One year

One year since they had to defeat the warden and hope that Rae would live

All so they could get Fable out

And he lived

He survived

And yet

So much has changed since this last reset

Fable getting out

Learning more about Isla and Enderian

.....Centross dying

Rae losing his mom

Learning true motives behind Fable's actions and why he took Isla to even begin with

Why the resets are around

The resets all to save Icarus from falling time and time again

Bc they were just destined to fall, huh?

Gods dying

And Rae losing his broter again

At the hands of Fable all because 'he can fix everything"

But can everything really be fixed when everything is yet still somewhat broken?

One year ago the world resets again as Haley came out of the portal instead of Fable

And so much has changed

Point of No Return - Part One

A/N: Hi. So I have not been able to stop thinking about Ezra and Cee and the world that they inhabit in the film Prospect since I first watched it a few months back. My initial reaction to the movie was that I craved more from that world. There is so much rich detail and background for the story to take root in and the characters (and what they have been through) were so compelling to me that it left me with so many questions. Who was Ezra before he runs into Cee? What did he leave behind to peruse his goals on the Green? Who could Cee become without the constant shadow of her father looming over her? With someone supportive in her life instead? What other types of prospecting or harvesting jobs are there out there and what drove Ezra to Aurelac? What other kinds of weird food items and technology exist in this world?! So... I let my imagination go a little off the rails and this was the result. 

This story is honestly a blast for me to write so I truly hope that if you read it you enjoy it. Please feel free to ask me any questions or let me know what you think. If you would like to be added to this taglist just send me a message or leave me a comment and I will gladly add you! :) 

Warnings: discussion of death, injuries, illness, loss 

Summary: It’s been five long years since Clara last saw Ezra, the man she loved with more of herself than she ever thought possible, the two falling apart under the weight of a heavy loss in the family. Most of the time she has enough work on her Thulian farm to keep her thoughts from him, but the harvest season always dredges up memories both precious and painful. She tries to push the emotions away to focus on her work, but when she receives a message from a mysterious caller it becomes clear that that will simply be impossible this time. 

Word Count: 5.8k

It wasn’t quite morning yet. 

Only a sliver of the harvest star was visible over the horizon, its bright amber light muted by the lingering vestiges of night. Soon it would rise fully, igniting the landscape with its burning orange glow and seemingly setting the Thulian Grass ablaze. Dawn cracked quickly into day during the harvest season, giving farmers longer hours to cut back the stalks and collect the ripened pollen. For now though, the fields that surrounded the small house still appeared to be a soft dusty rose color, the tops of the tall grass ruffling in the cool breeze. 

Clara stifled a yawn against the backs of her bent fingers as she headed down the creaky stairs. It was dark and quiet in the house and there was no reason other than habit for her to be hiding her sleepiness. Abe didn’t care if she was tired so long as his bowl was full, and it would be hours before the grumpy old cat would move from his preferred nesting spot in the bedroom’s window seat. Lazy beast. The farm hands stayed in a loft over the barn that her father had converted into living quarters years ago, when the farm was in its prime and they’d needed extra help almost year round. It comfortably housed up to ten, though now only half that many workers occupied the space for just a few weeks at a time. Aside from Clara and the cat, the rest of the house was empty. 

She let another yawn slip out, this one unhindered as she brought both hands up to scoop her hair back, fingers deftly winding an elastic band around it. Securing her shoulder length chocolate brown waves in a ponytail, she pulled it tight as she descended the last few steps. A few strays got wound around and between her ring and middle fingers and she pulled them loose with a sigh. What’s a few more grays gone? Wiggling her digits she let the strands fall free and reached the bottom of the staircase, immediately turning left into the small kitchen. 

Through the circular window above the sink she could see the light on in the loft, a pinprick of golden yellow across the sea of pink in the pre-dawn. Siggi’s got ‘em up already. She smiled and flicked the wall switch to light up the room. Good. The lost and confused 19 year old college dropout who had turned up looking for work during the harvest season seven years ago and had never so much as held a shovel let alone swung a sickle had developed into quite the farmer, proving to himself and everyone that the scholastic route had never been for him. Even when her father had to retire and they had to downsize the operation, Clara kept Siggi on as the full time manager- the only other full timer apart from herself. While he still  stayed in the loft for the three weeks during harvest, he had moved into an apartment over the hill in town with his girlfriend, making the forty five minute commute for the rest of the year by hovercar. 

He didn’t know it yet, but at the close of the current season Clara planned on talking to him about his interest in buying the farm from her one day. It’s gotta go to someone. She couldn’t think of anyone else she’d want her family’s property to go to. She had a cousin with two kids on Central but his only interest in the land would be in selling it, the man telling her so point blank. It didn’t surprise her since he had never actually set foot there, but keeping the farm within the family was less important to Clara than making sure it went to someone who would continue to care for it as she had. With Seth gone and no children of her own, she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather it go to than Siggi. It won’t be for another nine or ten years at least but… She sighed, opening the cabinet above the sink and pulling down the large white canister of high-caf tea. But it would give him time to save if he is interested and- she peeled the lid off the canister, spooning three heaping scoops of the dried leaf powder into the brew pouch on the counter kettle. And it would make me feel better knowing it was going to him and not developers or contractors. 

Frowning, she was reminded of what happened with Briggs’ farm, just a few miles from her own front door, when the man became too old and sick to work and couldn’t keep up the payments. With no one to take the reins from him, the land had gone up for auction, ending up in the hands of some rich Central asshole like her cousin. Last year, for the entire three week harvest while she and Siggi and the other seasonal hires toiled in the Thulian fields, they were treated to the constant grinding and pounding of construction machinery as it ripped up Briggs’ once fruitful farm and readied it to be built up into luxury condominiums. I won’t let that happen. Not to my fields. Not… Clara jammed the start button on the kettle, swallowing a lump of emotion before shaking her head. Stop it, Clara, it’s too damn early for that. 

With the Aurelac rush drying up though, prospectors, freighter captains, jewelers, investors and anyone else who had made their money in the rare root gems were cashing out and looking for places to spend their wealth in comfort. Kamrea was a first choice for many of them, and for many reasons. It was a temperate planet with only a few weeks of what could be considered winter weather, the air was breathable, the water potable, and the ground exceptionally fertile, Thulian, Crater-Apples, Potatoes, countless herbs and a cornucopia of other produce grew in abundance there. Its close proximity to Central, where most of the galaxy’s Aurelac crews took off for the Bakhroma System, also meant that a large Kamrean population worked in the industry. It was why finding seasonal help on the farm was never a problem during the height of the rush- men and women from all over the galaxy had made the planet their temporary home between runs to the Green Moon, finding  themselves in need of work between digs. 

Like Ezra. 

The kettle hissed, steam beginning to rise as the dark purple liquid started dripping into the waiting thermos, and though the air that came through the open windows was warm Clara shivered. She placed her hands on the countertop and closed her eyes. If she took a deep breath and tuned out all but the sound of the tea brewing, she could call back a memory that was almost strong enough to feel- His arms winding around her from behind, lips brushing first along her shoulder whether she was wearing a shirt with sleeves or not, then landing close to her ear as he pressed his body to hers. His scent, like the forest and the fields, the stream and clean sweat mixing with the herbal smell of the tea and completely intoxicating her as she leaned back into his broad chest. “You know, you make it exceedingly difficult for me sometimes, Huckleberry”. The tip of his nose tracing the edge of her ear before his patchy beard raked along the skin behind it as she, breathless, struggled to ask him what it was she made so difficult. “Determining whether I am awake-“ A kiss to her temple, his arms tightening around her. “-Or still only dreaming of having you in my embrace.” 

Opening her eyes she felt the warmth that steeping in the memory had given her leave in a rush. It always did, always hurting more than the ache she’d used it to soothe. This season would mark five years since the last time she’d stood on the porch and watched him go. Since he left. Since I… The kettle finished brewing, clicking as the drip stopped abruptly. Since I told him not to come back until he was done with… She could feel the sting of tears forming in the corners of her eyes and forcibly blinked them back. It was without a doubt her biggest, heaviest regret and it weighed on her heart most ruthlessly at this time of year, the season that had brought him to her and that had also become the annual reminder of his departure from her life. 

Pulling the first thermos from the kettle, she twisted the cover on before any of the heat could escape. She went on autopilot then, setting it aside and replacing it with a second, going about the process and scooping more powder into the brew pouch. She had two more to fill after after that to ensure the whole crew had enough energy to get through the long shift. Clara had very few rules on the farm, but one that she was adamant about was that stim chew was not allowed on the premises. She was happy to provide as much high-caf tea as her crew could drink though, the natural substance working just as well to invigorate without giving the user shakes and headaches. And it wasn’t addictive. 

She used the time to pull herself together. Stupid. She knew the risk that came with thinking about him, giving in to such a powerful memory about the man she still loved so powerfully no matter how they’d both let each other down in those last few months before he left. Her pain, her anger, the things she felt when she had told him not to come back if he was going on the path he had laid out for her, they were real and she didn’t blame herself for feeling them. She was grieving, not just for Seth, but for Ezra, too. He wasn’t the same after… And then that next trip, when he- An uneven breath burst from her lips, the next few coming out the same way. I never should have let him go back after we lost Seth. 

She sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the heels of her palms, blotting the rest of that thought from her mind. His decisions were clouded by grief then, too. She saw that now, understood it. He loved her brother just as much as she did, and he had taken that loss extremely hard. So hard that he couldn’t be there for her, or at least that’s what he had convinced himself of. I wasn’t there the way he needed me to be  either though. I… pushed him away. And I never pulled him back. 

She switched out the thermos again, twisting the lid on, setting it down, the grainy sound of the scoop moving through the tea powder punctuating the silence as she refilled the brew pouch a third time. Outside the sky was lightening to a pale whitish blue, roughly one third of the harvest Star peeking over the curve of the planet. She’d lived there all her life but it was still breathtaking how quickly the enormous orb appeared in the sky this time of year, how with each blink it rose higher and got brighter until suddenly your eyes couldn’t drink the vivid colors in quickly enough, everything as bright as it had ever been intended to be. It was beautiful and it made her thankful to call the place her home. 

Though without Ezra, without Seth, could she really call it that? 

Yes. The thought came swiftly as she watched the fields come alive in vibrant hues of pink, flecks of pollen starting to shine in the first rays of light. She felt it in her chest, a swelling that made her take a breath. It made her conscious of her own heartbeat. This is where she and Seth grew up, running through the hollow Thulian stems in the winter or collecting smooth stones from the stream after the rainy season. This is where she learned everything she knew about farming and hard work from her father, the man also teaching her to save time for joy and celebration. This is where she met Ezra, where they spent three years so deeply and fully in love that she could still feel him after more than that much time apart. If this wasn’t her home, filled with all of that, then she never had one. 

By the time she placed the fourth thermos under the kettle the kitchen was bathed in radiant harvest light. A slight orange tinge touched everything as the Star finally rose completely over the horizon. Clara turned back towards the doorway and reached out to click the light switch off. Artificial light was only necessary a few hours a day during the harvest weeks. It would still be light out when they finished work for the day, all of them likely falling into bed before needing to turn on a lamp once it finally got dark at night. Turning back around she saw that Siggi had doused the loft light, too. They’re probably heading down now. She gave herself until the final thermos was full to finish composing her emotions, closing them off as she twisted the lid on. 

There was hard work to be done, and it required her full attention and awareness. The tools they used to harvest the puffy pink pollen sacks were sharp and she’d seen with her own eyes what they could do in the hands of someone who wasn’t thinking clearly. For her own safety and for that of her fellow harvesters, she couldn’t bring those feelings- the way she ached with regret and how badly she missed him and how thoroughly terrified it made her to wonder why he had still not come back- into the fields. There was no place for it there, not now. 

She packed the four thermoses of tea and a few reusable cups into a large satchel along with a small case of Bits Bars. They weren’t her first choice but they were fast, available nutrition for the long day. Full of flavor, the package boasted. Kevva knows that’s a lie. She rolled her eyes. As soon as the season was wrapped up she always cooked a huge meal for the whole team, and anyone who had ever worked for Clara or her father knew that they had a place at her table for any and all holidays. But no one complained about the provided rations during the season, so she tried not to feel guilty about the offering. 

Adding a first aid field kit to the bag, she closed it and set it down on the small table before stooping to open the lower cabinet. Most importantly… Pulling out the bag of kibble, she filled Abe’s bowl in the corner of the kitchen and refreshed his water. Alright, your highness, you’re all set. She smiled to herself as she stowed the kibble. Though the rotund striped orange cat spent most of his time snoozing in the window and typically couldn’t be bothered with the goings on of daily life on the farm, he was affectionate towards Clara, jumping into her lap at the end of the day, rubbing his chin on her knuckles and generally giving her something to look forward to. Ezra used to joke about the cat’s laziness, citing the one occasion when Abe had actually stood by and allowed a family of channel rats to move into the basement, but Clara knew that the man had a soft spot for her pet, even as he grumbled about having to deal with the pests himself. Though he’d been born feral, Clara finding him as a kitten, yowling alone in the barn, Abe had never been a hunter. Without his bowl of kibble he would be completely lost. But despite his pacifist, helpless nature meaning that she could never count on him to keep rodents out, Clara would be lost without the little furry lump, too. 

Abe taken care of for the day and the necessary supplies packed, she slung the bag over her shoulder and headed out the back door onto the porch that wrapped around the old farmhouse. The field directly to the right of the house had already been processed, the pink pollen stored in the silver silo attached to the barn, ready to be tumbled and bagged as soon as the other two fields had been harvested. The sweet smelling powder was used in a number of products ranging from paint to perfume either to add fragrance or color, and because Clara kept with her father’s method of only using natural fertilizers, the Thulian farmed on her property was even rated for use in food and drink. Though the field that was finished was the smallest, she and the team had made good time with it, getting it squared away in only four days and giving themselves a bit of a cushion when it came to getting the other two larger fields done. The time crunch really only applied while the pollen was still on the stalk, the ripening process halting as soon as the sacks were sliced from the tops. But having a little bit of leeway took some of the pressure off and that made keeping morale up much easier. 

Once Clara had turned the corner, coming around to the front of the house, she saw Siggi striding across the field, dragging harvesting equipment behind him. He raised one arm over his head, the bright light glinting off his flaxen hair as he waved to her. She returned the gesture, then pulled the bandana that was tied around her neck up over her mouth and nose. The Thulian wasn’t toxic, but it made your nostrils and throat tickle if inhaled in large quantities. It also stained skin and hair and clothing, especially when mixed with sweat, but there wasn’t much to be done about that aside from much needed showers at the day’s end. Ready for work, she walked down off the porch and made her way towards where her team was setting up at the far side of the middle field. 

Had she waited just a second or two longer she may have heard the beep coming from the communicator screen that hung next to the light switch near the door in the kitchen. The call that came through then might have been answered instead of being directed to her inbox, continuing to beep every thirty seconds until the message was retrieved and played.    

Eight hours later, Clara trudged back up to the house to refill two of the tea thermoses, this time with cold water. Wiping the back of her hand across her sweat slicked forehead, she could feel the pink powder leaving a rosy streak across her skin. Yanking the bandana down off her face, she licked her dry lips and opened the door to the kitchen. The air cooling system whirred gently and the conditioned air hit her face instantly as she stepped inside, drying the smudge of pollen on both her face and over her knuckles. It was a hot one, and she was glad to step inside for water and for the reprieve. She’d told Siggi and the others to take a break in the shade until she returned, and peering out the circular window she could see them sprawled out in the open doorway of the barn. Good. 

As soon as she placed the thermoses in the sink to rinse them out, Abe came scuttling into the kitchen, meowing loudly and circling her ankles. She bent down to stroke his hunched back as he continued to cry out. “Hey Mister, what’s got you all in a-”  

But the beep of the message indicator on the communication screen cut off the rest of her question, and she rose, turning in the direction of the machine. Abe didn’t like the sound that the machine made when there was a message waiting, she knew that. “Sorry, little guy,” she muttered to the cat as she walked over to the wall to stop the sound. He meowed back and she had to laugh at how animated he was. “I know, I know, I’m the worst, leaving you alone with the big bad beep.” He headbutted her calf as she started entering her passcode to play the message, and as soon as he heard the automated voice of the inbox menu, he trotted happily out of the kitchen. Clara shook her head, still chuckling at the cat, his heavy footsteps still audible from the next room. 

Sighing, she pressed the play button, ready to hear some recording pertaining to new market guidelines or offers from developers looking to purchase her land. She leaned casually against the doorframe, finger hovering over the delete button, ready to press it if her assumptions were correct. Who else would it be anyway? The machine beeped, and the message played. 

There was a pause, only a shaky breath coming through the speaker, but already enough to tell her that the message was not a recording. Dropping her hand away from the screen, she looked more closely at the number, the three digit code at the beginning making her forehead crease with confusion. 763? That’s… Double checking the chart that was installed on the screen, she confirmed what she had thought. That’s the Med Center on Central.   

She had no time to process that information though, the caller finally speaking, the young female voice sounding thin and anxious. “H-hello? This...this message is for Clara.” 

Who is that? Her heart pounded at the fear and uncertainty in this girl’s voice- this girl who knew her name and where to reach her. She stood up straight then, but kept her hold on the doorframe, a strange dizziness striking her as the message continued. 

“Clara? I’m,” she took another shuddering breath and cleared her throat, “My name is Cee and I’m… I’m here on Central at the Med Center w-with,” a sharp inhale, a stunted release of air, “With a man named Ezra and-” 

All the air in the room was gone as she heard his name, the walls falling away and the ceiling tumbling to the floor. Ezra. She heard the gasp that fell from her lungs as she tightened her grip on the frame, her knees buckling slightly. Ezra. He’s alive, he’s- She realized then that the message was still playing but the rushing in her ears had drowned it out and she couldn’t hear the rest of the girl’s trembling words. Wait. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision and brought a quivering hand up to the control panel to punch in the code that would restart the message. If she’s calling from the Med Center that means… Her blood ran cold as she stared at the machine intently this time, waiting to hear the rest of it. 

“H-hello? This...this message is for Clara. Clara? I’m- my name is Cee and I’m… I’m here on Central at the Med Center w-with...with a man named Ezra and I- he...he needs your help.” There was another pause and Clara heard a sniff followed by a soft whine before the girl spoke again. “Please, I don’t know… there’s no one else for me to call. He’s...he’s hurt and...and sick and all I have is your contact information and-” Clara’s chest clenched as the girl’s words started coming more rapidly, the adrenaline that was shaking her voice causing the speed at which she spoke to double. “Please, if you don’t help him they’ll just...they’ll put him in the system and…” Clara shivered at the thought of Ezra or anyone she cared about being shoved off into the poorly run social system of healthcare. “Please, Clara, call this number back, please. He… the only thing he’s said in the last twenty four hours has been your name.” 

Tears ran down her cheeks freely then despite not knowing when they started. She knew that they were leaving painted streaks of Thulian dye where they trailed but there was no stopping them. A small sob fought it’s way free even as she tried to silence it to take down the number that the girl, Cee, had given her. Ezra. She could feel his warm breath on the crest of her shoulder, his strong arms flexing around her, her heart absolutely jubilant to know that he was alive. But in the next beat she clenched her eyes closed as the message played again in her mind. He’s hurt and sick. A sudden terrible twisting sensation started up in her stomach then, and she was helpless against the thought that those words conjured- that the cruelty of the universe was about to rear its hideous head again and steal him from her the second she got him back. Another sob, this one more ragged, ripped itself free. Ezra… 

There was no doubt in her mind or in her heart or her soul that she would be calling back. She knew without hesitation that she would do whatever was asked of her in order to provide what she could for the man. But even though she spent years wishing she could take back the last things she had said to him, his reemergence in her life, so shrouded with danger and darkness left her paralyzed. Once she had the number copied, she turned and slid her back down the wall until she plopped onto the ground, the room still spinning behind her closed eyes. Ezra. 

She knew the man she met back when her father hired him, the man she had gotten to know throughout that season. She knew the man that she fell hard and fast in love with, and she knew the man who had come back broken once before. She knew the man she had loved and lost but she had no idea who this man was now. Would there be anything left of the Ezra she’d known? Was there anything left of her that he would recognize? 

She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there, tears silently running down her face in pink streams, her eyes focused on the far wall, but it had been long enough to draw Siggi’s curiosity, Clara coming out of her stupor only when she registered the man kneeling in front of her and snapping his fingers. 

