before Tony’s brain could fully process it all, he threw his arms around Steve, wrapped his arms tightly around Steve’s neck and pressed his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent and letting tears of relief and happiness fall, the weight that he had been carrying around for a whole year now finally lifting and disappearing.

“Steve.” He whispered into his boyfriend’s neck, only barely keeping his sobs at bay, though when he heard, and felt, that Steve was also struggling to hold back his own tears it felt a little easier to release them.

“Tony.” Steve whispered back into Tony’s hair, his grip around Tony tightening and Tony gasped a little when he was suddenly lifted of floor and spun around like a girl in a romantic movie. He tightened his grip around Steve as he was spun around, more out of instinct than anything else, but whatever. The closer he could be to Steve right now the better.

“You’re here. You’re home. Oh my god, Steve, I’ve missed you so much!” Tony could barely speak through the tears and sobs, but he managed to rein them in enough to be at least somewhat understood while still crying. Though, given how Steve was shaking about as much as Tony was at the moment, he probably couldn’t talk much more than Tony at the moment.

Steve drew a shaky breath and sniffled loudly before finally talking. “Yeah, I’m here now. I’m home, oh Tony, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He gently put Tony back down on the ground but pressed him close up to his chest, burying his face in Tony’s hair.

Tony sniffed and nuzzled his face into Steve’s shirt, wiping tears and snot on the fabric and finding himself unable to care in the slightest. “I’m not letting you leave again. You’re not gonna go anywhere near that shit again, you’re gonna stay right here with me forever from now on, do you hear me? That’s not a suggestion, it’s an order Soldier.”

Steve huffed a wet laugh and pressed his cheek against Tony’s head, his arms tightening around him, so much that it kinda hurt and made it a little hard to breathe. But, again, whatever, Tony could take it. He and Steve hadn’t seen each other for a whole year; he would take it all the attention and love Steve had to give him.

“Well, I guess I have my orders, General Stark. And trust me, I have no intentions of ever letting you go, ever again. I thought I made that clear when we were still in high school.”

Tony chuckled and pressed a kiss on Steve’s throat before gently pulling away to get a better look of him. Steve tried to keep him close, gently trying to push him back into his chest, but Tony eventually managed to pull back enough to get a good look of his boyfriend.

Steve was dressed in his army uniform, sans the hat, his blonde hair was a shaggy and messy and he had grown a scruffy beard in the time he had been gone. He had no visible injuries, bruises or abrasions on his person and though he looked a bit skinner than he had been since Tony last saw him, he looked fairly alright considering the circumstances, aside from his eyes and face being wet and red with tears.

Tony smiled widely and raised his hands to Steve’s face, gently stroking the apples of his cheeks and tried to wipe away his tears- though that turned out to be rather futile as more tears just kept coming anyway- which made Steve’s smile widen back at him and put his own hands over Tony’s as he leaned into his touch, squeezing them tightly and pressing them to his face.

It almost looked like Steve was trying to convince himself that he was finally home and with his boyfriend again just as much as Tony was.

Tony chuckled softy, stood on his toes to kiss Steve’s nose and then buried his fingers in Steve’s beard. “Okay, some real talk here, babe, what the hell is this? Do they not let you shave in Syria? Or are we trying to be the next Robinson Crusoe?

Steve laughed softly and squeezed Tony’s wrists, blinking away the remaining tears from his eyes. “No, no, they do. I guess I’ve just been busy thinking about other stuff to bother with things like shaving.”

Tony smiled teasingly at him with a raised eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

Steve smiled down at him with such adoration and unquestionable love that it made Tony’s stomach drop and his heart stutter and he almost teared up again. He gently let go of Tony’s wrists and reached out one hand towards Tony’s face, gently stroking his knuckles over his cheek and wiping a tear away with his thumb.

