#also I’m trying to give blue more attention cause I barely give him any lmao

[sandeewithtwoe]

Training is important…. But talking about your favourite show is important too

Blue belongs to PopcornPr1nce

Ink belongs to comyet/ myebi

Dream belongs to Jokublog

In case you can’t read my handwriting:

Blue: Huh, that’s weird. Dream is late for training

Ink: Wait, IM not the one late? That’s new!

Blue: Maybe we should check if he’s alright

Blue: Dream, wake up! There’s no time to be a lazybones!

Dream: uh… hey guys! What’s going on-

Blue and Ink: YOU WATCH MY LITTLE PONY?!?

Ink: Please please please tell me you’re a brony too!

Dream: A… brownie?

Blue: OMG you have so much to learn!

[oh-ranpo]

stay, don’t go.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader warnings: angsty angst an: I don’t know, I just wrote it lmao word count: 2.4k+

“And if he was wrong about you, he was wrong about me!”

You kept hearing those words replaying over and over in your head. You knew that he had been upset about Sam giving up the shield, but you were surprised at how you hadn’t seen these particular emotions coming. There were a lot of things that Bucky worried about, but this burden of a thought broke your heart even more than usual. It was the most transparent he had been in months, and you hadn’t even been the one he was opening up to. Not that it mattered all that much, but now, you were struggling to find a way to help with the newly re-opened wound.

After the therapy session with Sam, Bucky had withdrawn into himself even more. Even though you had been waiting right outside the door, it was almost as if he didn’t see you at all when he walked through it. You had reached for his hand, and he had let you take his, but he didn’t say a word to you. 

He’s had a rough day, you had told yourself. Getting arrested on top of everything else he was dealing with had to be a lot. He just needed some time to process it all. 

Only, now, it was five hours later and he still hadn’t said a thing. You managed to get some hums in response to your prompting, and a shrug here and there, but no actual words fell from his lips. The anger from earlier in the day had dissipated, and now his shoulders drooped as he seemed to be carrying the world on his shoulders. Not that this was anything new to you either. It was a look you had long grown used to, but after hearing his outburst at therapy, you had a better idea than usual as to what was causing his pain this time.

Bucky had taken a spot in one of the chairs in the corner of your shared hotel room, and his blue eyes were fixed on the wall in front of him as he seemed to be attempting to stare a hole through it. You could practically hear the gears in his head turning, and you were sure that if you could read his thoughts, you wouldn’t be able to handle the emotional turmoil that lay inside. When you couldn’t get him to talk, you decided to order some food - something that you knew he liked - and then sat down in the chair next to him. 

“Food should be here soon,” you told him, as if he couldn’t hear you placing the delivery order just five minutes prior from the other side of the room. This time, Bucky didn’t even bother acknowledging what you had said as his hand came up to rest under his chin. He was still staring at the same spot on the wall, and his eyes were squinting slightly as he seemed to be deep in thought.

You sighed as you glanced down at your watch and saw that it was getting later in the evening, and you wondered what Sam was up to. The three of you had parted ways after the police station, and Sam had barely said anything to you or Bucky when you left. You could make out some of their conversation through the door during therapy, but really the only part you had heard clearly were Bucky’s words. And it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the ‘he’ Bucky had been referring to was Steve. This was what his whole trip had been about in the first place.

You knew that you couldn’t go the whole night without addressing the elephant in the room, but you also knew how Bucky was when it came to opening up. Even with you. You knew that, besides Sam, you were one of the only people that he trusted since Steve passed away, and you didn’t take that lightly. You really only pressed when you knew that it would be good for him to talk about something, and this was one of those times.

“Bucky?” You started again, using his name this time in an attempt to draw his attention away from the wall. He didn’t look over at you at first, but slowly, as you waited patiently, they started to trail over in your direction. When his eyes finally met yours, you gave him a small, sad smile as you leaned against the arm of the chair closest to him. ���About what you said to Sam today…” 

You didn’t get a chance to finish your thought before Bucky was swiftly moving out of his seat. The movement caught you by surprise, as he had seemed so relaxed - well, as relaxed as he could be given the situation - but now he was running his hands through his hair as he started pacing in circles.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” he mumbled, as his hand ran over his face, and his other gloved hand shoved into the pockets of his jeans. Slowly, you stood up from your own chair and made your way over to him, your hand reaching out for the sleeve of his jacket before he harshly pulled it out of your grasp. 

His entire reaction was confusing you because usually, he just shut down. He didn’t get this visibly worked up, he just shut down and refused to give you any emotion or feedback on how he was feeling. Now, you could tell that he was upset, and from the look on his face, he knew that his expression and actions were giving him away.

“But you know you should,” you continued as you tried to reach for him again, this time more slowly. “Let me be there for you, Buck.” The second part of your statement came out at nearly a whisper, but it had been loud enough he had heard you and he started shaking his head.

“You shouldn’t have to. I’m- I’m fine. I just need to go-“ Now, he had started moving towards the hotel door, and you felt your heart start to race in your chest. He was trying to leave.

“Wait, no, don’t go!” You cried, as you rushed to stop him, and Bucky’s hand hesitated over the doorknob. “Please. Stay. Talk to me.” You hated how broken your words sounded, but after everything that had taken place over the last few months, you couldn’t bear the thought of him walking out of that door and leaving you alone. Hesitantly, Bucky looked back over his shoulder at you, and you could see that same, decades-old pain swimming in his light blue irises.

“You’d be better off if I did. I’m doing nothing for you here.” Earlier, when you thought the comment about Steve was the most painful thing you had heard him say, this was a close second. You shook your head firmly as you took another step closer to him, and instead of reaching for the door knob fully, Bucky allowed his hand to fall back down to his side.

“No, Bucky, I wouldn’t be better off. I lived five years without you. Five years of never knowing if you were going to come back. I’ve known a life without you, and that is something I never want to have to experience again.”

Bucky’s shoulders deflated at your words, and you could see a flash of something in his expression that gave you a sliver of hope. You knew how he felt about you, and you knew that, deep down, he was well aware of how you felt about him. That was a secret you never tried to keep from him, and the one thing he never tried to hide from you either. 

After he didn’t move any closer to the door, and he didn’t respond to your words either, you slowly reached out for him once more, but this time, he didn’t pull away. You took ahold of his gloved hand and moved closer to him. The pain and conflict was still present in his expression, but as you lifted your other hand to cup his cheek, you hoped that maybe you would be able to find a way to bring him some comfort.

“Come sit back down with me, please,” you whispered, and for a moment, he didn’t move. You knew that if he really wanted to leave, you would have to let him, but your heart started to crack at the mere thought. Thankfully, after another heavy moment of silence, Bucky nodded and allowed you to lead him back to the end of the bed. You didn’t drop his hand, and when the two of you sat down next to one another, you sat close enough so that your leg was pressed up against his. 

“I know you said you don’t want to talk about it, but I heard what you said to Sam today. About Steve,” you murmured, your gaze falling to where your hands were entwined and resting on his thigh. “And Bucky, you know that isn’t true, right? Steve… he thought the world of you. He would have, and did, do anything for you. He knew you, Buck, just as I do, and he saw the heart that you have and knew that you were worth every bit of it.”

When you looked up, you could see the tears swimming in his eyes as he tried to hold them back. Steve had always been a sensitive subject, and you knew that, but you also knew that what you said was true. You had known Steve, and you had seen and heard the way he felt about his best friend. Before he was Captain America, Bucky had always been there for him, and after he was Captain America, he was there to return the favor without hesitation. He never held Bucky’s Hydra days against him because he knew, just as you did, that he had no control over that. He was a victim; a pawn in a much bigger game than he ever could have won on his own. He was still paying for it, even after all this time. You just hoped that someday he’d find a way to forgive himself.

“I just don’t know sometimes,” Bucky managed to choke out after another heavy silence. “I mean, I’m trying, but the nightmares and the constant reminders of what I did…” His voice trailed off as he fixed his eyes on the window across the room in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. You knew that he hated crying in front of anyone, despite you having told him numerous times that he didn’t have to hide that part of himself from you.

“That wasn’t you, at least, not really,” you replied. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes, White Wolf.” This time you nudged him in the shoulder with your own and he cracked half a smile as his eyes flickered back over to you. “The Winter Soldier was not you. And before you try to argue with me, I’ve seen him and I’ve seen you, and I can tell you that he is nowhere near the same guy as the one that’s sitting right here next to me.”

Bucky cringed at the reminder that you had been forced to bear witness to his time as The Winter Soldier when Zemo had activated him a few years before the blip. He had spent months apologizing, despite not having done anything to you, and you cursed yourself for bringing it up again. 

“I mean, the metal arm is the only thing you guys have in common, and on the Bucky I know… it’s actually kind of sexy.” You added the last part lightly, and when Bucky looked over at you again, you waggled your eyebrows playfully. He just shook his head as the corners of his lips turned up just a bit, before his gaze fell to his lap. The hand you were holding now was the metal one, and you followed his gaze as you released your hold on it before slowly slipping his glove off. He flexed the metal appendages as soon as the glove was gone, and you reached for it as your fingers traced over the cool metal.

“It’s a curse,” he mumbled, his eyes still locked on where it was resting in his lap. “I mean, Shuri was nice enough to make it better than the old one but…” 

You shook your head as you grabbed it before lifting it to your lips and pressing a small kiss to the back of it.

“It’s not a curse, it’s a part of you. And because of that, I love it. Just like I love you.”

Bucky inhaled sharply at those three little words, even though you had been saying them practically non-stop since he had returned. You had said it before he was gone too, but you knew, back then, that he didn’t believe it. 

“I do love you, Bucky. So please… don’t leave.” 

For a moment, you could tell that Bucky had almost completely forgotten about how he had been about to walk out. It was a gift that you possessed that he had never truly understood. Even though you were talking about his problems, it didn’t feel nearly as bad as it did when he talked about his problems with anyone else. Not that he opened up enough to anyone else to really do much good. 

“I couldn’t leave,” he murmured as your eyes lifted to meet his. “You’re the only one that makes me feel… well, anything.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as that was practically him saying he loved you too, and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“And thank you,” he continued. “For what you said.” You nodded in response as you leaned against his shoulder, his metal hand falling to your thigh as you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“I’m always here for you to talk to, you know that? Though, you do need to talk to Sam too. He’s going through a hard time just like you are, and he needs his friends to be there with him too.” 

Slowly, Bucky nodded, but before either of you could continue, there was a knock on the hotel room door, and you were reminded of the take-out order that you had placed earlier.

“You hungry?” You asked with another smile as you stood up from the end of the bed and moved towards the door.

“I could eat,” you heard him respond, and you chuckled as you pulled open the door to grab your food. 

Things were far from perfect, but every day the two of you took baby steps towards healing together. And really, you couldn’t ask for much more than that. 

[corpsedaydream]

hi i love ur work so much and i had a request! corpse and reader are dating and she isn’t necessarily what fans think his type is. she isn’t really goth and doesn’t watch anime so when she sees corpse talking about e girls and goth girls and all that stuff she feels left out and like she isn’t who he wants to be with, and when he’s streaming with her (she’s also a youtuber), he’s like talking about an anime show and reader feels left out and the whole live chat is just saying how she doesn’t belong there and that corpse could do so much better ect. so she has a breakdown in the bathroom and he reads the comments about her and gets upset and defends her which ends with him cuddling the fuck out of her and kissing away her tears idk just angst with a fluffy ending please i’m desperate 😔✌️💗

ooooooooooof i put myself in all the feels writing this and now i’m meant to just go to sleep like i’m not feeling some type of way smh

but!!!!!!!! i like how it turned out hehe, hope u enjoy

word count: 1.5k

_________________________

beach baby

Your freckles were a lot more prominent lately, but that was always something that happened during this time of year when summer was quickly approaching. As much as you felt a little insecure by the the little marks that were dotted all over your body, it came hand in hand with the excitement of being able to do all of your favourite things that just felt better to do in summer.

You were a beach baby through and through. Growing up, you lived in the one house your whole life that was right by the beach and when your family went on holidays, it was always to a holiday house that was by another beach. You could swim before you could walk or talk. When you did learn how to walk, your parents realised they had to keep an extra close eye on you at the beach because you’d always run down to the waves, not realising the danger in your toddler years. When you watched The Little Mermaid for the first time, you begged your mother to turn you into a mermaid so you could live a life under the sea. When you were a kid getting picked up from school, your after school activity was going to the beach. Whenever the school swimming carnival rolled around, it was always you who got nominated to do the races. When you were a dramatic teenager and found out the boy you liked kissed someone else, you went to the beach and wrote his name in the sand just to watch it get washed away by the sea.

Your life had always involved the beach and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Whenever the idea of falling in love with someone popped into your mind, you always thought it would happen with the beach involved in some way. And there had been a few surfer boys you’d had flings with, but none stuck. They never really made an impact on you.

But Corpse had.

The two of you were an unlikely pairing, the absolute definition of opposites attract, but it worked.

You’d met at a mutual friends house by chance and there was an undeniable spark from that very first moment.

-

“Sitting under the moon is a lot better than the sun.” The two of you had found yourselves in a light hearted argument that very first night. After getting introduced and realising there was a pull between you both, he had eventually grabbed your hand and brought you to come sit up on the rooftop with him.

“What? No way, dude.” You shook your head and laughed, he was everything you weren’t but all you wanted. “The moon is so pretty,” You agreed with him, “but the sun makes you warm and it’s so pretty when the sky is all blue with a couple of cute, white fluffy clouds. That’s the perfect weather to be out and about.”

“If you like going out and about.”

“You don’t like going outside?”

“Nah,” Corpse hesitated, contemplating on how honest he should be with the girl he’d just met but was feeling so comfortable around. “I can’t handle the world sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. If someone came up to me and said you can spend your whole life under water as a mermaid but never be able to come back on land, I’d seriously consider.”

“Even after meeting me?” The tone shifted back to the playful flirting and you were grateful for it.

“Shut up and admire your moon.”

“I will, after all, the night sky is far superior.” He was holding firm in his opinion.

“I think it’s all really pretty.” You said honestly, and it was the truth. You were just as hypnotised by a moonlit sky with stars sparkling as you were with a daytime sky.

“I think you’re really pretty.”

He’d had your heart from that moment.

-

You’d actually gone to the beach today and spent a solid few hours there with friends and it had put you in such a blissful state. Making the drive to your boyfriends place so enjoyable, because you were also very excited to see him.

He’d left the door unlocked when you messaged him saying you were on your way. So when you arrived you let yourself in, shutting and locking the front door behind you, knowing Corpse was streaming and you were going to join him.

“Hi.” You whispered, opening the door to his office, not knowing if you should let your presence be known to stream yet. You always felt a little nervous when it came to his fans. The first time you joined him in a stream, all you could concentrate on was the amount of messages that stated how you were exactly wrong for Corpse. How you were the opposite to who he should be with. From there, it only progressed. You saw the hate comments and negative things that some of them had to say about you and it hurt.

“She’s here!” Corpse announced, so at least it was known to them that you would be joining him at some point, they had some warning and you hoped it meant you would receive a warmer welcome. “Hey, baby, get over here.” He opened his arms and you sat down on his lap, greeting him with a kiss before you both brought your attention back to his stream.

“Hi guys!” You greeted the stream, cautiously looking over the influx of messages, waiting for something negative but it seemed they were asking you about something. “I can see you guys asking, but I don’t really know what you’re talking about...” You trailed off before looking at Corpse. “What were you talking about?”

“Oh...” He started, “we were talking about an anime. (Y/N) isn’t really into anime, guys.” He laughed and you smiled but you could feel the anxiety start to build, you just knew this was going to cause a wave of hate to you.

“Hey, I loved Sailor Moon and Pokemon when I was a kid.” You attempted to make a joke, thinking it would gain approval of his fans but it only caused them to react worse.

The chat started moving faster, messages of,

‘LMAO of course she doesn’t know what we’re talking about’

‘Did she really just say Pokemon? She’s fucking basic’

‘What a fucking dumbass’

‘Dump her ass Corpse’

‘Ugh why the fuck did she come?’

‘WE DONT WANT YOU HERE’

‘Fuck off (Y/N)’

‘Corpse you can do so much better’

You could feel the tears welling up, each comment being another jab and you knew you had to leave or you would cry right there and they’d all hear just how they had gotten to you. Quickly, you got up, ignoring Corpse calling after you and trying to reach for you to bring you back to him.

Making your way to the bathroom, you washed your face in an attempt to calm yourself but it didn’t work at all. So instead, you sunk to the floor and let yourself cry. You couldn’t understand why they hated you, you loved him so much for exactly who he was, just as they did. Couldn’t they be happy if who he was with made him happy? Negative thoughts were swirling your mind. They were getting to you.

“(Y/N)?” Corpse cracked the door open, his face full of worry as he stepped inside the bathroom. “Oh, baby, hey, hey,” He was by your side in a moment, his hands finding your sun kissed cheeks as he left a kiss against your head before finding your vision. “I saw what they were saying. They’re wrong.”

“But what if they’re not, Corpse?” You couldn’t help but to argue back. “You deserve someone better for you.”

“Stop it, stop right now.”

“No, I mean, look at us... We’re complete opposites.”

“And so?” He responded. “Do you love me?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“That’s all that matters.” He told you, and you knew he was right, it was just the hate comments were really playing on your mind.

“Is it, though? Don’t you want someone else?”

“No. Fuck no.” He wrapped his arms around you then, he knew you really needed reassurance right now and he was going to give it to you. “You’re fucking perfect, baby. My beach baby, I only want you.” He told you, bringing you onto his lap once more, only now you were on the bathroom floor. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, needing to be close to him.

“Please don’t leave me.” Your voice was barely audible when you’d whispered that but he heard it and it crushed his heart to know it was his audience that had made you feel this way.

“I won’t, ever.” He assured you, he was cradling you with a force now, ever so slightly rocking the two of you back and forth. “You don’t ever have to ask me that, I’m not going anywhere.”

[simeonisalesbian]

Pretty eyes

I've been working on this on and off for a few months now and i finally finished it :3 So have some MC telling the boys how pretty their eyes are.

Lucifer's look like a Garnet. Arguably they’re his best feature.

“Is there something wrong with my face Mc?” Lucifer set his pen down and tilted his head in question. “You’ve been staring for quite some time now.”

Mc was supposed to be helping with some of the paperwork but they ended up starting at Lucifer as he worked instead. "Sorry I was just lost in thought for a minute there."

"Oh? What were you thinking about if I may be so bold?" Lucifer smirked, and Mc was almost certain he was aware the answer was about him.

"I was just thinking about how pretty your eyes were."

"Oh?" His eyebrows raised in question waiting for them to continue.

"They're a nice dark red like a ruby or Garnet stone. They also seem like they're almost glowing at times." They left out the part about how they seem to soften just a bit when it's just the two of them alone like this.

"Seems you've thought on this for quite some time." Lucifer chucked when Mc blushed slightly at the observation. "Either way, thank you, Mc. Compliments are always nice to hear from you." He finished going back to the paperwork that littered his desk, a smile still on his face.

Mammon's are like a pretty blue sky like I could really get lost in those fuckers. The gold in his eyes is also really cool like how there is gold in a lapis lazuli.

Mc watched as mammon excitedly explained his latest money makin’ scheme, his eyes lit up to match his bright smile.

“What do ya think?” He finished explaining, hoping for some sort of feedback from his human.

“Your eyes are really nice,” Mc said, fondly smiling at the demon who was now a blushing stuttering mess.

“Wha?! Mc- Oi-” He buried his face in his hands softly yelling for a moment. “Ya can’t just say shit like that outta nowhere!” He pouted, crossing his arms trying his damndest to look upset.

“It’s true though. I like looking at them, they're like a bright blue sky.” Mc expected Mammon to preen under the praise but instead, he got a bit smaller looking off to the side. “You don’t like them do you?”

“They look the same as the damned angels. Demons ain't supposed to have angel eyes. Makes me look weak.” Mammon refused to meet Mc’s gaze.

“The great mammon? Weak? I don’t think those fit together very well. You’re one of the strongest demons I know.” Mc insisted, hoping to boost the demon’s ego a bit. “They also remind me of Lapis Lazuli. Did you know that royalty used that stone a lot?”

Mammon looked up at the mention of royalty. “You saying I’m like a king or somethin’?” He paused thinking over it for a second before smiling widely. “I like the sound of that. King Mammon. You gotta be my second in command though ya hear?”

Levi’s reminds me of a goldfish. Like Henry. Feel like it’s lame but he’d probably just be impressed u noticed something to compliment lmao weeb boy with no confidence

“Hey, normie? Are you even paying attention still?” Levi waves a hand in front of MC’s face as they snap back to reality. ”If you didn’t want to listen to me you didn’t have to come. I get that it’s probably boring to listen to me talk on and on like this.”

Mc shakes their head. “Sorry Levi I didn’t mean to zone out and you aren’t boring me.” They were listening to him at first however the way his eyes always lit up when he talked about his special interests. “Your eyes are really nice, you know that right? They’re like…” they paused, their mind coming up a bit blank. “They're kinda like Henry 2.0 I guess. A nice golden orange… sorry that sounds kinda lame.” They turned attention back to Leviathan who was covering his face in an attempt to hide his blushing embarrassment.

“Yo-you can’t just say- say stuff like- like that normie! It’s like you’re trying to kill me here! A direct hit to my heart, It’s super effective!! Stop laughing!! I could have died MC!”

Satan's are also hard to describe because they’re such a unique greenish-blue color. The forest. They’re like the forest. They’re wild and unknown but you can’t help but wonder what lies within.

"Do I have a cat on my head again Mc?" Satan barely even looked up from his book. "You keep staring."

Mc laughed pointing at the cat that had settled on their lap a whole ago. "No, the cat is sleeping, I was just thinking."

"Oh?" Satan fumbled around on his armrest looking for something to save his page in the book."Penny for your thoughts?" He picked up a random piece of paper looking it over before closing it in his book and turning his attention to you.

"It's just your eyes, they're pretty." Mc shrugged.

"Pretty?" Satan sounded genuinely confused. Though when you think about it not many people would be calling the Avatar of Wrath's eyes pretty.

That is except for the human sitting right in front of him. "They're like a nice deep green forest. And they match the cat's." They set a hand on the cat's head as if to emphasize their point.

"Oh. That's…" Satan sat trying to figure out what to say. He apparently couldn't find the words since he just smiled before settling on "Thank you Mc. That means a lot."

Asmodeus’ are hard to explain but god they’re pretty…. They feel like the taste of the orange creamsicles. That makes no sense but that's the best way I can describe them.

“I can see you staring at my reflection darling.” Asmo smiled at Mc through the mirror on his vanity. “I don’t mind of course just wondering if you’d like something from me.

“I was just admiring your eyes, Asmo nothing big,” Mc replied simply. There wasn’t any reason to hold back any compliments from the demon, in fact, he’d be more upset with compliments being withheld from him.

“My eyes? Well, keep talking Mc. I’m sure you have lots to say about them since they’re the best in all of the Devildom after all!” Asmo quickly got up from his vanity sitting down in front of his human as if to give them a better view of his eyes.

“Well, they’re very pretty.”

“I know they’re pretty Mc.” Asmo playfully rolled his eyes. “Come on, don't hold back now. I know you have some better words in that pretty little head of yours.”

Mc tilted their head and sat thinking for a few minutes. “Well, I guess they kind of remind me of those orange creamsicles but specifically the taste of them if that makes any sense.”

Asmo giggled. “Well, it’s certainly a unique way of describing something. But I get that you can’t find words to describe something as beautiful as me. You have wonderful eyes as well darling. Only second to me of course.”

Beel’s and Belphie's are like dawn and dusk and I think that's beautiful…

Mc sat across from Beel and his twin who was snoozing away. It was quiet and peaceful for once, aside from Beel’s munching away at his pile of snacks. They smiled to themselves staring at Beel’s violet eyes.

“You okay?” Beel asked, pausing before taking another bite. His eyes shifted to a slightly more worried expression.

“Yeah, why?” Mc asked, tilting their head slightly.

“You’ve been staring at me a while now. I was worried I did something.” He smiled happy that nothing was wrong but was still curious why the human had been staring for so long.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Beel.” Mc was quick to reassure the demon. “I was just thinking about how pretty your eyes are. They’re kinda like a sunrise you know.” Mc smiled fondly at the demon.

“You’re too sappy, it's gross,” Belphie spoke up causing the other two to turn their attention towards him. “Not to mention you sleep in too late; you probably don't even see the sunrise.” He lifted his head just enough to glare at Mc. There was no malice behind it though and felt softer than what was clearly intended.

“I’ve seen a couple here and there.” Mc shrugged now staring into Belphie’s eyes causing the demon to avert his gaze. “Your eyes are like a sunset.”

“We have the same eyes stupid. Can’t be both a sunset and a sunrise.” Belphie mumbled just enough to be heard.

“You don’t though. Beel’s eyes are more warm and optimistic like the coming of the new day, while yours are cold yet peaceful like the cover of the night sky. They’re the same yes but they’re still different.”

“That’s beautiful Mc.” Beel happily smiled as if the human had hung the stars.

His twin just mumbles something about them being gross and sappy again burying his head in his arms to hide his blush.

[nikkoliferous]

Phase One: Avengers (Part One)

With everything being about the LOKI series right now and me dreading it, I figured I'd distract myself by finally posting my thoughts on the Phase One: Avengers novel, which I seem to recall somehow being way worse than the Thor novel? I'm not completely convinced this thing wasn't ghostwritten by Taika Waititi; that's all I'm saying. Anyways, here we go.

(Quick note: please be aware that this overview is significantly Thor-critical. If that sort of thing bothers you, I do not recommend proceeding. You've been warned. Lol)

Let's start off with a friendly reminder that SHIELD had four hours to evacuate before Loki showed up, shall we?

Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from the Tesseract four hours ago,” Coulson was saying.

“I didn’t approve going to testing,” Fury said.

Coulson nodded. “He wasn’t testing it. He wasn’t even in the room. Spontaneous event.”

So either they're grossly incompetent or grossly negligent, but either way those deaths are on them at least as much as they're on Loki. If not more so.

“It just turned itself on?” Hill sounded skeptical. Fury, as usual, was less interested in how they’d gotten there than in what they were going to do next.

[...]

Selvig acknowledged him briefly and then returned his attention to the monitoring equipment. “Director, the Tesseract is misbehaving.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, it’s not funny at all. The Tesseract is not only active, she’s… behaving.”

Fury didn’t comment on the doctor characterizing the Tesseract as female. He also wasn’t interested in Selvig’s notions about its personality. It didn’t have a personality. It was a cube containing energy, and all Nick Fury wanted was to know how to control that energy. “I assume you pulled the plug.”

Fury having no intellectual curiosity explains a lot, tbh. Like how he thinks Loki "kills because it's fun", even though nothing about their prior interaction indicates that. Like, at all. Loki killed only the agents who were attacking him. Because he felt threatened. If he indeed killed for the fun of it, he would have taken them all out and been done with it. Doing so would have both entertained him and made for a much smoother getaway.

“She’s an energy source. We turn off the power, she turns it back on. If she reaches peak level—”

“We prepared for this, Doctor. Harnessing energy from space.”

“We’re not ready. My calculations are far from complete. And she’s throwing off interference radiation.”

Fury watched the Tesseract in its circular containment shell. Eight separate energy sensors built into a frame supporting that shell were designed to measure and conduct that energy. Those sensors in turn rested on stainless-steel support scaffolding. The whole setup sprouted cables and conduits. These were there to supply energy to the Tesseract in a controlled fashion so Dr. Selvig could analyze its reactions. Now they were all shut down, as Dr. Selvig had said, but even so, the Tesseract glowed with a fierce blue energy. It was starting to spill onto the sensors, arcing like electricity. But it wasn’t electricity. It was something much more exotic.

I also find it curious/amusing/something that Fury later accuses Loki of "stealing a force [he] can't hope to control". YOU'RE DESCRIBING YOURSELF, NICK. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO CAN'T CONTROL IT AND HAS BEEN ARROGANTLY PRETENDING YOU CAN.

The man looked up at them and smiled as he stood. He was not a large man, not remarkable in any particular way. He had long black hair and wore black leather clothing, similar to what Fury was wearing. However, he wasn’t a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Fury didn’t know where he had come from.

I beg to fucking differ lmao

Fury had the Tesseract in a steel carrying case and was taking a step toward the door when the stranger turned to him and said, “Please don’t. I still need that.”

Kudos to Loki for not forgetting his princely manners even while completely off his rocker. Lol

“This doesn’t have to get any messier,” Fury said. He glanced quickly around, trying to figure the fastest way out.

“Of course it does,” the stranger said. “I’ve come too far for anything else.”

TELL US WHAT YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH, LOKI. INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW.

“Loki?” Dr. Selvig said. He stood up from helping one of his fellow doctors, who was barely conscious. “Brother of Thor?”

“We have no quarrel with your people,” Fury said.

Loki acknowledged Selvig and then returned his attention to Fury.

By "acknowledged", the author means he rolled his eyes so hard he saw his own brain lmao

“I come with glad tidings,” Loki said. “Of a world made free.”

“Free from what?” Fury asked.

Turning back to him, Loki said simply, “Freedom. Freedom is life’s great lie. Once you accept that in your heart…” As he spoke the word “heart,” he turned and touched Selvig’s chest with the tip of his scepter, just as he had with Hawkeye. Selvig gasped, and the same change came over his face that Fury had seen in Hawkeye’s. “You will know peace.”

