#and i just get to shift through life absolutely mediocre and alone and it's just!!!!

[rainbow-arrow]

uh oh!!! spent too much time comparing fic stats!!! made myself sad!!!!

[2dmenenthusiast]

"You gonna make me?"

(John Price x Gn!Reader)

Jesus christ I've never finished a fic faster in my life. I'm absolutely feral for this man istg. Also, I 100% don't know shit about sparring or the military. Thank you

Feedback and Reblogs are encouraged and appreciated! <3

Summary: You made a mistake on the field, and your teammate got shot because of it. Safe to say, your Captain is less than happy.

Reader's callsign is Sting

Words: 3.6k

Warnings/Other info: references to injury, blood mentions, lots of fuckin guilt, this is smut free besties, just my mediocre attempt at writing fluff, reader is gender nuetral

The phrase “seeing red” couldn’t begin to describe the white hot rage that seared up your spine and wrapped tight around your neck like a noose. You just got back from a meeting with your Captain, and he had reemed into you like you wouldn’t believe. It was a bad call in the field, completely your fault. Soap got a bullet in the arm because of it, and you couldn’t stop beating yourself up over it. And while your anger directed at yourself was enough to have your fists clenched so tightly that you left crescent shapes in your palms, the reprimanding you got from Price left you vibrating with rage. You were ready to lash out like a cornered, rabid dog, biting at the hand of anyone who reached out. Which is why you found yourself in the training room on base, throwing jabs at the punching bag like it just insulted your mother.

The stinging of your knuckles through your wraps should've been a signal for you to stop and take a rest, but the screaming thoughts in your brain had you persisting, the solid, repetitive thump of skin meeting leather echoing throughout the empty room.

“Woof, remind me not to piss you off.”

You huffed out a breath, movements finally coming to a stop as you rested your palms against the bag. Sweat trickled down your forehead, chest rapidly falling and rising with each chased breath, and Gaz stopped a few feet away from you. A grey muscle tee sat loose on his torso, paired with black gym shorts. You quickly assumed he was here for the same reason you were, and while you had no reason to be mad with him, you couldn’t help but feel frustrated by his presence. You just wanted to be left alone with your thoughts for a few hours, take a long shower, and then go to bed.

“You wanna go a few rounds?”

You raised a brow, fist resting against your hip. “You sure?”

Gaz shrugged. “You look like you need it.”

You let out a humorless chuckle, clapping Gaz on the shoulder as you passed him. Okay, maybe the company didn’t sound so bad anymore. You quickly adjusted your wraps and shifted your neck, feeling the muscles tense and pull. “Just don’t go easy on me, alright?”

Gaz gave you that dazzling white smile, one that would have people stopping in their tracks, but it vanished as soon as it appeared once he came at you. Gaz was young, spry, his speed certainly giving him an upper hand compared to his big and burly comrades. He was light on his feet, easily stepping back when your fist swung out, and he was in your space the next second, hand pushing against the center of your chest and his foot sweeping your ankle. You landed on your back with a thud, the mat breaking most of your fall, and Gaz clapped his hands together.

“Alright, keep gloating Kyle,” you chuckled, grasping his hand when he went to help you up.

“I’m just lucky to catch you off your guard.”

You huffed, lips tilting up in a bitter smile and rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, seems like that’s been happening a lot today.”

Gaz’s expression immediately dropped, and he shook his head. “No, hey— I didn’t mean it like that—”

You waved him off. “It’s fine. Let’s go again.” 

You were relieved when he lunged at you without question, and you both moved around one another in a less than graceful dance. Gaz always had your back. Whether it be in the field or on base, he knew what you needed from him, and he was more than willing to let you throw him around a bit to get some of your frustration out. 

And maybe you haven’t thought about it much before now, but you were grateful to consider Kyle a close friend. 

Punches were thrown and blocked, and he actually got you pretty good in your side, the sudden force and the sting afterwards sending a rush through you. By the time he was spent, sweat dripping down his forehead and his limbs feeling the slightest bit of fatigue, you were on your back with his back pressed against your front, arms wrapped around his neck and legs trapping his hips. He struggled to get out of your hold, gripping your forearms and attempting to pull them away, but then there was a loud squeak of the doors opening, and you both paused as your Captain came sauntering in the room.

“That’s enough. Let him go.”

The deep timbre of his voice made a feeling you couldn’t quite place surge through you. It settled deep in your bones like sweet, thick syrup, and the look he pinned you with set your skin ablaze. 