“Making it home to you.” He placed a kiss on Tony’s forehead. “I meant what I said before, you know. I’m here to stay, Tony, for as long as you’ll have me. You have to know that I adore you and I want to spend forever with you. I’m done leaving you behind for these missions, I promise. From today, I’m done. It’ll be just you and me from now on, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course I’ll have you. I love you more than anything in my life.” Tony wanted to say, but he couldn’t get the words out. His tongue was frozen in his mouth and he couldn’t get it to work for him.

Steve continued with a soft smile, but he also looked… well, kinda emotional. He let go of Tony’s face and took his hands, holding them tightly. “Tony, you know I mean it, right? I adore you, Tony. I love everything about you and don’t ever want us to be apart for this long ever again.”

He paused and looked down at the floor, suddenly looking smaller and not quite as confident as he usually did.

“I know my degree doesn’t count for much. There’s limited jobs for people with an Art’s Degree and I don’t have much as it is. I have absolutely nothing to offer you that is up to the standards that you are used to, but if you let me, I’ll do everything I can make sure to treat you to everything I can, especially after everything I’ve put you through with my tours and work in the army. Not to mention how your asshole father has treated you throughout your life. You deserve to be treated like a prince and I’ll dedicate my life to make sure you get everything you deserve.”

“Steve…” Tony’s mouth was suddenly dry as a dessert and he could barely move or talk, only stare up at his boyfriend.

Steve smiled and placed one hand over Tony’s cheek, stroking his thumb under Tony’s eye. “I mean it, sweetheart. You’ve had such a rough life and you’ve still turned out an amazing man. You’re smart, kind, brave, generous, funny and you’ve worked so hard to get where you are today and I’m so proud of you and to be your boyfriend. And I know we’re young and stupid and just a bit above broke, but I don’t care, I want you now and forever. I’ve thinking a lot of this and when I picture myself happy…” He leaned down and pressed a kiss on Tony’s mouth. “It’s with you.”

Tears were falling from Tony’s eyes by this point and he was just barely holding back his sobs and his smile was so big it physically hurt. He sniffed and tried to snark back at Steve but it didn’t come out quite as snarky as he had wanted and more like a sob.

“Man Rogers, you can’t keep giving me this much sap, you’ll give me cavities.” Not his best line, but it was the best he could deliver considering the circumstances.

Steve chuckled and pressed a kiss to Tony’s forehead. “Well, I’ll buy you a new toothbrush and toothpaste before we get home then. But before that, I have something I have to ask.” He squeezed the hand he was still holding before letting go and taking a small step back.

And then he got down on one knee.

Tony was vaguely aware of gasps of shock and anticipation from the crowd of people around them but he was stuck staring at Steve with wide eyes and his jaw hanging open, his hands flying up to cover his wide open mouth. Steve took out a small, black box from his pocket, popped it open and revealed a ring. It was fairly modest ring, nothing too extravagant or fancy, just simple golden band and a small diamond at the center.

It was the most beautiful ring Tony had ever seen.

Steve smiled widely up at him. “Tony Stark, you are the love of my life and I want you to be my partner in everything. Will you marry me?”

‘Oh my God.’ That was the only thing going through his mind at the moment. ‘He’s proposing. He’s actually fucking proposing to me!’

Tony hadn’t given marriage too much thought since before dating Steve, and even then it wasn’t until their relationship had started to become serious. But after having talked to Steve about it, after having read Steve’s letters and how much he loved him and that he really wanted to spend the rest of his earthly days with him.

And God, if it wasn’t everything Tony had ever wanted.

Tony was nodding with happy tears running down his face, saying “Yes, yes, yes!” over and over again before running up to Steve and throwing himself around his neck again. Steve wrapped his arms tightly around Tony before lifting him off his feet again and spinning him around. He heard cheers and applause around them, but paid them no heed; the only thing going through his head at the moment was ‘Oh My God, Steve Rogers just asked me to fucking marry him!’