“Clara? Hey, Clara, c’mon look at me, will ya?” There was concern in his voice, and as she blinked back to reality she saw it swirling in his eyes, too, their dark blue depths clearing only when he noticed that she seemed to notice him. “Hey,” she sighed in relief, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You scared me for a minute, thought you overheated there, boss.” Clara tried to respond but could only swallow the lump that formed in lieu of words. “Boss?” Siggi’s brow furrowed again, smudges of Thulian powder drying in the creases there. “Hey, Clara, what h-” 

“It’s Ezra, Sig.” She was finally able to summon up enough vocal strength to respond, and even then her voice came out in a thin whisper, like the girl on the message. “He’s… he’s alive and I-” That was as much as she could get out before her eyes swam and tears clogged up her throat again. It was as much as he needed- Siggi had been there for most of their relationship. Ezra had even contributed quite a bit to his training on the farm the first year he was there, Siggi developing a sort of mentorship with the man for the short while they worked together. And he knew how it had wrecked Clara when he had left five years ago. 

“Oh, shit, Clara…” She felt his hand squeeze the top of her shoulder as he sat next to her before opening his arm for her to lean into him, transitioning from employee to friend- family- in that moment. He let her cry into his shirt, not caring that it was soaking pink stains into the collar. After a few hefty sobs left her empty for the time being, he spoke again. “Listen, I’m gonna go back out with the guys and finish up for the day.” He pulled back and made her look him in the eye as he continued. “You take all the time you need, call whoever you have to call and… if you haveta go anywhere, Clara, you go, hear me?” He nodded confidently and she tearfully nodded back. “Me’an the team’ll take care of whatever we have to.” 

I know you will, Sig. She leaned forward and hugged the young man who reminded her so much of Seth in so many ways, but who was so much himself in just as many. “Thank you,” she managed, knowing that he’d hear everything those two words really meant. He helped her up off the floor then, and she waited until he had refilled the two water thermoses and left, the screen door swinging shut on its hinges behind him. 

The air filtration system hummed and the screen on the wall, though no longer beeping, still flashed with the message that she hadn’t deleted yet. Clara played it one last time before calling back the number that this unknown girl had given her, trying to see if there were any clues she had missed that would tell her what to expect about Ezra’s current state. There were none, just the frightened, desperate way that Cee’s voice made her think of the sparrows that hopped and flitted among the branches of the crater-oak out back. Who are you, Cee? 

Taking one final deep breath, Clara entered the combination of numbers that connected her to the Med Center on Central, and the case worker that had been assigned to Ezra. 

Extensive bodily trauma resulting in field amputation and infection. A shallow chest wound that had also become infected. Damage to his lungs from the volume of toxic spores he had inhaled while on the Green Moon. She felt herself go numb as the woman on the other end of the phone rattled off the list of things that he was battling. He’d been put into a medically induced coma so that they could focus on bringing the fevers down and getting the infections under control, and as long as that happened within the next day, he would be released from Intensive Care. The case worker explained that Ezra had no other contact, no one else to come for him, and that if Clara couldn’t, or chose not to, he would be turned over to the social system… and so would the girl that had come in with him. She was a minor, and not his biological child, and unless Clara wanted to collect her as well, she’d go into foster care in one of the cities there on Central. 

Ezra had only told her some of the stories of his childhood, he and his brother growing up bouncing from home to home, city to city, sometimes even to other planets and once, spending an entire year aboard a freighter without ever setting foot on solid soil. She shivered knowing that no matter who this child was to him, he wouldn’t want her being shoved off on someone else- not when she knew that he hadn’t even told her the worst of his memories. The ones he had shared were bleak enough. 

“No, I’ll… I’ll come. For both of them I’ll…” She cleared her throat to speak more clearly, the woman asking her to repeat herself and confirm what she’d just said. “I’ll come.” She said evenly, somehow. “I’ll… tell me where to be and I...I’ll come.” 

The woman responded positively, letting her know that she would need to be at the local Med Center there on Kamrea late afternoon the following day. If for some reason his condition worsened overnight and he was unfit for transport, they would give her a call in the morning with new information. If everything went well, the medical team would keep Ezra sedated long enough to get him to Kamrea and back to Clara’s home, the case worker ensuring that they would set her up with whatever medications and dressings she would need to continue to care for him. Her heart pounded in her ears as she agreed to it all, the woman finally asking Clara if she had any further questions. 

“The girl?” She heard her own breathless voice ask. “Is… was she hurt at all? Is she sick, too?” 

The case worker quickly answered that while the girl, 14, Cee, had also suffered some minor lung irritation from the toxins on the Green, and was slightly underweight and dehydrated upon arrival at the Med Center, she was otherwise in good health with no major injuries. Clara allowed herself a moment of calm, thankful that the girl, this scared, stranger, was alright. 

“D-do you know how she...how they came to be traveling together?” 

The woman only knew that the girl said her father had been killed on the Green, and that Ezra had protected her and helped her get off of the moon in time to catch the last slingback to the BG-Central freighter. Apparently she was in shock herself and wasn’t willing to say much to anyone, only that she wanted to stay with the unconscious man she arrived with. As there were no missing persons reports out for the girl, and the Med Center had dealt with teens orphaned on the Green before, they didn’t press her for questions, looking only for someone they could pass the problem along to. 

“I’ll be there,” Clara stated again before hanging up. 

Abe came sauntering back into the kitchen just as Clara entered the code that erased the message, the blinking light going dark. His gentle nudge with the top of his fuzzy head against her ankle was accompanied by a soft meow, as though he’d heard the entire conversation and knew what Clara was feeling at that moment. She let her breath out slowly as she stooped down to scoop the cat up, cuddling him close to her chest, careful not to get too much of the pink powder that coated her clothing on his fur. 

“He’s coming home, Abe.” The cat purred at that. “Ezra. He’s coming home.”

.

.

.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags, please feel free to let me know! :) 

Tags: @something-tofightfor​ @alraedesigns​ @pheedraws​ @shoopidly​ 

For the smut prompts... either 42 or 43 for hammertooth? (if you feel like it!)

I finished this a couple weeks ago but totally spaced on posting it, oops. I guess it counts towards Rare Pair Month, but I can't decide on which prompt it fits best. Whatever. Here it is!

Prompts: 42) “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself.” ; 43) “Don’t you want to play with me?”

To Live For You

Magnus had always thought that falling in love was about being willing to die for someone. That’s what it had always been in movies and books, even when he got old enough for the kinds of entertainment that had sex in them too. So he’d always been sure that love wasn’t anything he was interested in, because he couldn’t imagine ever making that sacrifice for anyone.

~

“Maaaagnus. Ams you coming to beds?” Toki is sprawled across the sheets, easily taking up the entire mattress—a double, because he’d sworn up and down that a smaller bed is better for cuddling.

If it weren’t for the younger man’s complete and utter nakedness, Magnus would pretend to complain about there not being any room to join him. This sight never fails to leave him momentarily speechless.

~

Then he had almost died. Almost killed himself, in fact, but not for anyone.

Well. Maybe for himself. That instant when the veil had come off and he’d realized how massively, hugely, collossally he had fucked up had been really fucking harsh, and he hadn’t wanted to face it. Because teaming up with cannibals and murderers? Against actual, literal gods? After being so firm in his conviction that he’d had everything in hand and was totally in the right, he’d just figured there was no coming back.

~

Toki’s hands wander down his washboard abs, teasing. He wets his lips suggestively and then puts on an impressive pout. “Don’ts you wants to plays with me?”

His hands dip lower. Magnus, watching, swallows hard.

~

The thing was, he’d come back anyway—or been dragged back, really, and he’d deserved it for trying to duck out of the hard part.

Dying, it turned out, was easy. It was living that was hard.

~

“Yeah,” Magnus says, finding his voice again. It’s a touch hoarser than it was when he’d last left it. He has no idea what to do with his hands. “Yeah, I’m coming. You starting without me, sweetheart?”

Toki grins in that way he does, like Magnus has made his day just by noticing him. Of course I noticed you, Magnus thinks, have you seen you? It’s far more of a miracle that Toki wants his eyes (well, eye anyway) on him at all.

His gaze catches on the one scar on Toki’s front, the place where his knife had come out the other side. There’s a familiar clench in his gut at the sight—the one that reminds him that he doesn’t deserve this, and the only reason he gets it anyway is purely by the grace of this young god (retired).

It doesn’t send him into a downward spiral quite the way it used to, but the reminder is always there. A cautionary road marker: danger, do not swerve again.

~

And it had been very, very hard. Magnus didn’t like to think about the early days of his recovery. Between being dragged into some mess of apocalyptic prophecy and coming to terms with the horrible things he’d done, he’d been a menace to anyone who had come within snapping distance. With all the excuses stripped away, he’d stumbled through the painful process of really looking at himself and his choices.

~

“Well,” Toki says coyly, recapturing his full attention, “I thoughts if you were going to stays up longer over theres I’d just . . . gets off all by myself. . . .”

Magnus is watching his face now, but knows the exact moment Toki takes himself in hand from the way his breathing changes and eyelashes flutter. The show he’s putting on is having its intended effect; Magnus’ fingers twitch reflexively from muscle memory, and getting out of these jeans is an increasingly appealing idea.

He is not lucky. He has not earned this. But still, he has it, and he’s trying to be worthy.

~

It had taken years, and one world-wide close call with oblivion, barely averted, before Magnus dragged himself in front of Toki to offer amends. He hadn’t expected forgiveness, knowing that he didn’t deserve it—but, as his therapist had told him repeatedly until threatening finally to tattoo it on his arm just so it would finally stick, it wasn’t about deserving anything.

Saying it, apologizing, while looking into the eyes of someone he’d literally stabbed, kidnapped, and held in a basement, had been the final stab in the gut that had really, really driven it home. Everything he’d done laid out before him, laid bare in his own eyes while the ultimate figure of accountability watched him unpack it all, piece by fucking piece. Magnus had done it because he’d earned the pain of it, and afterwards Toki had touched him on the shoulder and said three words that had dragged him back to life.

I forgives you.

~

“You’re such a fucking flirt,” Magnus mutters, grinning. He’s already fumbling with his belt because, as far as he’s concerned, what Toki wants Toki gets. Once it’s undone he gets his pants, underwear, and boots off in two kicks. His shirt follows, a simple matter of shrugging out of it since the front is, as always, already undone.

Compared to Toki, Magnus is scrawny and wrinkled. He feels self-conscious about this sometimes, but Toki always tells him it ams just how bodies are, and he tries to believe him as best he can. The matching knife scar on his own chest (same knife, same hand) doesn’t bear thinking about.

He perches on the edge of the bed near Toki’s hip, birdlike, still unsure of where to put his hands. Such a shame that everywhere isn’t a practical option; Toki would like that.

Once, Toki had told him that’s what being a god had felt like: millions of hands all reaching out in unison to touch, pray, worship him, more intoxicating than all the drugs and alcohol in the world. He doesn’t talk about it often, worried that Magnus might get jealous or something, but when he does there’s this faraway expression on his face like he misses it. Maybe not enough to go back—if he even could, Magnus has no idea—but a good memory nonetheless.

“I'm here now, see?”

~

It wasn’t about what he deserved. Sometimes, what he’d done crept up on him and left him feeling so ashamed at the person he had used to be that he could have died all over again—but he didn’t.

Magnus had never thought he’d be worth the work it would take to piece himself back together until he felt like a person again. He still didn’t.

Toki always told him that he was worth it because he didn’t feel like he was but still tried anyway. For Toki.

~

“I sees you,” Toki sighs, and reaches for Magnus’ hands. He guides one to his half-hard cock, wrapping it around and guiding it to move with his, and the other to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. His breath and lips are hot against Magnus’ skin. “Wants to feels you, toos.”

“Is that so.” Magnus leans over him to steal a quick kiss, then shifts around so he isn’t reaching at a weird angle, and settles with one knee between the other man’s toned, tan legs.

He has, on other occasions, explored every inch of those legs with his hands and mouth. Other parts of him too. All of him. And he will likely do so again, many times, before the next time death comes for him. For now, Magnus follows the guidance of his lover’s hands. He watches as Toki draws his fingers into his mouth like a sucking candy, overwhelmed—first one, then a second, then a third—and sits up obediently when Toki urges him to.

“Wants you,” Toki moans again, biting his lip, urging the pace faster and giving Magnus his fingers back to prepare with.

So he does, eagerly, and before long he’s lining up, teasing against Toki’s weeping head until hands grip his hips tightly but firmly and pull him down like gravity.

Toki’s eyes are shining, starlike. “Loves you, Magnus,” he says breathlessly.

~

For Toki.

~

Magnus wonders if that really is starlight, some sort of cosmic leftover from whatever it was exactly that Dethklok went off to do as gods when they saved the world, or if it’s something else. He’d always assumed that love was about being willing to walk through fire, but maybe—and this is based both on himself and what he knows of Toki’s shitty childhood—it’s the willingness to crawl towards the light.

“I love you too.”

The Coffee Stain On Your Shirt

PETER KAVINSKY X READER 

A/N: This is so fluffy i think i need to puke. I should stop procrastinating by watching videos of Kavinsky saying woah woah woah and acc do my work. Anywayy hope you enjoy :)

You were standing by your locker, books and papers messily arranged as you grabbed the stuff you would need for 1st period. Down the hall, Peter Kavinsky was walking along beside his lacrosse team, laughing and joking about the party from the weekend. You and Peter had been partnered up for a English project at the start of the year and this caused you to form an unlikely friendship. You didn't hang out outside of school but you would consider Peter someone you could wave at in the halls or chat to briefly. This made the fattt (cross out) tiny crush you had on him a pain in the fricking ass. You weren't proper friends so in your mind you had no chance with Peter Kavinsky. Peter, on the other hand, thought you were one of the coolest and nicest people he had ever met and looked forward to seeing your face everyday. Of course you were completely oblivious to this fact because from your point of view Peter Grant Kavinsky was way out of your fricking league. Peter noticed you sorting through your locker, admiring the cute red skirt and white top you had picked out for that day. He grinned as he saw your furrowed eyebrows, concentrating on finding your chemistry textbook. Peter had zoned out from his teammates conversation, his focus trained on you. "Urm ill uh see you guys later." He said absent-mindedly, already making his way over to you. The lacrosse team looked at him confused, shaking their heads until they noticed where he was headed and their puzzled looks were replaced with knowing smirks before they walked round the corner. "Hey Y/L/N." You heard a voice say and looked up to see a mop of curly brown hair, recognising it instantly as Peter Kavinsky. "Oh hey Peter." You said back, wondering why he was leaning on the lockers next to yours. "Wanna walk to chemistry together?" Peter asked, his eyes watching your face with a wide smile. "Oh... yeah sure." You replied, confused why he wanted to walk with you when he had other friends in the class. Peter grinned, making your face heat up a little. "I just got to uh find this textbook and then we can go." You said slowly, huffing with frustration as you couldn't seem to locate it anywhere. Peter nodded, leaning on the worn locker next to yours, enjoying watching your annoyed face which he thought was adorable. He glanced into your locker and noticed a green corner poking out from the middle of the papers and books and he leaned in past you, pulling it out carefully. "There you go." Peter said, handing you the green textbook. "Ah, thanks Kavinsky." You frowned, trying to think how you could miss that. "No worries." He returned as you packed the book into your backpack. You looked up at him with a bright smile after closing your locker and Peter felt his stomach flip. "So how was your weekend?" Peter questioned as you started to walk slowly down the hall, brushing past yawning students. "Alright, my sister broke the couch though." You said, making Peter widen his eyes at you. "Wait what? How?" You chuckled and dodged a teacher carrying a pile of books, pressing yourself into Peter's side accidentally. "Uh sorry." You said before returning the slight distance between you. "Basically she was trying to train Milo (your dog) to army crawl and she was running along the couch and then she jumped off the arm and it cracked." Peter laughed beside you, making your heart flutter at his chuckles. You beamed, too distracted to notice the boy in front of you as you turned the corner. "Oof." You groaned as he collided into you and you felt your top start to spread with wetness. You looked down to see the boy had spilt coffee all over your white shirt, leaving a large brown stain. "Oh jeez dude I'm so sorry." The boy in front of you said. You shook your head, "uh its okay I'll go clean it up." The boy gave you a sorrowful look before walking away, leaving you beside Peter with coffee starting to soak your chest. "I'm gonna go clean myself up Peter, I'll see you in chem." You said, walking in the direction of the toilets. "Woah woah woah, no wait I'll help you." He blurted out, following after you in the corridor. You gratefully smiled at him and walked to the girls toilets, "Uh Kavinsky you might wanna wait outside." Peter smirked placing a hand on the door, "Nah I'll come in I've been in here before." You made a disgusted face at him, "Creep." Peter chuckled and followed you through into the thankfully deserted bathroom, "it's not like I spy on girls in here." You raised your eyebrows at him, "righhttt." Peter shoved you playfully and grinned, "piss off y/l/n." You cheekily smiled at him and walked into one of the toilets, grabbing some loo roll before walking back to the row of sinks Peter was standing beside. You turned the tap on and wet the paper slightly before trying to dab off the coffee stain, managing to draw out some of the brown smudge. You continued to furiously dab the splodge but it wouldnt budge, leaving you with a watery brown stain spread across your chest and stomach. "Great." You said sarcastically, pulling your shirt out slightly as you wiped at it. "Here." Peter said, reaching out to you with another wad of wet tissue, placing a hand on your lower back as he gently tried to sponge up the stain on your stomach. "Tryna cop a feel Kavinsky?" You teased, trying to disguise the rapid beating of your heart as he touched you softly. Peter blushed and you grinned, rubbing at the stain going over your boobs. "What? No no no." He said, releasing his hands from you. "I'm joking Pete." He seemed to relax a little when you said that, his lips tugging into a smile, "You're mean." You beamed and wet the tissue again, "You're the one who was tryna touch my boobs." Peter rolled his eyes, discarding the pile of mangled tissues in the bin, "You're impossible y/l/n." You chuckled and looked back in the mirror, sighing when you looked at the lighter brown stain still visible on the front of your shirt. "Urgh this isnt coming off. I'll have to go to lost property for a new shirt." You said grumpily, the clothes in lost property hadn't been washed in years and mainly consisted of pe shirts from 20 years ago. Lovely. Peter raised his eyebrows at you, obviously questioning your plan for a lost property outfit. You sighed and looked in the mirror again, there was no way you could continue wearing this shirt. "Yeah I know lost property is grim but what other choice do I have?" You said, washing your hands of coffee juice. "You could wear my hoodie." Peter suggested and you scoffed, "No you'll be cold." Peter shook his head at your refusal, his mind racing with thoughts of you in his hoodie and how cute you would look. "Nah I'll be alright, I'd rather you wear this than some smelly shirt y/l/n." Peter replied, already taking his hoodie off. You laugh and watch as he pulls the navy hoodie off his body, shirt lifting up as he did and revealing his toned abs and waist. You feel your face heat up and quickly look away from him. You look back to Peter again as he hands you the shirt, a knowing smirk on his stupidly gorgeous face. "Thanks." You say, feeling the soft fabric of the hoodie. "Urm I'm gonna need to take my shirt off." You announce, looking into Peter's chocolate eyes. At once he flushes and his eyes go a little wide, "Oh yeah uh right." He turns round to face the wall and you quickly peel your sticky shirt off, putting it on the edge of the sink before you pull Peter's hoodie over your bra. "All good." You say and he turns back around, an large grin instantly filling his face. Peter's stomach flips at the sight of you, his sleeves passing your fingers slightly. "Peter this is huge!" You laugh, putting your arms out to show him. He chuckles and shrugs, "You look cute." At once you blush and to hide your burning face you turn to the mirror to try and tuck the front in somehow. That's when you notice the large white lettering on the back. "Peter." You say, looking at him from the mirror. He hums in acknowledgement, looking up at you. "This has your surname on the back." Peter pretends to look round as if he didn't know and then gives you the biggest cheeky grin, "oh yeah." "Dude I cant wear this, people will think it's weird!" You said, worrying about the rumours that would spread round school. Peter picked up your shirt, folding it neatly, "well it's either my comfy hoodie or some sweaty shirt." You huffed and tugged on the sleeves slightly, "Ugh I'll wear this. Thanks Peter." You said and he smiled at you, leaning against the wall now. "Can I have my shirt now?" You asked, seeing that Peter had it tucked in his hand. "I have a plastic bag in my locker we can get it after 2nd period." He replied and you dropped your outstretched hand, chuckling, "so you're gonna carry my shirt round all morning?" Peter grinned and nodded, "yep." You roll your eyes playfully at him and reach for your backpack in the corner. When you sling it on your shoulders and look up, you see peter has his phone out and is taking photos of you. You frown and stick your bottom lip out slightly, reaching for his phone, "Stopppp." Peter chuckles and takes one more photo before tucking his phone back into his pocket. "Come on or we'll be late." He speaks up and the bell rings for class seconds later. You follow him out of the bathroom, walking quickly to chem. You both scoot into the class just in time, the teacher arriving mere seconds later. Sitting down in your seat, you glance to Lara Jean beside you. "What?" You ask, confused why she had her eyebrows raised at you and a smirk on her lips. "Whos hoodie is that y/n, you smell like man." She replies, leaning in to smell you again. "Peter Kavinsky's." You whisper back, taking out your notebook and pencil case. "Wait what?!" Lara Jean says loudly, making a few people turn to look at her. "Sshhh, i know i know," you say in reply to her shocked face, "some guy spilt coffee on my shirt this morning and Peter gave me his hoodie so I didn't have to wear a lost property shirt." Lara Jean looked at you sceptically, not convinced of Peter's motive to help you at all. She couldn't count the number of times Peter had come up to her or texted her asking if you were going to a party or the game or if you fancied anyone. "Sureeee." LJ replied, "I think he just fancies you." You scoffed and chuckled, "no he doesn't Lara Jean, he was just being kind." She gave you a look which said 'really?' before turning back to her work. A few seconds later when you thought you had finally escaped her teasing words she spoke up as she absent mindedly copied a table from the textbook, "yeah that's why he hasn't stopped looking at you since you came in together." At once, you whipped your head around to see Peter looking at you directly, his pen tucked behind his ear and chin resting on his hand. You noticed your white shirt neatly placed on the corner of his lab desk. He grinned at you which made you shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. Peter sighed as he watched you turn back, loving the way his surname looked across your back, wishing he could see you in his hoodies everyday. "That doesn't mean anything." You whispered, not believing Lara Jean's words at all. The rest of the day passed by ever so slowly and you were exhausted by the time you and Lara Jean reached her car. You were having movie night with her and Kitty this evening so she was driving you three home. "Gen's making evil eyes at me across the parking lot." You speak up, leaning on the side of LJ's car while you waited for Kitty. Lara Jean turned round to see Gen standing by the school entrance with some of her friends, watching you with a large scowl on her face. She burst out laughing, turning to her car and unlocking it when she noticed Kitty coming across the parking lot, "Yeah cos she's jealous that Kavinsky has the fattest crush on you." You rolled your eyes at her comment, "Peter doesn't like me Lara Jean." "Yes he does." You hear a voice say and turn back around to see Kitty beaming widely at you, "Nice hoodie you have there y/n, i really like the lettering on the back." You narrow your eyes at her and she grins wider, cheekily scooting inside the backseats before you could attack her. You sighed and walked round to the passenger side, buckling in and putting your bag on the floor by your feet. "Oh crap." You say as LJ pulls onto the main road, "I forgot to give him the hoodie back and he still has my shirt." Kitty bursts out laughing, making you whip round to her, scowling immensely. "Just text him saying you'll give it back to him tomorrow and i'm sure he'll do the same." LJ said, glancing at you with a smirk on her face in the front mirror. You nod and pull your phone out, scrolling down to Peter's contact and texting him, 'sorry kavinsky, is it okay if i give you back your hoodie tomorrow once ive washed it?' A few minutes later, you get a reply, 'yup, same for your shirt.' A second later another text comes through, 'see you tomorrow y/l/n' with a smiley face. You grinned to yourself and listen to the music playing out the car's radio. The following morning, you walk nervously to find Peter, his hoodie folded neatly in your hand after it got washed last night. You spot him standing with Greg by his locker, his hair messy from early morning practice. You smile fondly and walk over to the pair, smoothing out your striped pants. "Oh hey y/n!" Greg says, leaning alongisde Peter's locker. "Morning Greg, sorry I just came to give Peter his hoodie back." Peter turns to you, a wide smile on his face. "Thanks for letting me borrow it yesterday Kavinsky." You say, handing him the soft hoodie back somewhat reluctantly. "No worries, here's your shirt back, my mum managed to get the coffee stain out." You grin at him and your face heats up slightly from Peter's warm gaze. "Oh thanks!" You reply, taking your now clean shirt back. "You know I think you look better in my hoodies." Peter says, tucking his hoodie into his locker and cheekily grinning at you, referencing to the white sweater you are wearing. "Shove off Kavinsky, you're lucky your cute." You retort back, heart hammering and completely oblivious to Greg's amused face watching the both of you gaze longingly at each other. You spot Lara Jean and Chris in the hall ahead so turn to walk away, smiling at Peter and Greg, "See you later Kavinsky." Peter gives you a nod and a cheeky smirk, watching as you walk away. "Dude you're so whipped." Greg states, looking at Peter's love filled face. "Yeh i know." Peter replies, leaning back against his locker, his eyes trained on you.