Trembling limbs fell to the ground as you released Gaz, and he stood with a huff and quickly helped you up. His hand clapped against your back in a reassuring manner, his way of trying to cheer you up from the impending doom you were about to face, and he jogged over to Price. They muttered hushed words, shooting quick glances your way. The sight made anger flare up inside of you. What were they talking about? Was it about you? Was it about your royal fuck up today? 

An unintentional growl resounded in your throat, and you began picking at your wraps, the sweat collecting under the fabric making your skin itch. It was only now that you finally took notice of the blood seeping through the cloth, and the sight took your mind back to the field. The shouting. Echoed gunfire. Soap’s blood pooling under your hands and seeping through your fingers as you desperately called for Evac.

“You’re gonna be fine. We're gonna get you outta here, okay?”

It should’ve been you.

A low whistle drew your attention, head snapping up to watch Price as he sauntered towards you. Gaz gave you an anxious smile and a thumbs up from behind him, and you frantically shook your head with widened eyes.

Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go—!

He left.

Dammit!

With a deep sigh, you avoided looking at your superior and walked over to your duffel resting on the bench, rummaging through it to find your water bottle. As soon as the water hit your dry tongue, you desperately took deep gulps of it, some of it spilling out the sides and sliding down your jaw. You finally looked at Price while you capped the flask, catching his gaze follow the water droplets that slid down your neck and under your shirt. You pretend like the sight doesn't shoot blistering heat through you and begin packing away your things.

“What do ya think you’re doing?”

“Leaving. What does it look like?”

If you were anyone else, you’d be scared to talk to him like this. And if you knew what was good for you, you’d reign your attitude in. But you weren’t about to roll over and show your belly, and a sick, masochistic part of you wanted him mad. 

“No. You’re not done yet.”

You barked out a sharp, sarcastic laugh, tossing your things aside and whirling to face Price. He wore that same serious look on his face, eyebrows set deep and his gaze narrowed. You tried not to focus on the crows feet that danced around his eyes, because that’s not what’s important right now and you should be upset with him. Not admiring the little details on his face that you’ve secretly come to love. Or looking at the way his arms flexed when he crossed them over his chest.

“Who says?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I do.”

Closing the distance, you mimicked his stance. “You gonna make me?”

A smirk spread across his features, and if you had a death wish, you would’ve slapped it right off him.

“Oh, I’ll do more than that, sweetheart.”

The pet name sent tingles down your spine that you refused to acknowledge, replacing those fluttery feelings with the rage you felt bubbling up inside of you. At this point, he wanted you to hit him. And he couldn’t be upset with you if you followed through with it, right?

He gestured with his head. “On the mat, soldier.”

Letting out a disgruntled huff, you reluctantly did as he instructed, like an obedient little dog. He was your Captain, you were supposed to follow orders. But the idea of letting someone yank you around and instruct you like a marionette made your blood boil and the veins in your forehead pop. But another part of you knew deep down that if you really didn’t want this, Price wouldn’t make you. You were just too stubborn to acknowledge it at this moment.

Once you were a good few feet away from him, you got into proper stance, feet spread apart and firmly planted, your weight evenly distributed. He copied your position, nodding his head to let you know he was ready, and you began circling each other. It was a waiting game, the clock ticking down as you anxiously waited for one of you to strike first. And despite everything in you saying to let him come to you, your eagerness and impatience got the better of you.

You lunged first, fist flying towards him which he easily deflected. You hit his solid forearm instead of what you were aiming for, and the quick jab in the same spot Gaz hit earlier had you stepping back with a growl.

“What happened today?” he asked. No. Demanded.

Your jaw clenched tightly, teeth painfully grinding together as you came forward again. “I don’t want to talk about it!”

Price gripped your arm and yanked you forward, spinning you so your back was pressed flush against him, and his arm wrapped around your throat. 

“You were impatient! You ignored a direct order, and it got your teammate a bullet in the process.”

With a strangled cry, you bent your knees and used your weight to push against Price, using the leverage to flip him over your back. He harshly landed on the mat with a pained grunt, and you scrambled to plant yourself on his chest, shins pressing down on his arms and your thighs framing his face. Of course, you’d imagined this scenario once or twice before in the privacy of your own room, but you didn’t picture it happening quite like this.

“So what do you want me to do? Go back in time and fix my mistake?! As much as I’d like to, I can’t!”