He's not simply deranged, you know. For Loki, this is actually true. He has never been free in his entire life, and won't be at any point after this either. Yes, there was also the torture and the mind control at play, but even underneath all that, is it any wonder he was vulnerable to the Thanos cult's brainwashing?

Hawkeye had been looking around the complex. Now he stepped up to Loki. “Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow and drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.”

Loki looked back at Fury, who said, “Like the pharaohs of old.”

“He’s right, the portal is collapsing in on itself!” Selvig called out from the monitors. “We’ve got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.”

Friendly reminder, once again, that Loki wasn't even aware the PEGASUS facility was on the verge of collapsing—let alone the cause of it.

“Well then,” Loki said. He glanced over at Hawkeye.

Without a word, Hawkeye drew his gun and shot Nick Fury once, dead center in the chest.

Two things:

1) Every time I see this scene in gifs, all I can think of is, "Pull the lever, Kronk." 🤣

2) So how does the direct mind control of the sceptre work anyway? Because Loki never actually gives Barton a command here. So does he sometimes communicate with his minions telepathically (sort of like The Other does with him), or does Barton just intuit his intent here, or what?

Maria Hill saw Hawkeye come out of the lab into the garage with Selvig, a liaison officer, and a stranger carrying a spear. He looked more like one of the people they’d been recruiting into the Avengers Initiative than an ordinary technician or S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. “Who's that?” she asked.

*sigh* In a just MCU, this would have been foreshadowing.

She jumped into a jeep and headed after them. Other S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles followed, filled with agents. They roared along the underground access road that led up to the surface in the New Mexico desert. She was gaining on them and firing as she drove. Sooner or later, she’d be close enough to have a good shot at the stranger.

He had other ideas, though. When he saw the pursuing convoy get too close, he pointed his scepter at them. The tip of it flared bright blue, and a bolt of energy lashed out from it, striking the vehicle in front of Hill and shattering the right side of its passenger compartment. The vehicle slewed around and flipped, rolling and landing sideways across the road. They were blocked.

Interesting of Loki to go for the passenger compartment instead of the driver. Was anyone even sitting there? Just one more example in a long string of Loki being inexplicably merciful to his enemies, I guess. 🤷

They got around ahead of the truck, and Fury leaned out of the helicopter’s side door. He fired, emptying his clip. He could tell from the sparks that some of the bullets had hit, but he was too far away to see if they’d done any damage.

His real target was Loki, but he was protected by the cab of the truck. Fury couldn’t get a good shot at him.

Did Fury already forget that Loki is bulletproof, or...? I mean, I guess that's fair. Earlier, Hawkeye goes to draw his sidearm only minutes after the narration points out that the bullets already fired at Loki had bounced away harmlessly.

Leaning over the truck’s roof and keeping low, however, Loki could get a good shot at the helicopter. A blue bolt lanced out and struck the helicopter’s rotor assembly. All the control mechanisms went haywire, and the helicopter spiraled down out of the sky. The truck drove underneath them as they were about to crash, close enough that Fury could see the gloating expression on Loki’s face.

Haha, good for him.

“Coulson, you know that Stark trusts me about as far as he can throw me,” she said.

“Oh, I’ve got Stark,” Coulson said. “You’ve got the big guy.”

Oh, Natasha thought. That big guy. She said something in Russian. It wasn’t polite.

This has nothing to do with Loki. It just made me laugh.

Nick Fury had called an emergency meeting of the World Security Council. They needed to know what had happened with the Tesseract, and they needed to know what he planned to do about it. He brought up holographic images of all the WSC members, with their faces and locations hidden. He did not know who they were, but S.H.I.E.L.D. reported to them.

Well, that doesn't sound problematic at all, does it?

“The Avengers Initiative was shut down.”

“This isn’t about the Avengers.” That wasn’t strictly true, but Nick Fury was no idiot. He wasn’t going to show all his cards to the World Security Council when he didn’t even know who they were.

I'm glad he at least recognizes the stupidity of working for people he doesn't know, but uh... debatable, otherwise. Lol

“This isn’t about personality profiles anymore,” Coulson said. He wasn’t giving up, and that irritated Tony even more than the fact he’d showed up right when the celebration of Stark Tower was supposed to be starting.

*cough*DIVA*cough*

Loki watched Dr. Erik Selvig work, preparing the Tesseract for the next phase of his plan. Technicians and soldiers scurried about on various errands. Loki did not know the details and did not care. They were beneath him. He had his eye solely on the greater prize. It was time to consult with the Chitauri and begin the next phase of the preparations.

Really? You expect me to believe that Loki, the master tactician with "a cunning mind far exceeding Thor and Odin’s", couldn't be bothered to know the details of his own plan? Um, how about no?

Deep space and a field of stars surrounded this rocky world. Pale blue lights glowed where the Chitauri had built their fortress. They gleamed in a set of stairs that climbed to the topmost tower. That was where Loki had made his bargain with the Chitauri: They would be his army and he would open a path to Earth for them. Once Earth was his, and Asgard as well, he would turn the Tesseract over to them.

At least that was what he had promised.

1) Who said anything about Asgard...?

2) Indicator that Loki never planned on actually turning over the Tesseract? I don't know why you'd include this line otherwise.

“Let them gird themselves,” he said. “I will lead them in glorious battle.”

“Battle?” the Chitauri warrior snorted. “Against the meager might of Earth?”

“Glorious,” Loki repeated. “Not lengthy. If your force is as formidable as you claim.”

He had intended to anger the Chitauri, and he had succeeded.

Personally, I saw this less as intending to anger and more as "Loki has no self-preservation instinct and literally cannot help himself". What's to be gained by intentionally pissing off The Other here?

“You don’t have the Tesseract yet.” The Chitauri leader rushed at Loki and stopped just short of him, claws raised. Loki did not move.

“I don’t threaten,” he said, though he was doing exactly that.

LOL

The Chitauri leader backed down but only a step. “You will have your war, Asgardian,” he growled. Then he too decided to make a threat. “If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.”

Loki flashed back into his awareness of Earth. He took a deep breath. The Chitauri did not frighten him… but he would have been a fool if he had not possessed a healthy respect for their leader, the mad Titan known as Thanos. For it was Thanos who had given Loki the scepter, and Thanos who had rallied the Chitauri to Loki’s cause… and Thanos who wished to possess the Tesseract for his own monstrous ends. One did not bargain lightly with Thanos—and one certainly did not fail to meet the terms of such a bargain.

Love how this book just repeatedly glosses over the obvious fact that Loki was tortured. In the first chapter, it makes zero mention of his stumbling or other signs of being weakened. Here, it completely omits the pain WE ALL SAW The Other inflict on him. Fuck this narrator, seriously.

Steve had a moment to look around. The commanding officer appeared to be a woman with short dark hair reeling off orders from near the center of the bridge. “S.H.I.E.L.D. Emergency Protocol 193.6 in effect,” she was saying after a series of status orders and acknowledgments. Steve didn’t know what protocol that was. At the moment, all he knew was that he was on a flying aircraft carrier… and wasn’t that enough? Amazing.

[....]

The Helicarrier disappeared from view. From the inside, it didn’t look any different, but Steve saw monitors from satellite feeds, and on those, the Helicarrier had simply become invisible. He corrected himself: He wasn’t just on a flying aircraft carrier. He was on an invisible flying aircraft carrier. The future was pretty… cool, was the word everyone used now.

I'm not the biggest Steve fan, but I will admit to finding his childlike awe over the Helicarrier slightly adorable. Lol

Side note: is someone on this thing coordinating with Air Traffic Control? I... really hope so.

“What did it show you, Agent Barton?”

Barton turned to look at Loki. “My next target,” he said.

Loki nodded. “Tell me what you need.”

Barton took one his bows out of a case and snapped it into shape with a flick of his arm. “I need a distraction,” he said. “And a biometric ID.”

Why the change from "eyeball", I wonder? Seems random. Lol

Inside, Loki had been mingling with the crowd, taking on the appearance of an ordinary man with a walking stick. But as the president of the museum, one Doktor Heinrich Schäfer, began his welcoming speech, Loki decided it was time to make a dramatic entrance. He tapped the walking stick on the floor and it became his scepter. Immediately, to get the crowd’s attention, he aimed it at the nearest museum security guard and fired.

This... didn't happen?? At all??

Loki strode the rest of the way down the stairs and manhandled Schäfer over to a stone altar that was one of the museum’s prized ancient Norse relics. He slammed Schäfer onto his back, forcing a machine over his face. Schäfer cried out in pain and surprise as the machine shone blinding light into his face, holding his eyes open.

On the one hand, confirmation that Loki did not actually shred this dude's eye and he's probably fine. On the other hand, the author completely made up what just happened literally two sentences ago, so their credibility is a little suspect at the moment. Lol

A police car, alerted by the commotion, raced toward him. He blasted it with his scepter, and it spun out of control and crashed.

ACAB!

The crowd froze. Slowly the crowd knelt, and Loki reveled in their submission. “There,” he said. “Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.”

He's talking about himself here. We all get that, right?

An old man in the middle of the crowd stood. Loki paused in his speech to regard this individual. Around him, all the copies of himself also looked at this old man.

“Not to men like you,” the old man said.

“There are no men like me,” Loki said.

No lies detected.

But Loki was tougher than he looked. He struck back with the scepter, forcing Captain America to parry until Loki found an opening and slammed the butt of the scepter into Captain America’s midsection, knocking him down. Captain America threw the shield again, but this time Loki was ready. He knocked it aside. It fell ringing to the stones of the plaza, and Loki had the tip of the scepter against the back of Captain America’s neck before the soldier could get back to his feet.

Correction: If he'd actually been trying to win, he would have used the tip. (Narrator: he was not trying to win).

A sudden storm rose around the Quinjet. Natasha looked at the instrument panel. There’d been no warning of heavy weather. “Where’s this coming from?” she wondered out loud.

At first, she thought that Loki was responsible. But that didn’t appear to be the case. He looked more nervous than anyone else on the jet.

Loki has Thor-induced PTSD. Understandable, tbh.

Thor let Loki fall well before they got to the ground.

Because Thor is an asshole.

So hey, as long as we're here, let's review how each member of Loki's family responds to the realisation that he's survived his suicide attempt.

Thor- manhandles him, angrily demands to know where the Tesseract is

Odin- refuses to even use his name, implies he should have either slaughtered him as an infant or left him to die

Frigga- tells him not to make things worse (fucking rich coming from the woman who exacerbated his trauma immeasurably by thrusting the throne upon him when he was at his most vulnerable)

Wild, man. I wonder why Loki's convinced his family doesn't give a shit about him. They seem like such loving people to me.

“I remember a shadow,” Loki said bitterly. “Living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss. I who was and should be king!”

Because you would have destroyed Asgard, Thor thought. Just to impress our father, you would have annihilated all the Nine Realms. “So you took the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights? No. The Earth is under my protection, Loki.”

1) Actually, he was trying to save Asgard... from a war that YOU started, numbnuts. He went about it all wrong because he was having a fucking mental breakdown, but at no stage did he even really endanger Asgard, let alone come close to destroying it.

2) Um, what? Where the fuck in Loki's plan was annihilating anything other than Jötunheim? I see Thor shares his friends' impressive conclusion-jumping skills. Not surprising.

3) Thor, I mean this truly and without reservation: go fuck yourself.

Loki chuckled. “And you’re doing a marvelous job with that. The humans slaughter each other in droves while you idly fret. I mean to rule them, and why should I not?”

He... has a point.

“You think yourself above them?”

“Well, yes.”

At least Loki is honest about his condescension, Thor. You should try it sometime.

Suddenly furious, Loki raged at Thor. “I’ve seen worlds you’ve never known about! I have grown, Odinson, in my exile. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it—”

“Who showed you this power?” Thor interrupted. “Who controls the would-be king?”

And he will never bring this up again. Ever.

Stepping right up to his brother, Thor shouted back. “Not here! You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream!” Then he softened. “You come home.”

“I don’t have it,” Loki said. Furious, Thor brought Mjolnir to his hand, ready for battle.

Thor's sort of a one-solution kind of guy, huh? Somebody help me out here, because he's "changed" but his first instinct when he's not getting his way is still to react with intimidation and violence. Funny how that works.

Tony braked and skidded to a halt as the Asgardian rolled away from him, tearing up trees and brush as he went. He got to his feet and extended a warning hand. “Do not touch me again,” he said.

Oh, what's the matter, Thor? Do you not like being manhandled? That's weird because you sure do seem to enjoy doing the manhandling. 😕

“If he gives up the cube, he’s all yours. Until then…” Tony’s faceplate clamped back down. “Stay out of the way.”

He turned to walk back to a place where he could make a clean takeoff. “Tourist,” he muttered.

That was the last straw, apparently, because the next thing Tony knew, the Asgardian’s hammer had hit him about as hard as he’d ever been hit in his life. The force of the blow carried him through the trunk of a tree and laid him out flat in the dirt.

Please note that Thor was not being attacked. He once again used offensive violence against someone who hurt his feelbads. "Changed", my rear.

“Then prove it,” Cap said. “Put that hammer down.”

“Uh, no, bad call,” Iron Man said. “He loves his hammer—”

The Asgardian interrupted Tony by smashing him out of the way with a backhand swing. “You want me to put the hammer down?” he roared, and leaped high into the air, bringing his hammer down toward Captain America.

And again—not in any immediate danger, simply reacting with violence to something that made him angry.

“Oh, I’ve heard. A mindless beast. Makes play he’s still a man. How desperate are you, that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?”

“How desperate am I?” Fury echoed. He walked slowly over the catwalk to stand in front of Loki. “You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can’t hope to control. You talk about peace, but you kill because it’s fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.”

This is called 'projection', kids. Projection, and making up stories about your enemies so they're easier to hate. Fury needs to show his work.

Loki knew he had been heard throughout the ship. He could hear the echoes of the speakers, and even if he had not, he always knew when people were listening to him. That was part of his power, to make them listen… and to make each of them hear something just a little different. Just what he wanted them to hear.

This doesn’t mean anything, does it??

Perhaps he was in a cage right now, but he had been in cages before. Not once had one been able to hold him for long.

This... has to be a reference to his time with the Black Order, right? There's certainly no basis for such a statement pre-2011.

Or the author is just on crack. That's very possible.

Thor took a step toward Bruce. “Have a care how you speak,” he warned. “Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard… and he is my brother.”

“He killed eighty people in two days,” Natasha pointed out.

Citation needed, please.

“Well, I promise a stress-free environment. No tension, no surprises…” As he spoke, Tony walked behind Bruce and gave him a little zap with an electrical instrument.

“Ow!” Bruce said.

Tony looked closely at him. “Nothing?” He’d been testing Bruce to see how well he controlled the Hulk. The little shock hadn’t provoked any kind of unusual reaction, which Tony seemed to find a little disappointing.

Ok, but what exactly was Tony's plan if Bruce had Hulked out here? lmao

“Steve,” Bruce said, “tell me none of this smells a little funky to you.”

Cap looked back and forth between the two scientists. Bruce could tell he was struggling with something… but he also wasn’t going to share it. He was too much of a good soldier for that.

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

“Yeah. I’ll read all about it.”

“Or you’ll be suiting up with the rest of us.”

Bruce shook his head with a regretful smile. “No, see, I don’t get a suit of armor. I’m exposed. Like a nerve. It’s a nightmare.”

Bruce has BPD. Lol

No, you guys don't understand. That's literally what it feels like.

Thor watched over Coulson’s shoulder as the agent showed him S.H.I.E.L.D.’s current files on Jane Foster. When he had learned that Loki had captured Erik Selvig, his first thought had been of Jane. Thor had destroyed the Bifrost to save the Nine Realms, but he had also cut himself off from her… or so he had thought. It was a terrible decision to make, sacrificing love for duty—yet Thor had done it. If necessary, he would do it again. He hoped it would not be necessary, though, and that was one reason why he had asked Coulson about Jane.

Oh my god, Thor. You spent like, three days with her, max. And people call Loki the dramatic one...

Thor looked out into the sky, gathering his thoughts. “When I first came to Earth,” he went on, “Loki’s rage followed me here, and your people paid the price. Now, again. In my youth, I courted war.”

“War hasn’t started yet,” Fury said.

1) Correction: when your daddy threw you to Earth like a sack of trash down a cosmic garbage chute. You were not here on vacation, bro.

2) No, Loki's rage followed your treasonous friends.

3) LAST YEAR. YOUR 'YOUTH' WAS LAST YEAR.

4) *committed mass murder over an insult

“You think you could make Loki tell us where the Tesseract is?”

This possibility hadn’t occurred to Thor. “I do not know,” he said. “Loki’s mind is far afield. It’s not just power he craves. It’s vengeance, upon me. There’s no pain that would pry that need from him.”

1) Opposing Thor = being crazy. Noted.

2) Not everything is about you, buddy. At the risk of repeating myself, this is the guy I'm supposed to believe learned humility? Really? Where?

3) Please note that Thor does not object to torturing Loki because it's immoral or because the thought of hurting Loki pains him. He objects because he doesn't believe it will work.

Thor held Fury’s gaze. It was not the first time he had looked at a one-eyed man who posed him a difficult question. “What are you asking me to do?” he asked, wanting Fury to be clear and to own his words.

“I’m asking what you are prepared to do,” Fury said quietly.

“Loki is a prisoner,” Thor said. He thought Fury was testing him, seeing if he would violate his ideals to find out something they all needed to know. But Thor would not.

"I'm okay with physically assaulting prisoners if they make me mad, but I suddenly draw the line at torture. Even though my 'ideals' didn't appear to be a concern two sentences ago."

If I feel like being generous to Thor, maybe he initially hoped Fury would back off if he just said torture wouldn't work, and then Thor wouldn't have to risk appearing... soft? Weak? I don't know.

“But you figured I’d come,” she said.

“After,” Loki said. “After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate.” It was a typical approach. Cause misery, and then let someone appear as a friendly face. The miserable person would say anything to keep this friend. Loki had seen strong men break this way, many times.

I'm not sure why the author felt the need to depersonalize this by talking about other men. Loki knows this experience intimately. It's what he's endured his entire life at the hands of his "loving" family. The torture just wasn't physical then as far as we know.

An interesting story, Loki thought. She has much to atone for. He could hear some of her memories, from before her first encounter with Barton. Little girl, he thought, you’ve done some very bad things. And now you think you owe Clint Barton your life… but there is more to it. Loki could tell there was something in her mind that he was not quite uncovering. He pushed a little more.

Is... is this text implying that Loki can read people's minds/memories even without touching them?

“Can you?” he asked. “Can you wipe out that much red?” He listed for her some of the things he knew she had done. “Dreykov’s daughter… São Paulo… the hospital fire? Barton told me everything.” This was a lie. Barton had told Loki certain things about Romanoff, but he was also guessing some others.

He... guessed the details of these very specific incidents? What? lmao

He pushed ahead. Now that he understood her, he could break her. “Your ledger is dripping, it’s gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? Pathetic. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors, but they are part of you and they will never go away.”

He's talking about himself again. 🥺

For some reason, this book skips right over the part where Loki threatens both Barton's and Natasha's lives. Not sure why; the author clearly has no problem depicting Loki as an unhinged psychopath most of the time. Oh well, whatevs.

Loki couldn’t understand how she had gathered her composure so quickly—and then he did understand. She was a superb actress! Or not even an actress, for he could see through a conscious performance. She was something else. She had been broken down and remade so many times, with so many identities, that she could put them on and take them off at will. And Loki had gotten lost in those emotional costume changes.

He had been outwitted by a mortal. Unthinkable.

Yeah, phew, it's a good thing Natasha figured it out in time. Otherwise, something terrible might have happened—like Bruce Hulking out and rampaging through the Helicarrier. Oh, wait...

“I was wrong, Director,” Cap said. “The world hasn’t changed a bit.” He looked angry and disappointed. Captain America was a big believer in shooting straight and telling the truth. He didn’t like spies and he didn’t like lies, and now he saw he was knee-deep in both.

This novel's hero worship of Steve Rogers is going to kill me. 🙄

“I’d like to know why S.H.I.E.L.D. is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction,” Bruce finished.

“Because of him,” Fury said, pointing at Thor.

“Me?”

“Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town,” Fury said. “We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned.”

Has anyone figured out yet how this line doesn't conflict with Captain Marvel? Is Fury lying to hide her existence for some reason? Or is this just one of those things that we're supposed to shrug and pretend wasn't retconned?

“A nuclear deterrent,” Tony said. “Because that always calms everything right down.”

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark,” Fury said coldly.

On the one hand, yes, good point. But on the other hand, he... stopped making them? So clearly, he no longer thinks they are a good thing?

And also, not to gloss over his past sins, but wasn't Tony born rich? Lol

“I thought humans were more evolved than this,” Thor commented.

Tony turned on Thor. “Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?”

Didn't Fury say this in the movie? Why did the author give the line to Tony instead? There are all these... weird changes in the story that are so minor I have no idea why the author made them. Very confusing.

Just like that, all of them were arguing. Cap and Tony were nose to nose, while Bruce and Natasha fired remarks back and forth. Thor stood off to the side, contempt plain on his face.

'Cause he also thinks he's superior to humans. 🙃

Tony and Cap squared off over an argument that they couldn’t even remember starting. Tony was still mad about the last thing Cap had said to him… whatever it was.

In case there was any doubt about the sceptre being the reason everyone starts losing their shit with one another.

Cap stood his ground. “Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”

Tony had an answer ready for this one. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

Hey Steve? You know he invented the suit, right? Like. The suit is literally him.

“Put on the suit,” Cap said. “Let’s go a few rounds.”

Steve putting out big Joe Biden, "listen, fat..." energy here lmao

Thor laughed. “You people are so petty… and tiny.”

Thor, my dude. You literally started a war over being emasculated in front of your friends. I don't think you get to judge other people for being petty.

Fury could see things were spiraling out of control. He started trying to get them all back on track. “Agent Romanoff,” he said, “would you escort Dr. Banner back to—”

“Where?” Bruce interrupted. “My room? You rented my room.”

Nobody had said it out loud, but they all knew the cell currently holding Loki was designed for the Hulk.

What was their plan for containing the Hulk if necessary after sticking Loki in his cage, anyway? Did they even have one?

“Dr. Banner,” Cap said. “Put down the scepter.”

Bruce looked down. He hadn’t even known he’d picked it up.

Why does that sound familiar...?

Even though he could see what was going on, the hostility in the air was still thick enough that Bruce didn’t know whether he could back everyone down… or whether he could back himself down. He could feel tension rising inside him. He could feel the monster trying to get loose.

And yet none of them so much as considers the idea that the sceptre might be having a similar effect on Loki? Ok then.

But even though he was now refocused on the mission, the others still bickered. Loki had gotten into their heads, sowing discord and setting them against each other.

lmao I'd just like to note that Loki didn't actually do anything. This was all them and the effects of just being near the sceptre. #ThanksLoki

“The Tesseract belongs to Asgard,” Thor said.

Why, though?

“I’ll go after it,” Tony said.

“No you don’t,” Cap said, stepping into his way. He wasn’t ready to forget the way Tony had insulted him.

Ok, first of all, you started it. But also, seriously, Steve, that's your number one priority right now? Earth's mightiest heroes, ladies and gentlemen... lol

I have apparently managed to hit the paragraph limit, so we'll return after this short break, I guess. 🙈

↪️ On to Part Two

[allbrainrot]

Hi! First, i love your writing🥺 Now to the point. How about felix, sylvain and dimitri pinning after the female reader? We are basically yeeting ingrid and placing a fem reader instead😂 Like, they are childhood friends and the three of them have had a lovestruck for her since they were kids? And now they just end up fighting for her love or smth? Either hdcns or an scenario is fine! You can pick whichever you wish! However if you dont want to write this req please dont feel forced to! Love u🥺

Thank you so much!! 🖤 And yes, you got it! Bye Ingrid LMAO 😎😎 I write pre timeskip wayyy better so I’m gonna just say that reader is 18 (i don’t write NSFW or anything but age is still a thing lol) so that they’re in between the ages of Dimi + Felix & Sylvain and it works out, hope you don’t mind! I love you too anon 🥺

- Dimi is probably the first one to catch feels when they’re kids! Felix does too but he’s kinda just like wtf is this??? until someone teases him about it. Sylvain is quite ✨special✨ with romance but I think he’d be inclined to trust you a lot more because you’ve known him since you were teeny tiny before you even knew wtf a crest was! So he probably also catches feels when you’re kids but then he goes through his whole girl phase SIGH

- None of them realize their predicament until they all see you again at the officer’s academy together. I wouldn’t say they’re super obvious about it, but they’re teenagers (well Syl isn’t but shhhhh) who all like the same person so they’re going to pick up on each other’s crushes while reader remains ignorant. It’s not an issue that needs to be addressed immediately, but they’re all watching each other cautiously.

- Syl would have a massive head start on flirting with you, but he’s faced with the big issue that you don’t believe he’s being genuine and brush him off. Felix is constantly challenging you to duels to get close to you and also have alone time with you, although the other 2 will occasionally ruin his plans and insist on joining. Ah man bby Dimitri would probably come across as a little overbearing because he’s very protective of you and is constantly offering to do things for you. He’s just a mother hen that’s whipped for you and doesn’t know any other way to express it!

- When it comes to the 4 of you sitting together at lunch or in class, Sylvain is the worst. He’s very aware that his competition is far less bold than him, and so he’s making sure he’s always closest to you. Will squish as close to you as humanly possible HE WOULD DEADASS PUT YOU IN HIS LAP IF HE COULD 😭 If he puts a hand on your thigh or an arm around you it’s a wholeass declaration of war.

- Felix will likely become much more protective which may cause a lot of yelling at you for being careless or weak, but really he’s just so worried! To ease his mind, he’ll help you correct your mistakes himself (which has the added bonus of getting really close to you and occasionally lowkey holding hands when he adjusts your grip). Around other people, especially Dimitri and Sylvain he’ll be evidently sweeter to you to get the message across. A blended mix of jealousy and concern will make him very protective of you around the other two. Dimitri is not getting within 5 feet of you while guard dog Felix is around.

- In the Blue Lions the tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife everyone is thoroughly confused but frankly just sick of it lol. Felix glaring at Dimitri? That’s totally normal but Dimitri is doing it back AND Sylvain is added to the weird stare off- wtf happened?? Byleth would have to talk to them after class and be like guys what in the goddess’s name happened 😭 They’ll all give a vague answer that doesn’t give away that it’s about you and each one of them has a jab at the others to shift the blame..please find your chill lads !

- At this point everything gets a little bit needier because they’ve all had this pent up yearning but have been blocked by the others. (If you’re ok with it) Sylvain will just randomly peck you on the cheek or your forehead when he sees you and you’re just like LOL ok ✨typical Sylvain✨ But when you sit next to him at lunch or in class he’s started very tenderly holding your hand under the table and you’re like huh ok that’s a little odd. If Dimitri is on the other side of you he will carefully take your other hand in retaliation. Felix will probably give in and do the same but he’ll snatch your hand a lot more aggressively and look away from you with a scowl and a blush.

- Dimi and Felix are both touch starved AF and would very much appreciate cuddles or any physical contact. If you’ve reacted positively to everything thus far, Dimitri will slowly start to bite the bullet and initiate affection because he wants it so bad. Any time you touch Dimitri, he gets sappy and lovey af and will express his adoration in hopes that you’ll keep giving him affection. Felix would never upfront ask for affection but he just kinda sits really close to you and glares at you with a little pout and you will have to realize that this is Felix language for ‘it is a crime that you aren’t cuddling me rn’.

- Obviously Sylvain gets lots of physical contact with women but I don’t ever see it as holding affection yknow?? Like yeah he spends a night or two with chicks after them crest babies™️ (i cannot take myself seriously this sentence is so funny-), but I don’t really think that they’ve done actual cuddling or casual displays of affection like petting someone’s hair because they likely don’t care too much for Sylvain and will just do the bare minimum. So in a way, Sylvain is also starved of affectionate touches and he would very much appreciate the little things that no one else has done for him. It’s new and scary for him to actually seek romantic attention, but he’s still pretty bold, just not very tactful when it comes to you lol. If you’re sitting by yourself on a bench he will not hesitate to sprawl himself out on top of you with his head in your lap and stare up at you with an innocent grin. Is also lowkey not embarrassed to whine or pester you?? His reputation is pretty hopeless at this point so what does he have to lose by sitting behind you in class and poking you while dramatically whining about you not paying attention to him?

- Attention is a huge deal to Sylvain. It’s one of the main things he’s looking for when he randomly flirts with people at the monastery. He can’t handle being ignored and that leads him to often seek many girls at once so that he always has attention when one is busy. But when it comes to you he finds himself in deep shit because once he’s gotten a little bit from you, everyone else seems minuscule and with others he only receives a mere fraction of the satisfaction he gets from being with you. So he’s gradually allotting more and more time to you until he hardly talks to any other girl. But Sylvain is used to being the one that everyone wants more of, so when he finds himself in the shoes of the smitten women that piss him off, he’s plagued by the worry that you’ll think he’s overly needy. So he comes to seek validation from you too. If he can just get you to comb your fingers through his hair or give him a kiss on the cheek then he can renew his confidence in trying to court you.