The promise pt. 1

pairing: Namjoon x reader, ft. Yoongi

warning: disturbing, violence, yandere themes, a bit of fluff, possessiveness, smut (in the future) and swearing

genre: fantasy, modern

word count: 1.7k +

a/n: This is the new series I started writing few days ago. There are going to be short chapters because I am kinda busy with the university, but do not worry. I will post on time. Stay tuned and enjooooy. ♥

He wanted to keep his promise even if it meant to get blood on his hands. He would do anything for her. But was that really what she wanted?

Y/N knew that she would sacrifice her own life for Namjoon. After all, he was her saviour. Without him, she would not be alive. Her mother died when she was 8 years old. The plague had been circling around picking its next victim at that time and God was not merciful. She was all Y/N had. Her so-called father would not give a damn about her. He was drunk most of the time and did not care about his family. He was looking for love in another woman’s bed which caused Y/N to hate him. She did not even go on his funeral. After what happened to her mother, she spent more and more time with Namjoon’s family. At first, she tried to run away from the small village they lived in, wanting to find another place filled with love and with people who cared, but soon she got rid of the thoughts after Namjoon held her hand and told her to stay. He promised to Y/N that he would make her happy. Back then, he was only 9 years old, but his words were so mature, so trustworthy that she decided to believe in him and his promise. That night she went hand-in-hand with Namjoon to the mansion. To the place, he called home. There, she always felt welcome. Namjoon’s family was well-off but never changed their attitude towards Y/N and she was grateful for that. Namjoon was with Y/N all the time. He loved spending time with her and did not care about others. Why would he, when he had all he ever needed right there. Since childhood, he knew he would be stuck with her forever. He didn’t mind though. She was there to cover for him when he wanted to go to the library, but his mother forbade him to do so. Or that time, when he sneaked out of his room to go explore the dark forest but did not tell Y/N. She was confused but when Namjoon’s mother asked where he was, Y/N simply answered that he went to study somewhere quiet. That night when Namjoon took Y/N to his house changed her life, but to him, everything went south the day when he visited that place.

He was inquisitive. Namjoon always wanted to know everything and anything he might use later, even if it meant to read books all night. Why night? Because he did not want to lose his precious time with Y/N during the day. That was the reason why he sneaked out at night most of the time… and that specific time was no exception. It was a cold night in December when he took his jacket and the shawl to keep him warm as he was walking towards the dark forest his parent’s told him to never step into. Did he want to rebel? No. He was simply curious to find the reasons why he was never let even close to the entrance. His first steps were resolute, but after hearing owl’s hoot in the distance, he wasn’t sure whether he made the right decision. He was simply curious and that was why he came so far. Now he could go back and proclaim that he reached the forbidden. He stood still contemplating whether he should turn around or walk a bit further just in case he might find the reason why his parents told him to not go there. Should I go and bring Y/N, so we could explore this together? He thought as he was swinging from side to side deciding what to do. But if I chicken out now and bring her later to find nothing, she would make fun of me! With that, he turned to face the dark forest and walked in further. It was not too long before he reached a small clearing with some boulders in the middle. Namjoon looked around realising there was nothing else to look at and started heading towards the circled giants. When he reached the first one, his hand went up to feel the material. That is weird. He thought as he felt smooth stone under his fingers and passed the boulder to go further into the monument. He realised the second he touched the first stone, that it wasn’t an ordinary place. He knew they had to symbolize something. He just knew it. In between the boulders, there was lower, almost marble-like-stone resembling table. Namjoon’s eyes were stuck on the liquid dripping down from it. Red. He was hoping that what he was looking at wasn’t blood. When the iron smell hit his nose, he was sure he should have turned around when he had the chance. Ready to leave the place, he wanted to run but couldn’t. A strong force pulled him in, close to the table which was starting to lit up. Namjoon who could not move wasn’t even able to cover his eyes from the strong light that was coming from the table. He was scared. No. He was terrified. Namjoon did not know what to do, his head was spinning and he felt like he would lose his consciousness right there until it stopped. The light after few seconds disappeared, leaving a huge book to soak in the red liquid. Once the light was gone, the feeling of helplessness left too. Namjoon looked around before walking closer to the table and took the heavy book into his hands. It was late, so he could not open it to check what was inside, therefore he pulled the book into his embrace and started running away from the boulders, from the clearing, from the terrifying place he visited that night.

A few years later…

„Joon! Where are you?“ Y/N whispered as she slowly opened the heavy door to Namjoon’s room. It was dark. Actually, his room was dark for the past few years. She did not understand how could someone change overnight. Namjoon used to be a bright child who would make her smile just by poking his cheeks, fingers pressed to the small dimples while winking. He would help anyone in need. His parents adored him, just the same way he adored them. Namjoon would obey their every wish, not asking for a reason why he should do that. He was kind but a curious child. He loved bright colours, he would never use curtains because he used to be scared of the darkness. But now? After that night, his personality changed. Not towards Y/N, but to anyone else. Whenever somebody needed something, they would have to go to Y/N first and ask her to persuade Namjoon into helping them. He changed after that night when Y/N lied to Namjoon’s mother saying that he went somewhere to study, but in reality, had no idea what was going on. Y/N asked him many times what happened and why he was suddenly so cold towards the others, but whenever he could, Namjoon tried to change the topic by simply saying later or next time. It has been like that for the past 3 years since he stopped telling Y/N everything. She was confused and this time determined to get to know the reason why her best friend changed so much. 

She walked into his room knowing the placement of the furniture even in the darkness. She moved towards the part of the room, where she presumed would be the window and when she reached it, her hands automatically grasped maroon coloured silk curtain. With a swift pull, she let the afternoon light enter the room. She looked at the bed and sleeping man in it. He was beautiful, too pale, but beautiful. “Why are you still in bed, Joon?” she giggled as she hopped towards the bed and then jumped on it. “I am just relaxing,” Namjoon replied with a husky voice and pulled her closer by the wrist. Y/N was used to this behaviour. “Let’s cuddle for a bit,“ She would lie if she said she did not like it and it didn’t make her stomach do flips, but on the outside, she showed no other emotions than a simple smile with a soft nod. She laid close to him which gave him the sign to pull her to his embrace. As it should be. Namjoon wished that moment would never end, but at the same time, he was looking forward to the future. Their future filled with happiness and moments like this. Y/N started stroking his collar bone with her finger, realising how soft it actually was. Namjoon smiled at the small action and proceeded to press a gentle kiss on the top of her head as she slid her finger lower to a key-like pendant necklace, then tracing continued to his chest and later aiming to go to slightly showing abs. She knew he liked it. He loved her touch, but whenever her curious finger tried to go a bit lower, he would hold her hand without saying anything. To Y/N, it was frustrating. No matter how many times she tried, he would always stop her. “Joon?” Y/N whispered and lifted her head looking into Namjoon’s eyes. He simply smiled and started tenderly taping her nose, as if he was playing with it, but halted his action once he heard the sentence, he wasn’t ready for. “I think it is the time to tell me,” her eyes were holding so much emotion. She was desperate to know why he changed, but he was not ready. He was not ready to let her lose her innocence. Not when she looked at him like that. Like he was her galaxy. He wasn’t ready to tell her what he did. She would be disappointed. She would be terrified. She would not like it and she definitely would not like him. “No princess, I don’t think so. You are too young for that,” he pushed her away gently, as he was trying to sit up, contemplating whether he should run away just as he should have run away that night.

“You know, that I am only one year younger than you, right? Also, let me remind you, that I am officially an adult already!”

Even though Namjoon was not looking at her, he knew Y/N had a pout on her lips. There was nothing he didn’t know about her, yet there was something she did not know about him. He knew she was old enough to know about many things, but he was looking for an excuse not to tell her what he did and what he has been doing for a past few years. Blood that was back then simply dripping from the stone table, was now his everyday torment. Not because he saw the vision of that night everywhere he looked, but because he did not stop thinking about what it belonged to. Just as he was naively thinking at first that red liquid he saw that night was not blood, for past few years he kept on naively wondering to what the blood belonged to. But oh boy, was he wrong. He shouldn’t have thought about what, but about who it belonged to.

Chapter 2

a/n: I hope you enjoyed the first part of the new series The promise. If you are confused about what is going on, then get ready for hell of a ride. It will be entangling quite a bit, before everything makes sense. If you want to know when the next chapter will come out, please check out the schedule.

STATISTICS.

name: aberforth dumbledore  birth date (age): UTP (38)  faceclaim: sebastian stan  gender identity (pronouns): cis male ( he/him )  blood status: half-blood  occupation: owner of the hog’s head

AESTHETICS & MOTIVATIONS.

small things add up, don’t they? you’ve never been the type to think you could do something big, never had the inclination to try too hard in school or run for some kind of office. london can either burn or save its own damn self, as far as you’re concerned. none of it will bring your sister back, and it’s not going to stop anyone lavishing praise on your undeserving brother. but you’re there in your pub every day, pouring drinks and listening. you look after your goats, and you tend to your regulars, and it makes you feel better to help people get to where they need to be. you always were a pretty okay brother for the most part, and a fairly decent guy, so maybe eventually it’ll all be enough to wash the blood from your hands. life’s all about balance, right?

BIO.

Aberforth doesn’t like to think about the past, but can you really blame him? Thinking about the past just means thinking about everything that used to be. As in, isn’t anymore. Like how he used to have a family – sure it wasn’t the best family ... and their dad was a jerk (to say the VERY least) but his mother was kind and his sister was gentle, and referring to them all in the past tense makes him ache in a way he mostly tries to avoid now. It’s been so long, you know? So many years have passed, decades, really, since everything went to shit; since his brother tended to his “guardian” duties by refusing to let Abe drop out, but Abe only wanted to drop out anyways because his brother picked his fucking boyfriend over their sister – the sister who needed them, by the way, and needed full time care – and then that same boyfriend and Abe went to blows about it. And that story? It’s a legend now, but Abe’s already been erased from it, just like he’s been erased from everything else. 

Nobody cares that Aberforth was a Hufflepuff, or that he played on the house team. Nobody cares that he duelled not only Gellert Grindelwald, but also Albus Dumbledore – and at the same time, no less, and lived not just to tell the tale, no, he lived to break Albus’ nose at their sister’s funeral – back in Godric’s Hollow all those years ago, no sir. Why, you ask? Because nobody cares about Aberforth Dumbledore. Even when you’re the only two left of your name in the entire world ..... there’s still only one Dumbledore, and it isn’t Aberforth.

Abe, though, he’s a good guy. That’s what he is, and in the end, that’s what matters, isn’t it? Actually being a good person, and not just letting people think you are. He’s got his pub, he’s got Ariana’s his goats, he’s got his closest relation and worst (free) enemy within spitting distance, and life is balanced. But that’s not what you want to know, is it? No, now that you’re over the shock of learning Dumbledore has a brother, you want to know where he falls into any of this, don’t you? Well, I’ll tell you. Abe’s owned the Hogs Head Inn – that grubby pub of his he loves so much – since before Albus started teaching, and he was around when someone didn’t get the job they wanted. In fact, you could even say he was a man, pouring drinks, ready to listen to one more teenager whine about how Albus Dumbledore was ruining their life (If only these kids knew what a life-ruiner he really was) and commiserate with them.

But Tom had been coming in for a while there even before he graduated, and then .... every once in a while after he had. The weird part about it, though, was that ..... the Hogs Head was not Tom Riddle’s kind of place. Not once, not ever, did he look comfortable there. No matter what you thought about the guy, call him sketchy, call him suave, Abe didn’t care either way, he simply knew; that kid had never belonged anywhere ever in his life. Abe certainly wasn’t going out of his way to make him feel welcome at the pub, but that never stopped Tom coming back; he always returned, ready to people watch, and ask random strangers whom he had no business speaking to random (and often intrusive) questions he had no business asking, and then still, somehow, left every single encounter he entered confused at where he’d gone wrong. Abe thought he’d finally seen the last of him, but of course, here he is, back again, and with a stupid new name.  Some people never could take a hint.

CONNECTIONS.

albus dumbledore (NPC). yeah, he’s your brother, alright, no denying that, though you’ve certainly tried on a number of occasions. funny, though, that in the end, you still didn’t end up straying too far, did you? but you always were the brother with a fully functioning heart, and you haven’t changed. you’re still the guy that people know they can rely on, and he’s still .... albus.

mary-jane warren. it really was a shame what happened to myrtle, and a bigger shame how poorly some people handled all of it, but you’re glad that she still pops in to visit, and she sure makes you proud.  you’re always going to have that one painful thing in common, but you’re just happy you can be there for her.

maria black. you never did much care for all the fuss of the upper class, and it’s not the most popular sentiment in the world to say she’s the best thing to happen to the blacks, but you’re pretty sure she is. maybe she’s just the best thing to happen to Alphard, but it doesn’t matter. what matters is that she thinks your brother sucks.

fyodor dolohov. people don’t usually get arrested in your establishment, it’s one of the rules, and one most seem to respect – aurors included – but occasionally, it happens. and if it does, you know a guy. he might be the only guy in your pub nearly as often as you are, but you aren’t complaining; you like the company, and more specifically, his.

ABERFORTH DUMBLEDORE IS PLAYED BY SUMMER.

𝓐h okay sorry again for the delay, my last two brain cells don’t work apparently but I really hope you guys don’t hate me too much after this one 😬

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h for editing ❤️

CHAPTER EIGHT: HURTS WHEN I’M LEAVING YOU (3.7K)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

🥥MASTERLIST 🌃INSPO TAG 🌻ASK TAG 💃PLAYLIST 🛌

Harry placed two silver-plated keys, bound together by a thin piece of faux leather tied in a secure knot, on her thigh while joining her on his couch. She had just finished tying up her shoes when he reappeared in the living room.

She stared at the keys carefully before picking them up and looking at him quizzically until he gave her an answer.

“I thought it a bit weird if you stopped sleeping at your coworker’s place the same time I was out of town.”

She glanced at the keys again in her hand. He wanted her to come over while he was gone. To sleep in his bed without him. To simply be in his house when he wasn’t, knowing full well how his last relationship had gone and still he trusted her with something like that.

He was quieter the next time he spoke. “And if you want to come over to look at the lights while I’m away.”

He wanted to tell her it was overdue, that he’d wanted to give her keys their first consistent week together because it would have been easier. But he had been too scared of how that might come across because it was a huge step for him, letting someone in, and he was worried she might think he deserved what happened to him in the past if he was truly that reckless. But now, there was no fear at all. He trusted her with a huge portion of his life, if not all of it.

“Why are there two?” She finally asked.

He glanced at them in her palm and then back at her. “There’s two locks on the door. The smaller one,” he picked up the one he was talking about, “opens the lock on top. And this one,” he set the small key down and pointed at the next, “the main lock.”

He scooted closer to her at some point when explaining the keys and she only knew it because of how her heart raced, which was the weirdest thing for her heart to be having a meltdown over, since Harry being close was nothing new to her at this point. But here she was, hyper fixated over the way his knee touched hers and how his fingertips had brushed against her palm and how close his voice was to her ear, she could suddenly pick out the intricate details of his broken accent. Like how some words he pronounced were as British as it got, and others were a little more California. She wondered if, when he spent more time home, his accent bounced back to how it was supposed to sound.