His hands came up to grip your thighs, pushing himself up off the mat and slamming you on your back, the air effectively leaving your lungs. His hands were on your hips the next second, flipping you on your stomach so fast that the room spun, and he had you pinned before you could even blink. There was a solid arm pressed harshly against your shoulder blades as Price straddled your hips, using practically all his weight to keep you down. You tried reaching back with your hand to grab ahold of something, anything, but he trapped it in his ironclad grip and pinned it beside your head.

A frustrated noise left you, slamming your fist into the mat as angry tears gathered under your eyes. You knew Price was trying to teach you a lesson, but couldn’t he understand that you’ve already screamed at yourself the exact same words he was throwing at you?!

He leaned down, and the scent of expensive cigars and gunpowder filled your senses. It was like he was slowly taking over every part of you, his touch and his smell seeping into your skin until all you could think about was him. Molten heat surged through you, settling deep in your belly and sending your pulse skyrocketing. You were sure if he placed his fingers just right, Price could feel your heart beating erratically in your wrist.

“You’re a good soldier, Sting. And you know it. Don’t make me regret putting you on my team.”

His gravelly voice was like thick smoke, sending you in a haze as you pressed your forehead to the mat and let your body relax underneath him. You hated to silently give up like this, but your body and your mind was tired. The only place you wanted to be more than underneath your Captain was in your bed.

“Whoa. Am I uh, interrupting somethin’?”

Head snapping up, you spotted Soap by the door, a grin slowly appearing on his face as he leaned against the wall. You were quick to spot the bandage wrapped around his shoulder, and Price lifted off you when you tapped the ground twice. You appeared at his side in less than a second, eyes zeroed in on his wound, and the guilt was eating at you all over again.

“God, Johnny. How are you feeling?”

He shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “Been better. Doctor thinks I’ll pull through.”

He was joking. 

He… had a fucking bullet in him because of you, and he was standing here, smiling and joking with you.

Why?

Why wasn’t he angry? Why wasn’t he cursing and screaming at you? How could he even fucking stand to be around you right now?!

Your head gently shook back and forth, eyes cast towards the ground and your jaw clenching so hard it made your ears ring. “Soap… I’m so sorry. I—”

“Did you put the bullet in my arm?”

Your gaze lifted, his brow raised at you. “Well, I mean, no. But—”

“Then stop worryin’ your pretty head. I should be good for field duty soon enough.” You saw his gaze shift downwards, and his brows knitted in concern. “Though, I think you should be more concerned about yourself there, Sting. Jesus.”

You followed his line of sight and looked down at your hands, blood soaking through the wraps around your knuckles. Rough fingers wrapped around your wrist, gasping when Price suddenly lifted your hand up so he could inspect it. His eyes then landed on your face, and you shrunk under his disappointed stare.

“Bloody hell. Come on, let’s get you sorted out.”

Tugging your hand out of his hold, you gave Soap a tight-lipped smile and brushed past them. By the sound of heavy boots thumping against the floor, you figured Price followed after you.

“And where’d you think you’re going?”

You refused to stop, so bullheaded in that moment that he’d probably have to tackle you to get you quit. “The infirmary.”

You heard his footsteps stop, relief filling you for just a second as you thought he’d finally almost left you alone.

Almost

“Sergeant!” he barked.

His voice stilled you, back straightening like your spine was being pulled up by a string. Silence filled the space between you, and you were hyper aware of your breath filling and leaving your lungs, the sound of it almost too loud for your own ears. When you finally turned to face Price, his intense stare sent a chill through you, and your chest shuddered with an anxious breath when he held up his hand and curled his middle and index finger towards himself. 

With one foot in front of the other, you slowly closed the distance between you two, a million little thoughts running rampant inside your head. Price either didn’t know how intimidating his presence was, or he knew all too well. Either way, the gaze he pinned you with pierced right through you, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was able to read your mind.

Hopefully not. If he heard what you thought about him late at night—

Shut up!

Stopping just a few feet shy from him, you held his stare for a moment before he turned, gaze falling on his broad back. The way his muscles shifted and flexed under his tight shirt almost stopped you in your tracks, and you scolded yourself for acting like such a lovesick fool before obediently following after him.

Aren’t you supposed to be angry with him?!

Why? All he did was point out your mistake.

A mistake you’ve relived over and over again until you wanna blow your brains out.