- Dimi is somewhat similar but for different reasons and in different ways. Dimitri has practically no experience with romance so he’s extremely smitten and has an overwhelming desire for the affection you give him that he’s never had. But he’s painfully aware of how extreme his feelings are in comparison to any other couples he may have seen at the monastery, and he’s terrified that he’ll scare you away if he expresses exactly how much he yearns for you. So Dimitri is always very visibly holding back much like he often holds back his strength. Dimi will do anything for you or with you, but you have to initiate it so he can be certain that he’s not smothering you. On days where he’s extremely lovey and never wants to let go of you (which is kind of often lol) he will constantly ask if you’re sure that he’s not bothering you. He is just so horrified at the thought of messing up whatever it is you have.

- Felix will be very easily overwhelmed by you, so it’s much better if you wait to cuddle up to him until you can both go to one of your rooms. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be touched, he does, but his feelings for you make him way too vulnerable for his liking, so he’s not going to want anyone else around. Felix is still Felix and he goes off to take out his feelings in the training grounds every free day, but has started occasionally coming to your room when he’s done for the day and receiving his required cuddle time away from prying eyes. He may have accidentally fallen asleep with you a couple times..

- You’ve probably snuck in to sleep in Dimi’s room on occasions when he’s dangerously sleep deprived. The man, the myth, the legend Dedue would definitely help sneak you in because he knows it does Dimi a lot of good. Dimitri is able to fall asleep with you practically on top of him in his grasp. Feeling your heartbeat close by and your hair beneath his head and hearing you breath peacefully is enough to ground him from his fear of losing you too. He’ll still have nightmares, trauma is a bitch, but when you’re there you can bring him back down and he’ll eventually be able to fall back to sleep (which he typically can’t do alone). It’s not a perfect night’s sleep, but it’s enough to keep Dimi functional and that’s what you’re there for. He’ll thank you a million times and unnecessarily apologize for the inconvenience, please do what you can to reassure him that he’s not a nuisance to you. 

- SIGH Sylvain, this god damn silly little goose, is extremely distressed by his feelings for you and even moreso by his developed neediness. It honestly kinda scares the shit out of him to realize he’s whipped for someone and at a loss for a way to ask you out. He’s used to having that power, to have someone’s feelings in the palm of his hand where he can do anything he wants. Genuinely trying to figure out how he would court someone is a frightening new thing for him and he’s suddenly on a playing field where he doesn’t have his experience or his power to shield himself with. So he reverts to his old ways to try to get a handle on his fear and have his confidence boosted back up. But of course, Syl still wants all the attention he can get from you so you so he spends all of the day with you, then does his other girl bullshit at night! It doesn’t go as smoothly as planned though..Sylvain is used to being yelled at by crying girls, but it hasn’t gone unnoticed that he ignores them all day and drops by whenever he feels like it, and he ends up getting in some pretty nasty arguments that do not help his already vulnerable state. So it’s like 2 AM and Sylvain’s feeling like a sorry sack of potatoes and just wants to be held by someone and talk until falling asleep in their arms. And there’s only one person who Sylvain wouldn’t mind being open with and who could provide him genuine comfort..and you’re the lucky winner of the ‘Sylvain on your doorstep at 2 AM’ lottery!! Unless your sleep schedule is wack you’re gonna be all groggy like hey uhh wtf Syl??? And that is how the occasional nights that Sylvain falls asleep in your room happen!

- If the 3 of these scenarios interfere with each other ummmmmmmmm no they didn’t 😳

Ok! That’s where I’m leaving off because I don’t want to try to write endings with you picking one of them it just makes me kinda sad LMAO. Bro omg it’s the return of the ridiculously long Allister fics she do be goin a little insane though 😳 But for real I’ve been gradually adding to this for like?? a week? And I just kept picking cute relationship milestones or whatever in my walnut brain and writing a point for each of them so that the 3 of them are equally written. So it might not line up perfectly but I hope you like it!!

[thepremedthatwrites]

hi so i've written this one shot where y/n was dating edmund and he takes her home for a study session and throughout the whole thing she and peter kept flirting, anyways she ended up staying the night in peter's room to be precise (i made it fluff). could you maybe write an alternate smut ending because peter is a naughty boi, i wrote this as if peter was 21 and she was 18 along side edmund, is this idea well written because i can't describe stuff sjdjskd

Our Dirty Little Secret

I have never felt so dirty after writing something lmao but I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy writing it.  I hope you like it! (also Edmund deserves the world so if you want to read some A+ Edmund imagines/smut I recommend checking out edmundpevensieisbaby on tumblr)

warning: smut below the cut

My fingers were interlocked with his as we walked down the street.  The unforgiving sun was beating down on us as we neared his house.  “This calculus exam is going to kill me,” I groaned.

“That’s why I’m here,” Edmund chuckled, squeezing my hand.  “I’ll teach you all that I know.”

“So we’re actually going to do work this time?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow and causing Edmund to laugh.

“I’ll try my hardest but that skirt you're wearing might make it hard for me to concentrate.”  I felt my face warm at his words.  The skirt I was wearing reached just the middle of my thigh, a bit shorter than I was used to but it was so hot out that I couldn’t help but wear as little clothing as possible.

“It is only Lucy at the house, right?  I don’t want to make a poor first impression with your other siblings.”  Ed and I had only been dating for a few months.  I didn’t want his family to already disapprove of me.

“Actually, Peter just got home from university.  He’s staying for the weekend.”

“You’re joking,” I groaned as we walked up to the front door.  The extra car in the driveway supported Edmund’s claim.  

“I’m home!” Edmund announced as we entered the house.  Lucy was sitting at the kitchen table, eating an apple while scrolling through her phone.  She glanced up, giving a smile and a wave before returning to her phone.  I heard the sound of footsteps approaching us from the hall to our right.  A tall man who seemed to be in his early twenties appeared.  I was taken aback by his attractiveness, his blond hair slightly messy as if he had just woken from a nap, his blue eyes still slightly clouded with sleep.  He ran his fingers through his hair as his eyes landed on me.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing home a guest,” the man said.

“Well I didn’t know I had to tell you,” Ed replied, releasing my hand to wrap his arm around my waist.  “Pete, this is my girlfriend (y/n).  (Y/n), this is my older brother Peter.”

“Nice to meet you,” I smiled, extending my hand for him to shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” Peter said, shaking my hand as his eyes traced my figure, lingering on my skirt for a moment before flickering back to my (e/c) eyes.  “Ed didn’t tell me he had a girlfriend.”

“We really only just started dating,” I said quickly, feeling my heart race as Peter’s eyes focused on me.  

“If you excuse us, (y/n) and I will be in my room studying,” Ed said as he started to guide me towards his bedroom.

“Are you guys actually going to be studying this time?” Lucy asked from the kitchen table causing me to start blushing.  While I had thought we had been quiet, Lucy’s comment suggested otherwise.  

“Haha very funny,” Edmund said, sticking his tongue out at his little sister.  

“Wow, very mature Ed,” she replied with, rolling her eyes and causing me to chuckle.

“Come on, stop your bickering.  I need you to help me pass this calc exam,” I said, pulling him towards his bedroom door.  I could feel Peter’s eyes watching me as I walked into Ed’s room.  I turned back towards Peter, my eyes catching his causing him to turn away as I closed the door.  My heart was still racing as the door replaced my vision of Peter.  No, this was wrong.  I was with Ed, not Peter.  But there was something about Peter that seemed to draw me towards him.

“You okay (y/n)?” Edmund asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

“Yeah, of course,” I lied, making my way to my boyfriend.  “Now, please for the love of God explain what an integral is,” I said as I pulled out my notebook from my backpack.

Ed and I had been studying for about an hour.  “Does that make sense?” Ed asked as he finished his explanation.

“I think so,” I said, slowly nodding my head.

“Good.  I think we should take a break,” he said while bringing his hand towards my thigh.

“What exactly were you thinking we should do during this break?” I questioned, my voice low as I started to lean in towards him.

“I have a few ideas,” he growled, his hand roughly squeezing my thigh causing me to gasp.  “And a few of them include taking off that pretty little skirt of yours.”  He closed the gap between us that I had already been slowly closing.  The kiss was rough, taking the breath out of me as his hands wandered my body.  Somewhere during the kiss, I moved so that I was straddling him.  I held his face in my hands as I parted my lips, allowing him entrance.  His hands squeezed my ass causing me to let out a small moan.  The sound of someone clearing their throat caused us to pull away quickly.  I looked up to see Peter in the frame of the now opened door.

“Dinner’s ready,” Peter stated through clenched teeth.  He seemed stiffer than before as he looked at the scene in front of him.  I slowly climbed off of Ed, my face now a light pink from a mixture of the make-out session and being caught.  I adjusted my skirt which caught the attention of Peter whose eyes flickered to it.  “Will you be joining us for dinner (y/n)?”

“Oh yes,” I replied quickly, hoping the new conversation would help ease the tension in the room.  Ed got up, walking to my side.

“She’s actually staying the night since I live much closer to school.  That way she can get to school early to study before her exam.”  Peter shifted his weight between his feet as he listened to his brother, occasionally glancing at me.  

“Alright,” he said before turning around and heading back to the kitchen.

“He isn’t mad, is he?” I asked quietly.

“No,” Ed shook his head.  “At least I don’t think so.  I’m not sure what his problem is.  Maybe he’s just stressed.”  He gave a shrug before grabbing my hand and leading me to the kitchen.

“Oh look!  The two lovebirds finally decided to grace us with their presence,” Lucy said as we walked into the kitchen.  Edmund’s parents chuckled at their daughter’s comment.

“You’re just on a streak today of making fun of me,” Edmund said, shaking his head.

“Isn’t that every day?” Peter questioned causing all of us to laugh.  Edmund sat down next to Lucy while I sat across from him next to Peter.

“How’s studying going?” Edmund’s father asked.

“It’s going good.  Edmund’s amazing at teaching math,” I said.  

“Well, it’s easy when the student is so amazing.”  I smiled at Edmund’s words.  His parents smiled as well while Lucy made fake gagging sounds.  This caused her parents to turn to her and ask her about her day.  I half-listened while shoveling food into my mouth, starving after a day of school which included no breaks for lunch.

“Hungry?” Peter questioned, chuckling at his own joke.

“Only a bit,” I replied with, cracking a smile.  “I haven’t eaten all day plus it doesn’t hurt that the food is absolutely delicious.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You cooked this?”  My eyes widened in surprise.  At first glance, you wouldn’t think of Peter as a cook.

“My specialty,” he said, a grin on his face.  

“(Y/n),” Edmund’s mother said causing me to turn to her.  “We set up the couch for you to sleep on but if it’s too uncomfortable, I’m sure Susan wouldn’t mind you borrowing her bedroom for the night.”

“The couch is fine,” I replied as everyone had started to clean up.  

“Great!  Edmund, would you clean up your girlfriend’s plate while I show her to the bathroom.”  Edmund nodded, grabbing my plate and walking towards the sink where Lucy was waiting.  I got up from my seat.  As I started to turn to follow Edmund’s mom, I couldn’t help but realize that my ass was level with Peter’s face who was still sitting next to my seat.  I straightened my skirt, trying to pull it down a bit lower to cover as much as possible so Peter didn’t see too much.  I could feel his eyes watch me as I walked away from my seat and towards the hall where the bathroom was.

I laid on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.  It was almost midnight now but I could barely sleep.  All I could think about was Peter.  “Snap out of it,” I mumbled to myself as I turned to my side.  I was with Edmund, not Peter.  But why did Peter make my heart flutter and my stomach do somersaults?  “This isn’t working,” I said, sitting upright.  I ran a hand through my (h/c) locks.  Maybe spending some time with Edmund would help me get my mind off of Peter. 

I slowly got off of the couch, tiptoeing my way towards Edmund’s door.  I paused as I heard what sounded like panting coming from another door.  “(Y/n),” I heard a voice gasp through the wooden door.  I inhaled sharply as I realized it was Peter’s voice.  I slowly opened the door to see Peter laying in bed, his hands wrapped around a very erect cock.  

“Peter?” I questioned, causing him to freeze.  He rushed to cover himself as he started to mumble something.  I felt my heart race as I closed the door behind me, the knot in my stomach becoming more intense with every step I took towards him.  “It’s okay,” I said softly as I crawled into his bed.  Peter let out something between a sigh and a growl as I felt his hands wander my body.

“Fuck (y/n),” he muttered as I allowed my hands to wander his body.  He was completely naked which allowed me to trace over his defined abs and warm skin without any barriers.  “You know, you look a lot more mature than eighteen.”

“Really,” I chuckled as my hands wrapped around his cock causing him to inhale deeply.  “You know, I was actually on my way to see your brother.  I couldn’t get my mind off of you, wondering what it would feel like to have your huge cock stretching out my tight little pussy.  I thought maybe Ed could take my mind off of it,”  I leaned in so that my mouth was right by his ear.  “But maybe acting out my fantasies would be the best way to get over them.”  I gently bit down on his earlobe causing him to let out a low moan.  I had started to slowly move my hand up and down his cock, watching with interest at how Peter reacted to my actions.

He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back on his pillow as I quickened my pace.  He let out a low moan, bucking his hips.  After a few minutes, his hand grabbed my wrist, stopping my hand.  “If you want me to fuck you, you’ll have to stop jerking me off before I cum,” he said.  Although he didn’t say it in any particular way, his words turned me on even more as I rubbed my legs together, wanting any kind of friction.  Peter sensed this as he pinned me to the mattress, his face only inches from mine.

His lips crashed with mine, his tongue ripping open my mouth and exploring it while his hands worked on removing my clothes.  We separated for a moment to take off my shirt before our lips were back together.  I helped take off my shorts and underwear, our kiss being broken up into smaller kisses with gasps of air in between.  He pulled away leaving me both breathless and dizzy.  I watched as he lined himself with me before pushing in.  I let out a loud moan causing him to cover my mouth with his hand.  “We don’t want Edmund to walk in on us now do we,” he said, raising an eyebrow.  I shook my head no.  “That’s a good girl,” he said before slowly rolling his hips.  

My back arched in pleasure, my hands gripping the sheets as Peter quickened the pace.  The bedsprings groaned underneath us as Peter slammed into me over and over again.  He fell onto his forearms, panting into my ear as he quickened his pace even more.  I dug my heels into him, pushing him even deeper.  “You’re so fucking tight,” he said in a half moan.  His lips found my neck causing me to gasp.  Peter sucked and bit down along my neck causing my hands to rake down his bare back, the pleasure becoming too much.

“Peter,” I gasped as he bit down on my neck one last time, almost surely leaving a hickey.  If my mind hadn’t been clouded with lust, I would have chastised him for leaving a love mark on my body, something Edmund was sure to notice.  Instead, it caused me to let out a low moan as my orgasm rippled through me.  My eyes were forced closed as my head flew back my body pressed against Peter’s as I held onto him for dear life.  The pleasure became almost unbearable as Peter quickened the pace, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and desperate as he chased his own orgasm.  

He let out a moan as I felt his warm seed spill into me.  “(Y/n),” he moaned as he thrusted into me sporadically as his orgasm started to slow down.  He slowly got off of me, falling to my side before turning to face me.  He pulled me in for a kiss that was much more gentle than the ones we had shared during our moment of passion.  I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as I was slowly lulled to sleep.  The one thing that I could think of as I was pulled into my dreams was that I had just fucked my boyfriend’s brother.

[myfavbau]

her idiot.

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

requested: yes

a/n: i hope i did justice to the anon who requested this. personally, i actually really like this. ps enjoy six pages of hotch being a simp lmao

Hotch needed to make a decision, and he needed to make it fast.

Currently he was standing in the emergency room of Country General Hospital, where his team was investigating a case of hero homicide. The team had profiled that one of the staff members of this hospital was the one with the itchy trigger finger, so they decided it was best to split up in order to question various staff members discreetly.

So much for discreet.

The nurse must have overheard one of the agents asking questions, because now he was in the middle of the ER with a sniper slung over his shoulder. Phillip Dowd was the name of the man who was currently firing bullets at the roof in order to get the hostages to shut up.

This unsub was also smart enough to take away Hotch’s gun.

Hotch looked around at the room full of doctors, nurses, and patients. He was still in the middle of deciding what he needed to do, when Phillip’s voice interrupted his thinking.

“Everybody listen up!” he yelled, firing a few more bullets to ensure he had everyone’s attention.

Whimpers of fear and muffled sobs could be heard in the room, but besides that no one made a sound.

“No one move, nobody gets hurt.”

Phillip turned to face Hotch, his face was one of amusement.

“A fed huh? Must be my lucky day. Not so tough without your gun, now are you?”

Hotch chose not to respond. He couldn’t admit weakness, but anything he said could agitate Dowd and cause him react violently.

“That’s what I thought, “ Phillip spat.

Hotch noticed as Phillip thought for a moment, before he piped up.

“Let me barricade the door.” Hotch suggested.

“What?”

“Let me barricade the door. Let them see that you’ve got an FBI agent doing your bidding.” Hotch explained.

“Right, let you give them a signal,” the unsub scoffed.

 “What signal? They knew you were in here. They knew you were armed. What can I tell them?” He said, keeping him engaging.

“What is this, some sort of profiler trick? New negotiation tactic?” Phillip accused.

“I think it's a good idea.” Hotch asserted.

“Why would you wanna help me?” he inquired suspiciously.

“I don't.”

Phillip laughed. “ Go ahead, boss man. Gotta say, you are one sick dude.”

“How do you think I found you?” Hotch retorted, as he made his way over to the exit. 

At that exact moment, Hotch felt the panic in that room increase tenfold. Down grabbed one of the nearby doctor’s, yanking her figure until he had her detained and had his rifle to her head.

“Try anything, and she goes down,” he threatened.

Aaron could feel his heart beating in his chest, even if he could take a shot, from where he was standing, he couldn’t ensure that he could hit Phillip without hurting the woman he was holding hostage.

Hotch blocked the door before walking back up to his previous spot. He poke up again.

“Leave her, take me instead.”

“And now why would I do that?” Phillip asked him, mockingly.

“Who do you think makes a better hostage, some random woman or a fed?” Hotch asked him. He needed to keep up his facade. If Phillip caught any wind of his plan, they were all royally screwed.

“Come here.” Phillip grunted.

The woman he was pointing his gun at, looked like she wanted to cry. Hotch had to give her credit; most people he knew would crack under that kinda pressure. She almost looked familiar but he didn’t get a good look at her face as she was jerked out of the unsub’s grasp.

Phillip kicked Hotch in the calf, before barking his order. 

“On your knees.”

Perfect.

Hotch leaned down, making it seem as if Phillip’s kick was a greater blow than actually was. That was when Hotch pulled out the gun from his ankle holster, taking a shot at Phillip. Hotch watched as the unsub crumpled to the ground.

Black dots started to blur his vision and he began to feel lightheaded. What was happening to him?

A few feet away from him, Y/N, the doctor he had saved, yelled for assistance.

“I’ve got a GSW to the chest. I need a stretcher and two bags of O-neg, now!” 

-----------

Hotch was fading in and out of consciousness, as he heard a familiar voice. He smiled under the mask. He thought he heard the voice of an old friend. Maybe he was hallucinating.

He heard her again. 

“C’mon, c’mon. I know you told me that you’d take a bullet for me in 8th grade, but I didn’t think you’d actually mean it, you idiot.”

Y/N tried to mask her growing worry with humor. She operated on countless people and saved so many lives, but there was something about seeing her childhood best friend on a stretcher with his blood on her hands that shook Y/N to her core.

Y/N could only hope to be good enough to save Aaron Hothner, as she wheeled his unconscious body into the operating room.

----------------

The first thing Hotch felt was the killer migraine. Groggy, his eyes fluttered open, attempting to adjust to the bright lights of the hospital room.

“Wha-?” He could barely get a word out before the resting figure by his bedside jumped awake, and was by his side in an instant.

“Here, have some water,” she offered him.

He gratefully took the glass from her hands, as bed started to shift to a more upright position.

“Thank you.”

She took the empty glass from his hands and put it on the side table, before resuming her position on the uncomfortable-looking chair in Hotch’s room.

“It’s no problem.”

There it was again. That same voice he heard from when he was shot. Hotch looked at the mystery woman in front of him, he looked at her hard, before finally saying something.

“Do you know a Y/N by any chance?”

Hotch was trying his best to read the name tag on her coat, but she was just too far.

“If by ‘do you know’ you mean, ‘are you’ then yeah, sure, I know a Y/N.” she laughed.

“It’s really me, Hotch. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

She gave him a soft smile. It was the same smile she had all those years ago; if anything, it was even more beautiful. 

Hotch blushed.

“This is going to sound really weird, but I’m going to ask you a question, okay?” Hotch wanted to be absolutely sure.

“Sure. Go for it.”

“Did you have a pet parrot named Coconut when you were 13?” His words stumbled out of his words a little faster than he intended, but then again, she’d always had that sort of affect on him.

“Sure did. You helped me bury the poor little guy, remember?”

Hotch was pretty sure his jaw dropped. 

“It’s really you,” he breathed.

“In the flesh. It’s nice seeing you too, Agent Hotchner” she said, emphasising his title. In childhood he’d told her about his aspiration’s to maybe work for the Bureau one day, but that seemed like ages ago.

The sound of Y/N’s voice shook him from his remembering.

“You know, you almost had me worried there, Hotchie.” He smiled at the use of his old nickname. “You saved my life and then I didn’t even get a chance to say thank you before you went all lights out on me.”

That was he connected the dot’s; Y/N was the same doctor that Phillip was holding before Hotch pleaded to take her place.

“Well, I believe you saved my life in return, so I think we’re even,” he said bashfully.

She smiled, but it was a sad smile. Had he said something wrong?

“Can I tell you something, Agent Hotchner?” she asked, out of the blue.

“Of course.” He looked into her eyes, eager to hear anything she had to say.

She let out a smile laugh. “I’ve been in love with you for the longest time,” she confessed. “Seeing you, almost dead like that… I just thought I neede to tell you.

Hotch held his breath.

“You said ‘in love‘ in the present tense.” He really hoped that the heart monitor attached to him wouldn’t betray him now. “Do you still feel that way?”

She took a deep breath and let out a light laugh.” Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

She looked at him. How could she not? From being best friends in grade school, to their adventures together in high school. Hell, Aaron Hotchner was the reason she even made through high school, emotionally and academically. With both of them coming from difficult homes, Aaron was the studious one, while she decided that high school was the time to live a little. They rubbed off on one another; they balanced each other perfectly. They were two sides to the same coin.

If it weren’t for Aaron Hotchner, there was high likelihood she wouldn’t have become a doctor. They both had decided that with the things they’d seen at home, they needed to be the good in this world. Now, Aaron would fight the bad guys, while Y/N helped the good ones.

Y/N was still in her thoughts when she noticed Aaron getting ing up from his bed.

“What are you doing?”

He said nothing, and she simply stepped closer.

He brought his strong yet gentle hands to the sides of her face, before leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss. In that kiss, he told her what he didn’t have the courage to say all those years.

He felt her smile into the kiss, before they both had to break apart for air.

“God damn, Aaron,” she said, smiling and out of breath.”Where’d you learn how to do that, law school?”

He laughed, a beautiful hearty laugh. It gave him this amazing feeling, knowing that he had the same effect on her as she did on him. If his teammates ever found out he was this crazy about a girl, he’d never hear the end of it.

He gave her a smile- a silly, lovesick smile, before leaning forward to kiss her again.

Suddenly, one of the monitors that was connected in the room started to beep loudly. In the process of stepping closer to Y/N, Hotch had accidentally let the heart rate monitor slip off his finger.

“Oh my god, you’re such an idiot.” She laughed, and moved to turn the beeping off.

He spun her around instead and pulled her so that they were standing chest to chest. He looked down at her with a smile.

“As long as I’m your idiot, I think I can live with that.”

“My idiot,” she hummed, a satisfied smile on her face, as he pulled her in for another kiss.

[quiet-onset]

In The Wind

Pairing: Steve Rogers x black!Reader

TW: alcohol consumption, implied sexy times, a pinch of fluff and a fuck ton of angst

Word Count: 10.2k (this is the longest single fic I’ve ever written by like 4-5k words, i'm never doing this again lmao)

A/N: Broke = cacw discourse, Woke = using cacw canon to write angsty fics at 3 am. this is only kind of edited so it is what it is lol. Enjoy!

You weren’t sure if you regretted meeting him.

You didn’t know how you felt anymore. You knew you thought of him everyday. You knew that you longed to feel the warmth and heaviness of his body against yours. You also knew that you were angry, so damn angry for making you feel these things. For making you miss him, want him.

But did you regret him? You weren’t sure. 

The first time you met shouldn’t have happened. Steve knew that. He should’ve been more careful. Checked more security cameras, spied a little better. But espionage was always Natasha’s expertise, and, for now, he was running it solo. So when he ran from the FBI in Hell’s Kitchen, he had no one to blame but himself. 

He had been jumping from roof to roof, dreading the sound of the approaching helicopter. He knew if they got that spotlight on him, it’d be over. So, instead of jumping to the next roof, he dropped onto the fire escape, traveling down until he found an open window. 

He climbed inside and pressed himself to the adjacent wall, heart pounding against his ribcage. He listened as the helicopter continued on, searching for him with no success. Just as he allowed himself to breathe, he heard the cock of a gun. 

When he turned his head, there you stood, curls tied up with a blue silk scarf, shorts and a T-shirt two sizes too big, with a shotgun aimed and ready to fire. “Get out of my house.”

Steve took a step toward you, watching as you steadied your hand. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m the one with the gun here, dude. So, unless you want a chest full of buckshot, get—“

Finally, you saw him clearly. His hair was a tad longer and he had the slightest bit of stubble, but he was still recognizably Steve Rogers. After all, the news had his and his friends mugshots plastered on every channel. You barely managed to part your lips for a gasp when Steve heard the thunder of footsteps come down the hall outside your door.

“Look,” He said, “I’m sorry, I just needed—“

Three solid bangs on your front door. “FBI, open up!”

You lowered the gun as you looked back at Steve. It was clear that he was trying and failing to come up with a new route of escape. Three more bangs, and you sighed. “One second!” You called.

You handed him the gun and quickly guided him to your bedroom. “Get under the bed and wait.”

He followed your instructions while you grabbed your robe and scurried to the door. You swung the door open as you brushed a stray curl away from your face. “Can I help you?”

Two men pushed past you and into your apartment as the first one spoke. “We need to inspect your apartment.”

“Do you have a warrant?”

“Are you hiding something?” He returned.

“Asking for a warrant isn’t an admission of guilt, agent.” You raised a brow. “Besides, what would the FBI be looking for here?”

“Steven Grant Rogers.” He eyed your living room suspiciously before continuing down the hall, leaving you to follow close behind. 

“Captain America?” You snorted. “What would he be doing in some random woman’s apartment in Hell’s Kitchen?”

“You tell me.”

He walked into your bedroom, and your heartbeat sped up. You had no idea why you were putting yourself at risk for a stranger, but somehow, it felt right. Like you were doing what you were meant to be doing in that moment.

“Agent, I am not hiding Captain America in my fucking bedroom. Alright? I was getting ready for bed, actually, when you banged on my door like I was the one being arrested.”

He walked up to you, invading your space. He looked down at you, tried to make you feel small. It was a popular tactic, one you were used to. You watched as the other two agents came in and began to search. “We have orders to search every apartment. If you don’t want to cooperate, we can arrest you, too. Ma’am.” 

“This might be news to you, but I have rights, same as you. You need a warrant to search my house unless I’m an immediate danger to the public.” You told him. “However, considering you’ve already searched my entire home, I suggest you leave now while I’m still thinking about not suing you.”

“Suing us?” He chuckled.

“I have some lawyer friends, same ones that put Wilson Fisk in jail. If they can get a life sentence for a man like Fisk, imagine what they could do with this story. Agent.”

You watched as they all stopped, including the agent who was just about to bend over to look under the bed. The agent’s brow twitched as he stepped back and gave you an indignant look. “That’s what I thought.” You said. “Feel free to come back with a warrant.”

Moments later, your front door was locked, and you went back to your room where Steve sat on your bed. You almost winced when you saw him in the light. His right eye was beginning to swell, his lip was split, and his leg looked like he needed stitches. He placed the shotgun beside him. “Do you really know the lawyers who took down Wilson Fisk?”

“Not at all.”

He chuckled and stood on his feet. You knew he was trying not to put too much pressure on his leg, but his scrunched brow told you he was failing. When he managed to steady himself, he saw the shine of concern in your eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.”

“Super soldier healing. I’ll be fine.”

“Let me help you.”

“You’ve done enough for me already.” He told you. “I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“Easy?”

“I’m an Avenger, but I’m not blind.” He said sincerely. “America’s fucked up, and anyone who’s not white or rich gets the short end of the stick.”

You paused, surprised that he’d explained himself so outright. He seemed unapologetic about his statement, eyes only wavering when the pain became too much. A sigh with the faintest remnants of a smile passed through your lips. You walked a few steps over to your dresser and pulled open your drawer. Out of it, you pulled a bottle of whiskey and a first aid kit. “I’m already abetting a fugitive, Rogers. Might as well add aiding to the crime. Sit down. I’ll get some ice for your eye.”

Steve usually didn’t take well to orders. But you, you made something in him stir, if only for a moment. Some part of him that longed for someone else to take over. To make him forget about being an alleged criminal, about the friends that he’d lost. The part of himself that he’d lost. 

So he sat down.