Steve pressed kisses on every inch of skin he could reach, arms tightly wrapped around his waist spinning him around for a good minute before putting Tony down on his feet again, though Tony still had his arms around Steve’s neck and Steve placed his hands on his hips. He had a big, blinding smile and tears in his eyes.

He chuckled disbelievingly. “21 years old, son of one of the biggest minds and business men of the last century and has enough brains and passion to revolutionize the world one day, and you’d settle for a broke, art graduate and soldier from Brooklyn? One day you’ll have the entire world at your feet, able to take your pick, and you still choose me.” He pressed his forehead to Tony’s. “You still want me.”

Tony tried to smirk, but it looked less cocky and confident and more wide and joyous and tearful. “Steve, babe, two things: First, this is not me ‘settling’ for you. I have dated several people before you and no one has ever been as good to me as you. Even Pepper, bless her heart, had a rocky time with all of my broken parts and ugly history. Sure, maybe ten years from now I will be successful and rich and have a big house and ten cars or whatever, but no one in the world could ever be better to me than you.”

Steve’s smile widened and a few more tears fell down his cheek and Tony raised his hands to his face, gently wiping them away. “And two, how long have we been friends? Fifteen years? You have always been the best friend I could ever ask for, even before you asked me on a date, or confessed you loved me. You’ve looked after me when I was in trouble; let me cry on your shoulder after fights with my dad or when a boyfriend or girlfriend turned out to be a bust. And you’ve always been there for me to rein me in when I get lost in work or school or when I’m just being stupid, when I’m being an asshole or when I just need to get my head out of my ass. You have always been there for me, even before I was a genius and dad tried to exploit it.”

Tony smiled and had to clear his throat so his sobs wouldn’t make his voice crack. He stroked one hand over Steve’s bearded cheek. “So what kind of idiot would I be to let go of the best thing that ever happened to me?”

Steve’s eyes were overfilled with tears at this point and Tony pressed a kiss on his nose, leaning in close to his ear. “Now, let’s go home. We’ll pick up pizza on the way home.” He slowly started to pull away, but Steve grabbed his hand before he got too far away.

“Of course, but first,” He took the ring out of the box and gently put it on Tony’s ring finger. Tony gently pulled his hand out of Steve’s grip to get a closer look at it, and now that he wasn’t in complete surprise by Steve proposing and he got a closer look at it, he recognized it very quickly.

“Steve, this is your mom’s ring!” Steve smiled widely and placed his arms around Tony’s waist.

“Yes it is. She gave it to me when I told her I wanted to ask you to marry me. I had to go and have it a bit adjusted so it would fit your finger, but other than that it the exact same ring.” He blushed a little and rubbed the back of his head. “I… heh, carried it with me everywhere while in Syria. For motivation, I guess. I figured if I kept carrying it around with me it would help me remember what I had back home. That I had the love of my life waiting for me back home and I really, really wanted to marry him.”

Tony smiled and huffed a small laugh, a few tears forming in his eyes before blinking them away. “Yeah? And how did that work for you?”

Steve smirked and shrugged lightly. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’d say it worked out just great for me. Especially since I have you know.” He placed his arm around Tony’s shoulders and hugged him close, letting Tony rest his head in the crook of his neck.

Tony ran a finger over the golden band and the diamond and then looked up at Steve again. He smiled softly at him, and then he smirked and hip checked Steve in the side. “You realize that if dad ever finds out about this he’ll skin you alive, chop your balls off and turn them into Christmas ornaments, right? He hates your guts, probably blames you for my decision to turn my back on the company.”

Steve smirked back but there was a dangerous fire in his blue eyes. “Yeah I know, but fuck Howard Stark, I’m not afraid of him. If he has anything to say about our engagement or relationship he can say it to my face. If he has the balls that is.”