When you made it to Price’s office, he opened the door and wordlessly gestured to one of the seats in the room while he rifled through his desk. You sat without complaint, hands gripping your knees and focusing on your bandages splotched with red. When he found his first-aid kit, Price grabbed another chair and slid it in front of yours. His knees gently knocked into yours when he sat down.

“Alright, lemme get a look at you.”

Your fingers flexed, and you lifted one of your hands to place it in his. He was gentle when he gripped the edge of the fabric and began unwrapping your hand, and the stark difference between now and how he was when you were sparring would’ve surprised you if you hadn’t seen this side of John before. He was gentle and kind when he could be, always making sure his team got a proper looking at after missions, scolding you when one of you stubbornly let a wound go untreated. He cared about you, no doubt. Anyone was a fool to think otherwise.

The wraps uncomfortably pulled at the skin around your knuckles, the blood making it stick, and you let out a hiss. Price didn’t pause or stop, and you were grateful for it. You didn’t want him to treat you as weak or take pity on you. Not when you didn’t deserve it. It was only when he was wiping the blood away that you finally spoke after a prolonged silence.

“It should’ve been me.”

Now that gave him pause. The wipe froze against your skin for a split second, and he let out a sigh through his nose as he tossed it into the bin before grabbing a new one.

“And why do you think that?”

You didn’t answer right away, searching around the room as if you’d find the answer residing in a hidden corner. You were ashamed. What if Soap got killed today? How could you live with yourself knowing that his death was your fault? Your hand shook against his, and Price carefully tightened his hold to steady it.

“It was my fault. I should’ve taken the bullet, not him.”

Once Price was done with your left hand, he moved on to the right, giving it the same treatment. He shook his head. “Awful things happen to good soldiers that don’t deserve it every day. You can’t control it.”

“But I—”

“But,” he sighed, thumb gently pressing into the back of your hand, “you need to listen to orders, Sergeant. You’re lucky the bastard didn’t nag ‘im in the head.”

You nodded. “I’ll make it right, Captain.”

Once he was done patching up your hands, you moved to stand, but his hold on your hand didn’t falter. Rather, his hand snuck up your arm and pulled you back down into your chair, his lips quirking up in a small smirk.

“I believe you’re forgettin’ something, darling.”

Your eyes narrowed, leaning an elbow against your knee. You tried to remain tough, but you could feel your resolve turning into mush the more you stared into Price’s eyes. “You still expect me to kiss you after all the shit you said to me today?”

His smirk only grew, and his eyes crinkled up around the edges.

Fuckin’ cute bastard.

“Do I have to order you, soldier?”

You scoffed, pulling your arm out of his grip before suddenly maneuvering onto his lap. His hands immediately found their home on your hips, giving them a possessive squeeze, and you rested your arms against his shoulders.

“I think you can save the powerplay act for later, John,” you muttered.

He mumbled a quiet “Yeah?” as he stared at your lips, the word devolving into a soft sigh once you leaned down and pressed them against his own. Arms wrapped around your waist and squeezed you to John’s chest, your nose gently knocking against his as he chased your lips every time you pulled away. You cupped his face in your hands, and the roughness of his beard tickled your skin.

Could be tickling somewhere else right about now—

Jesus christ, shut up.

Price was always deep and intense when he kissed you, trying to pour every bit of love he had for you in each one. It felt like he stole the breath right out of you, your thoughts swirling and your mind hazy. He knew exactly what to do to turn you into putty in his hands.

“Where is it?” he muttered against your lips, and you reluctantly pulled away with a gasp as you tried to catch your breath.

Reaching under your shirt, you tugged at the chain securely hidden underneath it and pulled it over your head, dropping it into John’s awaiting hand. He smiled, fiddling with the clasp before cool metal slid over your finger.

“You should wear it more.”

Your brows drew together. “I thought you didn’t want to tell anyone?”

“We don’t have to. I just like seein’ it on you.”

Your lips slowly split into a grin, and you looped your arms around your fiancé’s neck. His large hand gently ran up and down your back, sending pleasant chills down your spine. With the way he looked at you, you’d do just about anything for him.

“I’ll wear it all the time then.”

Tagged: @latinxs-himbos-and-cowboysys

[fanficimagery]

Lost and then Found pt. II

Imagine being taken by HYDRA. After years with them, they set you loose on someone you haven't seen in a while. Unfortunately for HYDRA, you weren't as susceptible to their mind experiments like they thought. Now away from their influence, your only worry is making sure you're prepared for your baby to enter the world.