When you came back, you began tending to his wounds. Your hands were delicate as you tried your best not to cause him any additional pain. He almost chuckled at your caution and grace. In some dark part of his mind, he knew the damage he could cause you. Yet, you were the one asking every other second if he was okay.

“You know you don’t have to do all of this.” He said.

“I didn’t have to not shoot you either, but here we are.” You answered, tilting your head. You handed him the bottle of whiskey as you got ready to stitch the wound in his thigh. “You might wanna drink some of that.”

He chuckled, “Alcohol doesn’t really do anything for my senses.”

“Right. Super soldier, I forgot. Guess you’ll have to brave it.” 

“Not the first time.” He let out a small hiss as you moved the fabric away from the cut.

Your eyes flickered up to him for a moment, catching the clench of his jaw, sharp and tense. “So you sneak into people’s houses to hide from the FBI often?”

“I was, um, handling some business in Hell’s Kitchen. Wasn’t paying attention, and they found me.”

“Wow. Steve Rogers outsmarted by the FBI.” You joked. He chuckled along with you as you finished stitching him up. You offered him the bottle once more. “It won’t get you drunk, but it’ll burn on the way down, and I have a feeling that’s what you really need.”

He looked taken aback for a moment. You imagined that not many people were so straightforward with him. He was called Captain for a reason, you supposed. Not many people told Steve what he needed to hear — that was why the Avengers was perfect for him. Nobody was afraid to tell Steve how it really was. But now, with him being a fugitive, lots of people were scared. Of him or of what he represented, he wasn’t sure.

But not you.

He took the bottle with a small smile.

“Well,” Steve spoke when the silence got a bit too loud for his liking. “I should be going. If that agent’s attitude was any indication, they’ll probably be back with a warrant. That’ll give you some time to get rid of the evidence.”

“Evidence?”

“My blood?” He chuckled.

You looked down at your hands and saw the faint tint of blood on them. You let out a short laugh and nodded, “Right.”

The way you looked at each other was far too comfortable for two strangers. Each set of eyes held a story. The ever-stretching line of inconceivable loss in his and the struggle to overcome social hardships in yours. Both your hearts were hardened in some ways, and you could both sense it. When it became too much, your gaze flickered to the ground for a quick moment. “Don’t pull those stitches, Captain. I won’t redo them.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said with a weak salute. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t get caught.”

The next afternoon, the FBI would return with a warrant and search your apartment as you watched the news. The headline?

Captain America in the wind once more.

---

“I’ll be fine.” You slurred to your friend. “I can get upstairs just fine.”

Your friend, Heather, shot you a disapproving gaze as you hiccuped, the alcohol in your body starting to slowly wear off. She unlocked the car door with a sigh. “Text me when you’re inside.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not moving until you do.” She added. “And lock your door!”

“Alright!”

Although you stumbled up the stairs and eventually had to take your heels off, you made it safely to your apartment. The text you sent as you locked the door was incoherent, but you knew your friend would understand. You dropped your heels at the door and padded into your living room.

“Your window is broken.”

You gasped at the sudden deep voice that cut through the dark, only recognizing him when he turned on the lamp. There sat Steve Rogers once more. He looked up at you with a furrowed brow, noticing your glazed over eyes. You threw your phone at him for scaring you, which he caught easily. “You can’t just break into someone’s house and sit in the dark! That’s weird!”

“I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me.” He explained quickly. He stood, “Are you drunk?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You’re drunk in an apartment with a broken window. Anyone could break in. I did.”

“Yeah, which is still weird.” You hiccuped. “What are you doing here, Captain?”

He was at a loss for words. He didn’t have an answer. Not one that made any sense, at least. He couldn’t explain the feeling, but he couldn’t forget you. Your eyes were burned into his mind, your bravery forever in his heart. He tried everything to forget you, but nothing worked. Whether it was attraction, infatuation, or some feeling that could only be expressed in another language, he didn’t know. Still, he couldn’t tell you that. Especially not while you were drunk. So he settled for, “Steve. Call me Steve.”

You paused, crossing your arms over your chest. “Alright. Steve.”

Steve felt a shiver travel down his spine. He would never admit he liked the way his name slipped past your lips. He watched you stumble over to the couch and helped you sit down. “Happy drunk or sad drunk?”

You snorted, “Both.”

“Wow, two for one.”

“I broke up with my cheating boyfriend.” You explained. “I’m happy to be rid of that asshole, but it still hurts, you know?”

Steve nodded, holding back a chuckle as you burped quietly. You groaned and threw your head back as you realized you would probably throw up soon. 

“He didn’t deserve you.” He told you.

You laughed bitterly, “I know.”

As if on cue, you stood and ran to the bathroom with Steve quick on your heels. He watched as you dropped to your knees over the toilet bowl and emptied the contents of your stomach inside. You pulled a few stray curls out of your face and held them back, praying you hadn’t gotten any vomit in your hair. You felt Steve’s presence behind you and sighed. “I’m sorry. You should… you should just go.”

But of course, Steve was never good at taking orders.

He marched up to your sink and found a few bobby pins before opening up your medicine cabinet. He found some painkillers for later and took them out for you. He quietly walked up behind you and softly cupped your hands with his own. You barely had the chance to protest before another wave of sickness washed over you.

“Let me help you.” Steve said gently. “I’m just returning the favor.”

You knew there wasn’t much you could do for yourself, and you couldn’t deny that you needed help. So you let go of your hair and allowed him to pin it back. His warm hands then fell to your shoulders as he spoke. “I’ll be right back.”

Moments later, he returned with a glass of water and some crackers he’d found in your cabinet. He sat with you on the cold tile floor, flushing the toilet as you turned away from it. He offered the glass silently, and you drank it in a few gulps. You looked over at him as he worked on opening the crackers. “You know, you’re good at this.”

He chuckled, seeing that you were starting to sober up. “You’re not the first drunk person I’ve taken care of.”

You took a cracker from the packet. “When was the first time?”

“You don’t have to humor me.”

“If I were humoring you, you’d know.” You scoffed playfully. “I want to know. At the very least, it’ll keep my mind off of the nausea.”

He shook his head with a short laugh as he took out a cracker for himself. “I was fifteen. My best friend Bucky told me he had a surprise, that I had to come over after school. I didn’t suspect anything until I saw the brown paper bag in his hands.”

“Wait, you’re, like, ninety. Isn’t this during Prohibition?”

“He always knew a guy who knew a guy.” Steve nodded with a smirk. “His parents were out of town, and his sisters only kept his secret because he let them taste it. I already had enough health problems back then, so I wasn’t really interested in getting drunk. But Bucky…”

“As drunk as me?”

“Oh no, much worse. Absolutely shit-faced.” A smile tugged at his lips as you laughed. He admired the way your glazed eyes lit up with happiness for those few mere moments. “I ended up in the bathroom with him all night.”

You smiled softly as you nibbled on another cracker. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Steve felt his chest tighten at the smile on your lips. His brain told him to stop whatever he was feeling. He had no business barging into your house, into your life. He had other things, bigger things to worry about. Yet, he sat here on the floor of your bathroom, worrying about whether you were going to vomit again or if you needed more water. It was stupid of him to let this feeling go so far, he knew. But he couldn’t help it. Not when you smiled like that.

He reached over to the sink and grabbed the painkillers, giving you two. “I’m gonna get you some more water. Keep eating those crackers.”

“Yes, sir, captain sir.” You gave him a weak salute. He saluted back with a playful chuckle before leaving to get more water, not sure if this behavior was your true self or the remaining alcohol.

When he returned, he found you clumsily taking off your makeup. “That couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” He asked, handing you the glass of water.

“No. Do you know how bad that is for your skin? I’m too pretty to damage my skin.” You chuckled before downing the pills.

Steve looked to the ground, making a quiet noise of agreement. He hadn’t expected you to stop drinking the water and ask him what he said. He was caught red-handed. “What?”

“What did you say?” You asked.

“It’s not important. I just…” He sighed. “I agreed with you. About you being pretty.”

“Oh.”

He shrugged. You’d have recognized the slight shyness in his voice if you were fully sober. “I’m not blind.”

It got quiet after that. You couldn’t help the way your mind was racing alongside your heart. The space between you both was so small. All it would take a gust of wind, a slight nudge and the space would be filled. And for some reason, you longed to fill it. As your thoughts caught up with you, you remembered that you’d just met him. He didn’t even know your name. The longing you had made no sense. Not to mention, you were still a little drunk and nauseous. You couldn’t act before you considered the outcomes. “Y/N.”

“What?” Steve’s brow furrowed.

“My name. It’s Y/N.” You stepped back and took a deep breath. “I just realized I never told you.”

“Right.” He mimicked your movements, putting a bit more distance between you. “You should get some rest.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll, um, head to bed right now.”

Steve nodded once before giving you one last long look. He told himself that this would be the last time, that he wouldn’t give in to that insistent tugging in his heart. If this was the last time he’d see you, he wanted to remember. You watched him as he walked back down the hallway, stopping just before he entered the living room.

“Fix your window, Y/N.” He called.

You smiled. “I will.”

“Someone could break in and sit in the dark.”

“I get it, Steve.”

And just as quickly as he’d arrived, he was gone. 

---

A few months pass before you see him again. And you have to be honest with yourself, you spend every second thinking about him.

You weren’t sure what it was about him. Sure, he was Captain America, but that didn’t seem to matter when he came through your window. In your apartment, he’s just a man. He’s just Steve Rogers. Sure he was on the run from every conceivable government authority, but he was running from more than that. It was like he was running from himself, from everything that made him Captain America. And without fail, all the running somehow led back to you.

It didn’t matter where you were or who you were with. At work, you’d see his smile in the reflection of your computer screen. When you were with your friends, you could hear Steve’s laughter as he recounted his childhood. Even on the few dates you’d been on, the only thing on your mind was Steve’s voice calling you pretty.

And that was the annoying part. You knew you were pretty. You knew your value and how much you were worth, but when he said it, it felt unreal. There were butterflies in your stomach, a feeling you hadn’t felt since you were a teenager. It was strange having such a visceral reaction to a statement you already knew to be true, but it wasn’t the statement. It was the man making it.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

You were walking home from a friend’s when two men in ski masks stopped you. Guns locked and loaded, they shouted at you to give them your wallet and phone. Your hands were raised in hopes that they wouldn’t shoot, but they simply yelled louder.

“Okay, okay.” You started calmly. You moved your hands slowly to your purse, digging around the bottom in a frantic search. You flinched as they told you to hurry up. 

Suddenly, a man dropped down from a nearby fire escape. Steve.

As soon as he snatched the guns, Steve crushed the barrels with his bare hands. A fist flew at one guy’s face while you grabbed the pepper spray at the bottom of your purse and sprayed the other. 

You watched as Steve kept going with a fierce look in his eyes. It was unlike anything you’d expect from Captain America. No, this was sheer rage. You marched up behind him and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him away. He only allowed it as the two men scurried away with blood dripping down their faces. 

“Steve, what the hell?” You dragged him into a nearby alley. “What are you doing out in broad daylight?”

He ignored your questions and placed two large hands on your cheeks, tilting your head this way and that as he checked you for injury. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“Steve, stop it. I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“I was on my way to your apartment when I saw those guys trying to rob you.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why were you going to my house?” You asked. “Why do you keep coming to my house?”

And once again, Steve was speechless. He couldn’t explain the panic in his heart when he saw you being held at gunpoint. He couldn’t explain the blind rage he felt as his fists collided with their bodies. He wanted to believe he had  no idea why he kept coming back to see you, but he knew why. Despite his reputation, he was never great with his feelings. At least not these kinds. “Y/N, can we just.. Can we talk? Please?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Meet me at my place. And try not to make another scene. You’re a fugitive, Steve.”

He’d made it there before you, but was unable to get in. See, you’d taken his advice and fixed your window. So, he stood on the fire escape, hoping to God that no one would look and see him as he waited for you. When you got back, you rushed over and flipped the latch, pushing the window up with a squeak of the frame. “Again, what are you doing here in the middle of the day?”

“You fixed your window.”

“Yeah, you told me to.” You stepped aside so he could slip in. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Y/N, they were robbing you. You don’t have to—“

“No, not that. I mean, also that, but I meant thanks for that night a few months ago.”

His head dropped as he let out a weak chuckle. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

“I remember waking up with the worst hangover. I also remember the night before.”

“Everything?”

You nodded. 

You could see the gears in his head begin to turn, giving you a moment to look over him. His beard was thick and full, and his hair was longer than before. Dressed in a black combat suit, you wondered where he just came from. He obviously had bigger fish to fry, so what kept him coming back to Hell’s Kitchen. 

Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out before placing it on the table between you. 

A cell phone. Albeit a very old one, but a cell phone nonetheless. 

“I wanted to give you this.” He said, “For… emergencies.”

You stared at the phone, your brow furrowed, before looking back up at him. “Steve—“

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” His eyes were shut tight as he emptied his heart. “I don’t know why, but I can’t. No matter where I’m going or what mission I’m on, you’re always on my mind. I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I understand if it freaks you out, but I needed to tell you.”

“Steve—“

“And even if you don’t feel the same, just keep the phone. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened and you needed to contact me but couldn’t.”

You paused as he took a deep breath, finally opening his eyes. You looked at him expectantly. “Are you done?”

“I think so.”

You silently picked up the flip phone, chuckling because it was just so Steve-like. You opened it and realized that his number was the only one programmed into the phone. You smiled softly as you raised an eyebrow, “Does it work?”

“I just—” Steve let out a short laugh of disbelief. “Yes, it works.”

Steve watched as you pressed a button and held the phone up to your ear. You looked up at the ceiling, clicking your tongue as it rang. With a grin on his lips, he dug his phone out of his other pocket and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“I like you, too, dummy.”

---

Turns out, you changed the definition of emergencies only. 

It had been four or five months since you last saw Steve. He’d spent the night after you both confessed to the feelings that you’d been repressing since the day you met. You helped him peel off the black suit he wore and showered with him. You helped him scrub off the blood that had dried into his skin, and he massaged your shoulders, tight and tense from the stress of your own life. And later, you’d both gotten into some activities that made you both need another shower. 

But now, you were alone. Your place felt so empty without him. It was only one night, yet your whole life was changed. You were acutely aware of the sound his bare feet made against the hardwood floor. The warmth of his chest against your back as you slept in bed. The low timbre of his voice when he just wakes up. 

Plus, it was the day before his birthday.

You knew how stupid that sounded. Steve Rogers was a fugitive on an international scale. He had plans to be in a different state or country practically every other week — he hardly had time to celebrate about being a year older. Yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that he deserved it. He deserved to do something as mundane as celebrate his birthday. 

So, instead of using the burner for its intended purpose — emergencies — you called him. 

And received no answer. 

You sighed and snapped the phone shut. You held the phone against your lips as you thought through a plan. When you had it all figured out, you smiled, wondering if that was how Steve felt when he finally perfected a plan. You grabbed your purse and headed to the nearest grocery. 

You strolled through the decorations aisle with your cart, stopping as you saw an employee, a teenager, removing something from the display. As you got closer, you realized what it was and frowned.

Fourth of July balloons with Steve’s shield plastered on them.

The employee saw you eyeing them and smiled gently. “Got a call from the owner himself to remove them.”

“Crazy, right?”

“Not that much.” She shrugged. “I mean, he did break the law.”

“Yeah, to do the right thing.”

“How do we know he was right, though?”

You stared at a picture of Steve’s shield and saw all it represented. Hope, justice, bravery — you couldn’t explain how you knew. You just did. “He was.” You told the kid.

The kid watched you stare aimlessly at the balloons. She wasn’t sure why you were so invested, she could tell it meant a lot to you. She pulled two packets out of the box and handed them to you.

“They were taken out of circulation so security won’t pick it up.” She explained. “Just don’t let the manager see.”

You looked over at her, not even realizing that you’d zoned out. You smiled at her and took the balloons before slyly stuffing them in your purse. “Thank you.”

Your smile returned as you gathered all your other supplies before walking over to the bakery. The man behind the counter smiled as you approached. “Last minute Fourth of July cake?”

You chuckled, “No, not Independence Day. A birthday actually.”

“What would you like on it?”

“Do you, um, do you mind decorating it with Captain America’s shield? Or maybe just red, white, and blue in general?”

The baker’s smile widened. “You’re the first person to ask for that this year. I’m glad.” He began gathering the frosting he’d need. “I don’t believe anything they say about him. He’s a good man.”

You smiled to yourself. “Yeah. The best.”

Meanwhile, Steve was in Philadelphia, trying to get some intel into Tony’s future plans. He just got back to the quinjet when Natasha called his name from the pilot seat.

“You’re never leading the mission again.” Steve teased her, touching two fingers to his split bottom lip as he stood just to the side of her seat. 

“Afraid of getting a little banged up?” She chuckled.

“More like tired of it.” He replied. “Bucky and I have been taking all the beatings lately while you and Sam somehow always manage to come out unscathed.”

“You and Bucky should do better at your jobs then.”

Steve let out a little laugh as she lifted the jet into the sky and immediately turned on the cloaking mechanism. He braced himself above her head and looked out over the clouds. “So why did you call me?”

“‘Cause somebody called you.”

“What?”

“That mysterious burner you always carry around? It rang while you were in the field.”

His eyes widened as he reached for the flip phone, seeing the ‘Missed Call’ notification glaring back at him. He turned back to Natasha, “I need you to take me back to the city.”

Her brow furrowed as he began packing a duffel bag toward the back of the jet. “What, New York?”

“Anywhere is fine. I’ll get to where I need to be.”

“Steve, we’re supposed to be headed for Switzerland in a week—“

“Then, I have a week.”

“Tony and the feds will be on our asses soon if we don’t get out of the country.”

Steve turned to look at her and saw that she’d put the jet on autopilot. She was looking right back at him in that way that she always did. If there was anything Natasha Romanoff was good at, it was knowing when someone was lying, even by omission. But Steve was no victim of her skills. He was her best friend. And that worried look in his eyes? It scared her.

Steve sighed. “There’s someone on the other end of that phone. Someone I really care about. She’s the only one with that number and I told her to call me if there’s an emergency.”

Natasha shifted her weight onto her other leg, her hands on her hips. “Is she cute?”

“Natasha.” He smiled softly.

“Where can I drop you off?”

“Near Hell’s Kitchen.”

She turned on her heel and began punching coordinates into the navigation system. “I get to choose where we go after Switzerland.”

You arrived back at your apartment a few hours later, finally gathering everything you needed to pull off your plan. You smiled to yourself as you locked your front door and threw your keys onto the side table. 

Suddenly, when you turned the lights on, a man emerged from the hallway, and you let out a loud gasp. You dropped the bags you had been carrying, only calming when you realized that it was only Steve.

“Steve!”

You stepped over the bags and raced into his arms. He wrapped his arms tight around you, cradling the back of your head in his large palm. He couldn’t help but release a breath of relief as he felt the comfortable weight of your body against his. He pulled away from you and held your face in his hands, eyes searching for any sign of injury. “Are you okay?”

“Steve, I’m fine. I promise. Why are you so worried?”

“You called me on the burner.”

Oops. You’d totally forgotten about that. You smiled sheepishly, “About that...“

“Y/N—“ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing for your explanation.

“I’m sorry! You were gone, and I missed you. Then, I remembered I had a way of contacting you.”

“It’s for emergencies only.” He scolded you.

“I know, I know. It’s just that I missed you a lot, and your birthday is coming up, and—“

“My birthday?”

You looked behind you at the bags you’d dropped on the ground. Steve followed your line of sight before spotting something that had fallen out. He stepped away from you to pick it up and inspected it carefully. His head dropped and hung between his shoulders, a quiet laugh spilling from his lips. “Captain America balloons?”

“And other non-Captain America stuff.” You added defensively. “Not the cake though. That’s got Cap all over it.”

“You got a cake?”

You gasped, “The cake!”

You ran to the bags and fished out the one carrying the small circular cake, frowning when you found it. The cake was still in one piece, but the frosting was ruined, mushed against the top of the container. “Shit! Ugh, none of this is going how I planned.”

You couldn’t see beyond the messed up cake, but Steve’s eyes had the softest look. “You had a plan?”

“I was going to have a little party. Blow up balloons, light some candles, have cake. And I was going to send you pictures so you knew I remembered and that I wished you here with me and,” You looked back up at him and saw the gentle look in his eyes, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He smiled, “No reason. You know my birthday is tomorrow, right?”

“I didn’t know what time zone you were in.”

He let out a laugh and slid his arms around your waist. He kissed you so gently, more so than he ever had before. There was no lust behind the kiss. No promise of anything more than his tongue sweeping across yours as he pulled you closer still. Nothing but care, adoration, and a little four letter word that neither of you dared to say. 

When you pulled away for air, you rested your cheek on his shoulder, peering up at him as you wondered how he stumbled into your life. “What was that for?”

“For the party.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your curls. “C’mon. These balloons won’t blow themselves up.”

---

Since that last visit, Steve had made it a point to visit you more frequently. Every two months, at midnight on the dot, Steve was at your window with his duffel bag, a small smile on his face. It was working well for you both, and his variation in changing locations kept the feds and Tony off his trail. 

At least, that’s what you thought.

It was your birthday the next time you saw Steve, but it wasn’t exactly planned — at least not on your end. Bucky was flying the quinjet over the city, dropping Steve off so he could surprise you for your birthday. Then, Steve spotted a squadron of black vans. They didn’t seem to be following the jet, which was good, but they were following a route that Steve was all too familiar with.

“Shit.”

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

“They’re going to Y/N’s place.”

“What? How did the feds figure that one out?”

Just then, an object shot across the sky above them. It didn’t detect the jet thanks to Vision’s modifications, but they could very clearly see who it was. Steve glared at the hot rod red and gold suit as it flew further away from them. “The feds didn’t.”

You were lounging in bed, enjoying your day off from work when you heard a knock on your window. Your brow scrunched as you wondered why Steve would be here. Sure, it was your birthday, but he was scheduled for a mission today. Then you realized, he must’ve been lying so he could surprise you for your birthday. With a smile on your lips, you slipped out of bed and walked down the hall, prepared to give Steve the biggest hug you could muster.

Then the smile dropped. Because it wasn’t Steve outside your window.

It was Tony Stark.

He was in a suit, in typical Tony Stark fashion, the Iron Man suit keeping itself suspended just behind the rails of your fire escape. He knocked on the glass once more with a slightly facetious smile on his face. You walked up to the window and unlocked it, pushing it up for him. “Was there a reason you couldn’t use the front door?” You asked.

“Tony Stark, nice to meet you.” When you stepped back, he swung one leg over the window sill, then the other, stepping in and giving the room a once over. “Do you know why I’m here?”

“No. I’ve only ever seen you on television.”

“Does the camera add ten pounds?”

“It does something.”

“You flatter me.”

“I don’t.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, amusement tugging at the side of his lips as he picked up a picture that sat on your mantle. “You sure hold a lot of animosity for someone you’ve never met.”

“I can’t imagine you haven’t experienced worse.” You took the frame from him as you replied.

“Aren’t you wondering how I knew to come here?” He asked. “How I knew to knock on your window? How I knew you’d answer?”

You stood silent, glaring at him.

“Really? You’re gonna make me do the whole monologue thing?” He asked, only to be met with more silence. He huffed dramatically, “Fine. I’ve been trying to track him for a long time now, Y/N. I’ve tried the internet, tracking the quinjet, cell towers. Cell towers were a big one. But I also know Steve isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t risk calling anyone while on the run, especially not on the fancy new phones we have today.”

“Is this going somewhere?” You watched as he paced around the room, trying to keep your heart steady. You still had no idea where this was leading, but you were sure he was going to tell you. 

“So I figured, maybe he’d buy a burner. And lo and behold, he did. Janky flip phone, real two thousand five looking. But he paid good money to have GPS and the tracking number erased, so cell towers were useless. Until you.”

You knew he was baiting you into giving Steve up, into admitting that you knew Steve personally. Although you would never tell him about Steve, you were on edge as you thought about the many ways you could have left him vulnerable. Still, even as a thousand scenarios played out in your head, deep down, you knew that you hadn’t been anything less than discreet. The only way they could have known is—

“You had me tailed.”

“And you were a hard one to tail, I will say. You were very careful.” He admitted. “But that’s not how I learned about you.”

You watched as Tony fished through his pants pocket before pulling out a flimsy sheet of film, burnt around the edges. Something Tony had found in the aftermath of one of Steve’s crazy intel missions in a hole-in-the-ground government facility. He walked up to the table that stood between you both and slid it across to you. As your eyes widened in surprise, Tony knew he had you. It was a picture of you and Steve, taken on a polaroid he’d brought a few visits before.

A flip of the latch and he was in for the rest of the week.

You squealed as he lifted you off your feet, spinning you around. When he finally set you down, you pulled him in for a kiss, slow with the promise of something more. He chuckled lowly as he pulled away only for you to whine. “I wanna show you something.”

“Show me later.”

You swatted his hands, urging him to drop the duffel bag he’d been carrying, and led his arms around your waist. One long and very tempting kiss later, he was pulling away again. “Y/N.”

“I’m busy. Giving you my best work here.” You pressed wet kisses down his neck. Then, you settled on the spot just below his ear, always guaranteed to make him lose his mind. He had to fight the urge to throw you over his shoulder and take you to the bedroom, his hands clutching tight to your hips. Then, he pushed you back to an arm’s length and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’m gonna show you one thing, and then, I promise, I am all yours.”

You sighed dramatically, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout. “Fine. But this better be good, Steven.”

You watched as he quickly slid off a backpack that you’d only then noticed. Digging around the inside, his eyes lit up when he finally found what he was looking for. He dropped the backpack and showed you what was in his hands.

“A camera?”

“A polaroid.” He added excitedly.

“Babe, that’s a little old school. Even for you.” You chuckled.

“This is a newer model, thank you very much.” He said, shaking the small black camera for emphasis. “I thought about a digital camera, but that’s the issue. They’re digital. If someone got their hands on the SD card, they could connect you to me.”

“I don’t care, Steve.”

“I do.” He took a step closer. He cupped your cheek with one hand and caressed his thumb across it lovingly. “If I ever get caught, I don’t want them to find out you were helping me. You’d go to prison.”

It was at that moment that you came to a scary realization. You didn’t care if you went to jail because you’d be doing it for Steve, for what you believed was the greater good. That was when you knew you loved him. Neither of you had told each other, but the sentiment could be felt every time you saw each other. It was the spark between your fingers when you held hands. The way he’d twist your hair for you when you were too sleepy to do it yourself. The way you’d scrub blood off his body when his visit happened to coincide with a mission gone bad. 

You both knew, but it was impossible to say.

“So,” You changed the subject. “You bought a polaroid instead.”

“That way, no one will know except you and me.”

“Our secret.” You nodded, your smile finally matching his. You grabbed his arm and pulled it up in the air as you positioned the camera where you wanted to be.

“Oh, so now you’re an expert in photography?” He joked.

“Shut up and take the picture.”

Tony’s eyes softened as you picked up the photo and relived a memory that he’d never be able to understand. He couldn’t say it didn’t hurt — hunting the man he once considered to be one of his best friends. His heart hurt as he watched you swallow down your tears and refuse to cry in front of him. He didn’t want to be the one to bring Steve in. Still, he had to be.

“Where is he, Y/N?”

“Screw you.”

“Just tell me where he is, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

You opened the drawer to the table and fished out the lighter you’d bought for Steve’s birthday party. You held the polaroid to the flame and watched as the picture burned to ash, gently tossing it in the waste bin. “You have no physical proof that I know Steve Rogers.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my house. Now.”

Tony looked at you, defeated and heartbroken at the same time. He acquiesced, stepping back out the window while telling his agents to meet at the rendezvous point. When he stepped back into the Iron Man suit, he gave you a nod. Even behind his mask, you could tell he had a backup plan.

Once he was out of sight, you remembered the emergency plan that Steve had drilled into you once it was clear you were getting serious. Pack a bag, get some cash, and leave town. “He’ll find me.” You kept repeating to yourself as you stuffed your clothes into a spare duffle bag.

When you were done, you picked up the burner and called Steve, sighing when it went straight to voicemail. “Hey babe, it’s me.” You cringed at your shaky voice. “It’s an emergency this time. Tony Stark just showed up at my house. He knows about us. I’ve packed a bag, and I’m getting ready to go. I don’t know where. But you’ll find me. Right?” You shook your head, pushing away any bad thoughts. “Okay. Don’t come to my place, alright? Someone’s probably watching. Just find me.”

Just as you hung up, there was a knock on your window. Worried it was Stark or one of his men, you ran to the closet and picked up your shotgun. Then the window slid open.

Shit, you thought, I forgot the latch.

You inched down the hallway, taking deep breaths as you held the gun steady. Suddenly, someone stepped out, your finger pulled the trigger. Your brow furrowed, though, as the sound was contained in the palm of the man’s hand, light splintering off of it. “Bucky?”

“You must be Y/N.” He smiled kindly. “Steve sent me. I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, alright?”

Meanwhile, Tony flew across the city to the rendezvous point, an abandoned warehouse on the Upper East Side. He’d gotten confirmation from his agents just a minute ago that they’d arrived and were waiting for him on the scene, yet when he got there, nobody was to be found. He stepped carefully around the back of one of the black vans, finding one of the agents passed out beside it. “FRIDAY, scan the warehouse for heat signatures.”

“There’s no need.”