“Should also mention there’s a security system,” he pointed his gaze to a pin-pad on the wall near the front door she had always known about, having seen him punch numbers into it countless times before they went upstairs, but never thought about in too much depth. “I’ll leave you the code. You have to put it in when you get here and before you go to bed.”

There it was. The confirmation that she was fully allowed to sleep here if she wanted to. She had assumed that’s what he meant when he gave her the keys, but it settled her worries knowing she had verbal permission to do so.

And with everything she needed to know about his home while he was away, and their sarcastic little goodbyes to one another out of the way, the only thing he had left to do was pack a suitcase and meet his team at the airport.

Amongst searching his drawers for a particular pair of jeans he wanted, however, he came across her drawer. The one that kept filling up with her clothes, whether it was various pieces from her work outfits or her spare pajamas, it had become her little space in his closet. And once his eyes landed on one of her plain heather grey shirts, there was no stopping him from smuggling it into his suitcase. Just for good measure.

Just so that when he was in his lonely New York hotel room, the nights went a little easier knowing he had a piece of her with him. It wasn’t nearly enough, however, when he still lost vital

hours of sleep and showed up to his six a.m. meetings looking and acting hungover even though he hadn’t had a stitch of alcohol.

“It’s the jetlag,” he had excused when Jeff had asked about the bags under his eyes and the third cup of coffee. He knew very well he was running on about four collective hours of sleep since Tuesday and it was getting a bit ridiculous at this point.

Thursday night was when things changed, or at least he hoped they would. Sick of going back to his room alone before eight o’clock, he finally agreed to get drinks instead. He finally had some amount of human interaction outside of work. Outside of discussions about album sales and what his sophomore era might look like.

He was done with all of it by the time he got down a burning shot of tequila that Jeff had ordered for their entire group.

“You look tired, man,” Dan planted his arm around Harry’s shoulders, practically shaking him back to life. He was a new producer they’d been working with on the album and right now Harry preferred the sting of the alcohol over the way Dan squeezed his shoulders so recklessly. It made him long for the way Y/N touched him, always careful and delicate.

“He doesn’t sleep,” Jeff offered, recalling the three a.m. text messages he’d received from Harry on Wednesday to prove his point. Harry remained quiet with a permanent grimace on his face, seeking out more alcohol.

“You need to get laid!” Dan exclaimed, shaking his poor shoulders again, and just about doing Harry’s head in. As much as he tried to hide it, a look of pure disgust rolled onto Harry’s face because for the first time in... however long, he didn’t want sex. Didn’t even want to think about it. He just wanted Y/N. That was it. If it wasn’t her in his bed, he wanted nothing to do with it.

And he realized at that point that Will had been right. He was helplessly in love with someone who might not ever love him back.

He took another shot and found his attention being pulled away from his immediate table to a flash of hair swooping halfway across the club from where they sat. It was definitely his mind, and the alcohol swimming around in it, doing tricks on him, but he could have easily mistaken her for Y/N. It was the hair, he thought. It was the exact same, at least under the piss poor lighting, but to the point where he smelled coconut in his nostrils even though there was nothing physical around him that was remotely close to smelling like her. His nose was so used to her, and missed her so much, it was making shit up out of thin air.

And with a few more shots and a little bit of flirting later, he wasn’t so alone when he stepped through the door of his hotel room Thursday night.

He wasn’t alone when he got to his bedroom, when the girl’s hands were already undressing him and he was comparing it to when Y/N had unbuttoned his shirt that one drunken night. She’d been so soft and gentle, though. So very unlike how it was now. It was going too fast for him, especially when she accidentally scratched her nails against his abs and kissed him so impatiently, he wasn’t even sure what he was doing anymore.

Nevertheless, he was drunk and she looked like Y/N if he squinted hard enough, so he let her undress him all the way to the bed where she crawled on top of him and undid his jeans. He had no clue what her name was and although he felt horrible about it, he was positive it was better that way. Particularly when she got her hands on him and he saw stars behind his eyelids. He tilted his head back towards the wall behind them with a gasp when it was her mouth next. Her name was extremely unimportant when he pretended it was Y/N every time the girl traced her fingers across the tattoos on his hips.

Even when she was on top of him, giving him all the warmth he’d been craving, he still pretended she was someone else when she kissed him again, when she ran her hands through his hair, and when he dug his fingers into her hips.

He closed his eyes through all of it and imagined being with Y/N like that. 

He was so fucking fucked.

The ding of his phone as it vibrated on the bedside table woke him hours later. It was still dark outside, that much he knew. He also knew that whatever sloppy sex he’d had was not worth it when the girl had turned the other way and fell asleep with her back facing him, several inches apart. He could have gone without the sex, but holding on to someone while he slept? That was harder to go without.

Shaking his head clear of his stupid, drunken mistakes, he pressed the button on the side of his phone, lighting the entire room with his screen before he lowered the brightness and read the text message waiting for him.

He squinted at it at first, realizing it wasn’t a message, but rather a picture. Either way, he swiped it open quickly because the least he knew was that it was from Y/N.

Tapping the picture open, he quickly saw that it was of her when he zoomed in on what she hadn’t cropped out of her face. It was her, standing in front of the mirror in his closet dressed in her typical casual attire apart from one thing.

She was wearing his bright pink suit jacket he’d worn on the Today Show a couple years ago.

He couldn’t help but smile, even wider the longer he looked at it. When he pulled the covers off of himself and sat up on the edge of the bed, he even laughed at it, as quietly as he could manage, while he attempted to tame his hair by pulling his clammy fingers through it.

While typing his message, he tried not to think about her rummaging through his closet. Her light touch spreading across the various colors and textures of his clothes. He tried not to acknowledge the overwhelming fluttering in his chest.

(Harry, 3:13 am, NY time)

Looks better on you.

He waited patiently while the three little dots from her side of the conversation disappeared and a new bubble from her popped up in its place.

(Y/N, 3:13 am, NY time)

I know.

He couldn’t help his laughter then, glancing behind him only when he heard the other girl shuffle under the hotel sheets, realizing for the first time in the past few minutes that she was still there.

Instead, he gathered himself and went out into the living room, snagging a shirt from his drawer to slip on and turning the heater up a few notches on his way out.

(Harry, 3:24 am, NY time)

Finally missed me then?

His next text was sent once he was settled on the couch without a single light on. He had the moon and his phone screen though, and that was enough.

(Y/N, 3:25 am, NY time)

I missed the heated floors in your bathroom actually.

He laughed again at her response, not having been this happy his entire trip. Not even remembering the last time he genuinely smiled since he’d been with her on Tuesday morning. It was very much needed. Even if it was past three a.m. in his timezone.

While he thought about what to say next, he slipped his shirt on over his head for some relief from the chilly room. What he didn’t expect, however, was to smell her shampoo again. And then her perfume. He smelled all of her like she was there in the room next to him. And it wasn’t his nose being a little bitch again.

Looking down at himself, he realized he’d grabbed her shirt. The light grey, oversized one. It had fit a little baggier than all the ones he had packed, but he didn’t make much of it until his senses were filled with everything he loved about her.

He was really, really fucked.

His phone dinged twice more.

(Y/N, 3:27 am, NY time)

Sorry I didn’t realize how late it was there. 

Goodnight harry :)

She set her phone down on the top of one of his shelves. If his closet was anything, it was well-organized. After slipping out of Harry’s pink jacket, she neatly replaced it back onto the rack with his other nice coats. She didn’t want to know how much money she’d just squeezed herself into, but Harry didn’t seem to mind.

And she hoped he wouldn’t mind her wandering hands as she slipped them into a drawer she knew he kept his shirts in. She’d meant to go in his closet, secure her own pajamas, and be out. But she saw the bright pink and got distracted. And now she was even more distracted while she pulled out a black t-shirt of his and slipped into it instead. He would never know and she would get a little bit of relief.

Once she had it on though, and she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt horrible about it. Here she was snooping about his wardrobe like she wasn’t supposed to be doing. He didn’t give her his spare keys so she could try his clothes on while he was away. Quickly, she pulled his shirt off and folded it neatly back into its spot.

She flipped off the light in his closet after getting what she needed from her designated drawer and retreated to his bed. It didn’t look the same as when she’d left it. He’d cleaned it up between then and now, making it neat for her again just in case she ended up here at some point. She didn’t expect to actually follow through, but her own sleepless nights got the best of her and by Thursday, she broke down and made the drive up to his house. She punched in the security code to turn the alarm off while she ate her takeout she’d picked up after work in his kitchen. Then she cleaned a little bit for him, putting away the dishes drying out on the counter and organizing his collection of cookbooks that were slowly falling over.

And now she was here, standing in the middle of his room while the whole of L.A. watched her sneak back into his closet to retrieve his black t-shirt once again.

With it secured, she removed her bra from underneath and then her jeans. And the cool air on her bare legs felt too good to cover herself in her plaid pajama bottoms. So, she went without them. She had never lived alone before, but she imagined this was what it felt like. Like she was

free. She could go around in a shirt with no pants on and not worry about anything. And it’s not like he would ever have to know the shirt she was walking around in was his.

She became obsessed with the way his shirt looked on her in the bathroom mirror as she finished her nightly routines. It was just a normal fucking crewneck but the fact that it had previously hugged his body at some point and smelled just fucking like him, it made her feel all sorts of ways. She especially felt not as alone anymore while she crawled into his bed by herself. She sat upright against his pillows for a while, on top of the blanket with her legs spread straight out in front of her and her ankles crossed over each other, flipping through apps on her phone until she had enough and then stared out at his all-too-familiar view.

She missed it almost as much as she missed him. She missed the feeling of him looking at her while she looked at the city. She missed his touch that pulled her back. She missed talking to him like she’d never missed talking to anyone else before.

She missed the way he sometimes glanced at her lips. The way he had giggled when she’d practically taken his shirt off of him in her bedroom and how soft his skin had been that made her feel less guilty about the whole thing. The way his muscles pulled tight across his back. The way his arms stretched over her body, flexing when he hugged her closer.

The way she was currently lost in her dreams about him. And his back and his shoulders and the beads of sweat that might exist on his silky skin if he were to...

She shook her head clear of that image. Because frankly, she really needed to stop thinking about Harry like that. It would never happen, and she knew that. But in her head, it made sense. In her head, he liked her back. He liked her enough to more than just sleep with her. He liked her enough in her head to be on top of her, filling her up while the entire city watched.

And then it just happened. Not that she didn’t feel bad about having her hands down the front of her panties in his shirt and in his bed at just the mere thought of him, but she couldn’t quite help it. She wished he was touching her instead, something she never thought about anyone else in real life before. And with her eyes closed, teetering her head further back into his pillows, enough that she got stronger whiffs of his scent, it was so easy to imagine him doing so.

She saw his hands behind her eyelids, gentle but eager to touch her, and she heard his voice close to her ear, his broken accent telling her it was okay to let go. Her mind had completely left reality, lost to the clouds even though her body remained in Harry’s bed. Her head in the clouds was a better place to be, however. Harry was there and he liked her the way she wanted him to.

She felt it in her chest before her mind even fully comprehended what Will was saying. It was a kind of pain she didn’t let herself feel often but when she did, it was the worst kind of hurt she ever faced.

Her morning had been the best she had all week, mostly due to the events of the previous night. Then there was the text from work telling her not to come in until eleven because of a cancelled meeting that only made the outlook for her day that much brighter. She cleaned up around Harry’s house some more, throwing his clothes into the laundry, including the shirt she’d slept in, while she showered, almost succumbing to her fucking thoughts all over again, but witholding by some grace of god.

She drove home to eat before going to work, craving a bowl of her usual Lucky Charms that not a single drive through breakfast could suffice.

But, when she was at the table surrounded by her roommates again, it had all gone to shit. She wished she had just gotten that fucking McMuffin and driven her ass to work instead. But no. She had to sit and listen while Will gave them all the daily report on Harry’s personal life. The part of him Y/N thought she knew quite well, but apparently she couldn��t have been more wrong.

Will showed off photos of a girl in Harry’s car taken earlier this morning in New York and Y/N suddenly lost her entire appetite.

“Do you know who she is, though?” Violet asked, having taken Will’s phone from him to scroll through all the candid photos and zoom in to try and figure it out.

“No, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s the girl he told me about.” Will explained, causing Y/N’s eyebrows to furrow. Harry had talked to Will about a girl that he liked?

Why hadn’t he mentioned her to Y/N? Not even just last night when they were texting? Her mind started spiraling from there. She went as far as thinking that Harry might feel bad for her, that he didn’t know how to break off their situation and he’d just been stringing her along. All while he had someone he really wanted.

Or maybe he hadn’t been stringing her along at all, maybe she was just imagining something was there when it clearly wasn’t.

She shut it all off quickly before she found herself getting mad at Harry. “He told you about someone?” Violet asked, far too invested in Harry’s love life.

“Well, not much.” Will answered vaguely, “He was writing songs about her but he wouldn’t say who she was.”

“Found it!” Violet exclaimed, sharing the screen with Will again, “It says her name is Jessica,” Violet added fuel to the fire burning behind Y/N’s eyelids.

She hated that the first thing she thought of was his journal and the way he hid it away from her that first night she’d been at his place. She stared, empty, at her half-eaten bowl of cereal until she completely lost her appetite. Part of her knew her roommates were jumping the gun. Harry could be seen with a girl and not have any kind of romantic connection. But it didn’t explain his songs. He was writing them about someone.

She felt like an idiot. Like a stupid, goddamned idiot. And worse than that, she felt the same way she did all those years ago in high school and she hated mixing Harry in with any of those feelings. But he made her feel stupid. Like she had any bit of a chance with him when he was clearly interested in someone else. She’d trusted him with so much, especially the last night she’d spent with him, and now she was doubting if he even cared at all this entire time or if he just didn’t know how to tell her he was done with her.

Taglist: @afterstylesmadeit​ @cxnyon-moon-deactivated20200417​ @and-im-not-okay-with-it @chrryblsms​ @whydontharry​ @harryinsweatersandbandanas​ @idkthisisjustforfanfic​ @teddysoldbird​ @shawnsblue​ @thurhomish​ @theasstour​ @hufflepuff-always-and-forever​ @staceystoleyourheart​ @granolagrannie​ @defineharry​ @iambabyharry​ @1142590m​ @ashtondene​ @smokeinherperfume​ @cherryyharryy​ @mellamolayla​ @chrryblsms​ @cassiopeiaskies​ @sunflowerjens​ @detroitkiwis​ @brwnskin-bunnyteeth​ @cock-a-doodely-doo        @strawberrycaramelmocha @meetmeinfleetwood​ @harriesgolden​ @rachkon​ @caritocp​ @sspidermanss​ @forestliz​ @grandfunnyemopainter​ @metalmerida  @httpsmoony​ @iconicharry​ @amberlovestombrady @ainatirb-j  if you’d like to be added, go here :)

Repeat After Me Part 2

Part 1 

You guys have no idea how much it meant to me that part 1 was so well received. Thank you from the bottom of my little starker heart! 

Tags: nff, age difference, former teacher/student, mention of daddy kink, mention of choking

Word count: 3.1k

Read below the cut

Peter wakes up five minutes before his alarm, like he always does.  He absolutely hates the shrill screech of it.  His bed creaks and groans as he sits up and swings his legs over the side.  Suddenly, the springs that had previously been holding him up collapse under him, making him yelp in surprise.  Peter made a mental note that maybe it was time for a new bed, he’d been holding on to the rickety twin mattress he had all his childhood since it was the only thing he had left from May’s.

He usually went into the lab on Saturdays, even though he was supposed to be off during the weekend.  It’s not like he has plans or anything, but he guesses he could shift his schedule around a little to go mattress shopping.

His arm darts out like clockwork and taps his screen to turn the alarm off before his phone could utter the first mind melting ring. Peter runs a hand through his hair to brush some stray curls out of his face and stretches before getting out of bed to do his morning routine.

It’s not until Peter sits down at his two-seater dining table with a bowl of captain crunch berries, two pieces of toast, and a cup of earl gray tea, does he finally check his phone.  

The spoon is barely out of his mouth when he sees the notifications.  Eyes wide, he chokes on the cereal trying to force its half chewed self down his throat.  He can taste the oat milk is his nose and it is not good. 

Mr. Stark accepted his friend request and messaged him?  Peter looked around his apartment, skeptical.  Was he dreaming? Was this one of those life-like dreams where he gets ready for the day then wakes up and has to do it all over again?  He looked down at his arm, should he pinch himself? No, Peter, that’s stupid.

He shook his head and looked at his phone again, opening the Messenger app.

Hey, Kid.

Shit, he was toast.  Collecting himself, Peter took a deep breath to prepare himself for a conversation with his former high school teacher (that he may or may not want to fuck him senseless and cuddle afterward). He racked his brain thinking about how to approach this.  Should he be bold? 

Hi, Daddy. Please cum down my throat? Yeah...that might be too bold.

Hello, Mr. Stark.  I humbly thank you for accepting my friend request.  Ugh, too weird.

He’s overthinking it, he knows. Peter types out and deletes maybe five more messages before he finally settles on:

09:10 am 

Hi, Mr. Stark.  It’s Peter.

09:11 am

Parker.

Peter threw his phone down on the table and put his head in his hands, bowl of cereal soggy and forgotten. He made a face at it and pushed the bowl away, pulling his toast closer.  He took bites of a slice distractedly and washed it down with some tea.  He’d regret not eating a proper breakfast later, but right now his appetite was replaced with a turning feeling that he couldn’t quite place.  His phone vibrates on the table, startling him from his thoughts.

From Tony Stark 09:22 am

Yeah, Peter.  I did read your name on your profile.

09:23 am

Right. Sorry.

From Tony Stark 09:23 am

Don’t worry about it, Kid. Just pokin’ fun.

09:24 am

(sweating emoji)

Thanks for accepting my friend request btw, Mr. Stark.

From Tony Stark 09:26 am

No big deal, thanks for the request, it’s been a while.

And Tony is fine, you’re not my student anymore, Pete.

09:26 am

Yeah, okay. Tony. I can do that

So you remember me?

From Tony Stark 09:27 am

I remember all my students

09:27 am

Really???

From Tony Stark 09:28 am

No, not really lol

But I do remember you, you were a lot skinnier back then.

09:30 am

(eye roll emoji) And you were a lot younger 

From Tony Stark 09:31 am

Ouch, that was uncalled for

09:32 am

You asked for it

So what have you been up to?

From Tony Stark 09:34 am

I’m a mechanical engineer now, quit teaching a few years ago. What about you?

09:35 am

That’s awesome! You were way too smart to be a teacher.

I’m a research chemist

From Tony Stark 09:38 am

Thanks, kid.

That’s about where I’d thought you’d end up, as smart as you are.

09:40 am

Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Stark

Tony*

Sorry.

From Tony Stark 09:40 am

Everywhere?

09:41 am

Everywhere.

From Tony Stark 09:50 am

Say, Pete. I don’t actually have a habit of checking this app and I’m about to head out of the house for the day.  I’d like to continue this conversation, so here’s my number if you wanna text me [hidden contact information].

No pressure of course.

From Tony Stark 09:53 am

Peter?

New Message

To: Tony

You know who I am.

From: Tony

Had me there for a second kid. 

I’m about to drive, I’ll text you in a bit.

Peter put his phone down for the first time in almost an hour, eyes straining to refocus after staring at his screen intensely for so long.  His heart was pounding in his chest and his cheeks were starting to ache from smiling.  Had that really happened? Peter brought a hand up to rub at his jaw, still in a daze.  He was finding it very hard to believe that this wasn’t some elaborate dream because there is absolutely no way that this could’ve happened in real life.  Talk about a glitch in the simulation.

He really got Tony Stark’s phone number, and he didn’t even have to ask for it!

Peter scoffed in disbelief, no fucking way! He opened the Facebook app again and went to Tony’s profile.  Turns out there wasn’t much else on it, he had a total of 3 profile pictures and less than 100 friends, none of which were other students and only a few midtown teachers.  So, he either was a very private person or he didn’t use Facebook at all.  And if it was the latter (or both for that matter), why did he accept Peter’s friend request in the first place?

Peter decided not to think about it right now.

He went to his profile pictures and glanced at the current one he already studied last night.  The previous one was just the Guns N’ Roses album cover for Appetite for Destruction.  Classic Rock fan, noted.  His first profile picture, though, was an absolute masterpiece.  Tony looked to be on a beach somewhere, his hair was wet and messy from the clear blue salt water.  Peter wanted to run his tongue over every inch of the olive toned skin exposed to the sun.  His smile was radiant, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, with thick, dark eyebrows peeking over his sunglasses.  Swung low on his hips right below a toned stomach were hot rod red swim shorts that stopped in the middle of his thigh, showing off his tan legs dusted with dark hair.