Words: 11.3K Author’s Note: I won't say I don't like this because there are some parts in here that I absolutely adore. However, it is rushed and it feels forced to me, but I needed to get this out so here it is. Also, I've never experienced childbirth so please ignore my mediocre take on it. Haha.

Tags: @aya-fay​ @70s-chic​ @sipsteacasually​ @kaitlyn2907​ @scarlettwitch99 @thingsforimagination​ @b1sexualtonystark​ @living-that-best-life​ @alexnicolaidisss​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @eliwinchester99​ @mimilh @rosesloml​  @blackxwidowsxwife  @meredeph @lexy9716​ @wxnderingthoughts​

The Avengers have grown accustomed to having a werewolf living among them and sitting in on mission briefings, but they put their foot down when you attempt to join them for missions. You want to desperately prove yourself to the group of assembled heroes, but you also very much want to protect the life growing inside your womb. So agreeing to stay home while pregnant, they eventually task you with setting up your own apartment the first time they all had to leave you behind.

Of course you weren't totally alone and Pepper had flown in to help you set up, her excitement for your pregnancy spurring on your own excitement even more.

You get settled quite easily and it shows how much trust you have in them when the full moons don't affect you like they normally would. Now others could come and go during the full moon, and you barely batted an eye at them. Unless it was Tony. Tony needed to be watched at all times after he attempted to rile you up purposely on the night of a full moon to see exactly how much control you had.

The slight swell to your abdomen eventually sets in and you couldn't be more proud of the roundness that was obvious when you wore a tight shirt. Wanda, too, was absolutely smitten with the small bump and the whole team was relieved to see her genuinely happy after everything she'd recently gone through. But Wanda wasn't the only one who doted on you- oh no. For some reason, the sight of your bump made the two super soldiers absolutely melt when your shirt was fitted and the bump was on display. Everyone knew it was inevitable for Steve to turn to mush, but it was Bucky who surprised everyone.

Bucky always made sure to sit close to you, snacks on hand and ready to make a run to the store when your cravings got the best of you. You'd even caught him reading a pregnancy book, but he looked so embarrassed when you caught him that you couldn't bring yourself to mention it to anyone else. And for that he was grateful- always letting you crawl into his lap when you had the urge to scent mark everyone.

Your cuddle sessions became more frequent, which made Wanda pout and Sam and Steve rather smug for some unknown reason to you.

It's cooler than normal around the living quarters given the rising summer temperatures and, though you normally run hot, your own body temperature has been up and down since you've become pregnant. So on this particular day you find yourself cuddled up to Steve, your left arm thrown over his waist and left leg draped over his legs. Your bump is resting near his hip and he smiles down at you every time you grumble about needing to pee.

"This baby is going to be the death of me," you mumble. "All I wanna do is cuddle, but no. I have to pee. Again!"

Leaving the comfort of the new couch that had been ordered for your specific cuddling tendencies- it could honestly pass for a bed with how spacious it is- you get up and take care of business in the bathroom. And then when you get back to the living room, you find that Bucky's taking up the other side of the sofa Steve is on.

"Yessss." You nearly skip back towards the sofa, crawling in between both men. "Supersoldier sandwich."

Steve snorts and then yelps when you manhandle him into scooting down until he's laying down again, then wrapping yourself around him like you had previously been. All the while Bucky is laughing at his friend's misfortune, but then you reach behind you and drag Bucky closer until you whine at him to spoon you. You smell rather than see his embarrassment, especially when Steve teases him to just spoon you already, and then you practically purr when you're enveloped in their warmth.

As Bucky settles behind you, you end up grabbing his metal arm and dragging it over your waist. He tenses, but you run your fingers up and down the back of his hand until he gets that you're okay with him- metal arm and all.

Stuck between two solid bodies, enveloped in their warmth and scent, is enough to send you off into a content light doze.

And then you're jolted back into consciousness when you feel Bucky freeze behind you. "What was that?"

"What was what?" You sleepily mumble.

"Your stomach. Are you- was that your stomach grumbling?"

This time it's your turn to freeze as you place your hand over his that's still crawling your bump. "You actually felt that?"

"Yeah." He chuckles.

"Holy shit," you muse. "It's way too early for anyone other than me to feel the baby. How the hell-"

"Wait, what?" Steve says, a whine lacing his tone. "Bucky got to feel the baby?"

You laugh as you move to turn so you're laying on your back, and both Steve and Bucky try to maneuver their hands around your small bump in order to feel the fluttering sensation. "This is insane. I can't believe you guys can feel it."