When Tony rounded the vehicle, he saw Steve standing across the room. He looked different — a full beard, longer hair, a new black tactical suit that Tony was sure he didn’t design — and yet, he still looked the same. A glimmer in his eyes that Tony once mistook for self-righteousness. He now knew that was just Steve’s determination. “This is a pretty stupid plan, Steve.”

“It would be if it was a plan.” Steve shrugged. “I’m winging it.”

“That’s an even worse plan.”

“Something tells me I’ll be fine.”

“You know I can’t let you walk out of here.”

“You never let me do anything. I’m only here to warn you.”

Tony’s head drooped as he let out a low chuckle. “This is about the girl. You do know her.”

“Stay away from her, Tony.” Steve snapped. “I mean it.”

“You think I’d hurt her?”

“Of course not. But I don’t put you above turning her in.”

“She aided and abetted a fugitive.”

“I’m not having this argument with you. I know you just came from her house. From here on out, stay away from her. This is your only warning.”

Tony was thankful that his mask could not emote as surprise overtook his face. This wasn’t one of Steve’s idle threats that would amount to nothing like when the Avengers were first formed. Tony knew he was serious because he recognized Steve’s expression. It’s the same one Tony got when anyone dared to threaten Pepper.

It was hard admitting that he understood where Steve was coming from. But he did.

“And what if I don’t?” Tony asked, just to gauge his response.

Steve discreetly let out a breath of relief as he heard Bucky confirm that you were safe on comms. Looking back at Tony, his expression was a mixture of darkness and regret. “I’m not sure either of us wants to find out.”

Then, there was a flash of light that all but blinded Tony. When his eyesight returned to normal, Steve was gone.

In the wind once more.

---

Screw him.

After Tony found out who you were, Steve had taken to a safe house — a cabin in upstate Pennsylvania. It had been another favor from T’Challa. The king bought it under an alias and allowed you to stay in it until it was safe for you to go back to New York.

And to be honest, you couldn’t say you didn’t like it. It was kind of a neighborhood, multiple cabins built around one large lake. None of your neighbors actually lived there; they were more like vacation homes. Still, over the few years, you got to know them. It was nice, having that small sense of normalcy. 

Not to mention, it was much easier for Steve to visit this way. He’d come in the back entrance from the woods and stay a week or two, maybe more if he didn’t have any upcoming missions. In fact, it almost became like Steve’s home, too. When he wasn’t on a mission or in Wakanda, he was with you. And though Steve was always the first to say he no longer craved the normalcy of family, he couldn’t deny that being there, with you, was like a dream. A dream that was so close but still unattainable.

He was reminded of that when aliens invaded Earth. For the second time.

He up and left in a hurry one day, rushing out an explanation about how aliens were after Vision for some unknown reason. Still, he assured you that he’d come back, and you nodded sending him on his way with a quick kiss of his lips. It wasn’t unlike any of his other missions.

The difference this time was that he didn’t come back. At least, not for a year. Then, he was at your door again. No warning. No call. No cuts or bruises. Just him in the navy blue combat suit, silver star viciously ripped out. Thick beard, pink lips, and a look in his eyes that could kill. That is, if you didn’t know him. But you did know him. More than he’d like to admit.

So yeah, screw him.

How dare he just show up at your door without so much as a call. Steve had never gone that long without not seeing you, not speaking to you. You thought you meant at least that much to him. Even so, when you saw his face, you couldn’t help but want to be back in your old, beat-up apartment, eating junk and talking about shit that eventually wouldn’t matter until the sun rose.

Your first thought, though, was to slap him. So you did.

He’d seen it coming. He watched your small, soft hand that he’d held in his one too many times rise toward his cheek. He knew he could’ve stopped you. His instincts told him to stop you. But part of him knew he deserved it. He’d become the hero everyone needed, but in return he was no longer satisfied with the man he saw in the mirror.

He was a shell. Smiling for his friends when needed, saving the city, country, world when needed. Or trying to save the world. But inside he barely felt anything.

One of the few things he did feel for stood right in front of him. That’s why he let you slap him.

You knew the hit would barely phase him. He was a super soldier after all. The only thing he could feel was relief. Relief in knowing that you were here, in the flesh. Relieved knowing that the woman he adored hadn’t vanished into thin air. So he crashed his lips against yours in a passionate embrace. 

Surprised didn’t begin to explain how you felt. Still, you could hardly complain when Steve’s lips were moving so tenderly against your own after so much time apart. You were still angry — how could you not be? — but you still worried for him. It all seemed to be happening too fast. From what you saw on the televised memorials, he’d lost half his team, his best friend. You were starting to wonder if he should do this so soon.

You were finally given an opportunity to breathe when Steve started to leave a trail of kisses down your neck. One of his hands slid down your body and grabbed onto your thigh, hooking it around his waist. “Steve.” You called.

He hummed, finding and nipping at the spot on your neck that made you gasp. 

“Steve.”

His grip only tightened, pulling you as close as he could. 

This time, you spoke more firmly, pushing his head away, “Steve.”

He looked at you, his breaths coming out in huffs. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” You admitted as you caught your breath. “Are you sure you—“

“I need to feel something.” He said quietly. He seemed almost ashamed as he spoke. “I wanna be sad. I wanna be angry. God, I want to be angry. I'd at least have something fueling me. But I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t feel anything. I feel empty. Every time I close my eyes, I see Bucky turning to dust. Or Vision’s head caved in. Sam’s gone, Wanda’s gone. I just, I need to feel something, anything. Please.”

The look in his eyes was one you’d never seen from him before. Distraught, hopelessness was only a start. In the year he’d been gone, you had no idea what he’d been through. And, to some extent, you know how he felt. You saw some of your own friends and family on the memorial reels. You’d cried yourself to sleep more than once, wondering if you’d ever see them again. You knew that as bad as you felt, Steve probably felt worse because in his mind, it was his job to save them.

And he couldn’t. Didn’t.

So you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his. Walked him back toward the bedroom. You took care of him, made him feel, even if only for a moment, when he was completely and utterly numb. And you laid with him afterward until you both fell asleep, no idea what the morning would bring for you.

You’d find out that the morning would not be much kinder. When you woke up, Steve was slipping his combat suit back on. He cursed softly when he realized you were awake, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Right.” You huffed, your voice still groggy-sounding. “You just meant to leave before we could talk about what the hell happened last night.”

He sighed, “Y/N—”

“So this is what you do now? Show up and leave when it’s convenient for you?”

“Y/N, I’ve always been honest with you. You know that—”

“That you’re a fugitive? Half the fucking universe is gone, Steve. They’re not worried about you anymore.” You scoffed, sitting up and clutching the sheets to your bare chest. “You know what? For the first time, I thought I could be selfish, that you could be selfish.”

“I can’t.” His voice was barely above a whisper. He tried to veer away from the conversation as he glanced around the room and muttered to himself. “Where the fuck are my boots?”

“You’d saved so many people. So many lives kept safe because of you. And when you made one mistake in the eyes of the law, a whole lot of them turned on you. And you’d think that, of all things, would make you want to be selfish, just once.”

“I can’t afford to be selfish.” He replied. “People need me.”

“I need you, Steve.” Your voice was so quiet, so vulnerable, that it made him freeze. In all the years he’d known you, he’d never once heard you sound so helpless. Child-like, almost. “You were gone. For a year.”

“I know.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He came around to sit next to you, a comforting hand on your thigh as you leaned back on the headboard. “I’m sorry.”

“I had to watch my neighbors disappear into thin air. It was like everything was moving in slow motion, and for the first time in my life, I was terrified. Terrified because I didn’t know if I was next.”

“Y/N…”

“Then I saw the memorials. I lost my best friend, too. Heather.” You told him, a tear finally falling from your eye. “My aunt, two cousins, my nephew. They’re all gone.”

“I did everything I could.” Steve said, trying but failing to hold in his own tears.

“I know you did. That was not your fault. I know you would’ve given your life for the world.” Your brow furrowed as you looked over at him. You placed your hand over his, squeezing reassuringly. “That’s not why I’m upset with you. You didn’t come back to me, Steve. I knew you were okay, they said so on the news. I kept waiting and waiting, and you never came.”

“I couldn’t.” He wiped the tears from his face. Then, he abruptly stood from the bed. “I shouldn’t have come back here.”

“Steve—”

“It’s only hurting both of us to be here.” He quickly found his boots and slipped them on.

“Steve, stop it!” You slipped out of bed and grabbed your robe.

“Y/N, you don’t get it! I can’t do what I have to — I can’t be Captain America — if I’m always thinking about you!”

“Then tell me you don’t love me.”

His lips parted in shock as he tilted his head, eyes giving you a sad look. “That’s not fair.”

“Just tell me. That way, all this, this bullshit, will make sense.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You chuckled bitterly. “It’s not like we’ve said it to each other anyway.”

“Stop, Y/N.” He shook his head and walked out of the bedroom, toward the back door. You were quick to follow him, staying on his heels.

“Say it.”

“Don’t.”

“Say you don’t love me, Steve.”

“Goddamn it, you know I love you, Y/N!” He snapped, turning to face you. “I love you, alright?”

Everything about that moment was the portrait of juxtaposition. He’d just snapped at you, sure, but he also just said the three little words that you’d both been tiptoeing around for years. He finally professed his love to you, but his eyes were filled with sadness, with regret. Steve may have been the hero, but the way he was looking at you made it clear that he was the one who needed saving. Not that he’d ever let you.

And to think it was him who initially sought to be a part of your life.

“Then, why are you leaving?” You asked, tears still falling from your eyes.

“I can’t be Captain America and the man who loves you, and I do love you. So much.” He stepped closer, ignoring his own tears. He placed his warm hands on your cheeks and pulled you close, resting his forehead against yours. “Because if it ever comes down to everyone or you? I’m choosing you.”

You wished the moment could have been more tender. But your heart broke at the thought because looking in his eyes, you knew it was true. You grabbed his wrists tight, afraid to let go. “So this is it?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

He pressed his lips to yours in a bittersweet kiss. You could taste both your tears on your lips, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else in the whole world mattered except for the feeling of his lips on yours because this would be the last time you ever felt it. You prayed to whoever was listening that you’d never forget the feeling. His soft lips nudging yours apart, the heaviness of his hands on your face. You hoped you never forgot what it was like to feel him, his weight, his heat, his joy, his sadness. Everything about him, you hoped it would be ingrained in your mind because even though it had only been a few years since you met, you couldn’t imagine life without him anymore.

When he pulled away, it felt too soon. He looked at you one more time, his eyes puffy and red. He memorized your eyes and your lips, the contrast of your brown skin against his pale hands. He slid his hands down your neck, to your shoulders, then your forearms, finally willing himself to step back. He looked like he wanted to say something, and you hoped that he would. But nothing came out.

With one last glance, Steve was out your back door.

In the wind. For good.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

day two - i found

SOULMATE AU

A/N: Here we are!! day 2!! I have been having so much fun looking at what everyone’s created! our fandom is so talented!! now, i have made it no secret how i feel about soulmate aus (lmao) but I found myself really enjoying working on this one! the title is based off of the song by Amber Run!

Again thank you so much @spideychelleweek​ for organizing this!!

And a HUGE thank you to @machiavelien​ for creating such a beautiful work of art to go with this story!!! You are amazing!! Find it here.

So, without further ado, here is an 8.6k (phew) colorblind soulmate au filled with fluff, angst, and love!

Read here or on AO3 

-

                                                              i.

The words of the textbook melt and warp together, his brain unable to focus on the convoluted phrase structure long enough to take in any of the information. 

So far, studying for that first decathlon meet in Philly has been going… not too well.

Peter tugs at the sleeves of his hoodie—the one May so graciously marked with a label that reads “blue”—before pulling the hood down over his eyes. He takes a deep breath, a moment to try and reset, before pulling it back, the brightness of the gray and white room almost blinding. 

At the beginning of the spring semester, he’d figured he could get a good change of pace by going to the library for his free seventh period everyday instead of his usual, the empty band room. Maybe studying in a place that specifically promotes concentration and learning would prove to be much more helpful. 

For the most part, it’s worked for him. He’s able to at least get half a page in until recently.

Now, his mind starts to drift to the girl in black and gray sitting at the table across from him. 

He knows Michelle, mostly from Acadec. Sometimes he passes her in the hallway on the way to Advanced Physics, and she’s been in a handful of the same classes as him since the beginning of high school. Sometimes she makes funny comments—usually under her breath—during lectures, and he has to either keep himself from snickering, or take a moment to try and understand whatever she just said. When he greets to her in between decathlon practice and meets, she most of the time only offers a tight-lipped smile and nod in return. 

But while he knows who she is, and while he certainly sees her a lot, he still doesn’t know her. 

This—both of them sitting in the library during 7th period right before practice—has happened a lot more often since the beginning of the new semester. Michelle’s always sitting in that same spot, nose stuck in what seems like a different book every other day. Peter’s not sure if he’s really coming here every day because it’s a good study spot, because he always somehow gets distracted by the fact that he has the best opportunity to make a brand new friend. His own thought process here becomes a bit too distracting.

So, he decides that he needs to make a change. 

Peter wants to get to know Michelle. Maybe get a laugh or two out of her. Be her friend. 

The next day, at the same free period during seventh hour, he pushes the doors open to the library. His eyes fall on the same sight; the same students sitting in their same places, Michelle included. 

He moves to her table, yet his pace slows the closer he gets as his nerves get the best of him. He hasn’t really thought of what he wants to say, or even how he wants to go about this. It isn’t like this is all that difficult in theory. Michelle is just a person; not someone that he should be afraid to talk to. 

In his internal monologue, Peter hasn’t realized he’s made it to her table. She clears her throat, knocking him out of his thoughts. 

“Hey, Michelle,” he says, startled, still trying to get his bearings. 

“Uh… hey. Peter,” she offers, thumb tapping against the pages of her book as she glances from side to side. “What’s up?”

“Can…” Peter breathes, still not sure where this question is going. “Is anyone sitting here?” He asks dumbly. 

MJ’s expression remains impassive, though her eyes narrow the slightest bit. “Yeah.”

Peter’s mouth forms into a small ‘o’ as he rocks back in his heels, now unsure as to what he should be doing. “Uh, cool. Nevermind.”

But quickly, MJ shakes her head, seeming to be just as ansty as he is. “I’m kidding. Just—Just messing with you.” She gives a faint, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it grin before looking down at her book again. 

“Oh.” Peter lets out a breathy chuckle. “So…” He points to the chair. “I—I can sit here?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sure.”

Peter slowly pulls out the chair across from her, his movements deafeningly loud in the quiet of the library. He throws a sheepish grin over his shoulder as he sits, gently dropping his things on the ground beside him. 

For a moment, they sit in silence, Michelle reading and Peter… well, Peter not knowing what to do with himself. He pulls out his physics book, ready to study again, mulling over some possible conversation topics in his head as he cracks it open. He doesn’t want to seem too nosey, so he refrains from thinking of anything too personal.

He returns to his bag, grabbing his notebook, seeing the bag of pretzels he had packed this morning for an afternoon snack. Peter pulls that out too, setting it on the table and opening it. 

They sit in silence for a while longer, Peter quietly munching on his salty snacks. He can feel Michelle glance up at him every so often, and he immediately feels himself warm under her fleeting gaze. 

He looks up at her, mumbling a ‘sorry’ as he tries to quiet his chewing, still struggling to come up with something—anything—to talk about. 

She waves him off, the corners of her mouth quirking downward into a slight, unbothered frown. 

“You want some?” He asks after another beat, holding out his ziploc bag. 

And again, Michelle’s gaze shifts to his for the briefest of moments, her cheek resting against her knuckles. At first, she doesn’t say anything, only lowering her book the slightest bit. But then, she reaches out, taking a pretzel. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. 

“You’re welcome,” Peter says almost as quietly. 

And they sit like that for the rest of seventh period, reading and munching on pretzel sticks in an awkward, yet not entirely uncomfortable silence. It’s not much, but Peter can’t help but feel that it’s a step forward in their friendship. 

They’re both so content in their sharing that they don’t notice when they reach at the same time for the same piece. His hand brushes hers, a fleeting touch before they both pull back immediately, both of them apologizing. Yet, as quickly as it had ended, Peter swears he can still feel the warmth of her fingertips. 

And when he looks up to meet her gaze, he’s sure she can still feel the coolness of his. 

He clears his throat in an effort to mask his nervous chuckle. When the final bell rings, he’s unsure of whether or not he considers himself saved. Sure, from further embarrassment yes, but he finds himself wanting the hour to keep going.

Still, as much as he wants to get to know Michelle, he can’t help but feel that they’ll be just fine.

                                                              ii.

“MJ?” Peter asks through a mouthful of popcorn as they lay on the living room floor of his aunt’s apartment, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Yeah?” She asks, not fully tilting her head towards him, curiosity piqued. 

“What’s your favorite color?”

She just manages to muffle the snort of laughter that escapes her, quickly glancing at at a sleeping Ned on the couch, making sure her sudden outburst didn’t wake him. Turning her attention back to Peter, her face is scrunched. “What?”

She almost thinks that he’s joking. He has to be. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He repeats earnestly.

“Dude, you remember that neither of us has a soulmate yet, right? The only colors we can actually see are gray, white, and black. That’s only three options.”

“Yeah, I know, but—” Peter sits up on his elbows. “—Like… what do you think your favorite color is?”

MJ follows, staring at him incredulously. 

“Okay okay okay,” he relents before a pause, his expression calculating as he tries to find a way to better explain himself. He sits upright, arms rested on his knees as he takes another moment’s contemplation. “Like—we know about certain colors, right? Because there are other people we know who have found their soulmates. May and Ben, your sister and her husband, and now… Ned and Betty. And they—they know what everything looks like. They see every single color. So, I dunno, we’ve heard a lot about them. We may not be able to see them, but…” 

He looks up to find MJ still staring at him, though it’s a softer look, not as harsh and confused. “We can try to understand them,” she nods. 

“Exactly!” Peter says, smile returning. “So, like—I think my favorite color would be red.”

“Red?” MJ asks. 

“Yeah. May’s always talked about how it was her and Ben’s favorite color. And when she tells me about it, I dunno, I’m just kinda drawn to it, I guess.” He shrugs. “I think it’s because it’s a color that’s attached to a lot of really intense emotions? Like, yeah, anger’s one of them, but it’s also love and—and… passion, and... It’s just bold. Ned says it’s like a really warm, really hot color.”

“You’ve really thought a lot about this, huh?” MJ watches him, the corner of her mouth turning upward. 

“Yeah…” Peter’s smile turns timid, sheepish even, as he scratches the back of his neck. “It’s—It’s weird I know. Forget I asked—”

“—No.” MJ stops him. “No, it’s fine.” 

Peter nods in understanding.

A beat passes. 

“I think blue would be mine.” MJ says softly. 

“How come?” Peter asks in a barely audible voice. 

She sits in silence for a moment before speaking again. “Well, everyone always says that the ocean’s blue, the sky’s blue… that it’s a really calming color. This one website I read said that it represented calmness and tranquility. Wisdom, too.” 

“You’ve thought about it, too?” Peter asks hopefully. 

MJ gives a single, slow nod. “I’ve done some googling in my spare time.”

“Cool,” Peter grins. “What do you think it’s like when you kiss your soulmate?” 

The faint scoff that comes out of his friend causes his stomach to do a tiny flip. “You haven’t heard Ned talk about it enough?” MJ cracks a smile, shaking her head. 

“Well, I mean, yeah…” Peter lets out a breathy chuckle. “But, like… I feel like it’s different for everyone, you know?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Another moment of true quiet passes as they both think. MJ sits up fully now, mirroring Peter’s seated position. 

“What do you think it’s like?” MJ throws the question back at him. 

Peter glances away, suddenly finding the skin on his thumb very interesting. “I dunno…” He mumbles with a shy shrug as he starts to play with the edge of the throw blanket. But he can feel MJ’s eyes on him, waiting and expecting, but still holding a certain gentleness to them. He sighs, letting his hands fall onto his knees again. “You know when you’re listening to this really amazing song, maybe a symphony or something, and it like—swells and crescendos to this beautiful chord—maybe with some dissonance and resolution in there? And you just get goosebumps, and you feel so warm and—”

“Like Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet?” MJ teases, just lightly. “The one that always plays in movies and TV shows?”

Peter huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess you could say that one.” He’s quiet again, lips twisting in thought before his face lights up again. “Or like, when you’re reading a really good book, and you’re at the end, it’s happy, and everything’s working out and that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy? Maybe there was some bad stuff in the middle, but when you get to that point in the story, you know that everything’s gonna be okay, even if you don’t quite understand why? And then… when you open your eyes… the world just looks so different?”

“Wow, aren’t you a romantic,” MJ deadpans, though when Peter glances up at her, he can see the faint smirk tugging at her lips. She nudges him gently with her shoulder. “I’m kidding. Kind of. Still cheesy, but—” she pauses, shrugging. “It’s sweet. It sounds… It sounds nice,” she decides.

And once again, for the umpteenth time that night, Peter can only grin at her. “It does,” he agrees. “Do you think you’ll ever meet your soulmate?”

“Better question: do I even want to meet my soulmate?” MJ counters. 

“What do you mean?”

It’s MJ’s turn to feel the spotlight, and she does almost the exact same thing to distract herself. She picks at stray threads on the gray blanket. “I don’t know, I mean… I feel like this whole soulmate thing… I feel like it takes the choice out of it, if that makes sense?”

Peter tilts his head in confusion. 

“We’re supposed to have free will, right? As humans. I mean, we can debate on whether or not we actually have free will, but that’s not the point. But—” She pauses, tilting her head from side to side, weighing her words. “What if I never meet my soulmate? Do I just… wait for them until I’m dead? What if my soulmate doesn’t want to be with me? What if my soulmate is a terrible person? Do I have to be with them because they’re who fate, or the gods, or whatever higher power picked for me?”

“I don’t think your soulmate would be a terrible person, MJ.” 

“You don’t know that for sure,” she reasons.

“Your soulmate’s supposed to be perfect for you.”

“But what if I don’t want perfect?” She asks. “And what if… what if my soulmate dies in some tragic accident? Am I just doomed to never love again? Is my soulmate my one chance at true, controlled, measured happiness?”

Peter goes silent for a moment, brows pinched together, lips twisted in thought. “I guess I… I guess I never really thought about it that way.” He sighs. “But don’t you… Don’t you ever want to see what the world looks like not in black and white?”

“I mean, if I found the right person, I don’t think it’d matter what colors the world was or what I could or couldn’t see… as long as I had them, right?”

A small, teasing smile tugs at Peter’s lips. “Now who’s the romantic?”

“Shut up, loser.” MJ rolls her eyes.

“It’s so cute.”

“I swear to God—”

“—no really. Adorable.”

“I’m going to murder you—”

“—awww. Love you too, MJ.”

She lets out a long exasperated sigh, falling back onto the carpet, rubbing her eyes with her hands. The entire time, that same stupid, smug, teasing grin stays on Peter’s face; and honestly, he can’t help it. 

He also can’t help but feel that MJ has a point about this whole soulmate thing. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s not something that he should be striving for, not something he should really be all that worried about. 

With the right person, whoever they are, the world around them doesn’t matter. 

But still, there’s a part of him that knows he’ll always be curious about it. Who did the universe consider to be his ultimate match, his equal in every possible way? Would he ever meet them? What were they doing right this very moment? He also wonders if he’s already met this person, if he’s seen them in passing on the street. 

He thinks of all the chances he might have met this person, and he’s filled with this strange sense of anxiety. 

But again, maybe that’s why MJ was right about this; the very idea of the perfect person being out there for you proved only to be debilitating knowledge. In a way, he could see that it might keep someone from living their life to the fullest. They might miss out on meaningful, true relationships and friendships in order to make room for someone they might never have the chance of meeting, all to see the world in bright, vivid color. 

Besides, it’s really not something he needs to worry too much about. He’s got his friends and family; May, Mr. Stark even… Ned…

And MJ.

                                                             iii.

“Wanna hear something cool?” Ned asks MJ as they wait for the first five minute warning bell to ring before school starts. 

She looks up at him from behind her book, one brow quirked in his direction. “What?”

“Your sweater—” He looks down at her outfit. He pauses for dramatic effect. “It’s red.”

Her expression falls, and she stares at him, unimpressed. “Wow.”

It’s not like that trick’s getting old or anything. 

 “—And your shirt’s—”

“—Ned.”

Ned immediately shuts his mouth, though it’s easy to see the smile hiding. “My bad.”

“All good,” she says slowly, throwing a warning glare, though her eyes quickly soften—consciously or not, it’s not clear—when she sees they’re friend Peter enter the library. 

Ned and MJ exchange a knowing glance, understanding that today of all days is one where they have to really embrace this whole Peter Parker Protection Squad™ thing. They both know this day well; the anniversary of his Uncle Ben’s death is always hard. And every year, they are there for Peter. There to comfort him, to talk to him, to listen to him, or even just to be in the same room as him. Whatever he needs, they are more than happy to provide. 

So, when he acts completely normal, as if nothing’s wrong at all, they’re confused. 

He moves quickly and quietly, plopping his stuff down at the table with them wordlessly. He seems to notice the two pairs of eyes glued to him; he looks up, brow furrowed as he eyes them both carefully. “Uh, hey guys.”

Ned’s the first to speak. “Hey, man. How’re you doing?”

Peter’s gaze shifts left and right as he lets out a light scoff. “...Good?”

“Pete,” MJ cuts in, faint concern disguised under a veil of nonchalance. “You okay?”

Peter only seems to get more weirded out. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Again, Ned and MJ exchange looks, neither of them really wanting to explicitly say it, lest they ruin his mood. 

Ned clears his throat, nudging MJ under the table. 

She wants to slap him, but she doesn’t, and instead turns again to Peter. “It’s just… we know that… today is usually… kind of a hard day.”

“Oh, uh… Yeah.” Peter’s expression falls for a split-second, before returning back to normal. He shakes his head. “No. Yeah. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Ned asks, unsure himself.

MJ isn’t too convinced either. 

Peter gives a short, resolute sigh, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “Yeah. I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

But both Ned and MJ continue to worry throughout the rest of the school day. Peter just doesn’t seem himself. Yes, he’s acting positive, smiling and joking like he normally does, but they can both tell that something’s not quite right. There’s tension behind his eyes in every smile, like it pains him—even though he hides it well—to force such an expression. To anyone else, he might seem fine, just like he’d claimed to be this morning, but Ned and MJ—they know him better than anyone else. 

The two of them text back and forth throughout the day, making sure they’re both following the same set of rules they gave themselves. But Peter never gives them a reason to implement any of those rules. 

Finally, as the last bell rings, Ned and MJ talk at his locker. 

“I think you should try to go to Peter’s tonight.” He tries to say quietly, but just loud enough so that she can hear over the chatter of students. “I gotta work, but I’m gonna try to switch shifts with someone so I can show up later.”

MJ nods solemnly. “Got it.”

“I think May has to work late tonight, so he might be by himself,” Ned adds. “Not that anything bad’s gonna happen, but I dunno… He might like to have the company, you know?”

“I know,” MJ gives another understanding nod. “I’ll text you.”

Ned gives a single thumbs up, and they part ways. 

MJ only gives it about an hour and a half after school’s out to head over to Peter’s. She doesn’t text him or anything—as per usual—but she does debate on giving him some kind of heads-up. Before five, she’s at his apartment, climbing up to the seventh floor, her feet feeling as if they’re made of lead with every step she takes. 

She raps lightly on the door, three gentle knocks, and is met with radio silence. She knocks again, a little more insistent this time, the sound echoing hollowly in the building, and still no response. It’s then that she takes liberty, opening the door, surprised to find it unlocked. 

The apartment is quiet, save for the gentle hum of the dishwasher from the kitchen. MJ steps in, her footsteps leading her to the open living room. Her heart nearly snaps in half seeing Peter just sitting there, curled up by himself, staring into the cold fireplace. 

She stands there a moment, waiting to see if he’ll acknowledge her, to see if he’ll invite her to sit with him. 

But he stays silent, his lips pressing together tightly. 

“Hey,” She offers softly with a weak wave of her hand. 

Finally, Peter spares her a look, his eyes red-rimmed, his hair disheveled. The corners of his mouth twitch upward into another forced, anaemic smile. “Hi.”

She doesn’t ask how he’s doing, knowing that it’s not a very smart question at the moment. Instead, she asks, “Can I sit?”

Wordlessly, he scoots over for her, pulling the blanket wrapped around his shoulders with him. 

She lowers herself onto the couch, slowly, and for a long time, they only sit in silence. 

Eventually, Peter lets out a long, tired sigh. He leans forward. “I guess…” His voice is rough and raw from lack of use. He clears his throat. “I guess I just thought it would get easier, you know? And then… when it didn’t… I thought… well, maybe if I just fake it, if I pretend… then I can convince myself that it is, right?” He lets out a humorless laugh. “And clearly, it kinda backfired on me.”

MJ only nods, still listening. 

“And some days… it is easier. Most days, I’m fine. But then… everything just kinda… piles on all at once.” With a shake of his head, he sits back. “I don’t know, I guess… I guess I was thinking—or I guess trying to tell myself—that I was better, or that—that I was done? I don’t know. I mean, I know that it’s not going to be easy. At all.” He huffs, voice beginning to tremble. “I don’t even know if I’m making sense right now, I’m sorry—”

“—Peter, it’s okay,” MJ says, shifting so that she can face him on the couch. “It’s okay,” she repeats. “It’s—It’s okay to grieve. You don’t have to convince yourself that you’re done; that after a certain point, you have to stop. There’s no timeline for it.” MJ insists. “Believe me, I know it never gets easier, but it’s okay to allow yourself to miss him.” She grabs his hand. “It’s okay.”