Peter tried not to look, he really did, but he could not stop his eyes from landing on the older man’s crotch.  And he was not disappointed.  There, curving onto his thigh, was a long, thick unmistakable dick print.  Peter’s mouth watered at the sight as his own cock stirred with interest.

Fuck. He wondered how big he really was in person.  How far he could take it down his throat.  He wanted to know how it would feel to be stretched and filled by Tony’s cock.

Scooting his chair back abruptly, Peter shot up off of it.  His hard-on tenting almost painfully in his pajama pants and it was starting to create a wet spot.  Mattress shopping can wait, Peter needed to cum, like, yesterday.

He rushes to his room and yanks the drawer of his night stand open, revealing a wooden box.  Peter unlatches the box and grabs a bottle of lube and his veiny lifelike vibrating dildo with a suction cup right behind the silicone balls from his small collection.  This one was by far his favorite, it’s eight inches long and he loved feeling the veins and the girth of it filling him up. 

Peter lays a towel down on his bed and climbs to the middle, carefully avoiding the new dent in the mattress. He bunches up the pillows behind his back so he’s laying at an incline, then starts rubbing himself over his pajama pants while he uncaps the lube and squeezes some onto his fingertips. Clumsily, he pulls and shimmies his pants down his hips with his left hand, breath hitching when his heated erection makes contact with the cool air in his apartment.  It lands with a light smack against his abs and Peter tugs his shirt up and under his chin.  Kicking his pants off his bed, Peter spreads his legs.  He can feel his hole puckering in anticipation of being used.

His left hand begins lightly skimming his torso, feeling his abs contract under his finger tips.  Bringing them higher, he rubs across his chest, pinching his nipples softly.  Peter rubs the lube between his thumb and forefinger to warm it up, then starts rubbing the tight ring of muscle in circles, making his cock jump.

Once he’s coated, he sinks a finger in slowly to coax himself open.  His left hand continues caressing his body, skirting across the area right above his cock.  Peter lets out a plethora of whines and pants, eyes screwed shut at the feeling.  The image of Tony’s face urging him to take another finger.

He knows Tony’s fingers would be thicker, stretching him wider than Peter ever could with his own.  The younger man hoped his former teacher would be able to handle him the way he wanted.  Peter imagined large, strong hands encircling his throat while the other gripped hard on his hips while he took him.

Three of his fingers are buried deep in himself before he even touches his neglected, leaking cock.  His left hand comes to collect the precum pooling at the head and dribbling down his shaft, allowing his hand to glide along his hot skin. He strokes himself lazily as he pulls his fingers out and reaches for the dildo.  Uncapping the lube again he slicks up the silicone and brings it to his open, waiting hole. 

Pulling his left hand off of his cock, Peter grabs one of the pillows and stuffs it under the small of his back.

He imagines Tony looking down at him with dark, analytical eyes, watching Peters every movement.  The rise and fall of his chest, his heaving breaths.  The way Peter keens when he’s stretched like he longs for the sting of it.  Would he fuck into him slowly or would he seath himself in one smooth, quick stroke?

Peter chooses the latter.

He cries out as he pushes the dildo balls deep into his ass without pause.  The pain from the stretch mixes deliciously with pleasure.  Sweat beading on his forehead has Peter’s curls sticking wetly to his skin.  His entire body is covered in a thin sheen of it.

The young man turns onto his left side, dildo still deep inside him.  Peter reaches around his back with his right hand and grips the bottom of the suction cup.  He sighs, easing the dildo out slowly before pressing the button at the base of the shaft to turn on the vibration and ramming it into himself once more.

Tony would be taking him from behind, a long arm encircling Peter’s body, hand coming to grip him at the base of his neck, right above his collarbone so that he could pull the younger man down and onto his thick cock while he fucks up into him.  

Peter continued to fuck himself roughly with the dildo while he thought of Tony’s hard body doing it to him instead.  He’d whisper dirty things in Peter’s ear while he fucked him.  Tell him that he’s such a good little slut for his teacher.  Peter whined at the thought, he’d love it if Tony let him call him Mr. Stark in bed.

He starts stroking his cock faster, feeling his orgasm build in the pit of his stomach.  His right arm is starting to get tired from fucking the dildo into his ass for so long, he’s gotta cum soon.

Peter’s eyes fly open when he hears his phone vibrate through the thrumming in his ears.  It’s a text from Tony.

How’s my favorite student? Miss me?

That does it.  Peter’s entire body jolts as he cums all over his hand and the towel he laid on the bed, a high whine caught in his throat. 

He’s still trying to catch his breath a few minutes later, after he eases the dildo out and places it on the towel.  He wipes his hand off on it as well before he grabs his phone.  He definitely needs a shower now. Then he’ll go to the mall.

To: Tony

Don’t flatter yourself

To: Tony

Maybe a little

-

Tony can’t help but smile at his phone, he might have been a little too eager with the message, typing it up as soon as he put his car in park.  The easy banter going on between him and Peter was refreshing.  Tony couldn’t remember the last time he felt genuinely excited to talk to someone, let alone text.

As the conversation kept flowing while Tony picked up his dry cleaning, he could only deduce that it was because they were nearly equal on an intellectual level.  It may have helped that Peter was easy on the eyes as well.

They talked about their projects at work and the research behind it, what it was like at Columbia for Peter, and how MIT had been to Tony.  The older man made a mental note to ask where Peter worked at a later date, maybe he could recruit him.  He learned that Peter’s favorite colors were blue and red.  That he hated horror movies but watched them anyway just to spite himself.  He loved rom-coms and (surprise, surprise) sci-fi movies.  He couldn’t cook to save his life, Tony assured him he could give him lessons if he wanted, he could make a mean Chicken Piccata.

Tony couldn’t even bring himself to feel guilty about it at all.  The conversation was innocent and Tony was a flirt by nature, Pepper never had a problem with it.  If anything, this thing with Peter was just a budding friendship.  The universe knows Tony needed someone to talk to.

Around noon, Tony’s stomach started to grumble, not surprising considering the hearty breakfast of black coffee he had this morning.  Peter mentioned earlier that he’d been craving Gyros, and that didn’t sound half bad right about now.  He was a few blocks away from the mall anyway.

From: Peter

Here’s a contact picture, in case you needed one...

[see attachment]

The picture Peter sent was absolutely adorable.  His bangs fell over his forehead, slightly parted to the side so it wasn’t completely covered.  Tony felt utterly entranced by the younger man’s smile and the way his left eyebrow looked like he’d slept with his face buried in a pillow.  He was wearing a T-Shirt with a science pun on it, as if the kid couldn’t be any dorkier.  Tony loved it.

To: Peter

Is that a sly way of getting me to send you a selfie back?

Cute shirt by the way, where ya headed?

From: Peter

Maybe...did it work?

I’m going shopping for a new mattress, old one crapped out on me.

To: Peter

Here, since you asked so nicely

[see attachment]

From: Peter

Oof, you can just delete mine.  You just made me go from a solid 6 to like a 2

To: Peter

Hey, give yourself some credit, you’re definitely at least a 5

KIDDING, I’d rate you a solid 9, kid. Just because there’s always room for improvement

From Peter:

I would just like to know who gave you the right to be so sassy and RUDE

To: Peter

Definitely my narcissistic ego

No, but seriously Pete, you’re stunning.  Don’t listen to the old guy

From: Peter

Pls you’re not that old, Tony.

To: Peter

A man after my own heart.  Thanks, kid.

From: Peter

Anytime :-)

You’re more like my friend’s hot dad if anything

To: Peter

Little shit.

From Peter:

;-)

Tony shook his head fondly and stuffed his phone in his pocket as he entered the mall, looking around for something indicating what direction the food court was in.  He hadn’t been to this mall in a while, he admits since he’s been making more money it’s kept him from coming and eating the fast food they had here.  So he followed the signs until he got to the food court, and noticed there were still quite a few tables open for him to sit and eat at.  He made a point to stay as far away from the family with three screaming children as possible.

He scanned the choices until he found somewhere that had gyros and went to go stand in line.  The menu wasn’t too extensive, he could either get a gyro platter or a falafel platter, and he already knew what he was here for.  His eyes fell from the menu to the person in front of him.  Not to be a creep, he’s only human, but he had a fantastic ass.  A perfect little bubble butt.

The man was a little shorter than him, he had a trim waist that opened up to broad shoulders not bigger than Tony’s.  Incredible figure.  He’s probably a dancer or a marathon runner.  He also noticed this man had brown curls.  That made him snort softly to himself, he either had a type or Peter just invaded his mind in a short amount of time.  It could be either, honestly.

His eyes dropped to the phrase printed on the back of his shirt.

Never trust an atom, they make up everything

Ha.  Peter would love that shirt.

Wait.

Peter has that shirt.  It’s the one he was wearing in his selfie.

“Peter?”

The man in front of him whirled around to look at him with a puzzled expression.  Tony suddenly found himself unable to move or say another word.  He was instantly captivated by doe eyes and one of the prettiest faces he’d seen in a long time.

He watched his confusion turn into realization and then disbelief and dare he say: panic.

“Tony?”

@sweetqueen449, @slut-for-starker, @dim-ships-johnlock, @starkerhowlter, @sthefystarkersworld, @crazycocococonut, @bris-sins, @delicateavenuenacho, @ironspiderstarker, @katzenbaby1, @spider-iron-man, @rebel13lion39, @twokinkybeans, @frenchfrostpudding, @cherrygoldlove, @silkystarkk, @icandoakickflip, @irondaddio, @briesb1tch

creds to @problemchildnoonewanted for some of the messages in the beginning

BnHA Chapter 262: A Fierce Bad Rabbit

Previously on BnHA: The hospital raid squad, which had two jobs consisting of (1) not letting Ujiko get away, and (2) not letting any of the Noumu break free to go ravage the countryside, impressively failed at both of these tasks (or so I assume) in a remarkably short amount of time. The EndeavorZawaMicLock squad were all occupied with having a very destructive fight in the hospital lobby, leaving my girl Miruko, Goddess of Courage and First of Her Name, to do pretty much all the heavy lifting, which, fine!! Except that Ujiko remembered that he had a bunch of High End Noumus just floating there waiting to be activated, and he was all “!!” and fucking activated them, and like five of them went after Miruko all at once and smashed her into a bunch of machinery and glass tubes, which frankly should have killed her but it didn’t because she’s a fucking boss. But now it’s just her (and Crust, who might do something too, but for now JURY’S STILL OUT) against all these guys while Ujiko speeds off to grab Tomura and abscond. So basically everything that could go wrong has already gone wrong so UH. OKAY.

Today on BnHA: Miruko kicks ass. Then she checks her watch and sees that there’s still time for her to kick more ass, so she does. Then there is still time, because this chapter is all about her kicking ass! So she kicks even more ass!! It’s great!! I have no complaints!! She decapitates a man with her thighs!! That’s a thing that really happens!! Also she loses an arm but WHO HASN’T LOST AND/OR BROKEN THEIR ARMS IN THIS SERIES, REALLY. Everyone is doing it. Somehow she manages to make it look cool because Miruko. Miruko can strangle a man with a cordless phone. She can kill two stones with one bird. Miruko makes onions cry. Death once had a near-Miruko experience. Mirukoooooooo. Anyway the chapter ends with Skeptic warning everyone at The Ol’ Villain Hotel that the heroes are coming, so basically WELCOME BACK, EVERYONE, this manga is back with a vengeance.

guys I’m gonna try to do this recap fast because I’m seeing Heroes Rising tonight at 7:30! and I’m so excited! and for those that asked, yes I do plan on doing some kind of write-up about it, though it’ll all be from memory after the fact so we’ll see how that goes. but !! I’ve waited 84 years for this ahhhhh but anyway so in the meantime let’s see what new and creative ways our heroes are finding to screw this up even more

(ETA: I did it but this thing isn’t edited for shit lol. after I get back I’ll give it a more thorough readthrough so sorry if I missed any really obvious errors! also there are probably way more exclamation points than usual which may or may not be a plus or minus.)

look at this helpful announcement

High End Noumu approaching, everyone. you have been warned. just in case you somehow failed to notice?? IT’S RIGHT THERE Y’ALL LOOK OUT

lmao FINALLY

MORE HEROES. YOU ALL CERTAINLY TOOK YOUR FUCKING TIME, but hey welcome to the party. and none of that “I don’t see how that’s a party” sassy shit either. you all know what I’m talking about so get out there and have fun

so they’re standing there all “it’s a talking Noumu!” and YEAH. that’s what I’ve been fucking trying to tell you. thank god someone finally fucking said it out loud so that hopefully the EZML squad can finally take notice of this as well. like guys. bigger fish?! get to frying!!

so now Crust is all “there are more of them ahead, Miruko’s in danger!” which, again, thanks for finally letting everyone else in on this formerly exclusive scoop there pal. ‘preciate it

I... really do not understand Crust’s quirk at all. I’m just gonna own up to it

what is this. what does “zuga” mean fx-wise. why did those scale things on his arms get so big. what are they made of. what’s happening

oh it turns out that if you scroll and read more instead of pausing for ages to ask dumb questions, the thing you were asking about might actually be explained in great detail in the very next panel

but what are they made out of though. and why “Crust”?? ah well I suppose that’s a question for someone who actually cares more than I do

by the way the quality of this scan is actually really good so far, I gotta say. we’re only two pages in, true, but they either cleaned this up really nicely, or this was a much higher-quality scan than usual. either way I am appreciative!

lol this poor Noumu is shook

what did I name you two weeks ago, again? Rusty?? anyways he’s doing his best you guys. gambare my dude, though actually you do need to die, so that’s too bad though

Crust is all “you pitiful living corpse!” with tears in his eyes because he’s dramatic! but jokes aside I do appreciate that he has compassion for these monsters who are all still basically innocent victims at the end of the day

does anyone else actually hear that funny-sounding anime narrator guy in your head nowadays when you read panels like this lol

I can hear the voice so clearly and it’s great

only ten times the strength of a normal human, guys. that’s actually not that bad. I’m only half joking lol. because obviously your average hero is going to be much stronger than a so-called “normal” person too, yes? and I’m pretty sure Miruko has the strength of like 30 humans but I may be overestimating her just slightly but am I though

oh lol I apparently did not learn my lesson about doing commentary before I’m done reading hahaha

so High Ends are on a different tier of their own above even the “high” tier. well that’s just. yeah that sounds more like the “we’re still fucked” update that I was expecting

oh wait, seriously??

are you telling me that all of the High Ends were actually cultivated from villains? so maybe not completely innocent, then? is this Horikoshi’s way of trying to make us feel marginally better about the fact that the heroes are shortly henceforth going to have to exterminate these guys with great prejudice? I mean they’re still basically slaves to Ujiko’s programming now though so that sucks

also I missed this earlier but the narration here basically just confirmed that Noumu are all made from corpses. which I kind of suspected, but the still-very-much-alive Tomura would then be a glaring contradiction to that, no? or is that why he’s so special. anyway I do appreciate that we’re getting a lot of much-awaited answers in this Noumu arc, but some of this is also just raising more questions. gotta be patient I guess

speaking of Tomura, Ujiko’s back in the Tomura room, so. I assume some absconding is soon to occur

oh shit!! so there’s another panel explaining that “artificial transplant of quirks” requires surgery and then three months of stabilization time following that. sooooo I’m pretty sure this mofo just confirmed that he gave Tomura some shiny additional new quirks, so that’s nice! that’s real fucking great! I know we were all eyeing Tomura skeptically and thinking to ourselves “this is almost just right, but needs more death”

wait, what?

“I was already dead anyway” meaning that he knows there’s no way out for him? and so he doesn’t have a secret way out of the lab?? ??? can that really be true?? our intrepid heroes actually did their job right and the villains had no contingency plan?? oh my god I am so terrified of letting my guard down lmao I still refuse to believe this at all

and is that Tomura who’s at 70% stabilization? that would seem to fit with the timeline we were given. holy shit is he unboxing him early fsdfkjalsdk are we about to go from “fucked” to “exorbitantly fucked”

and why am I strangely excited about it sob!!

HAHAHAHA OH GOD

so this is how liberty dies. with a beep

also fuck you all, now it’s at 71%?! couldn’t leave it at a nice even number for us, could you? you just had to throw that extra percent in there at the last moment to fuck with us all

anyway did you all catch how fucking ripped he was there though? like boiiii whaaaaat. clearly his abs are already at 100%

OH MY GOD

DOES NOTHING FUCKING FAZE THIS BEAUTIFUL, RULE-BREAKING MOTH

HAHAHA

RIGHT??

HOLY FUCKING MOLY

friendly reminder that Dabi was all good and ready to throw down with both Endeavor and Hawks (who were admittedly weakened by that point) that one time a while back, but then Miruko showed up and he was all “lol nope I think the fuck not” and warped out of there. Dabi, whose quirk is so powerful that its only apparent downside is the fact that it roasts him alive as well. that Dabi took one look at Miruko and decided he likes having his spine intact and fucking vamoosed, because that is the smart fucking thing to do when this girl shows up smiling at you the way that she is smiling at these Noumu now

anyway. fucking Ujiko knew he needed at least five High Ends to even stand a chance of slowing her down, is all I’m saying. y’all better respect the FUCK out of Miruko, everyone. it’s the law

anyway. so. quirk: bunny. can smash rl gud

someone needs to ask Horikoshi the fuck kind of rabbits he has been hanging out with. applied that “and more!” part pretty fucking liberally huh. WHO DID YOU SAY TRIX WERE FOR AGAIN, CHILDREN??

NOBODY THROWS MIRUKO IN THE BRIAR PATCH AND GETS AWAY WITH IT

fffwhatttttttttt

that would be our good buddy Max Rebo. so that’s definitely not an elephant trunk-like thing then. we may need a new name for you

on a side note, I never thought we’d meet another character who looks more like Katsuki than Mitsuki does, and yet every damn week Miruko is proving me wrong. goddamn she is great

lmao wait maybe that wasn’t Max at all, but Jester. because this is clearly Max over here

so Girl!Noumu is a water bender, Jester can do... something weird with his hair, and Max can do anything an elephant can do if that elephant was also powered by steam. nice

HAHAHA BUT MIRUKO IS ALL “KICK!!!”

HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK!!!

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT. I WOULD READ AN ENTIRE MANGA OF JUST THIS LMAO THIS IS TOO MUCH ADRENALINE I CAN’T

JESTER’S WEIRD SPIKY ROCK HAIR IS SLICING HER ARM AND SHE’S ALL “THAT HURTS YOU JERK!!!!” AND GETTING READY TO FREAKING PILEDRIVE HIM I CAN’T, THOUGH!?

SDKFJLDKSJFLKJ

HER FATHER PEPPY TAUGHT HER THAT. BARREL ROLL ALL OVER THESE BITCHES!!

WHAT THE FUCK

FUCKING QUIRKS!!!! THOUGH!!!! WILLLLLLLLLD

SDKFJLAS;DHK OH MY GOD OH SHIT

real talk this is the scariest fucking quirk I’ve ever seen I was like what the fuck looking at her arm and then I saw him doing the twisty hand gesture and just. fuck. YOU’RE NOT CRIMSON RIOT AT ALL YOU’RE SOME PSYCHO TELEKINETIC BITCH AND I FUCKING HATE YOU!!

NO!!!!!

fuck fuck fuck. I’M SURE HER ARM’S GOING TO BE JUST FINE AND DANDY AFTER THIS GUYS, DON’T WORRY. THIS MANGA HAS SUCH A SERENE AND TRANQUIL HISTORY WITH ARMS. ISN’T THAT RIGHT DEKU

though on the plus side, if she does lose that arm we can count on her to somehow instantly become like 50x more attractive, which I’m pretty sure might cause the very fabric of the universe to unravel but it would be worth it

(ETA: SHE DID AND IT WAS!!)