"I don't feel anything." Steve frowns.

"Don't pout, punk." Bucky smirks. "I can only feel it because of the arm."

Grinning, you reach up and lightly pat Steve's cheek. "Don't worry, Rogers. When the kicks start coming in, I'll go find you first."

The two men are distracted when the elevator dings open and Wanda steps off, the scent of food wafting from the bags she's carrying. Your nostrils flare and your mouth waters, and you start to pull free from Steve and Bucky.

Wanda smirks. "Hungry?"

"Always." Now free of the men, you hurry towards the kitchen where Wanda is laughing and pulling out containers. "Is that," you inhale deeply, eyes closing in bliss, "medium-rare steak, baked potato with the works, and.. and fries?"

"I even got that sauce from Arby's you like so you can dip your fries in it."

"Oh my god, you're my favorite."

"Hey!" Steve and Bucky shout from the living room. Wanda preens.

A couple more months pass and you're in awe of what your body is doing.

You're absolutely in love with your growing bump which now looks like there's a volleyball under your shirt, but for some reason you're unreasonably uncomfortable. You've been meaning to go shopping for maternity clothes, however, everything you've found online is not to your taste. You just want a simple loose shirt, but all maternity clothes seem to either have a floral theme to it or ruffles that you're not a fan of.

So stuck in one of your usual t-shirts that feels like it's stretched too tight and showing off the bottom portion of your bump, you walk around your apartment grumbling and shifting uneasily and trying to find a way to make yourself feel comfortable.

You're pacing around the room, hands rubbing along your swollen abdomen when there's a knock on your door. Agitated, a growl slips free. You stomp towards your door, another growl threatening to slip free, when you're stopped short at the sight of Bucky.

His eyebrow quirks at you and you sigh, trying to shake off your agitation. "Why are your eyes glowing, sweetheart?"

"I'm annoyed. I can't help it."

You swing the door open wider, but Bucky remains rooted to his spot. "Why are you annoyed?"

And just like that, the tears well up and start dropping one after the other. "I am so uncomfortable!" You cry. Bucky's eyes widen before he steps forward, arms loosely wrapping around you. "I just- I want to be comfortable. None of my shirts are fitting me and I- I just- I need-"

"Okay. Okay, shh." Bucky gently rocks you side to side. "Come on. Come with me."

Miserable, you agree and follow after Bucky to his own apartment that's just a few doors down the hallway. You're not sure what's going on when he tells you to wait in his living room and then disappears into what you can only guess is his room, and your brow furrows when he returns with a shirt in hand.

Sheepish, Bucky rubs the back of his neck with one hand while holding the shirt out with the other. "Here. You can use one of mine until you find something more comfortable."

You glance between him and the shirt, reaching for it as a smile starts to take form. And when you have the shirt in your hands, you readily strip out of your own shirt and huff a laugh when Bucky blushes and averts his gaze. Pulling on his shirt then, you groan with satisfaction as the material hugs you just right. "Oh heck yes." And then picking up the collar of the shirt, you can't help but deeply inhale the material and groan yet again. "This is exactly what I needed."

Bucky slowly smirks. "Good. Now let's go grab something to eat." He can't help but laugh as you latch yourself onto his arm, mumbling about him leading the way as your eyes close in pure bliss.

Your senses tell you Bucky's just leading you towards the communal kitchen, your nose twitching at the smell of food coming from it's direction. There are a few voices too and it's easy to pick out Wanda, Steve, and Sam.

Upon opening your eyes, you're met with amused and/or surprised expressions. "What?"

"Do my eyes deceive me or am I sensing a walk of shame?" Sam slowly smirks.

You and Bucky both frown as Steve and Wanda laugh at their friend's assumption. "Huh?"

"You're in Barnes' shirt," he says. "You cannot stand there and tell me you two ain't foolin' around."

It takes you a second to realize what he's saying, your mind connecting the dots when you feel Bucky tense next to your side. The slight embarrassment wafting off of him nearly makes you whine, but you swallow down the urge. Instead, you roll your eyes and say, "First off, if I was getting dicked down by this beefcake, there would be no walk of shame. I would happily tell you about length, girth, and every goddamn ridge on this man's dick." Wanda cackles as Sam's eyes bulge in shock, Steve then choking on his orange juice. "And secondly, I'm fat, Wilson!" You let go of Bucky, turning to the side and grabbing the sides of Bucky's shirt to pull tight over your swollen tummy. "None of my shirts fit comfortably anymore and Bucky was just helping a girl out." His mouth drops slightly as if he hadn't thought of that and you shake your head at him. Letting go of the shirt, you walk forward to sit at the kitchen island. "Do you seriously think anyone wants to get it on with a pregnant chick? Use your head, Samuel."