Peter looks up at her, eyes brimming with unshed tears. His mouth twitches, his chin trembling violently as he gives her hand a hard squeeze. 

She squeezes his hand back. 

                                                            iv.

It’s a really dumb excuse, and Peter knows it. 

MJ definitely knows it. 

But it’s probably the only one he could even think of in the moment. There wasn’t a lot of time between the distant crashing, the loud wail of sirens, the police cars zooming by, and the panicked screams for him to come up with something a bit more believable.

No, “Uh… I have to go… Call my… aunt…” was probably in his top ten most piss-poor excuses to date. 

Really, nearly four years of being Spider-Man and he still doesn’t have this whole thing down.

Which is why MJ figured it out approximately less than four months into their friendship. 

But now, as she watches him lamely run away in the opposite direction of her, she can’t help but feel the slightest bit frustrated that he hasn’t figured out that she knows already. Sure, she doesn’t really need him to tell her, mostly because one, she already knows, and two, it’s his business. If he never wanted to tell her, fine. It wasn’t going to end their friendship. 

Honestly, though, she could do without the bad lies. 

At least try harder, dude. 

And then, there’s also the small part of her that always gets annoyingly worried at the idea that this idiot—her best friend—is constantly putting himself in danger. There’s this thought, this fear, every time he says his bullshit, every time he runs away to fight some bad guys, that he’s not going to come back at all. That she’s going to lose him. 

And that’s why, right then and there, she decides to follow him into the fire.

It might be just as stupid for her to do it as it is for him—given she doesn’t even have powers—she knows this… But again, it doesn’t stop her. 

It doesn’t take long to find the scene; all she has to do is follow the sound of lies and other bullshit, and maybe some of the shouting and what not. 

As it turns out, a small group of men had broken into a Jewelry store, but in their attempt to infiltrate the security system, one of the breakers had exploded, alerting absolutely everyone nearby. 

Spider-Man, of course, now in his gray and black suit, is there in no time. He webs up the leader first, blasting him in the face with a quick click of his webshooter. Two others try to sneak up on him, but Spidey leaps out of the way, webbing both goons before they can even find him again. 

The fourth guy sees his ever so slim chances of winning, weighing his options, before bolting for the door, but that masked vigilante’s faster. 

Once he’s got four out of five of the guys webbed up, he can see that the last one—the tech guy, he’s guessing—is nowhere to be found. 

MJ sees all of this, of course, from just outside the police perimeter, when out of the corner of her eye, she sees the last goon getting away. She makes a break for it, taking a shortcut through the alley to meet him at the next street. Something in her forces her to run faster, and she’s not sure what, but she knows that this has to work. 

She waits behind a corner, the fast approaching footsteps falling with the erratic hammering of her heart. Slowing her breath in an effort to calm herself, she waits. Along with the criminal, she can hear the thwip-thwip of Peter following, swinging from the rooftops above. He seems to have caught on as well. 

The man gets closer and closer, and quickly, MJ acts, sticking her leg out, tripping the runaway effectively. It’s an old, borderline cartoon-y trick, and honestly, she’s a little surprised it works so well. The man falls, groaning as he face plants into the asphalt below. 

Spidey drops down in front of him, instantly blasting him into a web cocoon. 

The masked hero turns. “Hey, great job, citizen—” His mechanical eyes widen when he looks up to see just who helped him out. “What are you doing here? I mean—” He at first demands, but then he remembers himself, clearing his throat. “What—Uh, what are you doing here, ma’am?”

“Was in the neighborhood. Hanging with a friend.” She replies, looking at her nails, the very essence of feigned nonchalance. “Then he ditched me, saying some dumb, bullshit excuse about how he had to go call his aunt. Have you seen him?”

She looks pointedly at him. 

His white, wide eyes narrow slightly. He brings a finger up to the side of his head. “Yeah. Yeah I got it.”

MJ rolls her eyes, knowing he’s probably talking to one of his superhero besties. 

Spider-Man continues to stare at her, and she stares right back.  

“M—Uh, ma’am.” He coughs. “Do you need a lift home?” 

MJ glances from left to right, her arms folding defensively across her chest. “Uh, no—”

Before she can add any sort of retort to the response, he’s scooping her up, leaping into the air and swinging the both of them away. 

“What the hell—” MJ shouts. “You’re just gonna leave that guy there?”

“Ms. Marvel’s got it,” He answers before letting go of the first web.

Her piercing screams go right into his ear as she clings for dear life to him. She doesn’t dare look at the ground below, instead burying her face into his shoulder, her eyes screwed shut as she waits for it all to just be over. No part of her even considers the idea of watching the world pass, of looking at the twinkling white city lights over blocks of dark gray and black. The wind whips around her violently with each swing, her hair flying in all directions as she begs Peter to put her down.

She’s just about gotten her bearings when he lands them on the rooftop of some nearby building. 

“You—You can’t just—! Do that!” She shouts at him, her voice shaky from all the screaming. 

He doesn’t waste any time as he rips off his mask. “What the hell were you thinking, MJ?”

She’s not even shocked seeing his face underneath, but she does take a step back when he moves to her. “What do you mean?” She shoots back defensively, arms folded across her chest. 

“You know what I mean!”

“I don’t see the problem here.”

“Are you crazy?” He groans in exasperation. “Putting yourself in danger like that? You could have been hurt!”

“Would you calm down?” She can feel the rising, white hot anger bubbling up in her chest, her throat feeling as if it’s been coated in barbed wire. “It’s not like it was one of your dumb Avengers-level bad guys. It was just some random guy.”

“That ‘random guy’ had a gun, MJ. What would you have done if he didn’t fall, or if I wasn’t there? Huh? You don’t have powers to keep you from getting hurt. What would you have done?”

Michelle stares back at him, mouth setting into a tight line.“I’m not a damsel in distress, Peter.”

“God, I know you’re not, but—” 

“You can’t control me, alright? And—” She groans in frustration, flexing her fingers. “If—if you don’t want me following you into stupid shit, then—then stop doing stupid shit!”

Her words give him pause. His gaze falls to the concrete, his jaw clenching as he releases a sharp exhale.

Another heavy silence falls.

When he finally speaks again, he struggles to bring his gaze to meet hers.

“MJ, please.” He roughly cards a hand through his hair. He takes a deep, shaky breath. When he looks up again, she can see the raw emotion in his face, the angry, pleading unshed tears threatening to fall. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten mad… But—but you can’t just… you can’t do that. Please. I don’t—I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you… It… It happened with… with… I can’t… I—God… if something happened to you...”

She sucks in a sharp breath, holding it, mouth parted slightly as she stands there, finding herself unable to speak.

“I can’t lose you, too.” He adds, his voice breaking. 

Instantly, she moves to him, and he crumples into her arms, his tears falling silently onto her black jacket. She wraps herself around him, holding him close. 

They stand there in silence, just holding each other. 

MJ squeezes him, pulling him even closer, as if he’d disappear if she let him go for even just a moment. “Pete, you’re not gonna lose me,” she murmurs into his neck.

He clings onto her even tighter in response, saying nothing. 

She shuts her eyes as she breathes with him, feeling her own tears falling down her cheek. Releasing a shaky sigh, she burrows herself into his shoulder, whispering, “You’ll never lose me.”

                                                              v.

Peter watches as the black liquid in his coffee slowly swirls into a much lighter gray. 

He adds more creamer when MJ’s not looking from her place at the tea bar, hoping that she doesn’t notice. Last time they’d gotten coffee together, she’d roasted him endlessly for how he took his international delight with a hint of actual coffee. 

She comes back to the table moments later, her own tea in one hand, her Italian notebook in the other. “Are you drinking milk?”

Damn.

“Shut up,” he pouts. 

“It’s okay,” she waves him off. “Coffee’s bad for children anyway. You’re just being smart.”

“Hey!” Peter sits back, mouth hanging open in offense. “I thought we were having a friendly, no nonsense study date.”

He tries not to stumble on that last word, and he succeeds (for the most part). Heat still rises to his face, burning his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

She shrugs, taking a sip of her hot tea. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop messing with you.”

He’s not sure if he ever wants her to stop.

“I should’ve known…” He trails off, shaking his head in mock disappointment. 

“Okay!” MJ sets her mug down. “If you’re done complaining, we should get started on chapter six.” 

Peter rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he laughs. 

“Cool, so—”

Her words are cut off by the abrupt vibrating of her phone next to her on the table. 

She picks it up, brow furrowing as she reads the text message.

Peter pretends not to notice, though he can’t help the way his eyes strain just the slightest bit. Of course, it would be a complete accident if he happened to see her screen. 

There’s a minor twitch in her face, a cringe almost, when she finishes reading. Before he can even ask, she’s back to normal, putting her phone face down on the table. “Sorry,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“No, you’re good,” Peter says softly. He toys with the pencil in his hand, every so often glancing up at her to gauge her expression. 

His eyes ask the question he’s too scared to. 

“Harry,” she answers for him. “Wanting to… talk, I guess.”

“Oh.” Peter’s voice is barely audible. “Are you… Are you going to?”

MJ leans forward, bracing herself on her elbows. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. It’s just… I’m… Tired.” She lets out a half-hearted laugh.

Peter nods quietly, immediately understanding. 

After years of friendship, of the both of them constantly seeing other people, they had both thought Harry was the one for her. 

But, after a single kiss, nothing had changed, and he left. 

And now, he wanted to talk again?

Peter could see her frustration, her weariness. 

“He’s done this before… once. And he changed his mind. Just like the first time. I’m not dealing with that shit again,” she says, folding her arms and pulling them to her chest.

“No, I totally get it.”

She cracks a small, yet genuine smile. “I know you do.”

And he did know. In fact, the same had happened to him. He’d thought he’d found the one with Gwen, only for her to bail months into their relationship. After their first kiss, after the black and white stayed, she swore up and down that it didn’t bother her. 

But all along, all those months after, Peter knew that it did, deep down. 

Sure, Gwen didn’t give him the run around Harry was giving MJ, but it was still painful. 

And with his understanding, there’s this strange sense of… he’s not sure, relief? Relief that none of the people MJ’s dated in the past few years have been her “soulmate.” No one’s been deemed her complete match yet. There was always this knot in his stomach when she’d go out with someone like Brad or Felicia, and then he’d find himself feeling as if the weight was lifted when she’d come home, still seeing in shades of black and white. 

He wondered if she ever felt the same. 

He tries not to think about that particular feeling throughout the rest of their study-date. Of course, that proves to be extremely difficult, given what she means to him. 

He’d be an idiot and a liar if he said he hadn’t had some form of crush on MJ throughout their friendship. That was all it was to him. A dumb, silly crush on his best friend. One that would go away as time went on. 

But the more he thinks about it, sitting here, the more he realizes how they just… make sense. What, with their long, close history, the intimate secrets and moments shared between them, all of it. He honestly, truly, cannot picture any sort of life without her. 

And then there had been all those times that Ned would joke about Peter and MJ being soulmates, calling them “PJ,” poking fun at their close friendship. To all of that, the both of them had vehemently denied any sort of romance between them. 

It didn’t make sense. 

But now, years later, both of them older and a little wiser...

It made sense. 

All of those people they’d dated, and nothing ever working out. It had to be. All these years they’ve been searching and waiting—even though neither or them would admit that this soulmate stuff even mattered to them at this point—and all along, it was right in front of them. 

And here he is, sitting across from her in a gray scale coffee shop, not able to hear her drilling questions over the sound of himself thinking about how much he likes being with her.

MJ’s right in front of him.

And it hits him then as she gently smacks his arm, telling him to pay attention, to stop staring, and she calls him loser...

He’s stupidly in love with Michelle Jones. 

MJ.

His best friend. 

Suddenly, after such a revelation, he finds that speaking is damn near impossible. He sputters, apologizing (somewhat, he can’t really get coherent words out), and she gives him this funny look that he can’t quite identify, and it brings about this fluttering in his heart that he can’t quite explain.

It’s a moment he wants painted forever in his mind. 

But then, they go back to studying, the moment is gone just as quickly as it had appeared, and  Peter is forced to sit on this new information he’d just gathered only ten seconds before. 

That night, Peter paces the carpeted floor of his apartment, beating himself up for not realizing any of this—any of his feelings for MJ—sooner. His first thought is that he’s too late. She couldn’t have felt anything for him now, at this point in their friendship, right? They couldn’t have both been so stupid and blind to each other’s feelings. 

If there was any chance for them to become more than friends, it was certainly gone by now. 

Sleep doesn’t come that night. He tosses and turns, haunted by the teasing, adorable toothy grins; quiet snorts of laughter or the quiet, deadpan stares whenever he does something stupid; curls falling in her face as she looks down to hide a smile. 

And now, Peter’s not sure how he’s ever going to function normally around her ever again. 

The next day, he finds her at the campus library, in her own little corner, legs tucked under her body as she reads quietly. 

In truth, he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing, what he’s about to do, but he knows he has to do it. 

“MJ,” He blurts out, perhaps a little too eager. 

She looks up, startled, but then her expression falls into one of familiarity. She throws him a loose grin, accompanied by a strong peace sign. “Sup?”

“I uh—” He pauses, running his hands over his dark gray jeans in an effort to wipe the sweat off. “I had a question.”

Her eyes flit left and right before she sits forward, intrigued. “Okay?” There’s a hint of nervousness to her tone, one that he doesn’t recognize. 

“Well, I guess, um…” Peter can look anywhere but directly at her. The air feels thick, his breathing doesn’t come easily. 

God, he doesn’t know how to get this out. 

“First, uh—” His voice shakes, and he disguises it under a cough. “I should start by… by saying that—” Oh, God here we go. “I really like you.”

MJ stiffens, again glancing around. “I… like you, too.”

He huffs out a short puff of air, growing frustrated at himself for not being able to get his feelings across well, even as a grown-ass college student. “No, no. I mean…” He finally looks up at her, eyes earnest and warm, yet anxious. “Like, in a romantic… way.”

She definitely seems taken aback by that, but there’s the minuscule, upward twitch of her lip that gives Peter a glimmer of hope to cling onto. 

“Oh?” She asks. 

“Y—Yeah,” He breathes.

MJ looks down at her book, biting at her lip to keep herself calm. She raises the book up a little, as if to hide the way the corners of her mouth are quirking upward. “I… really like you, too,” she mumbles, her bangs falling over her face. “In a romantic… way.”

“Oh,” Peter mimics her earlier, eloquent reaction. “That’s… that’s cool,” he laughs airily. “Did you… maybe wanna… go out with me?”

Her lips stretch into a toothy smile. “Uh… Yeah. That—That sounds cool.”

“Cool!” Peter breathes. They share a quiet, giddy chuckle. “We could… we could go tomorrow night?”

“Or we could go tonight.”

“Tonight sounds good.”

“I’ll see you tonight then. Your place.” She gives him that adorable, shy grin he loves so much. 

“Cool.”

Peter has to fight the skip in his step as he makes his way back home, but once he’s out the door, he allows himself one victorious, cheesy fist-pump in the air. 

--

He’s not sure if he’s more proud of or angry at himself in this moment. 

Proud, in that he followed his gut, asked out the girl of his fucking dreams; angry, in the sense that it took him so damn long to do it, that they could have been doing this the whole time. But when he looks up at MJ as she’s eating at her mint chocolate chip ice cream cone, he doesn’t feel anything but pure, warm, giddy happiness. 

Apparently, they’d both realized that these mutual crushes weren’t new, beginning as early as high school in fact, embarrassing as it was for them both to openly admit. They share a laugh at their oversight, teasing each other relentless throughout the evening for the both of them being so dumb. 

“I liked you first,” Peter had insisted. 

“Of course you did,” she’d teased. 

And although he’s still feeling that fluttering nervousness in his stomach and his hands are still sweating, there’s an ease to being with her. He can’t help but think how lucky he is, getting to be in this park with her, just walking and talking. 

He glances around, hands shoved into his pockets as they walk side-by-side, and he wonders how all of this could change; how the twinkling lights in the trees or the simple pattern of MJ’s pretty skirt might look in full, vibrant color. 

He shivers in nervous, giddy anticipation, knowing that all of this could change tonight, that he could finally see the world beyond the shades of black, white, and gray he’d always known. But if there’s one thing he’s sure—absolutely sure about—it’s that no matter what the world looks like, in color or not… nothing can change the way he feels about MJ. 

She finishes her cone, letting her hand fall to meet his. There’s the faintest brush of her pinky against his, and it’s all the cue he needs as he intertwines their fingers. His thumb brushes over the soft skin of her hand, and he feels his heart soar when she returns the touch. 

They find a quiet bench, not far from the path, sitting together, still holding hands as they continue to talk, both of them lost in this glowing warmth. 

And finally, when she looks at him, her eyes flitting between his eyes and his mouth, Peter truly feels as though he’s lost his breath. 

She smiles, eyes drifting shut as she leans into him. He follows readily, though still stunned.

And out of all the kisses in his life, this one blows them all out of the water. Truly. It’s everything he’d imagined it would be. It’s that kiss all those years ago he’d told her about on the floor of his living room. It’s an opus that deserves a standing ovation. It’s the book with the ending that makes him feel incandescently happy. And they fit so well together, her soft lips moulding against his in the most perfect way. 

She wraps an arm around his shoulder as his hands comes up to tenderly cradle the back of her head, pulling her into him. Her free hand rests against his forearm, squeezing gently. 

When he pulls away, his eyes still closed, he can feel her smile against him as her lips chase his, kissing him again, both of them lost in the feeling of one another, finally. 

He could almost live in that moment forever, just kissing her on that park bench. 

But at some point, they both need to breathe. 

He pulls away again, still smiling. 

And when he opens his eyes, there’s a feeling as if he’s been punched in the gut. It’s ice cold, his heart cracking, the seams now worn and tearing.

The world hasn’t changed. 

The trees are still dark gray. 

The lights are still a blinding white. 

And MJ’s skirt is still a black and white pattern. 

When he finally comes to look at her face, he shatters seeing the realization dawn on her features, even as she tries to hide it. 

She smiles still, and as anemic as it is, he returns the expression as she makes up some excuse about needing to turn in early. He nods, understanding completely, even though his chest feels as if it’s been filled with lead. There’s a certain, familiar stinging behind his eyes as he walks her home and a tense quiet falls over them. 

And he goes home alone. 

Peter can’t sleep, but it’s different than the other night. He tosses and turns, wrought with sadness and shock. Haunted by her touch, her lips against his, the feel of her soft curls under his fingertips. Then, dark trees, blinding white lights.

And he drowns in his confusion. It doesn’t make sense. Everything’s there. Every possible requirement that cruel fate has. They meet it. He doesn’t understand. Why had the universe made everything seem so right, so real, and then give them nothing? What more could it possibly want?

What MJ and Peter have—or had… it’s like nothing he’s ever experienced. It’s a closeness he’s never known. The history they have together is unmatched. MJ’s been there for all of his highs and all of his lows. All his years of relationships with other people, the dates, the nights spent together… they pale in comparison to this one evening with Michelle. Every moment with every other significant other. It’s not the same, and he can’t for the life of him fathom why they’re both still colorblind.

But then, Peter remembers what MJ had said all those years ago, warning him about this; how letting fate have too much control can only make things worse in the long run. 

She had been right. 

She had been right. 

Suddenly, he sits up in bed, rushing to grab his suit. 

He can’t let this go on like this, cliche as it sounds. He has to see her. He has to talk to her. She has to know how he feels. 

In less than ten minutes, at nearly two in the morning he’s at her apartment, outside her fire escape, tapping frantically at her window. 

And MJ answers, looking about in the same state he is. No ounce of sleep yet. 

“Peter, what—”

“Can I talk to you?” He spits out before she can finish. “Please.”

For a moment, she only looks at him, her eyes distant and sorrowful. “Uh… Yeah,” She steps aside, eyeing him warily. “Sure. Come on in.”

Peter rushes in, pacing her floor as he had his own just yesterday. “Listen, I know you’re upset that… that we’re not… soulmates—”

“—I’m not upset,” she instantly denies, though her tone says otherwise. She stands in front of him, arms folded across her chest. 

“You are,” He responds, then his voice lowers, and he speaks again before she can argue. “I am, too. Well, I was. But…” He huffs, running a hand through his hair. He shakes his head, not knowing how to even begin to explain his feelings. It’s funny, minutes before, in his apartment, the thoughts were running rampant, but now, here, standing in front of her, he can’t seem to find any words. 

“But?” Her voice is almost a whisper, and she dares a short glance from under her lashes. 

“I don’t care,” He decides, tone held strong with finality. “I don’t. Care. I wanna be with you, MJ. I don’t care what fate has to say or—”

“Peter,” She stops him, wrapping her arms around herself. “We’re not… we’re not soulmates. It’s not… It’s not going to work. We’ve seen what happens when you actually try to go against fate. It never works out. I know I said it was bullshit before… but—”

“But this feels right, MJ!” He pleads. “I said, I don’t care what fate says. I love you!”

“You said it yourself, Pete,” MJ murmurs sadly, shaking her head as she looks at him. “Your soulmate is supposed to be perfect for you.”

Peter stares at her a moment, a beat passing. 

“Who says I want perfect?”

MJ immediately looks away, trying to subtly wipe at the bottom of her eyes. 

“And… I don’t care if I never see what the world really looks like. I don’t.” Peter moves forward, taking one of her hands in both of his, his gloved thumbs running soothing lines over her skin. “The only thing I care about is being with you. You, MJ. As long as I get to be with you, all that other stuff doesn’t matter. I’d happily see the world in black and white for the rest of my life if it meant I got to spend it with you—”

He’s cut off by MJ crashing her lips to his in a searing, heartfelt kiss. 

When she pulls back, he sees the welling tears in her eyes matching his. A stray drop falls on her cheek, and he reaches up to wipe it away. “I love you,” he repeats tenderly so that only she can hear. 

She looks down, smiling timidly, letting out a tearful laugh when he pulls her into a tight embrace. “I love you,” she says back eagerly, easily, just as soft. 

He takes a breath, pulling back again to capture her lips into another sweet kiss. And he feels all those same feelings from earlier, each and every time. No matter what the universe says, he chooses her, she chooses him. Nothing else matters. 

And when they part, hands and hearts intertwined, they slowly open their eyes again. 

[fiesta-freddie]

Love in Disguise- Part 3

lmao when I say this chapter was a bitch to finish because of my writers block...anyways here it is (finally). Good ol’ Chapter Three!

Words: 3.6k

Summary: You’re out for a day on the town with Archie to get some essential shopping done. You worry immensely about everything that could possibly go wrong, which, unbeknownst to you, might end up being a jinx for you. Archie manages to save the day with his optimism, but also ends up confessing something you wish you would've heard

The next morning had come quicker than you anticipated. As you got yourself ready, your mind and stomach couldn't seem to stay at ease. Various thoughts ran through your head about what could possibly go wrong. All you could seem to focus on were the negative outcomes like what if and what might. Nevertheless you managed to talk enough sense into yourself to step foot out your front door.

As you locked your door, you looked around you to see if anyone had a look of suspicion on their faces. Although no one did (and you knew deep inside no one had any idea what you were about to do), a little part of you still kept alert. The night before you had stayed up late coming up with different excuses in case you were questioned. 

“It’s for a costume party.”

“I was out shopping and I wanted to buy something for my husband.”

“It was a foolish dare.”

“My brother's birthday is just around the corner and I wanted to get him something nice.”

Someone would have to be downright dumb to believe those lies, but at least you had something in your back pocket in case you needed it.

******

Archie had suggested The Woseley for a quick breakfast and pep talk. Although you really didn't want to, he was doing you a huge favor so you really couldn't turn him down without him thinking you were ungrateful. (Not like he would ever think that anyway)

A slow, awkward and cigarette-odor-filled cab drive later, you arrived in front of a large building which seemed a little run down on the outside but looking through the window, you could tell it was an upper class establishment. You now knew why Archie had told you to come dressed somewhat nice.

 Thanking the cab driver, you hoped out onto the sidewalk, which had a surprising number of people walking along it for nine in the morning. 

“Deep breaths, Y/N, you can do this. Nobody knows, so...so just don't make the situation more awkward then it already is,” you whispered to yourself as you began to walk into the doors.

Instantly you were greeted with the smell of coffee and an assortment of hot breakfast foods. God, you thought to yourself, I hope Arch brought some cash. From the looks of it I won't be able to afford a damn thing here. 

“Good morning, miss. Table for one?” a friendly hostess who couldn't have been much older than you greeted. She had a delicate glow among her face that made her seem so innocent and lively. 

“Oh no- I uhm- I’m actually supposed to be meeting someone. Last name Corcoran?” you said stumbling over your words. Pull yourself together Y/N.

You watched as she skimmed through her list, her finger gliding down the paper. “Ah, yes here it is. Archie Corcoran?” You nodded. “Right this way then.” She beamed, grabbing a menu on her way to the table. 

“Here you are miss, your server should be here momentarily, enjoy.” 

You watched as she walked away, before Archie got your attention 

“Ah, so you decided to come!” Archie said, in a teasing tone. You, however, were too anxious to notice it. 

“Well yes, I would have felt bad if I didn't, considering all you’ve done for me this far.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Yes, and with more to come.”

You had no idea what that entailed, but Archie was your best friend (maybe even your only real one) and you trusted more than anyone else you knew.

*****

“Y/N, are you feeling okay? You barely touched your food in there.” It was true, you had spent most of the time poking at your food instead of eating. Although the obvious topic never came up, it was floating around in the back of your mind, causing an uneasy feeling in your stomach. 

“Oh yeah,” you lied “I’m okay, just a little tired I guess.” You hoped that Archie wouldn't catch on to your lie and to your advantage he didn’t. He was preoccupied with trying to wave down a cab for the both of you.

Once Archie had finally succeeded, he opened the door for you and followed you inside. “Ah thank you sir, to the mens shop please.” You saw the cab driver nod through the rear view mirror. 

He had a fair amount of stubble and wore an old newsboy hat which was patched in many different places. 

“Okay,” Archie began, nudging your shoulder to grab your attention. Your eyes skimmed the list of stops he had written down “so our first stop will be the mens shop because clothes are an obvious must, then to the hairdresser. I have a friend there who agreed to help us out. After those two places its teaching time. What’dya say? Sound good?” 

For the first time that day you smiled “Sounds great Arch, thank you so much for helping me out.” The rest of the cab ride was silent, except for when the driver mumbled under his breath out of annoyance. 

*****

“Right, then here we are. Thank you sir,” Archie said, thanking the cab driver.

You stood on the sidewalk and looked through the window of the shop. There was expensive looking suits everywhere, with expensive looking people too.

Archie looked at the front doors and then back at you, he could obviously see that you were nervous. He had a soft and comforting smile on his face, taking your hand in his. “Take a deep breath Y/N.” You did. “Walking in there will be a piece of cake, just stay with me, okay?” You nodded. As you two walked through the french doors, Archie still held onto your hand squeezing it a few times for reassurance. 

“Now, I think we should get a few different things. It doesn't just have to be suits, but we should get at least one, maybe two, tops.”

“Why not just get one? Especially if they’re...uhm...a bit pricey.” You said looking at the tag on a nearby suit. 

“Well because if you get that job, which you most definitely will,” Archie whispered in your ear “then you’ll need to be prepared. And besides I can lend you a few things too.”

You nodded and began to look around. The shop wasn't as fancy as you had imagined in your head, but the price of their clothing wasn't surprising. 

You walked around, taking things off the racks and putting them back on. Every now and then you found yourself walking away from a section after taking one look at the highly priced piece of fabric. You could see people in the far back of the store getting their clothing tailored. “My god, how on Earth do people afford these things.”

While you were still searching for something that wouldn't put you in debt, Archie came over with a handful of clothes. “Y/N look what I’ve picked out for you!” he said, handing you a yellow turtleneck sweater.

“My god, where did you get all these?” You questioned him with a laugh.

“That's not important, but here, go and try these on. I've already got a dressing room for you.” He said handing the pile of clothes to you and pointing to a dressing room with a 3 on it. “I’ll be waiting outside the dressing room, so after you put on a pair of clothes, come out and show me so I can give you my expert advice!” 

“Sure thing” You said with a giggle. 

You followed his orders and put on a white button down shirt paired with blue slacks. “You ready?” you asked from behind the curtain.

“Show me what you’ve got!” 

You slid open the curtain, making a dramatic entrance “Here she comes, with the first set of clothes!”

You began to pose like a model, facing in all different directions and using your hands for added effect. “That looks splendid on you Y/N.” Archie said, clapping proudly “Absolutely wonderful! Next set.”

You spent the next twenty minutes taking off and putting on an assortment of different clothes. You had to admit that Archie was quite an expert when it came to mens fashion.

“Alright this is the last set. You ready?” you questioned, poking your head out from behind the curtain. 

“Mhm, lets see the style!”

“Ta-da!” you exclaimed, making one final entrance. 

Archie paused for a moment and looked you up and down. “I like it, but its missing something.”

“Like what?” you asked, looking down at the outfit. “I think it looks pretty good.”

Archie's eyes quickly lightened, “I’ve got it! Just wait here a second, I’ll be right back.”