MADAME PRESIDENT!! MY QUEEN

OH HELL YERRRRRR

fucking hell guys I’m running out of exclamation points and excited things to say here. AND SHE JUST KEEPS GOING! LIKE HER MOM THE ENERGIZER BUNNY BEFORE HER

I’M SORRY UJIKO DID YOU THINK FIVE HIGH ENDS WAS ENOUGH?! MAYBE NEXT TIME WE MAKE IT TEN, HOW ABOUT THAT. FUCK OFF

lmao holy shit I can’t stop laughingggg

well Crimson, at least you get to die happy. is she literally going to crush his face between her thighs. is this entire chapter just one big prank on me. if Miruko was the protagonist would this series have ended in the first chapter. trick question, the answer is it never would have started to begin with because she would have killed All for One years ago!! how much would it cost to hire Miruko to come kick away all of my problems for me

hello good afternoon everyone this is a real panel that really happened in this manga

I don’t even know what to say about anything anymore

sob she’s all “YEAH RIGHT” and SNAPPING HIS FUCKING NECK WITH A FUCKING TRIANGLE CHOKE, THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING, FUCKING LOOK!! AT!! THIS!!!

we’re not even gonna make it to 300 chapters. Horikoshi held off for as long as he could, but eventually Miruko couldn’t be contained any longer and he had to unleash her and she instantly went and reckt every last fucking bad guy out there until there was nothing left. who are the kids even going to fight. nobody that’s who. go back to school kids

SON OF A BITCH WHAT IS HAPPENING

THIS IS THE MOST VIOLENT THING I HAVE EVER FUCKING SEEN AND YET SOMEHOW I SWEAR I CAN HEAR ANGELS SINGING. RESPLENDENT

SOBBING!!!!

“S’POSE I SHOULD GET THIS ANNOYING THING CHECKED OUT BEFORE I BLEED TO DEATH OR SOME BULLSHIT.” WHAT AN INCONVENIENCE. JUST A FUCKING FLESH WOUND. NOBODY USES ARMS THESE DAYS ANYWAY

“IF THE ONLY WAY TO STOP YOU IS BY CRUSHING YOUR HEADS THIS WILL BE WAY EASIER THAN HOLDING BACK ON A NORMAL VILLAIN.” SOB THIS IS MIRUKO’S WORLD AND WE’RE ALL JUST BEGRUDGINGLY ALLOWED TO EXIST IN IT. MY BARONESS

DID YOU JUST TOURNIQUET YOUR DISMEMBERED FUCKING LIMB WITH YOUR OWN FUCKING HAIR ONE-HANDED FFCKCK KCKCLK JUST MIRUKO THINGS

Miruko also saw Horikoshi getting ready to end the chapter after 17 pages and was like “EXCUSE YOU THERE” and he backed off because he actually likes having a fucking head thank you very much

LMAO AND NOW OF ALL TIMES WE’RE CUTTING BACK TO THE OL’ VILLAIN RESORT. SIGH

Skeptic seems to have finally cottoned on to them being in some kind of trouble. huh

how does he know it was Jin who screwed up?? did he realize that Hawks betrayed them oh shit!?!

OOP HE’S SOUNDING THE ALARM

AND THE CHAPTER IS ENDING. BUT I’M NOT DONE SCREAMING. AHHHHHH well anyways I’m off to watch my children kick lots of ass on the big screen. assuming I can get this posted in time with zero editing whatsoever lol I’ve got like... an hour. WE SHALL SEE!

(ETA: we did it lol just barely! this whole thing is probably a giant mess but oh well! Mirukoooooo)

I’m Gonna Make This Place Your Home (Part 3)

Bakugo x Reader

Words: 2896

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

One night, a year or so ago Bakugo had gotten a little tipsy and decided it would be a great idea to take all of the batteries out of the smoke alarms. That way he wouldn't have to deal with them every time he thew a fit and his hands sparked up. So he was really surprised when he woke up one morning to one of them blaring. Kirishima must have replaced them.... damnit shitty hair. He groaned as he rolled out of bed, “What the fuck is going on?” 

He was absolutely exhausted. You had another nightmare last night and just like the last time you accidentally pulled him into it. He handn’t been able to sleep after that and he couldn't go to your room because then you would know he had seen it. He knew it wasn't his fault but it still felt like an invasion of your privacy. 

He strolled out of his bedroom in nothing but a pair of sweatpants and made his was to the source of his growing headache. He walked into the kitchen and there you were. You looked extremely confused and alarmed as smoke billowed from the toaster. You pulled the plug from the wall and huffed at the ruined toast. “Shit...”

He couldn’t help it. He started laughing harder than he had in years. 

You spun around, giving him a good look at the pancake mix in your hair, “OH! Bakugo I’m so sorry! I was trying to make you breakfast... but its definitely not as easy as you make it look...” You plopped down in one of the chairs and it wasnt until now that he realized you weren't wearing any pants. Just his oversized hoodie. He couldnt judge though he wasnt exactly wearing a shirt. A fact you were acutely aware of as you desperately tried to avoid staring at his perfect abs. 

You huffed again, “I ruined everything....”

He smirked, “Nah, theres nothing here that cant be fixed... well maybe not the toast. Thats a lost cause.” He held his hand out to you, “Ready for your first cooking lesson?”

He proceeded to flit around the kitchen like a true professional but he never took over. Instead he would just tell you what you needed to do. He wanted to make sure you were actually learning. He knew he couldnt take care of you forever. There were things you missed out on growing up and he was going to make sure you became a functioning adult. 

You guys sat at the table with the banquet of food around you. You beamed as you took your first bite, “This is actually good!”

He scoffed, “Excuse me? I helped you, of course it’s good...” 

You giggled, “Thanks for that by the way. I know it must be frustrating to teach a grown ass woman how to do basic things...”

“Okay first of all dont ever think that. Its not your fault you didnt get to learn this stuff. And second.... that is the second time you’ve used a curse word today. What gives? Am I rubbing off on you? You’ve only been here a week.” He wagged his eyebrows. 

You gave his shoulder a quick swat, “Maybe I swear like a sailor but I've been playing nice. You dont know me.”

He narrowed his eyes a bit, “You’re right. I dont. But I’d like to...” He bit into a piece of bacon and groaned, “I do know one thing though, you make some good ass bacon.”

He spent the rest of the day teaching you every day tasks from doing laundry to how to use the internet. You paid close attention and would periodically stop him to write something down so you wouldn’t forget.  He was currently showing you how to log in to Netflix when an idea hit him, “Oi! Do you know how to ride a bike?”  

You gave him a weird look, “I used to have one with training wheels when I was little but my mom never taught me how to ride one without them. I had wanted my dad to teach me but he died when I was little.” 

He sucked in a breath. He still hadn't told you about your mom. Did you know what she did to you? Did you know your mom sold you to the highest bidder? And your dad? He had no idea he had died.... was there anything about your childhood that was happy?  “I’m sorry to heat about your dad.” 

You just shrugged, “I was really little. My mom always said I was his little mini me. Said I looked just like him and had the heart to match. He was a really nice guy....” You expression grew sad, “Sometimes when I was younger after I had been taken by the villains... if I was having a really bad day I would pretend he was still alive. Because he never would have let them take me.” A single tear slid down your cheek but you caught it, “Look at me getting all emotional. No need to cry over something I cant change right?”

He took your hand in his and gave it the softest squeeze, “I’d say you’re entitled to a few tears. Given what you’ve been through, I don't know how you get out of bed some mornings.” Especially after the nightmares he’d witnessed first hand.

You sniffed back your tears as you returned a quick squeeze to his hand, “Easy. I have you.” 

He didnt know what to say. To the rest of the world he was Ground Zero, the temperamental, cocky hero. But you see so much more. You bring out the best in him and whether he likes it or not he's changing because of it. “Oi. Put some fucking pants on. You're going to learn how to ride a bike!” 

“....Do you even have a bike?”

No, he didnt. But Kirishima did. “You just worry about yourself, and let me figure out the bike situation. Alright?”

You scurried off to your room to change and get ready for the day. You pulled on a pair of leggings and a clean shirt. It may have been Bakugos but at this point you didnt think he’d mind. You threw your hair up in a ponytail and gave yourself a quick look in the mirror. You really needed a haircut. Even in a ponytail it was well down your back. There was a pair of scissors in the kitchen, maybe you could just cut it yourself. 

Thats how you ended up in the bathroom hair in one hand, scissors in the other. Right as you were about to make your first cut, someone cleared their throat behind you. “Oi! Crazy pants! Put the scissors down before you fuck your hair up. All I said was put on some pants not go full on Mulan...” He sighed, “There’s someone here I want you to meet. He can be pretty annoying but I promise he’s not that ba-”

“Hey who are you calling annoying you grump old man.” Kirishima looked at the scissors in you hand, “Oh cool. Giving yourself a haircut? I did that once when I was seven. Wasn't a good look. But I’m sure yours will look much better.” 

Bakugo was rubbing his temples in frustration, “Y/n this this is shitty hair, shitty hair this is y/n.” 

You gave him a soft giggle, “The fact that he calls you shitty hair makes me think I shouldn't listen to you.” You put the scissors down, “I do want to cut it though. It’s a pain in the ass.”

Bakugo scoffed, “You’re the pain in the ass, dont try and blame it on your hair. Although you do shed worse than any dog I’ve ever known. Your hair is all over the apartment.... Come here.” He turned you towards the mirror, “Alright look straight ahead and dont fucking move... how short do you want it?” 

You motioned to the tops of your shoulders, “Like around here maybe. I dont know what do you think shitty hair?” 

Kirishima chuckled, “You can call me Kirishima.” He shrugged, “I dont know anything about  hair.”

Bakugo huffed, “Yeah clearly, hence the name shitty hair.” He looked at you through the mirror, “I would go just a little longer.... like maybe here.” He motioned to a bit below you shoulder. His hand was rather close to your breasts and it made both of you blush. “I’ll see if I can get you an appointment somewhere soon. Until then what if I just braid it to get it out of the way?”

Your blush deepened, “Yeah that would be nice.” 

His fingers felt so good carding though your hair. You closed your eyes and had to fight back the urge to hum. You needed to pull it together. Bakugo was nice enough to let you into his life and has gone above and beyond to make sure you’re well taken care of and comfortable. You didn't need to fuck that up by having feelings for him. 

Your eyes jolted open when he cleared his throat behind you, “Uh...I’m done now.” Your eyed met his through the mirror and noticed his cheeks were almost as red as yours, “Ready to learn how to ride a bike?”

Kirishima caught Bakugo as you guys were leaving the apartment letting you go on ahead, “Dude? When the fuck did you learn how to braid hair? Who are you and what have you done with Bakugo?” 

Bakugo pulled his arm away from him, “Shut the fuck up and I swear if you tell anyone about it I’ll end you!” Bakugo hadn't been completely honest with his best friend about who you were or why you were living with him. He knew you were the girl from his dreams but he didnt know you had been a prisoner or that there was a small possibility you were being hunted. 

Kirishima raised his hands up in defense, “I’m just saying man you seem awfully invested in this girl. I mean she’s wearing your shirt! She’s obviously pretty and from what I can tell she seems nice and all but come on man you haven't been to work in over a week... The director says you either come in tomorrow or you’re fired....”

Bakugo growled, “As if he would actually have the balls to fire Ground Zero.” He took a few steps before stopping and running a hand through his hair, “Tell him I’ll be there tomorrow... I just need to tell y/n.”

Kirishima put his hand on his shoulder, “She’s a big girl Bakugo. I’m sure she’ll be fine without you for a few hours. Whats the worst that could happen?” 

Bakugo groaned, “I really wish you hand asked that. It’s like you’re trying to jinx us.”

When they got outside you were already sitting on the bike, rolling it back and forth looking like an excited child, “What took you guys so long?! Come on!” 

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck, “So Y/n... how in the world did you make it this far in life without knowing how to ride a bike?” 

Before Bakugo could intercept the question you were shrugging it off, “Guess you could say I grew up sheltered. Now are we doing this or not?” 

A few minutes later Bakugo was behind you holding your waist and walking slowly as you got used to peddling the bike. 

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, “Let me know when you're ready for me to let go.” The combination of his strong hands on your waist and his warm breath on your neck... it was giving you goosebumps. 

You felt a chill run down your spine, “Bakugo dont you dare fucking let go. I thought this was going to be a lot easier!” 

He chuckled, “Don’t be stupid you’re doing fine! I won't let go until you’re ready.” 

You took a deep breath, “Okay I can do this.... It’s not a big deal. Children do this.... Bakugo I think I’m ready...”

“Well good because I already let go.” 

Your head swiveled back and forth incredulous that you had not noticed that he had let go. It was a terrible idea because as soon as you weren't one hundred percent focused on peddling you started to tilt. 

“Shit! Y/n!” Bakugo threw himself between you and the pavement just in time to catch you. “Watch it will yeah?” You landed on top of him your nose dangerously close to his.You could hear your heart pounding. You were close enough to smell his signature caramel sent and it made your mouth water. He brushed a hair out of your face. “Are you okay? You’re looking at me funny....” 

You blinked rapidly trying to wake yourself up from whatever daydream you were starting to have. “Yeah I’m fine... thanks.” 

He shrugged, “It was my fault for letting go. I won't do that again.” 

Your heart picked up the pace at his words. He obviously meant he wouldn't let go while you were riding the bike, but you desperately wished he meant something else. But he was Ground Zero. He was an attractive, successful Pro hero. You were probably nothing more than a wounded animal to him. He deserved someone with less baggage. 

You pushed yourself off of him, no longer in the mood to ride a bike. “I know this is silly... but I kind of want to go get coffee.” His caramel sent was still invading your senses and it made you crave your favorite beverage. You had tried different drinks through trail and error before you found what you liked and you named it the cinnamon roll latte. It was a vanilla latte with two pumps of caramel and cinnamon instead of sugar. It smelled just like someone you knew and it was absolutely delicious. 

Kirishima walked over and helped you two get up and picked up the bike, “Coffee sounds good. I have an overnight shift coming up tonight and I’m already dreading it.”

Bakugo dusted off his pants and nodded, “Yeah coffee sounds nice. Same place as usual?” 

You smiled, “Of course!” 

You guys had been back to the same coffee house over and over again and the bitchy barista always had something to say but you kept insisting to Bakugo it wasnt worth getting her in trouble.  

You practically skipped through the door into the coffee house and right up to the empty counter. The barista gave you a bored look, “Let me guess, the usual?”

You nodded, “Yup! Him as well. He wants to try it!” You pointed at Bakugo behind you who was already taking out his wallet to pay. You needed to try and find a job soon. You couldn't mooch off of him forever. You saw a sign next to the register that said they were hiring. You knew if you brought it up Bakugo would insist it wasn't necessary, so you would just come back tomorrow when he went to work. You refused to be a burden on anyone. 

The barista who's name you had found out was Tasha rolled her eyes, “I see you finally found some clothes of your own. 

Bakugo put his arm around your shoulders, “Actually the shirts mine but it looks way better on her doesn't it?” He winked at you before retiring his attention to Tasha who’s mouth was hanging open. Bakugo narrowed his eyes at her, “I said doesn't it?” 

She handed back his credit card with a quick nod, “Yes. I’m sorry it looks great on you.” 

When you had found a booth to sit at you turned to him and slapped his shoulder, “Bakugo you have got to stop bullying the barista!” 

His eyes about popped out of their sockets, “Are you kidding me?! She's the one who always has to say some shit about you every other time we come here!” 

You sighed, “So? Let her be the source of her own misery. You dont need to stoop to her level. You’re better than that.” 

He huffed and fiddled with the napkin dispenser on the table, “Yeah whatever you say....” 

Kirishima looked back and forth between the two of you, “What..... the actual fuck? She just scolded you and you’re.... you’re okay with it?” 

Bakugo shrugged, “She’s right... there’s no point in bickering with people who aren't worth it.” 

You smiled as you leaned up and kissed his cheek. It was a bold move, but it was something you had wanted to do for a while now. 

He gave you an incredulous look and narrowed his eyes, “What the fuck was that for.” 

Tasha cleared her throat behind him, “Here’s the coffees you guys ordered. Have a great day.” 

Bakugo waited for her to be out of earshot before he belted out a laugh, “Oi! Here you are acting all high and mighty talking about being the bigger person and then you go and try to make the barista jealous? You're sneaky.” 

He took a sip of his coffee while you just giggled. He didnt need to know that you had no idea Tasha had been standing there. He didnt need to know that you had kissed his cheek because you wanted to. You looked up and mer Kirishima’s eyes. He smirked at you, “Well aren't you two just adorable?” 

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

Taglist : @carolinawindsay​ @fukyouthink​ @targaryens-blog​

Something You Like

aka how the HELL does Hawks wear shirts?

You’re only slightly tipsy as you stumble home, giving an annoyed glance at the darkened sky and the rain that’s coming down harder by the minute. You hadn’t planned on being out this late, but there was a fun crowd at the bar and you lost track of time. You even got another chance to flirt with that cute hero you met last time. It’s been a good night; not even the increasingly heavy rain is going to ruin your mood. You lift your purse over your head in an attempt to keep dry, then without warning you feel a hand tighten firmly around your wrist from behind.

“Isn’t it a little dangerous to be waving that around? Looks like you’re just asking for trouble, cutie.” You whirl around and find yourself gawking at the smirking face of Hawks, the same hero from the bar. Before you can ask anything, he leans in close to whisper in your ear. “That creep over there’s been following you since you left. I don’t wanna start a fight, I’m just gonna walk you home.” You glance over his shoulder and can just make out a shadow hiding in the alley you passed a moment ago. You feel a chill shoot down your spine and sober up instantly. You nod and resume your walk, Hawks falling into step beside you down the street.

Gradually you relax, not quite returning to your earlier spirits but it’s hard to feel too upset with your current companion. “...He was so pissed, I swear you could have roasted a turkey on his face!” He finishes his story just as you reach your apartment building, both of you soaked from the worsening storm but laughing too hard to care.

“Thanks for everything, back there.” Reluctantly you take a step forward, seeing his wide grin fade into something more neutral as another flash of lightning illuminates the clouds. A thought strikes you, and the words are out of your mouth before you can second-guess yourself. “Do you wanna come up and wait out the rain for awhile?”

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. “That’d be great.” His grin is infectious as he follows you up the stairs and into your home.

“Can I ask you a question?” Hawks looks up from your doorway, shoes halfway off and wings dripping buckets of water onto the floor. “Why didn’t you fly here? It would have been faster.”

He holds up one finger almost teasingly. “You ever seen a bird fly in a storm?” You cock your head, open and shut your mouth in confusion. You honestly have no idea if birds can fly in the rain. “Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to stick around longer.” Okay yeah, he’s definitely teasing you now. He laughs at your reaction, wings twitching and alerting you to the fact that your carpet is being soaked worse with every move. You excuse yourself to grab some dry towels, praying you have something large enough to dry his feathers.

You return a few minutes later and find him digging through your fridge like he owns the place. “There’s a microwave right there, you animal,” you scold as you take sight of the leftover teriyaki chicken enroute to his mouth and he shows you that smirk again, completely unphased at being caught sneaking food like a stray raccoon. You dump it onto a plate to heat up before tossing a towel over his damp hair, drying him off yourself to keep his teriyaki-covered fingers from staining it. His head is a fluffy mess when you pull away and two thoughts cross your mind. 

One, he’s a lot smaller than most of the pro heros you’re familiar with. His cohorts like All Might and Endeavor are massive, almost larger than life figures, intimidating just from their size alone. Hawks in comparison isn’t much taller than you, he feels more like a regular person than a living legend. It’s comforting, how normal he seems in your home.

Two, you realize you were mistaken to think of him as cute earlier. Here in your kitchen with his messy hair and that taunting grin, he’s actually wickedly, stupidly handsome. On impulse you reach up and ruffle his hair; it’s surprisingly soft and feathery between your fingers and the man in front of you practically chirps at the contact. 

Without warning his wings flap, spraying water across the room and knocking half your cooking supplies off the counter. “Hey, at least they’re mostly dry now,” he points out, giving his feathers a tiny shake as proof. He’s nice enough to help clean up before swiping the hot chicken from the microwave and sauntering over to claim your couch. You can’t help but take interest in the way he automatically unfolds his wings behind him, spreading them over the back of the furniture in a movement that’s fluid from years of practice. Something occurs to you as you watch him settle in and devour your food.

“Hey, Hawks? How do you even wear shirts? Y’know, with your wings and all?”