As you settle down, Bucky takes a seat next to you and you automatically lean into his side with your head on his shoulder. Wanda and Steve both smile, but neither of them say a word. Sam, however, just can't let this go. "So let me get this straight- you two are not boning in secret?"

"No," you say, fighting off a smile. "We're just friends. Which means you just lost the bet too because my bump is fully set in and there has been no sex." Sam, Wanda, and Steve slowly lose their amused expressions and this time it's your and Bucky's turn to be smug. "What? Didn't think we knew about that, did 'ya?"

"Y/N, I am so sorry," Wanda says, but you wave her off. "I didn't think-"

"It's fine, Wanda. We thought it was funny."

Bucky remains quiet, but his little grin lets Wanda know he was fine with the supposedly secret bet as well. Her shoulders seem to sag in relief and you readily accept the plate of bacon Sam nudges in your direction.

"So," Wanda muses, "you need to go shopping? I'm free today and tomorrow."

You grimace. "I guess so. As much as I want to, I can't steal the guys' shirts for the next few months."

"Good. We'll head out after you get something to eat."

Leaving the medical facility, you aimlessly walk back towards the family compound with several black and white photos in hand. You had known there was a baby growing inside of you, but it's just now truly sunk in after seeing your baby's profile instead of a blob with still-forming limbs. A slip of paper with your baby's gender is tucked into your back pocket, Doctor Cho having given it to you in case you wanted to know.

You're not exactly looking for the quiet of your apartment, so you remain in the communal living spaces in hopes of someone distracting you. Only when you get there, all is quiet.

Turning on the large screen flat TV, you put it on a random cooking show after crawling onto your sofa and getting comfortable. You've only managed to watch one entire episode, your interest captivated by the meals the chefs are putting together with only a few certain items from their basket, when the elevator dings.

You don't bother looking back, Bucky's scent wafting over to you before he even steps into your peripheral. "Hey doll, want some company?"

"Please," you groan.

Bucky toes off his boots and sits on the edge of the sofa, scooting back towards the middle until he's shoulder to shoulder with you. You sigh and lean against him, laying your head on his shoulder while your arms remain on your lap. "What's wrong?" Bucky immediately says.

"Nothing. Why?"

"Because you're not cuddling me."

The tone of Bucky's voice makes you freeze, amusement blossoming. Slowly you lift your head and attempt to meet his gaze. "Are you- are you pouting because I'm not cuddling you?"

"No."

You huff a laugh, letting your forehead fall on his shoulder once more. After a moment, you lift his arm and settle underneath it as you cuddle him. Bucky chuckles and squeezes you just a little tighter against him. "Is this better?"

"A little. Now tell me what's bothering you."

You quietly groan, shifting under his arm until you reach to your other side and pick up one of the sonograms. "I had an appointment today," you say while handing him the picture. "It's just- I guess it's just sinking in that there's an actual living being growing inside of me."

"You mean all the kicking these past two months didn't give it away?" Bucky huffs in amusement. "Wow. Would you look at that?" He says. "The little nugget is really growing. Huh?" Your hormones get the best of you and you end up sniffling, tears filling your eyes. Bucky freezes. "Doll? Are you- are you crying?"

"How the hell am I going to do this, Buck? I'm a foul-mouthed werewolf who just recently escaped the clutches of HYDRA. What business do I have raising a baby?"

"Hey. Hey, look at me." Bucky gently nudges you so you'd glance up at him. With his flesh arm still tucked around you, his metal hand gently holds your sonogram between two fingers as he makes you look at it. "You're going to do just fine. You wanna know how I know that?" You sniffle and wipe the tears from beneath your eyes. "Because you have all of us- you have me- in your corner. This little nugget of yours will never want for anything as long as we're around."

His words only make the tears fall even more and you hide your face in his shoulder once more. He holds you tighter, shushing you and murmuring words about how you're going to be a good mother. If you could overlook everything HYDRA did to you in order for you to conceive this child and then go on to keep the child, then there was no doubt in his mind you were going to be a great mom.