You gave him a quick salute as he wandered away, then turned to the mirror to look yourself over. You liked how the green sweater fit snugly on you and how it was on the lighter side. As you examined different angles of the clothing, it was a given that you would need some sort of chest bind.

You heard a noise from behind you. Assuming it was Archie you turned around to see what he had brought back. “Alright what did you-” As soon as you realized that the man in front of you was not who you expected, you didn’t know what to do except freeze  

“Excuse me ma’am, but what is it exactly that you’re doing?” He asked. It was evident that he was some sort of manager based off his appearance. He was older and didn’t look amused in any way at all. Had it not been for your hair, which was a dead giveaway you were a girl, he might not have even approached you in the first place.

“Well- I uhm, you see I was just. I was shopping for my husband!” You said a little too quickly, it was the dumbest lie you could have used, but there was no way you could retract it now.

“Your husband?” He questioned again, looking down at your hand. You quickly realized why he looked, and you hid it behind your back. “Your husband? Whom you’re not wearing a ring for?” Shit, there was no way you would get yourself out of this one. 

“Y/N, I think I’ve found-” Archie stopped as soon as he realized what was going on.

“Excuse me sir, are you with this young woman here?” the manager asked 

“Yes, yes I am. May I help you with something?” Archie was never short tempered with anyone, but when it came to people he cared about, his entire demeanor changed.

“Well, it would appear that she’s trying on clothes that aren't exactly suitable for her. Now, she said that she was shopping for her husband, which I’m assuming would be you.” 

Just like you, Archie had gone speechless for a brief moment. You two quickly exchanged worried glances before he began to speak.

“Well, yes I am her husband,” he said, “And I’ll have you know sir, that I find it very rude that someone of your corporation status is asking such pressing questions. It’s absolutely none of your business what me and my wife are doing. I don’t see that it should be a bother to you, considering the fact that we are paying customers. But if it truly does bother you, then I have no problem stepping onto the street outside your shop and telling everyone how we we’re harassed inside this store.”

The manager had an expression of shock among his face. He didn’t expect Archie to rant the way that he did, and quite frankly, neither did you. 

“Now,” Archie continued, taking the pile of clothes from the dressing room and handing them to the once intimidating man “We would like to purchase these items. If you would be so kind to take them up to the register for us, that would be wonderful. Good day to you.” Archie didn’t even let the other man get in another word. He turned around, grabbed you by the arm and walked away.

You had a hard time processing what had just happened, but you went along with it anyways. Getting nervous when you were confronted was something you absolutely hated. It always caused you to tense up and to top it off, you weren't the smoothest liar in the world either. Had it not been for Archie, you might as well had said goodbye to the interview, because you probably would’ve been kicked out of the store.

You were silent while Archie payed for the clothes, avoiding eye contact with anyone and looking directly at the floor. The damage wasn’t too bad and thanks to Archie's complaints to the manager, the price was knocked down a considerable amount.

Archie may have seemed tough in the heat of the moment, but once you were outside of the store and back onto the street, he dropped the act and took a deep breath. “Shit, I’m sorry for that fiasco Y/N. I shouldn't have left you by yourself.” Archie said, apologetically.

“It’s okay Arch, I figured that something like that was bound to happen sooner or later. I’m just glad it didn’t get too carried away. But you were great!” You said. It wasn’t Archie's fault and it wasn’t necessarily yours either. You were well aware that most people wouldn’t be open to the idea of you cross-dressing, just like most people weren’t too keen on the idea of queers either. It wasn’t anything you could change, but you wished that people were more opened-minded

“Yeah, maybe it was bound to happen, but it was still scary. I mean, my heart dropped.” Archie paused for a moment. “Y/N, maybe we should rethink all this. I know I pushed you to do it, but its not to late to call it quits now. I mean-”

You cut him off. “Archie, no,” now it was your turn to be the stern one “We’ve already done so much and I’m excited about this whole thing. You were the one who pushed me to do this, yes. But I needed that push otherwise I’d probably never get myself out there. So were going to finish this journey. And were going to finish it together. Got it?” You weren't trying to be rude, but somewhere from deep inside you had a sudden burst of fire. You didn’t know where it had come from, but you sure as hell liked it a lot.

“Woah there chief, didn’t know you had that much fire in ya’.” Archie said with a grin “if you really want to do this, then I’ll be with you the whole way.”

You smiled and grabbed his hand in yours, holding it up between the two of you. You gave it three quick squeezes, before you began to make your way down the street.

*****

“Alright Y/N, this is the next part of your transformation, and quite possibly the most exciting part, if you ask me.” Archie looked at you through the mirror. You were sitting in a barbers chair, with a drape across the front of you. You were glad the shop only had one other customer in it at that time.

“Alright Corcoran, I trust you. But I swear, if you shave my hair down to a buzz, you’ll be sorry.” You warned. He only chuckled and patted your head.

Archie turned to the hairdresser, who he claimed he was good friends with. “Alright Caroline, give her the ol’ mop top hair do. Oh and Y/N, close your eyes until she’s finished, I want you to be surprised.” You gave him a sigh and reluctantly closed your eyes, uncertain of how you would feel once your hair was gone.

“Don’t, worry sweetie,” Caroline said, running a comb through your hair and parting it “You’ll be satisfied once I’m done.” She had a soft spoken tone which made you feel at ease. You relaxed your body and let her get to work.

With your eyes closed you were unsure of what was happening around you and you had absolutely no idea what was being cut. All you knew was that Archie and Caroline were having a conversation on how to cut your hair.

“Thats good, its good,” you heard Archie say. You could imagine him standing next to Caroline with his arms crossed, watching her work “Maybe make it a little shorter on that side- perfect just like that!”

“Archie I’m a hair dresser not a magician.”

“Right, I know, I just want it to look convincing enough.”

You heard Caroline sigh. She didn’t seem annoyed, but you could understand her frustration with Archie. You even got frustrated with him sometimes, but you knew he only had peoples best interest at heart, no matter how much he got on your nerves sometimes. “Well I can’t cut it as short as those Beatle boys have it, because then it might throw off the whole look, but I can make it more of a shaggy mop top that way its short enough for her to pass as a guy.”

“Of course, do what you need to Caroline.” Archie said, backing off a little. “Thanks a ton for doing this too.”

“Mhm, of course.”

You giggled as hair fell onto your face. It was itchy as hell, that's for sure. You moved your nose attempting to get some of the hair from your face to the floor, but you were unsuccessful. You decided to finally give up after many failed attempts. 

Finally, you heard the scissors being put down and you knew that she had finished. “Arch,” You heard Caroline say as she turned the chair “What’d do you think of this?” You didn’t realize though, just how much of your hair was gone until you felt Archie run a hand through it.

“This is really nice Cara, it looks really good!”

“Am I allowed to see now?” You asked to no one in particular. Apart from wanting to see what your hair looked like, you were waiting to get the hair off your eyelids.

“Sure doll,” Caroline said in her soft voice. She turned the chair again, this time to face the mirror. You impatiently opened your eyes the first chance you got.

“So wudd’ya think Y/N? Do you like it?” You didn’t bother to answer Archie's question.

You had to admit that you weren't to crazy about it at first, given the fact that it was much different from the head of hair you had forty-five minutes ago. You examined your new look at different angles in the mirror. Even if you didn’t like it, you weren't going to be rude about it. Maybe it’ll grow on me

You turned around to Archie and Caroline, with a smile “I love it, thank you so much.” Caroline nodded at you.

“What do I owe you?” Archie asked Caroline, pulling his wallet from his back pocket.

She waved her hand dismissively “Don’t worry about it, no charge. Its a pleasure for me to help you out Arch. Besides your one of my best customers.” He smiled and thanked her a million, as did you.

*****

It had been hours since your shopping adventures had ended, and both you and Archie were completely worn out. “Man, that was quite a day wasn’t it?” Archie said more thank asked. You two were sitting in the living room of his small apartment, shopping bags surrounding the both of you. He was spread out across the floor and you were spread out across the couch.

“Yeah,” you chuckled “It was fun, but I don’t think I’d ever be able to do something like that ever again.”

“Well, Y/N what do you think The Beatles do all day? They probably run around for press conferences and I bet they’re in and out of the studio all the time too. You might want to get to used to living off of coffee for a while.” he joked. You giggled at his words once again, trying to process what he said. It was hard though, because you had began to doze off, your eyelids shut every now and then, but tried hard to keep them open.

“God, I hope not. I mean, I can handle a few cups but not that much. Hopefully I won’t be worked to death. That is if I get the job.”

Archie paused for a moment. “Well, I’ve got faith in you Y/N. You certainly look like a convincing man. I mean, if I didn’t know you, I’d assume your a man at first glance. Maybe a bit of an odd looking one in some ways, but I wouldn’t question it. I’ve taught you everything that I can only imagine you’ll need to know. You’ve got the voice down perfectly, and your mannerisms aren’t half bad either. Plus, thanks to me, you can now successfully tell each of the Beatles apart from each other. Trust me that’ll save you in the long run.” He paused again, assuming you were still listening, but you had already fallen asleep “I have no doubt you’ll get the job. You know what you’re doing, you’re smart...and beautiful too, even if your hair is now a mop top. Just don’t forget me when you become part of the fame.” Archie chuckled, propping himself up onto his elbows and looked over at you, sound asleep. A smile spread across his face when he saw how peaceful you looked. Even when you were sleeping you still managed to make him smile. 

Archie walked over to where you were on the couch, and grabbed the blanket that was on the end. He carefully draped it over you, trying to cover you up as much as possible. “Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered, even though you couldn’t hear him “I...I love you.” Archie said, planting a light kiss onto your head before walking off to his own room.

----

Beatles Taglist: @beatlevmania @givemequeen @my-dumbshit @john-lemonade @ineedyoubygeorgeharrison @princesof-theuniverse @geostarr @katiekitty261 @killerqueenisthebest @yeehaw-city @asphalt-cocktail @chloe-on-cloud9

Love in Disguise Taglist: @motley-queen @littledarlingwellaway @thetimelordmeeps @killerqueenisthebest @lizvxx @edsloveshisrichie @beatlesdotcom @thiccjelly17 @viralwolf02 @givemequeen @bowiescocaine @julessworldd @sapphic-cupid @thegreat-annamaria @yeehaw-city @asphalt-cocktail @myukulelegentlyweeps @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair @doctorwhatwhenandwhere

[hood-ex]

For the post about plot bunnies for short fic about Dick and Jason! 1) Dick and Jason going train-surfing before his death and after his return. 2) 1st time one of them got the other a birthday gift. 3) Jason finding out that Dick was the one who finally took down the memorial case in the Batcave and realizing his brother hated that thing as much as he did. 4) Bonding over ranting about Dad. 5) Jason lowkey trying to get Dick and Kory back together cuz he shipped them hard when he was younger.

@bigskydreaming​ These are all great prompts! I decided to take a whack at #2. I might write for some of the other prompts though. Anyways, hope what I wrote is somewhat satisfying lmao. 

Link to read on AO3

Jason’s so glad the 250 pound goon he was fighting earlier decided to leave him with a brand new spankin’ set of bruised ribs. Really, truly, he shouldn’t have given Jason such a nice gift for his birthday. The goon should’ve been embarrassed though. Giving Jason the same gift his dad used to give him? Tsk, tsk. Tactless.

Jason sucks in air through his teeth, mentally preparing himself for the pain, and then tries to sit up. He barely raises himself up three inches before sharp pain shoots up his torso and forces him to thunk back against the rooftop floor. Yeah, okay, he really doesn’t want to try that again.

This is just great.

He sighs. There’s nothing that says happy birthday quite like staring up at the smog that keeps him from seeing any of the stars he’d normally wish on or the fact that he’s probably lying on heaps of bird shit. Alfie is definitely going to give him the stink eye for the latter.

A shadow crosses over the corner of the rooftop. It doesn’t look distinctly Batman shaped.

Jason tenses and reaches for the smoke pellet in his belt. Normally he chooses fight over flight, but he doesn’t want to take any chances with his ribs this time. Creating a distraction and then using whatever adrenaline he can muster to get the hell away is probably the smartest decision. That’s what Batman would say, anyways.

Whoever is creeping around is being way too quiet. Goons don’t usually bother being quiet around Jason. They just see him as a small kid in a costume. An easy target. The whole Robin getup is good for creating that kind of misconception.

“Hey, shorty,” a somewhat familiar voice drawls right before a guy in a blue costume flips into Jason’s view.

Black hair. Plunging neckline. A collar somewhat akin to the cone of shame.

Nightwing.

Jason relaxes his muscles, relieved, and stares at Dick in surprise.

Dick’s got a big stupid grin on his face. The niceness of it is what throws Jason off. He’s still not used to people smiling at him and shit. He’s used to grins that are meant for mocking or that are sleazy and spell trouble. Dick Grayson’s grin is none of those things. His is all playful and good-intentioned. Something about it feels safe, and safe’s not something Jason feels a lot outside of the manor.

“Hey, Old-Timer,” Jason says, “fancy seeing you here.”

He suddenly remembers how much his ribs hurt when he tries to sit up again to see Dick better. He can’t help the small sound of pain he lets out as he settles back into his original position. God, bruised ribs are such a bitch.

Jason can’t see Dick’s eyes because of his mask, but he just knows Dick is looking him over from head to toe, mind probably tripping over itself to analyze Jason’s situation.

“You good?” Dick asks, already kneeling by Jason’s side.

“Oh, totally,” Jason says. He tries to adjust his position without hurting himself more. “Sometimes I just come up here by myself to stare at the smog. Just contemplating the rampant amount of pollution in the city—ow fuck. I don’t know if Bruce told you, but I’m an environmentalist first and Robin second. I’ve always been that way. Since the womb.”

Dick frowns and presses his fingers against Jason’s pulse point. “Have you been drugged?”

Jason smacks Dick’s hand away. “No, I haven’t been drugged! I got my ribs busted by some Hulk Hogan wannabe.”

“Ouch,” Dick winces in sympathy. “Been there, felt that.”

“Yeah, well, how about you give me a hand so I can stop rolling around in bird shit.”

The worried furrow in Dick’s brow melts away and is replaced by an amused grin. God, Jason needs to learn how to become immune to Dick’s stupidly genuine face. It’s stuff like that that makes it easy for Jason to see why Bruce has such a hard time letting Dick go. And if he’s honest with himself, he’s a little bit jealous that Dick can warm people over so easily. If Dick is the gooey middle of a s’more then Jason is the hard-coated graham cracker that takes a little time to chew through.

“I’m going to lift you up a bit and then I’m going to come under your arm so you can stand up, capeesh?” Dick says, moving just beside Jason’s right shoulder.

“Capeesh?” Jason grunts in pain as Dick levers him upwards. “Who are you? Uncle Jesse?”

While Jason’s torso is off the ground, Dick positions himself under Jason’s right arm and then quickly, but gently, helps Jason onto his feet. Jason squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few deep breaths while he waits for the pain to calm down.

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” Dick assures him softly, draping his arm over Jason’s shoulders.

If anyone asks, Jason totally does not lean into Dick for support, he does not. He just. Trips. Into Dick’s side. Yup. That’s what happens. The bird shit is witness to it.

“Would this be a bad time to tell you that I got you a birthday present?” Dick asks suddenly, taking Jason off guard.

“Birthday present? What birthday present? How did you know today’s my birthday?” Jason demands, leaning closer to Dick’s face so he can stare into Dick’s… eyelets.

Dick places a finger on Jason’s forehead and gently shoves him backward.

“O ye of little faith. Give me some credit. You think your big bro doesn’t know when your birthday is?”

Jason stares at him with a knowing look.

“Alfie told you, didn’t he?”

Even though he meant it lightheartedly, he’s a little surprised to see how Dick’s mouth tightens into a frown.

“B sure as hell didn’t,” Dick grouches in a tone Jason’s come to associate with Dick and Bruce’s yelling matches.

“Yeah,” Jason drawls, “I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.”

Dick’s expression levels back into a neutral look. “Right, yeah.” He gives Jason’s shoulder a squeeze as a silent apology. “So do you want your gift or not?”

Thank God for Dick’s ability to smoothly change the subject.

“You know you’re not supposed to ask stupid questions in the field,” Jason says in mock horror. Dick makes a bitch face at him and Jason cackles. “Too bad Poison Ivy isn’t around to give you some aloe for that sick burn!”

Dick stares at him before walking towards the edge of the roof.

“Wait!” Jason says, quickly snagging Dick by the wrist. His ribs only scream a little bit, but honestly, who’s paying attention to that kind of thing when the person with his present is about to disappear into the night. “Fine, fine, fine. I’ll stop being a brat. Although, for the record, you’re an asshole for even pretending to leave me all alone with my busted ribs.”

Dick’s stupid grin makes a reappearance.

“An asshole and a brat walk into a bar—”

“Shut up,” Jason says, shoving Dick away from him. “Are you going to make me stand up here for eternity or can we get to the whole gift-giving thing.”

Jason’s not sure what he expects the gift to be. From what he knows, Dick’s not exactly rolling in money, so he doesn’t expect it to be something as extravagant as what he received earlier in the day. Alfred gave him six new books and also made him a buffet of breakfast food. Then Bruce had given him a new bookcase for his room, an insanely gaudy watch Jason doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to do with, and an entire set of baseball equipment for him to play with in the yard.

Compared to his other birthdays, the gifts he got this year are almost too much to comprehend. Hell, the price of the watch alone will probably be enough to put him through college. The gifts are nice but… overwhelming. Honestly, Jason doesn’t think he deserves shit that nice. It’s not like he can refuse them, though. It’ll make him sound like an ungrateful little snot, and Jason doesn’t want to give Bruce that impression at all.

“I’ve only been in your room once,” Dick says as he pops open a compartment on his glove, “and I saw a Poison Idea poster over your bed. So—” he brandishes two blue rectangular pieces of paper in front of Jason.

Eyes wide, Jason snatches them from Dick’s hand. “Holy shit—”

“I got you two tickets to their concert,” Dick finishes with a smile.

Jason stares at the tickets and reads the print on them over and over again. Hands shaking, he throws his arms above his head, ignoring the sharp pain it causes.

“Shut the fuck up! No way! No waaay, dude!” he chatters. He grabs onto Dick’s arm and shakes it in excitement. “You’re not allowed to be this cool! Dude, what? Are these real?”

Dick’s sudden laughter only fuels more excitement in Jason’s chest. He shoves at Dick again.

“Don’t even tell me these are good seats, dude. Like. These are nosebleed seats or something, right?”

“Nosebleed?” Dick squawks indignantly. “These are VIP tickets! You get access to the venue before general admission and you get to meet the band backstage.”

“What!” Jason yells, genuinely shaking now. “Di—Nightwing! Are you serious?”

Dick laughs again and grabs onto Jason’s shoulders to squeeze them. “Yes, I am completely serious.”

There’s a feeling in Jason’s chest that he’s not sure how to describe. It’s a weird mixture of excitement and gratitude and… awe. It’s something he only feels rarely. Kind of like the first time he went out as Robin or like the time he got to work with the Titans. Special moments like that.

Jason reads the print on the tickets one last time, unwilling to vocalize just how touched he is that Dick’s given him such a personalized gift. He didn’t expect to get anything from Dick at all. Hell, he didn’t even expect a phone call, knowing how busy Dick is. And now that Dick’s given him one of his favorite gifts he’s ever gotten, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Doesn’t know how to act.

All he can think of is to extend his fist and to blurt out a quick, “Thanks.”

Luckily for him, Dick’s had a lot of time to adapt to emotionally inept people. Dick extends his own fist and bumps it against Jason’s.

“No problem. Happy birthday, Little Wing.”

Notes:

I don’t know if any of you have ever hurt your ribs before, but I’ve bruised mine, and trying to move was a bitch. My mom had to help me sit up because it was too painful to bend my torso. I don’t know why in fics people constantly break the batfam’s ribs and then have them running around like it’s no big deal. So that’s why Jason is like I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up.

In comics, Robin Jason called Dick “Old-Timer” and Dick called Jason “shorty” and “Little Wing”. So I incorporated that into the story.

Jason referring to Dick as Uncle Jesse is a reference to the TV show Full House. On the show, Uncle Jesse asks “capeesh?” a lot when he’s talking to his nieces or sons.

Poison Idea is an actual band that Jason used to like when he was Robin. In comics, he had a Poison Idea poster on his wall and I thiiink he might of also had a shirt with their name on it. So yeah. Jason is a punk rock bitch.

[kaetastic]

Testing Him To His Limits

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: Bucky was just enjoying the sun, until his phone beeped of a message. If only he hadn’t opened it.

word count: 3.6k

warning: nsfw, fingering, language, no metal arm!bucky

note: inspired by this video on youtube! I’m not exactly sure if this is a Modern AU, I still have yet to grip concept on the spectrum lmao. But technically, they are not The Avengers in this. Also, do grills even pop stuff?? Ion no, I never griled lmao. This is a chaotic, messy writing lol.

Despite the guaranteed coverage of the umbrella, Bucky could feel his body fry alive under the scorching heat of the sun. The wavering waves plastered all over his skin as if it was like the surface of a heated desert. Quivering lines danced over his bare chest. Even though his chest was covered by a smeared layer of glistening sweat that twinkled a smile with every churn of his muscle, he didn’t bother to wipe it off. Maybe it was due to the fact that the heat had made it unbearable for him to place a foot on the burning ground (unfortunately for him, he had to find out the pain after scrambling without a sandal on when he wanted to grab a quick sip) or maybe he was just lazy. Bucky opted to believe the other reason.

In the heat (with restricted ability to step off the seat), Bucky couldn’t help but let his mind wander off as it took a leisurely stroll to random thoughts and topics. He questioned why Tony had decided to choose the day it had peaked the temperature of the sun. The week had swum over a steady crest. It was somewhat tolerable to take a walk in the beginning of the week. Now? Now, Bucky was contemplating if he was either nudged out of a plastic bag, straight from the freezer; dunked into the sizzling fryer, or he was the melting ice cream that flew onto the fiery red lava port of a fair near the ocean. It was as if mother nature had been surprised by a wrestling match in her gut.

But, then again, the host had reassured that no one would pass out. Which might’ve been the reason for the heightened concern for the moment where someone who splay against the burning ground. No one had bothered about someone else passing out until Tony had brought it up. However, there was no need to worry as they were blessed to be in the presence of a sophisticated doctor, Bruce Banner. And no, it was not at all reassuring as it literally felt like their feet were being sizzled alive.

The muscles and tendons that cladded around Bucky’s wavering bones were at the end of a merciless stick of heat. It somehow liquified into a puddle of nothing but... meat. Pushing the hideous (and shuddering) visualization to the side, he inquired a question he knew he wouldn’t have an answer to: Why had he been dunked by a bucket of sweat, his soles still bubbling of unbearable bumps that pinched pain from his regrettable decision where he was put at a vulnerable spot... while his friends had been sauntering on the ground? Were the ground not fired enough to melt their foam sandals? Not even their feet, one of his closest friend, Steve Rogers, paced around the pool with only a teasing amount of sweat painted across his forehead. Bucky had to sigh in defeat, though, the man had been consuming cans upon cans. All iced and cold. Oh, how suffocating it felt to sit on the chair.

With only his blue swimming trunks on, he fell into the captivating imagination of him walking over the frying pan to snatch a drink for himself. Bucky could only take a glance at the icebox that poked bobbling heads of aluminium cans of refreshing flavours whenever the lid was opened for him to take a faint glance. The man was sure he had seen a teaser of an iced coffee somewhere. Although, he feared it might’ve been consumed by a somewhat... hyperactive friend. Hands tucked behind his head, Bucky’s fingers were engulfed in the sticky liquid. It weaved as irritating strings that wouldn’t fly off with every swat of his hand. Bucky’s hands were accustomed to the beads of sweat exasperating out of his skin while the air was sizzling. Not much different from pouring oil onto a pan that was ready to exert its anger on.

Chattering from randomly wheeled through topics which had been on a range from an accidental shift of work hours to high school crushes, it was followed by strings of laughter. The noise trickled into the ears of the only man who had found himself in peace without any interaction. Was peace even the right word? Not too long ago he wished he would jump into the pool for a quick cool off (after a few minutes of adapting to the scorching medium, he was sure the water would be just warm- not burning), but then he remembered he had no energy and will to do so. Bucky wished someone pushed him into the pool without having his skin graze over the hellfire-like ground. Another surge of roaring laughter erupted from the small crowd. It was most likely Tony cracking one of those past eggs before the attention had been directed to the man whose face was smeared over with crimson red paint. It was Steve.

Although Bucky had been pulled into some conversations, most of them had ended quite abruptly. One of them had been from the forgotten grill that had been sizzling, popping chunks of burnt meat into the covered lid. At least Thor had the decency to shut it. Or else it would’ve resulted in parkour of avoiding the bouncing hot pieces from the erupting volcano. Despite the chatting had been so quick, he forgot what they were even talking about. He blamed it on the weather, and the scorching temperature, which caused his thoughts to be evaporated into the unbearable heat.

Bucky tried his hardest to enjoy the session of the invisible breeze of wind in the hot air (there was only a teasing amount of appearances from the natural cooling method). Well, he was trying his best to see the silver lining of the situation. After all, it was he who had dragged his girl to go to the gathering. There was nothing worse than having to admit your fault when you had been so determined and persistent on pursuing a belief. Oh, the last thing Bucky would do was give that satisfactory to Y/N; even though, she could practically see through his tears.

Freshly peeled can of soda swirled into his nose, the scent of a too concentrated solution of grape rammed the wall of his lungs. It clashed into the delicately layered muscles, no different to that of poison. Less than a centilitre of poison would be enough to yank the soul of the victim before they could even comprehend it was their last day. To see the same effects, one would have to drink around half a dozen of the sodas that had been hovering in front of the resting (would it be called resting if he was dying inside?).

Despite the obvious taste of chemicals that would linger on ones’ tongue for the whole day even though they had been scrubbing the bristles of their toothbrush on the flap of muscle with immense force, the brand had still insisted on the ‘No artificials’ plastered on their metal cans. The enormous label that was the size of the can’s name was plastered at the top in bright yellow, the outline had been bubbly with a faint shadow that had exposed the grainy pixels. What a way to catch attention.

His eyelids fluttered open as jumping droplets of the soda pierced onto his face. No different to that of popcorns springing out from the machine. Standing beside the chair was Sam, who offered the drink to Bucky. Despite Bucky squinting through his nearly closed eyelids, he could tell that Sam was not at all affected by said-weather.

There Bucky was, having a courtroom debate in his head to the burning temperature, while his friend had been at the merciful end. There were evaporating beads of sweat that trickled down the sides of his face, nothing a swipe from his hand cannot remove. Even though Bucky was sauntering down the lane of jealousy, he was tugged onto a screeching halt in realization. A can that had been freshly plucked out from the icebox was in Sam’s hand. Then, all that glittered in the resting man’s eyes were sparkles of gold as if he had seen his guardian angel who had flown down to save him. His saviour. Wings would look good on Sam.

After mumbling thanks under his breath that came out more of a raspy noise of cheese being grated; he grabbed the can, Sam made a place on the neighbouring chair that was vacant for anyone to use, “Man, Steve’s like a six-year-old who's banned from sugar.” Even though Sam’s eyes were behind the shadowy glasses, Bucky could guess the expression he wore. Bucky chuckled at the sight of his blond friend chugging cans after cans as if it was a competition.

There was no doubt that Steve was in such a state because he had somehow slipped one sip down his throat, which was his first mistake. A mistake that would usually be meticulously watched over by Steve’s other half, Peggy. The woman was the friend in the friend group who sent health benefits of herbs and other green things (unfortunately, not Shrek) to the group chat at two in the morning. Which only left questions and speculations to linger in the air to what she was even doing awake at such times. Maybe it was when Tony had chided for Peggy to let loose of the rope she twirled around the man. Peggy had been persistent that she was loose. So, one thing led to another; the man was now on his third can. Peggy had to watch with her eyes twitching at the hyperactive man. His bloodstreams probably had enough sugar to coat the walls of his blood vessels.

“He’s gonna be a handful for Peggy. Nothing she can’t handle.” The two chuckled at Bucky’s words. It was true, Peggy barely had problem with... taming Steve. They were like a perfect piece of a puzzle, their sides of the parts completed one another. The last time a situation was like so, Steve had been enticed by a sugary pink stick that Tony had lying around, sprawled on his kitchen counter. Once again, one thing led to another, and Steve somehow ended up pounding on his chest as if a gorilla on a table.

Sam hummed, muscles dancing against the ticklish bumps on the chair, “He’s on a leash, I tell you.” Eyes shut tight, Sam practically melted into the seat. Maybe it was from the heat, but as Bucky brushed his eyes over the relaxing figure, he knew Sam found solace in the air. The chilly liquid crawled down his throat.

The silence from the chilling man had only answered to his suspicion that Sam was in fact, fast asleep. The corners of his lips curled up at the sight of the man who was infamous for never finding the time to relax. Sam associated himself with parties; when the man’s mindset had set onto the things that needed to be done on his desk, it was difficult to stir him away from the focus. Bucky recalled the time he had stumbled on Sam who had splayed out on his office floor since the man had pushed himself to complete the batch of work. He still remembered the worry he had at the sight. The only evidence that the man was not dead but just slumbering was the presence of his pulse thrumming.