The hero perks up at the opportunity to show off, wipes his fingers clean of sauce and sits up to face away from you. “Watch this, it’s fun.” You keep your eyes trained on him as he pulls his arms free from his jacket and does some kind of....weird little shimmying motion with his feathers. It’s almost like he’s compressing them as he flexes his shoulders to shrug the coat off, slipping the appendages through the slits in the fabric so it can fall off behind him. He looks back at you with a wink. “Cool, huh?”

“I have no idea what you just did,” you admit, trying to figure out how he managed that maneuver. 

He shakes his head, not even bothering to hide his snort of laughter. “Okay, watch again.” Before you can protest he’s yanking at his shirt, doing that shimmying thing again that your brain point-blank refuses to understand and relaxes back against your couch, arms folded and expression smug. It’s an unfair move, it’s hard to focus on what you were seeing when there’s a half-naked demigod sitting in your living room like a king on this throne. You don’t hide your curiosity as you look him over; toned muscle showing that he puts plenty of effort into his body even though it’s unnecessary with his quirk. You tear your eyes away from his chest and meet his gaze, enjoyment clear on his face as he relishes your attention. “See somethin’ you like, huh?”

You’re not going to be out-seduced by a guest in your own home. “Yeah, I do.” You sit down, matching his grin as you curl up beside him and reach for the remote.

The two of you carry on like this for awhile, flipping through commercials and listening to the rain slam against your windows as you share the plate of chicken and crack bad jokes at each other. It feels surprisingly natural when he splays his arm across your shoulders, pulling you tighter to himself and the warmth of his body seeps into your clothes. “See something you like, hero?” you ask playfully, tilting your face up to his.

“Yeah, I do.” He can’t quite hide his smile as he leans down to kiss you. His fingers twist into your hair, holding you in place to coax your mouth open for his tongue. He tastes like teriyaki, and the beer he’d had earlier, and something indescribably Hawks that your distracted brain identifies as sexy bird, and somehow it all works for him. He bites at your lip and you groan, pressing closer against his bare chest. You break for air and he takes the opportunity to tug your shirt over your head, no weird shimmy required, and throws it over his shoulder. His fingers wrap around your waist to yank you up into his lap, wings fluttering up to cage you in. “I’m seeing a lot that I like.”

You feel yourself blushing, kissing him again to hide your reaction. He trails his hands up your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He takes notice of your nipples hardening under your bra and wags his eyebrows. You can’t help but roll your eyes but don’t complain when he reaches up your back to pop open the hooks and slip it off you. Hawks licks his lips almost unconsciously and grabs for you, giving your breasts a firm squeeze. His lips trace along your pulse, thumbs circling over your nipples and you begin to melt into his attention. Your own hands drag down his firm abs to the front of his pants where you can feel his dick hard for you and you let out breathy sigh before fumbling with his zipper.

“Babe, chill. I’m not going anywhere,” he teases, giving you a whistle of appreciation. “Were you gonna hide these from me all night? That’s downright cruel.” He pinches your sensitive flesh in his fingers and your whimper only spurs him on to grope you more.

“Maybe we’d have got...gotten to this sooner if you hadn’t spent all night s-shoveling chicken into your mouth like--oh shit, Hawks...” your sentence trails off as his mouth leaves a trail from your collarbone down your chest to capture a nipple between his teeth. He’s got you squirming on his lap in seconds, sucking on your tender skin until you’re whining out his name with every breath. He releases you with an indecent slurp only to kiss a path across to its twin, already stiff and ready for the same treatment. You grip onto his sleek hair, raking your nails across his scalp as his tongue lathes over you, stubble on his chin teasing you to an almost embarrassing arousal. He finally separates from you after several more minutes of admiration, once you’re reduced to a panting mess on top of him and nearly pleading to be fucked.

“Sooo,” he drawls, leaning back to get a good look at you and allowing those giant wings to support your balance. “What do you wanna do now?” 

You’re already slipping out of your jeans before you answer. “Fuck me, hero.” You try to sound confident, you really do, but the request comes out sounding far too needy to be convincing. You’re not sure whether you want to slap that shit-eating grin right off his smug face or kiss it away.

He sits up a little straighter with interest, thumbs rubbing patterns into your hips and then catching the edge of your panties. That cocky smile only grows wider as he pulls your underwear down without a moment’s hesitation to see just how wet you’ve gotten for him. His hand presses between your thighs, ghosting over your clit and dragging a sigh out of you. “Wow, it doesn’t take much for you, does it?” His fingers slip into you before you can reply, scissoring your pussy open and all you can do is moan and hold on to him. You let out a little sound of disappointment when he pulls them out to lick your juices off but don’t have long to complain before he gets to the point. You can’t tear your gaze away from the movement of his hands; you watch intently as Hawks reaches for his pants and somehow manages to yank them down past his knees, taking his boxers with them and finally revealing his cock to you.

There’s no trace of self-consciousness on his face, only total satisfaction while you look him over. He’s not huge, proportioned nicely along with the rest of his body, and you have to admit it’s the best looking dick you’ve ever seen. He’s flushed such a pretty rosy color all down his length, light veins decorating him perfectly. The wide head of his cock stands eager for attention, you can’t wait to feel it buried inside you and your inner muscles clench at the idea. 

“C’mere babe,” he grabs at your hips again, voice husky as you straddle his thighs and he lines himself up to enter you. Without a second thought he’s pulling you down onto his shaft, low groan in his throat as you sink down to take him. Your cunt is so wet you offer no resistance and he bottoms out inside you in one firm thrust. A choked little gasp escapes you and he pauses, fingertips tracing a random pattern along your thighs. “You okay there?” You nod, offering a little smile of your own as you adjust to the fit and the soothing touch of his hand stops to grip firmly at your hips. “That’s good. Hold on to me.”

You know how fast Hawks can move; you’ve seen plenty of videos from his fights. You’re expecting to get fucked at some near-inhuman speed, your brain scrambled inside your skull like a plate of eggs. He surprises you instead, holding you close and rutting up inside you slowly enough to make you intimately familiar with every inch of his cock sliding in and out of you. It’s unexpectedly intimate and you find yourself focusing on his face, where he’s still giving you that same pleased smirk. “I take my time when it matters,” he explains simply, pulling you down to meet his grinning lips. Another roll of his hips has you breaking away to let out a shaky whimper as his dick presses against your g-spot.

“F-faster, Hawks,” you pant, struggling to speed up against the steady hold on your hips keeping you in place. There’s a spark of mischief in his eyes that makes something in your stomach fip.

“Ask me nicely,” he teases, squeezing your hips down just a bit more to thrust deeper in your pussy. Well, you’re not going to beg; you have too much pride for that. You clamp your mouth shut and he laughs, wings flexing around you and grazing your back. “Bet I can make you ask for it,” he challenges, gaze never leaving yours and you can feel sweat trickle down your back.

Your partner keeps one hand firmly in place to control your movements but lets the other one roam over your body. You’re hyper aware of the path of his fingers while he circles your navel, tickling over your stomach and ribs and up to your breasts. He pinches at your nipple without warning and you cry out despite yourself and instinctively tighten around his dick in response to the simulation. “You’ve got a real nice voice,” he huffs out, voice rough and you think to yourself that you really shouldn’t enjoy the sound of it quite so much.

You’re not going to beg; you shut your eyes so you don’t have to look at that absolutely sinful expression on his face as he continues to fuck you at a brutally slow pace. Hawks shows no sign of giving up, he’s only spurred on by the squeezing of your cunt that you can’t control. He pulls you closer, nips at your ear and his tongue follows a bead of sweat running down your throat. His lips find your nipple again and suddenly it’s hard to breathe, your eyes snap open and the bastard winks at you, sucking it into the heat of his mouth and you can’t stop the way you clench tight around his dick.

You’re not going to beg, you remind yourself as a sound coming out of you that’s shamefully close to a whine slips out. You’re not going to beg, even when he lets go of your nipple with a wet pop and targets the other one. You’re not going to beg-

You’re so distracted by his attack on your breasts you don’t even notice him finally releasing your other hip to rub his calloused thumb over your clit, and your resolve snaps like a rubber band.

“Fuck, Hawks. Please, go h-harder! I need more, please. I-” your words devolve into a needy moan and his attention to your clit speeds up.

“See, all you had to do was ask.” His unoccupied hand reaches over to squeeze hard at your ass and he picks up speed, your body following along with his movements. “Was that so hard, honey?” His smile is taunting but you love it, your greedy cunt milking him for anything he’ll give you. You cry out for him and his grip tightens to pull you up and down faster on him; you wonder if he’s getting as close as you are. You relish every second he’s got you bouncing on his cock, his hand continuing to make quick work on your throbbing clit and you can feel yourself starting to come undone.

“H...god, Hawks, I’m gonna come, you feel-mmm, feel so good...” you manage to pant out in his ear, unsure if you feel lightheaded from the sex or the heat of your bodies trapped within his wings. He redoubles his efforts, thrusting up inside you with even harder, faster strokes and his touch against your clit becomes almost painfully intense. Your climax comes with his lips sucking a red mark into your neck, your own hands buried in his messy hair and your ragged voice squealing his name over and over.

He doesn’t last much longer once your own needs are taken care of. He fucks you at that same frantic speed for a few more minutes, enjoying the sight of your breasts jiggling with every rapid motion of his body as you do your best to keep up with it. Lucky for you both, he’s got enough sense to slam on the breaks and pull out at the last moment, painting your shaky thighs and stomach with his cum only seconds after retreating.

“Shit.” Hawks falls back against the couch and spreads his wings out to allow you to slip from his lap and sprawl uselessly beside him on the cushions. The two of you sit together for a minute, slowly catching your breaths and shooting each other satisfied glances. “Now that’s how you spend a rainy day,” he jokes and it’s so stupid you can’t help but laugh.

You’re a good host and remember to toss the dirty plate from earlier into the sink and offer him some water after that workout, and then excuse yourself to the bathroom to clean up the mess he’s made of your body. You come back out wearing an old t-shirt and fresh underwear and find yourself a little disappointed to see him slipping his own clothes back on. You watch him pull his jacket on, doing that same weird little shimmy from earlier to get his wings through the slits and have to admit that you still don’t understand how that works.

“Oh, are you leaving? You don’t have to, you can stay over if you want.” You try not to sound too hopeful.

He shrugs his shoulders and gives you a sad little smile. “Sorry, I gotta get back to work soon. A hero’s job is never done, and all that.” He puts his shoes back on then stops for a moment and steps over to you. You’re pulled in for a quick kiss before he opens the door. “I’ll see you around,” he calls before walking out. You’re not surprised to see a red blur flying past your window after another minute, soaring higher up into the clearing sky.

You sigh quietly and settle back down on your couch, reaching for your phone to distract yourself. You never bother to lock it simply for convenience’s sake, and you pause at the fact that there’s an open text to an unfamiliar number on your screen. You read it and grin when you realize who was using your phone.

🐔 the food’s my treat next time 🍴

Second Chances Chp. 3

Disclaimer: Okay, I got more notes than I thought I ever would, so while the world is quarantined...I wrote another part.

Warning: Mention of death, fluff, I don’t want to mislead anyone this will very much be a slowburn 

Summary: Can you imagine being widowed at such a young age to a man you thought you’d have forever with? On the anniversary of his death, on top of a mountain, you and Chris begin your new journey together.

Staring up at the sky, watching the lantern follow a path across the stars while taking a piece of me with it. People say it gets easier, but that really has not been the case. Each morning I wake up and my mind slowly drifts to memories that I try and keep locked away and each night the nightmares and terrors of the aftermath play like a reel. I don’t fight them though, I think when they finally stop, it will hurt more. My therapist obviously disagrees with me and we have been working on this but, I am just not ready. My ability to compartmentalize is scary and unhealthy but its been working for the last three years. It is harder to keep the emotions in check on days when you feel like you are being smothered. The phone calls, the text, the Facebook posts and tags from both our family and friends. All of that is sweet and supportive and great, but too much. Another reason I like coming out here and sitting on our mountain looking out at the world. 

I slowly turn around and watch as Chris is still watching the lantern on its journey, he makes eye contact and I force a half-smile. I see Dodger with his head down whimpering a bit, unaware of the circumstances but very much cued in to the emotions that surround him. 

He returns the smile but it does not reach his eyes.  

“Afghanistan, three years ago today,” I shrug not wanting to go any deeper, that’s enough of my past for one day. “That’s a story for another time preferable over some beers and a few shots,” another joke to cut the thick fog that surrounds us. Chris makes a move to reassure me, obviously feeling helpless at this moment. Dodger quickly gets up and sits down between Chris and I. He is facing Chris, watching his movements as though ready to defend me. I rub the top of his head letting him know that I am okay and so is the situation. “I’m okay boy, your pops was just trying to help,” I continue to stroke his head and then look up at Chris’ dumbstruck facial expression. “I...I have never seen him do something like that” he softly mumbled to himself and continues to look at me now with almost an expression of awestruck. 

“That was beautiful, genuinely beautiful, is there anything else you need to do?” I gently shake my head not making eye contact the mixture of gratitude and shame is swirling. I feel the tears and thickness in my throat return and shake that off as well.  

“We should start to head back then, it’s going to get dark and Dodger is such a baby in the dark,” He chuckles rolling his eyes. 

It was only about a fifteen-minute walk back to the car, but he was right, the twilight sky would only last for so long. Packing up my bag and making sure that I had everything, I met the boys at the start of the trail. 

“I am sorry if your hike took an unexpected turn,” I shyly shrug my shoulders “I feel like I owe you a beer or at least a meal to make up for that, I am usually not this grim of a person” I state trying to convince him and myself. 

“Not a chance,” he says while reaching down to pull the twig out of Dodger’s mouth. 

“I get it and I am sure you have to be up early tomorrow for your presentation and all,” I try not to sound as defeated as I feel. 

“I meant, no chance that you owe me anything. It’s absolutely my treat, do you know of any good places around here?” I tried to read his face, looking for pity, but all I could see was compassion. 

“There’s a nice pub a few miles away, small and simple,” trying to accommodate for him I also mention that there is patio seating that should fit Dodger’s fancy. 

We reach our cars at the same time that Chris announces that he is sold on the idea and says that he will follow me. The emotions of all of this finally set in when I sat in my car. I had not felt anxious or nervous throughout our entire time together until the moment I was away from him. I pushed all of that, for the most part, away and tried to drive perfectly towards the pub. Chris turned in the parking lot after me and got out and put the lease on Dodger again. I finally saw my reflection for the first time in hours and cleaned up the tears stains that still traced my skin. 

“I am not gonna lie, I honestly thought you were gonna keep driving when I pulled in here” I finally announce when I make my way over to his truck. 

“Well now I am wounded Thea, wounded,” he states while dramatically placing his hands over his chest. 

“It’ll buff out, I’m sure,” I say while bumping his shoulder and heading towards the door, I can hear him chuckling behind me. 

I head inside and ask the bartender if there was room on the patio for us to sit and order some food and drinks. She says, of course, hands me two menus and says someone would meet us outside shortly. 

I meet Chris back outside and he’s already made himself and Dodger comfy at a table. As I head over he gets up and pulls out the chair for me, which I know people roll their eyes at but I get a case of the butterflies every single time. 

After some time an older woman makes her way over to us to take our order, Chris takes my suggestion on the burger and laughs when I get carded for ordering a beer.  I roll my eyes and feel the blush creep across my cheeks. I dish it right back though and ask him when was the last time he even got carded, the squinting glare answered that question. The tension and awkwardness left and we slipped into casual conversation. 

I think we talked for 2 hours straight. 

We talked about everything and anything, it was so pure and real. My stomach started to hurt 45 minutes in from laughing so hard. “God, can you imagine growing up an only child or growing up differently than you did?” Chris asked me at one point, he was telling a story about his brother and neighbor daring him to jump from a roof onto a trampoline into a pool. He was proud to announce that he completely chicken out and thinks about how his life might be a little different if he followed through with it. 

“My brother and sisters probably used to pray to be only children growing up, but I honestly couldn’t imagine it any other way. I never take for granted how close-knit we are and I continue to be thankful.” He continued to smile at me and stare at my face, which was sweet but also a bit concerning. 

I whip at my face trying to see if I had something on it and ask him, “What? Do I have ketchup on my cheek or something?” He responds by rolling his eyes for the 39th time in the last few hours. 

“Roll your eyes at me again! I dare you!” He scuffs and goes to roll his eyes again but stops halfway and just starts laughing. 

“I just, I don’t want this to sound weird and freak you out.” He starts to rambles and it was cute but my god he was going to drive me crazy if he kept it up. I reach across the table and give his hand a squeeze in a comforting way. 

“I just, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life” he looks down at his phone “when in reality it’s only been four hours. I know that sounds crazy because I don’t even know what you do for a living, but I feel like I already know ‘who you are’ if that makes any bit of sense. I am just having a tough time believing you are real.”

It absolutely did. It made complete sense and it scared me, but it also gave me another case of butterflies.

“I’m a teacher.” I took the easy way out not toughing the other topic just yet. 

How does Chris respond? He rolled his god damn eyes again. With a retort of “Of course you are, why wouldn’t you be a teacher.” 

“That’s it, Dodger, come here and take your human away from me!” I shout at the sweet boy just trying to take a nap. “Dodger that is the 40th time he has rolled his eyes at me, you need to take him home and teach him some manners please!” I huff sitting back into my chair and watching Chris explode with laughter. 

“You are absolutely insane, I don’t think I have laughed this hard, for this long, in months. I am going to have a set of abs by the time this night is through.” Now it was my turn to roll my eyes at him. 

“So what do you teach?” He finally asked me after his waves of laughter have turned into small chuckles. 

“I am a middle school special education teacher” I state proudly. I truly love and respect what I do for a living and wouldn’t change it for the world. 

Chris is just defeated by this point and just places his head in his hands shaking it back and forth.  “You are really not helping prove that you are actually real” he mumbles into his hands. 

“Says the famous actor I met while hiking a mountain and inviting me to dinner, I left the realm of reality hours ago” I smirk back at him when he finally pulls his face out of his hands. 

The waitress walks over and asks if we need anything else. Chris holds up one finger to me seeing if I’m game for another round. “One more round please and two more glasses of water,” I ask while smirking at Chris. “Ohh also, can we get, I don’t know, maybe a to-go box of some sort that we can put some water in for the pup?” She nods and walks off while jotting it down in her little pad. She returns a few minutes later with all the check and drinks. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to twist your arm or anything,” he says while leaning over and scratching Dodger’s head. 

“Not at all, I just, unfortunately, have to drive home after this,” I say while shaking my head. “I normally cannot wait for this day to end, but today...meeting Dodger and I guess you..,” I smirk trying to make light of a tough sentence to put into words, “It really helped.”

“Well, I am just glad we found you.” 

“Me too,” I say giving his hand one more squeeze before we get up and make our way to the cars. 

Leaving the shot of Jameson sitting on the table, untouched, but always present, unquestioned but simply knowing.

I’ve never tagged anyone in a post before so let’s see if I get this right :)  @chi00072 @capstopavenger​ 

Crackdown Ch. 2

Chapter 2: Little Wooden Soldiers

Summary: The heroes go to arrest three of Dark’s closest enforcers, and things seem to be going unusually smoothly.

A/N: Illinois, Bim, and Yan’s scenes are happening at the same time.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

Twenty minutes before Dark’s standoff with the heroes, Eric and Illinois were running around what should have been an abandoned warehouse but was full of a local gang that was being mind controlled by some cursed cat totem, it was also summoning stone creatures that ranged from human-like to amorphous amalgamations of rocks.

They ran around the warehouse like maniacs, Eric screaming and exploding rock statues into dust and rubble, and Illinois was close by taking care of the actual humans.

With the totem contained and its former human puppets unconscious the two quickly made out and left, Illinois calling the cops so that the gang would be arrested. This made sure the neighborhood was safe from them and Dark had one less rival group to deal with. Eric quickly changed out of his costume so they could walk hand-and-hand to a diner they liked to go to.

“So it do-doesn’t summon cat-s?” Eric frowned as Illinois slid the totem into a little pocket Void space in his hat. They were crossing a park to save on time, only a couple people still in the park.

“Nah,” Illinois put his hat back on his head and took Eric’s hand again. “Be cool if it could, be funny to watch probably. I know Kay would like something like that.”

Eric giggled as they walked out onto the street, “Tonight’s been a lot of fun.”

“Always the plan, dulcito,” Illinois winked, clicking his tongue and tipping his hat.

“So wh-ere are we go-ing?” Eric asked, smiling.