Steve smiled and his eyes softened, placing both hands on Tony’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes, his eyes are full of sincerity and love. “Tony, you shouldn’t think too much about Howard and what he’ll think. I have never cared about his opinion; I hate him just as much as he hates me. But I love you and I want you, and if that means I have to deal with him being a dick about it, I’ll gladly deal with that.” He lifted one hand and stroke it over Tony’s cheek. “I love you enough to handle anything. I’ve seen war at this point, I doubt there’s anything Howard Stark can say or do to keep us apart or make me stop loving you.”

Tony’s mouth was open, eyes wide and started to fill with tears again, but he started to blink, hoping to kill them before they could fall and he chuckled. “Fuck you, Rogers. You’ve made me cry like five times in less than thirty minutes today, you fucking asshole. I should give you the ring right back for making me this emotional today, you know I hate feelings.”

Steve laughed fondly and gently stroke his hand through Tony’s hair, pressing a light kiss to his temple. “Oh? Well, I guess I’ll have to change your mind then. How about I buy us some dinner, you pick a movie and we’ll have a nice long night together. And over the weekend, we’ll have some fun. You choose what we do, for the whole weekend, no work or anything like that. Just you and me, what do you say?”

Tony smiled teasingly and bumped his shoulder against Steve’s arm. “Well, I guess that’s a good start.”

Steve smirked and then crouched down a little, one arm around Tony’s shoulders, but when he tried to place his arm around the back of Tony’s knees, Tony stepped away and smiled.

“Uh, not that I’m against what you’re thinking at the moment, but don’t you think you need both hands for your bags?” Steve blinked, a bit surprised and looked back over his shoulders at the bags he had dumped on the floor. Then he looked back at Tony and then he stubbornly set his jaw and a determined look formed on his face and he quickly stomped over to the bags. He swung one of them across his back and then walked over to Tony with the other bag, a slightly smaller duffle bag, and had a mischievous spark in his eyes and dumped it in Tony’s arms.

“Hey, hold this for me, doll?” Tony took the bag, a bit surprised, but before he could respond, Steve grabbed him around the shoulders and knees again and swept him in his arms. Tony gasped a little and clutched the bag tightly to his chest (it wasn’t heavy, probably just some clothes and personal items) before laughing and hiding his face in Steve’s neck as he started to walk towards the doors.

“Steve, people are looking!” Not that Tony actually minded that people looked, they could stare all they wanted for all he cared, but he still couldn’t help flushing at Steve’s very open affections for him. PDA got nothing on Steve Rogers.

Steve grinned and rested his cheek against Tony’s hair, pressing a kiss against his forehead. His grip around Tony tightened slightly and adjusted his grip a little, so Tony could rest his head against his shoulder. “Let them look. I have been waiting to hold you and kiss you again for ten fucking months, so you’re crazy if you think I’m letting you go ever again.”

Tony shook his head with a small laugh before letting himself relax and rest against Steve’s body, pressing his lips to Steve’s neck. He suddenly felt drained of all energy after all the emotion that he’d gone through just now and was now more than okay with Steve carrying him out of the airport and to the car so they could go home.

They’d probably stop by the pizza place on the way home, or they’d order for delivery when they got home. They’d pick a movie to watch while eating but eventually start to pay more attention to each other than the movie. Steve would pull him close and hold him throughout the whole night, even when they would need to go to bed. Tony would cling onto Steve too, making sure to himself that he was actually home and this wasn’t some kind of dream. He’d probably finger on the engagement ring on his finger to make sure that was real too, because it still felt like a dream.

The whole weekend would probably be much of the same, but really, Tony was more than fine with that. Steve was here too stay forever now, away from the army and had asked him to marry him.

They could spare a few days to celebrate this before going back to real life.

Tony sighed and nuzzled his face into Steve’s shoulder, closing his eyes. “I love you.”

He didn’t see Steve’s face but he heard him chuckle fondly and held him a little tighter and kissed his hair. “I love you too, Tony.”

#my fic #my writing #stony #stony fic #stevetony #superhusbands #steve rogers #tony stark #i wrote a fic #drabble #tumblr prompt