Shifting his body back to his previous state, Bucky could feel the prickling of kisses from the sun on his hairs. Although he was enjoying the dream of returning back home, all his work completed, waiting for him on the desk, whoever watched over him disliked the idea. The sheets he would have to go through would consume nearly his whole day, if he was unlucky, it would bite off a chunk from his weekend. Oh, no. The weekend was his only method of escape to ignore the existence of work. A vibration echoed from his phone, shaking an earthquake through the glass table. The noise trickled into his ears, shattering the glowing imagination that was too good to be true.

The groaning from the device pierced through the table once again, calling out for its owner, “Hey, Buck, think you could... run a little errand for me?” Before he had the chance to flip the phone to glance at the notification, Bruce stood in front of the burning source of light, shielding Bucky’s blinded eyes. The sneaky ray of light bounced off the umbrella. Bucky quirked an eyebrow, confused to the vague sentence.

“Errand?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What happened to your new secretary?” Bruce let out a sheepish chuckle, fingers scratching the nape of his neck as he replayed the memory which he now wished he could forget.

“Yeah, about that, I accidentally gave her a leave...” A chuckle fell off the resting man’s face, Bucky shook his head in disbelief. Oh, Bruce. Always expect the unexpected with the man. There had been countless of times Bruce had a word slip off his tongue, most of them were nice. Too nice. So, it didn’t shock Bucky that the man had somehow allowed his new secretary to take some time off. Never will they forget the time they went to a cafe, and Bruce somehow ended up buying a dozen coffees. The doctor blamed it on the enticing offer, one he couldn’t pass off. But the team knew. They knew the cashier cast a spell on him.

“Sure, what’dya need?”

A hand clasped onto Bruce’s shoulders, causing the man to hiss a wince through the cracks of his teeth, “Why’d you run away like that?” Rising from the back, a shadowy figure soon stood next to Bruce. Thor’s booming voice banged into their ears in surges of boisterous pitches. It was a habit the man had, a little quirk, he did. Thor’s way of talking was screaming; although, he had denied being that loud, “You wanna ask Bucky to do it?”

“Do what?” Bucky stared at the two, eyes darting, lost from the lack of context.

“Yes! I do!” Bruce grumbled back, annoyed that Thor had scurried from the circle he was just in, to follow the man. All Bruce wanted to do was mumble the words in secret, away from the people that might whisper his words to other ears. The two fell into bickering. Bruce was prominently shorter than the towering figure of Thor, a reason to why Bruce’s neck would be needed gentle massages later on.

Bucky grabbed his phone, he leaned back with a huff. If the man wasn’t confused already, he had no clue why his girlfriend who sat on the other side of the pool had texted him. Their eyes met. Bucky didn’t know how to react when he saw her shoot a coquettish smirk into his perplexed eyes. Ardent thumbs pressed the password before he clicked on the messaging app.

Then, his heart dropped out of his ass.

The photo of his girl in fiery red lingerie struck a chord in him. Well, snipped away his connection to reality as he tried to digest the picture. It was mostly indulging in the way her skin filled up the brassiere and the garter. Not to forget the accompanying message. Need your fingers in me, “Right, Bucky?”

Bucky didn’t know how fast it took him to switch off his phone, “Huh?”

Thor let out a loud cackle, no different to that of a cracking thunder that zapped the innocent field. Bruce walked away in defeat, shoulders curled down. Noticing the confusion in Bucky’s eyes, Thor chided, “I said some people don’t even listen to what Bruce say. You proved my point.”

The man didn’t have the chance to say anything since Thor paced away. Then, everything flipped.

“Holy shit!” Tony yelled out, his neck veins so close to the surface, it nearly burst the vessel. Without having to say anything, everyone did their part. “Steve! Stop taking so many tissues! I fucking pay for those as a matter of fact! Y/N, could you grab a roll of tissue paper? It’s in the store!”

Pulling her eyes away from her screen, the device was nearly thrown into the body of water at the abrupt change of events. The chaotic mess of shuffling bodies with sheets of ripped tissue papers in their hands that sprinted left and right pierced into her head. What a day for relaxing. Even though she was confused to the commotion, she didn’t need to ask as her eyes brought upon the answer. The bits of meat that had splattered from its main chunk haphazardly pierced the ground, splattering against the floor as if an uncontrollable firearm. Poor burgers.

The woman nodded, sprinting into the house, inching away from the furious grill to avoid being the canvas for its splashes of paint. With her heart thrumming, her feet stomping the ground echoed through the long hallways of the home. Sticking to shuffle in the middle as the path had been blocked by large decorations of lavish vases that sat at her waists’ height, she made sure nothing had been damaged. Y/N was pulled to a screech at the door that resided at the end of the hallway. Practically bursting into the room, she didn’t waste time to nudge everything off the shelves that wasn’t what she needed. The name of the object chanted in her head, echoing as if to remind herself. Everything else was of no use. If her head was a movie theatre and all the seats were take, the audience was probably melting. There was no sight of the needed roll. Her heart sang the last song she would ever hear before it was cut short by the slamming of a door.

“Bucky?” Although she was narrowing her eyes at the figure of the man who leaned on the metal shelves, his eyes amused by her franticness, her attention was averted back to the treasure hunting. Y/N nudged the endless bottles of shampoo aside, not scoring a point of care. She wasn’t sure if it was all for Pepper or Tony. The deep cracks she had meandered through the once organized storeroom didn’t give a sign of the roll. “Not now. I need to find tissues.”

Her words fell on his deaf ears as he persistently rubbed his body into her back. Despite her efforts to shimmy away from him, it seemed the space between the two closed, inching until she could feel a hardness prodding her thigh. A gasp echoed into the air, “You feel that?”

“Bucky! I need to find the tissues.” Y/N managed to breathe out, the words obstructed her throat.

“Then find it,” Bucky’s voice was low, deep as the puffs from his lips caressed her exposed skin. There was barely anything her skimpy bikini could cover. With determination, she continued, ignoring the prominent presence. “Though, I wouldn’t bother. Thor just used a fire extinguisher.”

Even though she wanted to snap her back straight from the news, Bucky’s rigid body blocked her way, “I said find it,” Without warning her, his warm digit nudges her panties aside, dipping into her. A breathy moan trickled into the tranquil air which Y/N tried her best to stifle. There wasn’t any use in pressing her lips together, the way his fingers knew how to rotate her gear had only sent off something in her. Y/N didn’t even dare to cover her mouth with her hand as she knew if she removed the leverage, she would’ve collapsed into the ground. “Sending me photos in public.” Bucky chuckled, not sending the same emotion of amusement to the brutal pace he had pumped his fingers.

He didn’t even bother to tease, pressing his thumb to her sensitive clit, circling roughly. The shelves shake, little bits falling off the surface (thankfully, they were only crumpled up plastic bags). Y/N barely had time to whine about him removing his fingers as she spun around, her lips locking into his, “Bucky...”

The man hummed, his fingers not wasting time to plunge into her, “Wanted my finger. Take it.”

It didn’t take long for Bucky to relish the sight of her head thrown back, chest heaving in surges of breathing. Tongue swirling around the liquid, he hummed at the familiar taste. Y/N had told hold herself back from rolling her eyes.

“What took you so long?” Tony’s eyes darted towards the woman who he had trusted the task of fetching the roll of tissues from the store. The conversation they were having died down, their focus now set onto the exiting figure. Y/N hummed as she practically threw the object onto the wooden table, the legs of the victimized surface quivered. Shivers of the earthquake wavered through the metal rods causing the metal to sing in a falsetto tone as it clashes into its neighbouring accompanies, nearly causing the other occupants of the table to slide off.

“Couldn’t find it.” The words brushed her lips, jumping into the ears of her friends. While she had sauntered off to lay back down on her previous spot, she didn’t notice that everybody’s neck craned to the following body. Fingers weaved through the locks of his hair, Bucky mussed the already messy bundle.

“What?” He couldn’t help himself. The corners of his lips curled up in satisfaction that they had seen the marking he had left on Y/N. Too caught up in the bliss moment, she hadn’t even realized he had left a piece of himself on her neck. The owner of the house threw the utensil on the floor with a huff. Reminder: Don’t invite Bucky and Y/N over.

[zevlors-tail]

1/3🔥Hello!! Congrats on your 300 followers!!! That’s amazing!!! :)))) You absolutely deserve it, your blog is just so hfkfjskalhdksla AnYwAy, I’d like to request a matchup please? I’m a female & prefer male & anyone whether it be a hero, villain or class 1-a is fine!! I’m 5’8 with long dark brown hair, light brown eyes (ok but I love my eyes) & a well-built body. My thighs r like low key thicc coz I have so much muscle(I do highly physically demanding sports) & kinda self conscious abt them—

2/3🔥I’m reserved when u first meet me but once u know me for a while I’ll be more open but it takes me a while coz I don’t trust people easily. ✨extroverted introvert✨ I like to hang out with people & I can be very loud & friendly but I need space as well coz my social energy depletes. I have a dark & sarcastic sense of humour & you’ll find me laughing at inappropriate times :P I’m analytical & don’t like it when people r unreasonable. I love watching people & studying them coz humans r just 3/3🔥so interesting. Love mountain climbing & rock climbing but also can be lazy, watch anime. Creative & spontaneous. Favourite colour is blue maybe lavender. A tomboy but love just dressing up fancily coz it’s just so fun^^; Not touchy feely but low key touch starved so yes pls cuddles but won’t be the one to start them. (But little spoon coz I’m always the 1 caring for everyone else T^T I just want love) Zodiac sign is Aquarius. Words: leaves, bonfire. Hope this wasn’t too long!! Stay safe💕

You reminded me of a certain character when you said you like to watch and study humans lmao (Izaya Orihara, is that you!?). I like to do the same! People watching can certainly be entertaining. Also, I just want you to know you are a precious bean. I love reading about all of your guys’ personalities and hobbies and favorite colors and everything. Y’all are so cute. <3 

I match you with: Dabi!

-Okay. So your best friend Twice introduced you to the league at some point and convinced you to join, and that’s how you met Dabi. Dabi doesn’t tend to say much anyway and since you’re super reserved around people when you first meet, you guys didn’t really hit it off right away. You even got into a couple spats. They were never too bad and it never turned physical, but you would both annoy the shit out of each other.

-That is, until the day you found out that the both of you shared the same sense of humor. Someone (let’s be honest, probably Toga or Tomura) said something slightly suggestive, and you made a twisted joke in response without really thinking about it. Dabi was sitting next to you at the bar at the time and immediately burst out in laughter, which made you laugh too. From then on he was more friendly towards you and actually tried to get to know you.

-A favorite pastime of yours is roasting people together with your sarcastic sense of humor. He thinks it’s absolutely hilarious when you reply sarcastically to something someone said, and he’ll constantly egg you on because of that. He especially loves it when you get sarcastic with Shigaraki. He could watch that all day.

-He also really likes to human watch with you. You guys play that game where you watch people conversing and try to imagine what sort of crazy conversation they could be having. The two of you have come up with absolutely crazy things, and it makes for a good laugh. But other times he’ll take it seriously if you want, and he’ll listen to you while you tell him about how these people are, what you think their personalities are like, and so on. Dabi is pretty sure you’re spot on 99% of the time.

-The more you spend time together the more he realizes he really likes you and everything about you, including the fact that you mountain climb and watch anime. He never knew nature could be so relaxing. The first time he goes rock climbing with you, he feels so alive. It’s so relaxing and freeing for him- please make him do this more. But he’s also just down to watch anime with you if that’s what you want. His favorite physical trait of yours is your eyes. They’re just so...light. He likes to watch the emotions in them, likes to see them glittering with happiness while knowing he’s the one who’s causing that. Of course, he would NEVER say that out loud, but you can see it in that smirk of his.

-Dabi is smart enough to know when you want and need cuddles, and he also knows that you probably won’t ask for them because you’re just not the type to. Which is perfectly fine, because he would much rather give cuddles than receive them! He definitely wants to be the big spoon all the time, and he’s happy to hold you for as long as you want. Honestly, both of you are touch starved. He cuddles with his arms wrapped around you tight and you like to snuggle into him which makes him feel secure. It’s a good balance.

Fall Drable: Leaves/Bonfire

“I wasn’t expecting it to be this cold already.” You shivered and scooted closer to Dabi, your arms wrapped around yourself in an attempt to keep in any warmth you could.

“I told you to check the weather before we went on this mission, you know. That’s your fault entirely. It’s not exactly Summer anymore.” He gave you a side glance before returning his attention to the fire in front of the both of you, orange flames dancing in the reflection of his eyes. 

For a moment it seemed he was just going to sit there and leave you to freeze- you hoped he wouldn’t, but he sure could have his moods sometimes. However, a few seconds after the fact he sighed and wrapped an arm around you to pull you closer, swaddling part of his leather jacket around your frame as he did so. It was hardly big enough for the both of you, but it was all you had; both of you were guilty of under-packing for the weather, and neither of you had thought to bring a blanket or anything warmer than your sleeping bags. The mission wasn’t supposed to last longer than a few days, and the rest of the week had been warm, so you didn’t really think anything of it at the time.

“Can’t this fire get any warmer?” You pressed further into his side, relishing in the small amount of warmth from his coat. “It’s so small, it hardly makes a difference...and I’d rather not get hypothermia and die.” Your breath came out as an icy puff of air as you spoke.

“If you find me something that will burn for a while, we could make a bonfire. But there weren’t many sticks or trees around here...” As he trailed off, he glanced into the small tree row at the edge of the clearing. “We could probably scavenge some wood from that way, but it’s pretty far off.”

“Remind me again why we can’t just use your quirk?”

“Because it’ll burn everything within seconds. Do you want me to light this whole campsite on fire?”

“No thanks, I’m not in the mood for arson right now. Try me again tomorrow though, you never know,” you quipped back, your eyes rolling as you shook your head. You had already known why you couldn’t use his quirk to start the fire, but it didn’t change the amount of annoyance you felt after hearing him say it out loud.

You took a quick look around as well trying to see if there was any garbage or debris that you could light on fire, but you found nothing. Nothing but the large piles of surprisingly still-colorful leaves on the ground, the wind rustling them every time a breeze blew by. Somehow they managed to seem vibrant even after leaving the trees bare by falling to the ground and nestling into the dirt for a while. You leaned down and picked one up, absentmindedly throwing it into the fire.

“Don’t do that, you’ll smoke us ou-” Dabi started to chastise you but quickly stopped as he watched the orange maple leaf smolder in the embers of the fire without drowning your campsite in smoke. “Hey, it’s actually burning.” Maybe... “I’m gonna go see if I can find some larger sticks by the row of trees. You stay here by the fire and gather up a couple piles of leaves. If we can burn up enough dry leaves with the sticks, then they’ll catch fire to the logs and keep it going.”

“I’ll do anything if it means this fire gets even slightly warmer.”

A half hour later you had four different piles of leaves and a couple of nice sized logs stacked to the side of the pit, thanks to your and Dabi’s efforts. Dabi set up a few sticks and two logs in the middle over the embers of the previous smaller fire, and then the two of you grabbed a handful of leaves each to throw on top. They caught fire almost immediately, and you kept piling them on as they burned up, the sticks eventually following suit. Next came the logs, and before you knew it, you had a sizable fire in front of you, warm flames licking at the wood and providing you both with heat.

“Finally...” you sighed, relaxing into your partner’s side once more.

“What a pain in the ass.” Beside you, Dabi returned to wrapping an arm around you, though he must not have felt like sharing his jacket anymore now that the fire was stronger.

“Me, or the fire?” you laughed, though you already knew how he would reply.

“Both.” He gave you that trademark smirk of his. 

[quillreflections]

Title: Electric Blue

Chapter: 11/???

Series: Yugioh GX

Pairing: Chazz/reader

Are you hiding, somewhere behind those eyes?

The shrill ringing of your phone pierces through your skull, jarring you awake. You groan loudly. All your limbs feel like sand— sluggishly, you roll over, your pajamas sticking uncomfortably to your sweat-covered body.

Safe to say, you don't feel well.

For a moment, you grope blindly at your nightstand, trying to find your phone; when you don't find it quick enough, you crack an eye open, only to screw your eyes shut immediately. God, the light's far too bright, it'll cause a headache— well, a worse one than the phone has caused, anyways. Why won't it stop ringing?!

Finally, you find your phone, answering it just to stop that hellish sound.

"Hello?" Your voice is thick with sleep and something else.

"Hey, [Name], where are you?" Jaden's voice on the other end of the line.

"In bed. . . why, do you need me?" Your voice cracks somewhere in the middle.

"Well, it's not like you to miss class, so we just wondered—"

"Miss class?! What time is i—" you jolt upright, only to double over as a rough series of coughs tear their way out of your throat.

"Whoa, [Name], you don't sound too good," Jaden's voice trails off, and it sounds like he's relaying your condition to someone else. You take the chance to check the time— it's almost 10. You've missed a couple of classes, but there's still quite a few left; now that you're awake, might as well get going.

"I'm fine, it's just allergies," you assure him. "I'll see you guys at lunch." And before Jaden can argue, you've hung up on him, throwing yourself into the routine of getting ready.

Damn, you practically have to peel your pjs off, they're so soaked— and maybe it's just because you're in a rush, but you're a bit short of breath this morning, having to pause every few moments to rest. This is probably what you get for staying out in the cold with Chazz over Christmas.

☆☆☆

On one hand, the day feels like it's crawling by— you stumble into each class and then keep your eyes on the clock for each hour, knowing that you haven't retained a word of any of your lectures. But on the other hand, the day feels like it hasn't happened at all; your head feels like it's stuffed with cotton, and more than a few professors have gotten onto you about it today.

"—we'll go to the dueling field!"

The ends of your professor's statement finally register. The other students around you begin shoving their chairs back, pushing past each other, chattering excitedly. You're much slower to follow. When you try to stand, it feels like you're much heavier than normal. God, the room is spinning— you turn your head, trying to focus on one single point in the hopes that your vision will stop swimming. You move to climb the stairs leading to the exits, following all your classmates; somewhere on the edge of your hearing, you think that someone calls your name, but the ringing in your ears mounts and drowns out all other sounds. Your chest is heavy now too, and you're having to take deep breaths to get even a hint of air— hey, let's just rest for awhile.

☆☆☆

Chazz fidgets nervously as the professors recount their class roles; his class was pairing with yours for dueling practice, but he'd been searching the crowd since his group walked in, and he can't find you anywhere. When the professors look away, he pulls his PDA from his coat pocket and sends off a quick message. "Where the hell are you?"

When you don't respond, he turns to Bastion, who's standing next to him in the unorganized group of students. "Do you know where [Name] is?"

Bastion shakes his head. "Jaden said it sounded like she'd be in the rest of her classes, but our schedules don't intersect, so I haven't seen her. Why, is she not here either?"

Chazz anxiously looks back down at his PDA— no response. He's almost lost in his thoughts when Bastion nudges him, bringing his attention to the whispering professors a few steps away.

"She was in class when we started— maybe she got lost on the way?" Your professor turns from his coworkers and towards the milling students. "Can anyone go look for Miss [Name] quickly? She seems to have wandered off again!"

Immediately, Chazz throws his hand into the air— when he sees that several other boys have raised their hands to volunteer, he starts waving frantically and stretches up on his toes, doing his best to make sure he's seen. "Hey! If you don't give me permission, I'm gonna go anyways!"

The teachers chuckle, but nod at Chazz anyways, and then he's off like a shooting star. He vaguely remembers your class schedule for this semester; most courses are held in this particular building anyways, so even if he just pokes his head through classroom doorways, he should be fine.

Door after door, hall after hall, still no sign of you. Chazz snarls in frustration as he shoves open the door to yet another empty classroom.

"What the hell?!"

You're sprawled out on the stairs. Even from his spot in the doorway, Chazz can see that you're sweating heavily and struggling to breath— he stumbles over to you, dropping to his knees, grasping you by the shoulder and shaking you gently. "Hey, [Name], c'mon, this isn't funny—"

Your only response is a quiet moan. Chazz exhales, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours, only to immediately recoil— god, you're absolutely burning up. There's no way he's hauling you back to class like this. . . he considers calling someone else to help, but the idea of another man seeing you in such a vulnerable state doesn't sit right with him.

As carefully as possible, Chazz slides his arms under you, hoisting you up and holding you close. In your sleep, you whine, nuzzling closer to his chest— despite being so feverish, you shiver in his arms.

☆☆☆

When you finally open your eyes again, you're in a bed that you know isn't your own. You blink a few times, bringing one hand up to rub the sleep from your eyes; everything's white and sterile, and you can only assume you're in the infirmary? Slowly you sit up— ugh, everything aches. What happened?

"You need to take care of yourself too," a voice drifts through the curtains surrounding your bed.

"I'm fine, I want to stay here!" 

Ah, that's a voice you recognize.

"Chazz?" Your own voice is fragile and barely above a whisper, but clearly it's enough; the curtains swish aside, and he steps into your small room, concern painted over his face.

"God, you're so stupid," are the first words spilling from his mouth. Despite that, he smiles, although it's frail— he settles himself in the metal chair by your bedside, reaching out to grab your hand, squeezing tightly. "You should've just stayed in bed, dumbass."

"I. . . felt bad, knowing someone was worried." You shrug awkwardly, wishing you could put more into your voice. "Jaden sounded really concerned, and I did really feel fine—"

"Liar." Chazz scoffs. "And hey—" he stares you down for a moment, the tips of his ears turning red. He averts his eyes before continuing. "I'm always gonna be worried for you anyways, y'know. So like, try to avoid scaring me next time, damn."

You chuckle, but it quickly devolves into a coughing fit; Chazz lets go of your hand and leans closer, rubbing soothing circles on your back instead. Once you catch your breath, you also catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall— it's nearly midnight. You whirl to face him, anxiety visible on your face.

"It's so late! You need to go back and rest too!"

Chazz almost laughs— you'd been unconscious for nearly eight hours, and you're worried about him? He leans back in his chair and crosses his legs, smirking at you. "I'm staying here with you until you're better. Needing me and wanting me are two different things."

You can feel your face heating up under his gaze. Slowly you lay back down, pulling the thin infirmary blankets up in the hopes of capturing some heat. You're glad your voice is so weak at this point, because maybe he won't hear you. "I— want you and I need you, y'know."

Then you roll over and try to steady your breathing, pretending you're asleep, hoping he didn't hear that entirely. Chazz leans back in his chair, hoping he did hear it properly.

[rip I was hoping to get this posted on his birthday but things happened so it's a day late oops lmao]

[becky69lu]

Fictober Prompt Day 16: “Listen. No, really listen.”

Marie Kanker x Eddward Vincent (Ed, Edd n’ Eddy)

This was meant to go up on the 16th but I had so much to write for it that it took longer than expected. Oops lmao

"Listen. No, really listen." Edd shut his mouth at her request, flabbergasted at the girl- no woman, in front of him. 

Marie Kanker was his kryptonite throughout middle school. She would harass him, assault him and even try to kiss him. When freshman year of high school came around however, she stopped. 

While May and Lee ran around chasing Eddy and Ed, Marie was seen making friends with the stoner and art kids. By the middle of sophomore year, May and Lee stopped chasing the boys around too. In fact, the girls treated them like they were any other student. 

Eddy and Ed rejoiced at their luck. Edd was just as happy, realizing that the Kanker sisters grew up. They grew out of their childish habits. May had her front teeth fixed, thus fixing her lisp. She joined the cheerleading team and became great friends with Nazz. Edd on occasion would have a civilized conversation with her.

Lee dropped out of high school, opting to get her GED online at home. One day Edd had the courage to ask May at lunch about the sudden disappearance of the red headed sister. May explained how Lee wanted to work and do school at her own pace. Edd was happy for her.

Marie was the most illusive. He rarely saw her in the hallways. He never saw her in classes because Edd took all AP's. Sometimes he'd catch a flash of vibrant blue in the cafeteria. Once in the parking lot he saw her sitting with some kids on the back of a car. They were passing around a blunt, listening to heavy rock music. Edd wasn't familiar with the kids she was with. 

It was senior year at this point. Edd submitted his college applications and worked at a quaint bookshop in town in his spare time. By this point in his life, the blue headed Kanker sister had long slipped his mind. He was happy and ready for the next chapter of his life.

One day in the middle of November he was grabbing a book from his locker when he saw a figure push up against the locker next to his. Without a thought, he shoved the book in his bag, shut his locker and looked up at the figure.

He jumped when he realized who he was looking at. His heart started to pound in his chest in a familiar way. He felt a wave of spontaneous recovery as he met blue eyes. This was the first time he had a good look at her in four years. 

Her hair was still a vibrant blue color, yet it looked soft and luscious. He was curious on how it could be so nice looking after years of constant hair damage. Her hair was also longer, going slightly past her shoulders. Her right eye was no longer covered by hair, instead pushing gently behind her ear. 

Her freckles seemed to have grown in numbers. They were scattered across her cheeks and nose in dozens. Her eyes were a vibrant blue due to the thin line of eyeliner painted on her eyes. She wasn't wearing the signature blue eye shadow he remembered. 

Her clothes seemed to grow more feminine but stayed in the same punk rock style. Her skinny jeans were a faded grey with purposeful holes and tears. She was wearing a black spaghetti strap tank top with a baggy black and white flannel over it. Around her neck was a thin black choker. She was wearing black converse to top off the whole outfit. 

After evaluating the girl he once knew, he met her eyes with slight fear. He knew he shouldn't be frightened by her. Marie was barely a topic anymore. Although she was a notorious Kanker sister, now-a-days she kept to her group of friends and rarely caused trouble. He heard when she did get in fights it was almost always for a reason.

He knew she wouldn't hurt him. It was just the fear of the unknown. 

"Hiya Double D." This was a phrase she used to say in a high pitched teasing sneer. Now, her voice and tone was much different. It was the first time he heard her speak in years. Her voice was velvety soft and much more mature. She said the phrase in such a melancholy tone that it took him by surprise.

"Oh! Uh.. Hello Marie! Lovely day, correct? What brings you to my corner?" Edd winced at how wordy he was being. He supposed it was a nervous tick but it was still embarrassing. 

"I just.. I need to talk to you for a minute. If that’s alright." She asked sincerely.

 She had her arms wrapped around herself, a subconscious sign of discomfort. Edd nodded. She stepped away from the locker, starting to walk towards the end of the hallway. 

Edd followed her curiously, keeping a bit of distance away from her. On the way to their destination, Edd saw Eddy and Ed staring at the pair in shock. 

"What?" Eddy mouthed to Edd in anger and confusion. Edd understood his friends confusion, considering he was just as confused. "I'll talk to you later." Edd mouthed back as clear as he could. He then turned back to see where Marie went. 

She was slightly hunched over as she walked, not caring about her bad posture. She finally led him to an empty classroom. Edd was always very nervous about entering a classroom without permission. 

He was curious about Marie though. This time his curiosity outweighed his anxiety. 

He walked into the room, shutting the door gently behind him. When he looked back he noticed Marie sitting on a desk, playing with her fingers.

"So listen, I need to say some things." She started.

"If you need help with homework or college applications I'm sure I could ask Ms. Smith to help you out." Edd started to get nervous again as word vomit fell out of his mouth. 

Marie looked up at him in confusion. "Homework help? No I need-" "Need help with exams? I'm sure-"

This time, Edd was cut off. Marie hopped off the desk.

"Listen! No, really listen." Edd was finally able to stop talking. The woman approached him, standing a few feet a part for his sake. Edd appreciated that.

"For an assignment in English, Mrs. Clark asked us to write an apology letter to someone we wronged. I would've just thought of it as dumb, but Mrs. Clark is my favorite English teacher. She sat with me and explained that next year we'd all be gone for college. She asked if I had hurt anyone from school. When I told her yes, she told me it'd get weight I didn't know was there off my chest. And make the person I hurt feel better." Marie explained, putting her hands in her back pockets casually. 

Although her posture was relaxed, it was evident how nervous she was in her expression. Her blue eyes darted around the room not focusing on one particular thing. 

"Anyways. I did write an apology letter for a grade in the class, but I felt weird reading a letter or giving you one. Instead I just want to talk to you. Like a normal person." 

Edd nodded. Marie looked straight into his eyes, standing up straight. "I'm really sorry Edd. For how I treated you in junior high. I was an attention seeker. As a middle child you kinda end up getting ignored sometimes and I took out my anger on you. That wasn't right of me. That's why I stopped doing it in 9th grade." 

Edd was happily surprised. He never knew Marie to apologize or even be sincere. Yet here she was pouring her heart out to him. He wasn't sure what to do, so he was glad when Marie spoke up again.

"You don't have to forgive me, I just had to tell you. Thanks for listening I guess." Marie started to walk past him when he gripped her arm gently. She stopped in her tracks, meeting his eyes with confusion of her own.

"Thank you Marie. Truly. All is forgiven and I hope things go well for you after graduation." Edd spoke gently. 

Marie snorted, making Edd let go of her arm in shock. He also hasn't seen her laugh in a long time. It was a good look on the bluenette.

"You always look for the best in people, dontcha Double D?" She said in a mirthful tone, her smooth voice raising an octave. 

Her smile could light up an entire room. Edd found himself mesmerized by the dimple on her cheek. 

"I don't have to wish you well after graduation. I know you're gonna do great things." She spoke these words before retreating out of the classroom. Edd was too in his head to notice he didn't say anything back to her. 

He walked out of the classroom with the intent to track her down when he was stopped by a shorter figure. 

"What the hell was that?" Eddy asked. Edd thought for a moment.

"I'm not sure.." All Edd knew was after sixth period he would be looking for a blue headed girl.