“You know,” Illinois smiled widely at him, nudging him a little as they stopped just shy of the sidewalk. “We go to Shannon’s and then, I don’t know, it depends on if you’ve got patrol early tomorrow.”

Eric blushed, looking away shyly, smiling.

“Nah,” Marvin cut in, snapping his fingers and a large magic circle that took up almost half the park. He jumped down from a tree as both Eric and Illinois’s feet became magically locked in place.

“Yer grounded,” Marvin told Eric, pointing to him as Marvin summoned giant playing cards that were glowing in a way Illinois did not like. “An’ adventure boy here is goin’ ta jail where he belongs.

“D-on’t h-h-urt him,” Eric choked out, pulling his away from Illinois’s hand, his hands erupting into dozens of explosions on his fingers and palms.

Abe stepped over, he’d been hiding behind a tree and had a TASER in his hands, Jackie zipping in to stand next to him and Marvin. “Come on, kid, this guy’s one of Dark’s most loyal enforcers, he’s bad news.”

“I’m fu-cking tw-enty,” Eric was starting to get frustrated.

“Dulcito,” Illinois called out, and Eric looked back at him. “It’s okay, I won’t even stay the night.”

“They ca-can’t just ta-ke you,” Eric reminded, his voice choppy with agitation and frustration. “Wh-What-ever ha-ppened, you were with—”

Illinois leaned in and Eric met him with a kiss. “We’ll have to take a rain check on that dinner date, sweetheart, but I should be out in an hour or two, even if the Old Man does post bail.”

Eric was escorted away from Illinois, the young hero looking upset and betrayed at Jackie as Marvin disabled the circle and Abe immediately started reading Illinois his rights and cuffing him, but he made sure his wrists were in front of him where everyone could see them. “Illinois Jones, you are under arrest for conspiracy, murder, and theft.”

As Abe started reading his rights, Illinois looked over at Eric and tried to give him a reassuring smile. A car drove up and Illinois let himself be put in the back with Marvin who looked braced to summon up something to further restrain him.

As they drove away, Illinois noticed that Eric was safely away from you. Illinois glared at Marvin as the magician plucked his hat off his head. “If you destroy that it doesn’t get rid of the magic.”

“Yeh should have called Dark when yeh had the chance,” Marvin reminded, the mage knew there was a little bronze that summoned Dark to Illinois’s location but he couldn’t see it. “Why not?”

“Pardon me for being a good boyfriend and not wanting to get him hurt,” Illinois shot back.

“I think yer scared ‘a Dark,” Marvin accused, a smug smile on his face.

“Unlike almost everyone in this town, I’m not afraid of Dark, I’m just not interested in playing meet the parents yet. Unless someone can bring Derek back from the dead so I can properly acquaint him with the heel of my shoe.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Marvin dismissed in disbelief, the Irishman’s attention turning to his communicator. “Package secure, how’s everyone else?”

“Dorm 5 Killer under arrest,” Amy answered.

“We’ve got our end over here,” Bob answered.

“We’re done,” Bing spoke up, “heading back to the station now.”

“We’ve got Dark but who knows how long he’ll stay distracted,” Chase said over Marvin’s communicator.

~::~ ~::~ ~::~

Inside the infamous radio station that still ran Wilford’s program, despite all the stabbing and shooting he’d inflicted upon his various “guests”.

Bim was wrapping up shooting for his show and was excited to watch his dad work. The young show host had descended from the stage to find Wilford in a disagreement in the green room.

The argument was winding down by the time Bim walked in. But the event meant that Wil was already a little worked up and everyone already knew someone was going to wind up dead, and Bim was already starting to get the starting itches of a craving and if someone died, Bim might not need to hunt someone down. It wouldn’t even be the first time Bim had picked from one of his father’s mad kills, even if it took some of the fun out of the hunt.

“What happened?” Bim asked Wil, following him back towards the stage where they were setting up for Wilford’s show.

“They switched out one of my segments and only now just told me,” Wil grumbled angrily, his strides angry and purposeful. Then the madman saw the reason for his ire, a man who was in a tan trench coat with bandages over his eyes. He was talking with the show runner while he sat on set.

Wilford stomped over and Bim was braced for the gun to come out and blood to spatter the set, but as Wil started talking to the new interviewee Wilford seemed to be visibly calming down and eventually went to sit down.

Surprised and more than a bit disappointed, Bim threw up his arms and started back towards the green room. He’d wait for the gunshot there, Dark and the Producer were the only two who could stop his dad mid-murder.

So he waited and turned on the monitor to watch Wil as the show started. But as he watched his father open the show, he felt something like a heavy, invisible blanket fall over him and he was suddenly alone in the room with four heroes all in the room with him.

“Bim Trimmer,” UFO floated a bit off the ground, Amy’s hair tied back so it couldn’t be grabbed. “You’re under arrest for the murders and disappearances of ten people.”

As she began to read him his rights, Bim felt the room almost constrict around him. Robbie and Ethan were with Amy, Nate sitting in a chair by the door and the instant Ethan had pulled his aura dampening over Bim the singer began strumming slower music more befitting a lullaby. The result of Nate’s powers and Ethan’s dampening, unlike most other heroes, made Bim feel weird. The aura he’d inherited from Dark and Wilford fought being compressed into the ground, and for the first time in Bim’s life it could be visibly seen. It wasn’t the thrashing aura that Dark was infamous for, it clung to his body like a dark grey cloud that was tinged with purple.

“Get off!” Bim growled, his aura attacking Ethan’s like it was a virus, and Ethan reflexively pulled away.

Bim’s hand got halfway to the lapel of his suit coat and the bronze star hidden behind it that Dark had given him over fifteen years ago, scanning the room before his pride got the best of him, and he quickly pulled out his switchblade that Wil had etched with Bim’s name on the handle.

“You all have a death wish or something?” Bim demanded, his aura invisible again with Ethan’s aura dampening was off of him. “Do you even know where you are?”

“Wil’s not coming for you,” Nate reminded, still playing lullabies and classical pieces. “He gets tunnel vision on set, and nothing short of blowing the building will make him save you.”

“I can protect myself!” Bim spat. “I don’t need anyone to save me.”

Hidden by Ethan’s aura, Robbie appeared behind Bim and slammed his balled up fists into the back of Bim’s head and aided with some magical cuffs sewed into his sleeves the spell was strong enough to knock him out.

Bim dropped to the ground and slumped onto the ground. Everyone in the room froze, braced for Dark to show up but after a minute nothing happened.

“That was way too easy,” Ethan warned suspiciously as Robbie carefully picked him up.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Nate decided, subtly trying to hide how he was rubbing his arm. “Before Wil comes to his senses, or Dark finds out.”

Ethan extended his aura around them as they began to take Bim out of the station, Nate taking up the rear and Amy in the front. The whole group froze when a gunshot rang up, the death of the guest Wilford had second on his show.

But when Wilford settled back into his chair like a surly child, the heroes finished taking Bim outside to the same armored car they put Wil into whenever he was arrested. The car keeping his magic contained as he was driven to the police station, Bim starting to slowly come to as he was cuffed and Amy was contacting Chase and the others to let them know their part of the mission was a success.

~::~ ~::~ ~::~

Unlike the heroes had to do with Dark, Illinois, and Bim the third group didn’t have to worry about leading Yan into a trap. All it took was ambushing her in the street with one of Bob’s almost see through barriers.

Yan was slashing at Bob’s barrier with her katana, screaming in a mix of Japanese, English, and Korean.

“Look, we’re not going to hurt you,” Wade was trying to calm the angry, homicidal young woman from hurting anyone but at this point they might need to just stand here and wait for her to tire herself out. “We’re just taking you to jail with your brothers.”

“Fuck off!” Yan screamed at them.

“Here, let me try,” Patton smiled.

“Sure, knock yourself out,” Wade shrugged, stepping away. “Go nuts, pal.”

Patton moved in and placed his hands on the barrier, “Hey, you’re Yan right?”

She shouted something at him in Japanese that sounded as angry and insulting, as it was rude and loud.

“I’m Captain Morality, nice to meet you again,” Patton smiled, keeping his tone calm and even. “Look, we can’t let you out if you’re going to hurt people.”

“The only one I’ll hurt are you assholes,” Yan spat, but at least she wasn’t screaming which was a good sign. Patton was calming her down.

“So, we’re taking your brothers to the station and we want all of you in the same place,” Patton told her.

Yan was quiet for a bit as Patton kept trying to calm her down, with almost an unsure tone she asked, “Is Artie going to be there?”

Patton looked over at Bob and Wade who shrugged. So Patton leaned in, “Is that one of your brothers?”

“My biggest brother,” Yan smiled sadly. “He went off with my other brother and they never came back. The Old Man said he and my other brother work for the heroes now but I haven’t seen them in years.”

“Well,” Patton hummed, knowing the name Arthur wasn’t on the list but remembering what the Host had told him. “We’re trying to get all of you guys together to ask you a couple questions, so, yeah, he will be there.”

Yan chuckled a bit, “You won’t get Artie, he makes people disappear.”

“Well, we got some people that are hard to make disappear,” Patton promised.

Yan rolled her eyes and laughed at that, in a way reminded Patton strangely of both Dark and Wil, but that made sense to him because she had apparently lived with them for so long.

“So,” Patton smiled, “we’re going to bring you down to the station, and if you’re not going to help us we’re going to have to roll this thing all the way down there, and you might get motion sick.”

The young villain thought on that, clearly weighing her options. Wade and Bob held their breaths.

“Fine,” Yan grumbled, “but only because Artie might be there.”

After that Yan was more than a bit silent after that, just letting them arrest her and take her off in a car, Bob riding with them so he could make sure she didn’t escape and stayed in communicating with Chase and the other team leaders.

“You’ve got some freakishly creepy powers,” Wade told Patton.

“Oh, sorry,” Patton’s smile vanished.

“Nah, you’re not the only one like that, it’s just I rarely get to see it up close cause you live in the Gainesville area,” Wade apologized. “It’s just a good thing you’re one of the good guys.”

“Yeah,” Patton looked away nervously. “My powers are probably why the Host put me with you guys instead of UFO like Silver wanted. Think the others are doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Wade reassured. “I think they’re fine, they would have told us otherwise.”

Patton and Wade followed their group heading back to the police station.

A Private Tour (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Words: 2020 Summary: Captain America and his brooding friend get a private tour of an art museum. As an intern, your only job is to keep a low profile. Oops? A/N: Happy Fluff Friday! Wrote this in a flash and wanted to share :3 For anyone curious, the museum is the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. All the descriptions of the art are sourced from the museum website. Thanks (as always) to my amazing beta reader @kentuckybarnes, who is more patient than any saint <3

“And here we have the 1888 portrait of Isabella Stewart Gardner by John Singer Sargent. After its initial showing, her husband asked it to not be publicly shown again until after his death.”

“Fascinating,” Captain America said. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and tilted his head as he peered up at the milky face of the museum’s mastermind. The curator studied him with blatant interest.

You rolled your eyes.

“What?”

You flinched. You’d been invited to accompany the curator on Captain America’s private tour, to shadow her and learn—a high honor for a lowly intern such as yourself. You were just supposed to keep a low profile and pay attention to how the curator conducted the tour.

Of course, you’d blown it now. Captain America’s friend, the dark, brooding fellow trailing at an uneasy distance, was staring at you with raised eyebrows.

“What?” he repeated.

“I didn’t say anything,” you whispered.

“You rolled your eyes,” he whispered back.

“Er…” Your face burned.

He cracked a grin. “I won’t tell.” He winked conspiratorially at you and strolled up beside Captain America, who started to point out some brushwork to the strange man.

Martha, the curator, joined you by the far wall as the two men chatted.

“So, what do you think?” she asked.

“I’m curious why you picked the pieces you did,” you said. “But I guess I have weird taste.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I get why you’d point out the Sargent—it’s a classic. Plus, the whole idea of locking something splendid away for ages does kinda resonate. But a few of the others you picked were pretty obscure.”

“Well, I like to highlight some of the things that speak to me.” Martha tapped her chin. “And you do get some extra autonomy on these private tours. No need to follow a strict script like with the regular tours.”

“Mm.”

You eyed the two guests speculatively. Captain America was still staring up at the Sargent while talking to his friend. His friend, on the other hand, had his head turned towards you and Martha. You raised your eyebrows when he glanced back at you, but he looked away so fast you weren’t sure if he’d even noticed. He was dressed like Captain America in a button-down shirt and jeans, though he had his sleeves rolled down and gloves on as well. His shirt wasn’t quite straining over the muscles of his back, but it was a close call. The black jeans across his butt, on the other hand…

“What’s the other one’s name again?” you asked Martha in a whisper.

“Don’t you recognize him? That’s Bucky Barnes!”

Bucky Barnes definitely looked back at you this time. You ignored his badly disguised smirk.

“I guess I’m not up-to-date on the real world,” you said lightly. “Not that I’m so up-to-date in the art world, either…”

“Ah yes, your penchant for impressionist landscapes.” Martha’s lips twitched with amusement. Captain America turned back to her with a smile, and Martha hurried forward to lead on.

You kept to a reasonable distance. Bucky Barnes stood by the Sargent until you pass by.

“So,” he drawled. “Impressionist landscapes?”

“I’d say they’re classic, but that’s a couple millenia off-base,” you told him.

Bucky grinned. He hooked his fingers in the loops of his snug jeans and kept pace with you as you followed Martha and Steve.

“What about art of people?”

“Eh,” you said with a shrug. “ I see people every day. We’re all works of art, in my opinion. You just have to look at people the right way to see it.”

“So how should I pose?” Bucky stopped short and twisted his legs and torso, raising his arms in a fair facsimile of the composite pose of ancient Egypt. His muscles strained against his shirt, and you stepped back to try and take in the whole picture and not just the stark outline of his abs. His long hair brushed his cheekbones, and his cheeky grin was nothing like the serene profiles depicted in tomb chapels or on palace walls.

He looked… ridiculous.

“A good effort,” you said, trying not to laugh. “But I prefer contrapposto.”

Bucky chuckled, and Steve glanced back at you both with a smile. You blushed and hurried after your boss.

Martha was already telling Steve about the seventeenth century Japanese fold screens by the time you were back in earshot. It was the standard fare, a speech you’d already mostly memorized. You studied the illustrations, wondering vaguely if you’d ever get around to reading more than a synopsis of the source novel.

“Wanna catch me up?” Bucky asked.

You glanced at him, trying to ignore your racing pulse at the sight of his bright blue eyes. “Illustrations from the Tale of Genji,” you said quickly—Martha was almost done with her speech. “Kano Tsunenobu, 1677.”

“Isn’t that the first novel ever written?” Bucky leaned forward and peered at the bottom left corner. His arm brushed your sleeve, and you bit your tongue to keep cool as a whiff of his spicy scent flooded your senses. “What’s it about?”

“It’s about a man named Genji, who was the ideal man. A really talented artist, super attractive, and—” you flushed— “a great lover.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky stood up, still dangerously close. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips as he gazed at you. You were frozen in place, barely able to breathe. There were sweet crinkles around his eyes, and gosh, his lips were pink as anything. He was barely a foot away. You swallowed.

“And so as we move on…”

Martha and Steve were wandering off. You took the opportunity to step back, breaking the spell, and follow your boss. A deep breath took the edge off your sudden hyper-awareness of the man behind you. Then you remembered Bucky had asked a question.

“The book spends a lot of time on his relationships. I guess things haven’t changed much,” you shot back over your shoulder. Your voice sounded normal. You hoped.

“Well, I don’t think that’s true,” Bucky murmured. “But I hope you never change.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

Martha made quick work of the chapel and the long gallery, and now you were all clustered in the Titian room. Martha and Steve made their way to the far wall, but Bucky grabbed your elbow and steered you to a table by a window. You recognized the painting propped in a dark wooden frame.

Giovanni Bellini, Christ Carrying the Cross, about 1505-1510.

“He looks like he’s wearing a backwards baseball hat,” Bucky whispered.

You clapped a hand to your mouth before you laughed out loud. “Shh!” you scolded.

“What?” he said, blinking innocently. Gosh, what eyes! “I’m just sayin’.”

“Well, you’re not wrong, but I’m supposed to be paying attention,” you said. You extricated your arm from his hold and hurried over to where Martha was going over Titian’s Rape of Europa with Steve.

“Crazy to think how much European art developed in a hundred and fifty years,” Steve mused. “This is so different from the Proto-Renaissance stuff. The motion, the colors…”

“It’s fascinating,” Martha agreed.

You blinked. Did Martha realize she was echoing what Steve had said not ten minutes ago?

Maybe. Martha was good at reading a room.

Hopefully she wouldn’t scold you for not paying attention to her tour.

Your eyes slid back to Bucky, who mimed spinning a cap around his head, and you pressed your lips together to keep from smiling. What a goof.

By the time you all headed back downstairs, Bucky had attached himself to your side again.

“So,” he said as you made your way down the stairs, “what’s your deal?”

“I’m interning,” you said. “Summertime gig and all that.”

“Do they pay you?” he asked.

“Uh, no, this is an art museum,” you said, startled.

“So how do you live?”

“Grants, and other paid jobs. I’m a grad student in my spare time.”

“Oh yeah? Art history?”

“Whoa, how did you guess?” you joked.

Bucky leaned in to whisper, “It’s hard to tell, but I’m secretly brilliant.”

You giggled. “You know,” you said, “I believe it.” Your eyes lingered on his smile before you looked away as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

This all had been fun, and Bucky Barnes was definitely the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, but it wasn’t real. Captain America’s private tour was over, and now that it was, you and Martha and the rest of the skeleton crew still left behind could go home.

Except Steve was still talking to Martha.

Well, you weren’t going home yet. You turned back to Bucky with a smile.

“Art is more Steve’s thing, but I had fun,” he said, knocking his shoulder against yours.

“Good!” You smiled brightly at him.

Bucky blinked, a hint of pink coming to his cheeks as he looked at you. The silence held a few seconds too long, and your smile faded slightly. He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“So what’s your end goal, then?” he asked.

“Make something magical out of other people’s work,” you said promptly. “And…” You glanced hesitantly up at him. Why not tell him your secret dream? You’d never see him again, and his eyes and face were so guileless that you couldn’t imagine any harm would come from telling. “And it’s never gonna happen, but I want to be the one to find the paintings that got stolen from here.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yes,” you confessed. “I always love heist stories, and when I found out someone had done it in a museum, I was so excited. I’ve wanted to figure it out since I was a kid. I minored in criminal justice, even.”

“So… bring the thieves to justice and restore the paintings to their rightful place?”

“Exactly.”

“Sounds fun.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “When do we start?”

“Oh, please.” You laughed.

“No, seriously, when do we start?”

Your mouth dropped open. “You’re not serious,” you said, but he ignored you.

“I suppose we could start with dinner, but we can stick with a good old-fashion briefing room if you prefer,” he said with a wink. Your heart skipped a beat.

“I like dinner,” you said weakly. “Briefing rooms sound boring.”

“God, you have no idea,” he said fervently. He rolled his eyes, but when he was done, all he smiled. “So do you have plans tonight?”

“Well, I was going to just hang out at home, but I guess I need to solve a decades-old mystery with a stranger first,” you teased.

“Having been a decades-old mystery, I think I can offer a unique perspective,” Bucky declared, still smiling. He reached out and squeezed your hand briefly. “I’m glad Steve dragged me along. Never woulda come on my own.”

“Is it too soon to say I’m glad too?”

Bucky’s grin was infectious. “Nope. Besides, I think your boss will be impressed if you can get the paintings home safe.”

“You do know they’ve been missing for almost thirty years, right?” you said.

“After a century, that doesn’t sound so bad.” Bucky glanced behind you at Martha and Steve, but before you could check what they were up to, he grabbed your hand and pulled you around a corner.

“Excuse you!” But your protest was half-hearted. Bucky’s right hand was still linked in yours, his eyes bright and happy, and you couldn’t help but catch your breath at the wonderful sight of him so close. “You know,” you murmured, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, “you’re a work of art just as you are.”

Bucky’s eyes smoldered as he tugged you closer until your chest brushed his.

“Well,” he said, dropping a kiss on your nose, “maybe for my next pose I’ll try a reclining nude.”

He stifled your laugh with a searing kiss. Warmth burst in your chest, and you hummed happily into his mouth. When he finally pulled back, his lips were swollen but his eyes were gleaming.

“So,” he said, “dinner?”

“Dinner,” you agreed.