As you sit there against Bucky and work on getting yourself under control, you can't help but notice that he turns the sonogram back towards himself to stare at it. You shift your head just right so you can see his face and it warms your heart to see him smiling at the profile of your baby.

The elevator dings again, this time dropping off Wanda. When she walks around the sofa and takes in your puffy, red-rimmed eyes, she freezes. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"She had a bout of insecurity." Bucky tattles on you. "It's fine now."

Wanda blinks at Bucky in surprise before looking back at you and you offer her a small smile. "New sonogram pictures. It's.. just sinking in that this is really happening."

Wanda glances at the small piles of pictures next to you, squeals, and then hurriedly picks one up. You chuckle as she coos. "Has Doctor Cho mentioned whether it's a girl or boy yet?"

You nod. "I, uh, I have the slip of paper that tells me. I haven't looked at it yet."

"Well what are you waiting for?" Wanda immediately takes a seat and you slightly lean to the side in order to pull the folded piece of paper out of your pocket. You hold it out to her and her eyes subtly widen. "You don't want to do it?"

"I do, but.." You trail off, shrugging. "It doesn't really matter to me. As long as I have a healthy baby I'm fine. You seem more excited for this than me anyway."

She slowly smiles, only taking the slip of paper when Bucky shrugs. He seems confused for a split second that Wanda would even seek his opinion, but then his expression is neutral once more and that's all the approval Wanda needs. She takes the slip of paper, opening it to peek at the gender. She gives nothing away. "Last chance. Are you sure you want to know?"

"Lay it on us, Maximoff."

Wanda glances at the piece of paper once more before looking straight at you, a smile blossoming from ear to ear. "It's a girl."

Your breath hitches. "Yeah?" Your voice then cracks and tears immediately well in your eyes again.

Bucky squeezes you tighter to his side, chuckling, and Wanda's own eyes fill with tears as she nods. "You're having a little girl." A sob breaks free, even as you laugh, and the tears flow faster. Wanda crawls towards you and pulls you into a hug, crying softly as she rejoices with you. "If Pietro were here, he'd spoil that little girl rotten."

"Right?" You wetly laugh, pulling back and settling against Bucky once more. "I can already hear him. A little prinţesǎ," you coo, putting on an accent that was nowhere near what Wanda or Pietro sounded like. Both Wanda and Bucky laugh at your horrible accent, and your smile slowly falls as you fondly remember Wanda's twin. "I really wish he was here to meet her."

Her smile drops too, nodding in understanding. "Me too."

Wanda moves to replace the sonogram picture, but you shake her head and push her hand back. "No. That's yours."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You too, Bucky." You then glance at him, gesturing to the sonogram he still held. "I got copies for Steve, Natasha, and Sam as well. Even Doctor Cho happily kept one," you say.

"Thanks, doll." A kiss gets pressed to the side of your head and you can feel a rumble of content threatening to come out, but when you catch Wanda's gaze- her eyebrows wiggling causes you to frown and stomp down on the urge. "This is going up on my fridge."

Wanda smirks at you as you flush. "Yeah, well you're welcome."

Your friend can't stop smirking, but she's kind enough to not call you out on it in front of Bucky. "So baby shower?"

Now you groan. "Do we have to?"

And without missing a beat, Bucky and Wanda say, "Yes."

When word got around that Wanda was to plan your baby shower, you were surprised at how excited it seemed to make everyone. Apparently no one was immune to the impending arrival of your daughter, Clint having flown in to toss around some ideas and secure an invite for he and his family. Then when Tony and Pepper got involved, you had to make them promise that the shower was to not be over the top. But according to Tony, only the best was allowed for the next baby Avenger.

No one would tell you a thing about the baby shower, not even Bucky who you found yourself hanging out with more and more as the weeks went by. The surprise of finding you curled up in his lap was long gone and now when anyone was looking for either of you, it seemed they went to the other for your whereabouts. So a couple days before the shower, you thought you had won Bucky over and that he was moments away from telling you what you wanted to know about said shower, but Sam and Steve had given him one look and then quickly marched him out of the kitchen to keep him from spilling the beans. Afterwards, he stayed pretty tight-lipped, up until the day of said baby shower when Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper had you contained in your apartment while the boys took care of everything else in the communal living space.

As Natasha had you sit in front of your bathroom mirror, she did your hair and makeup for the party. So as you sat through her torture, you couldn't help but take a selfie with your fangs on display as you snarled at her smirking reflection in the mirror. Bucky had laughed at your picture and the only clue he gave to you about your baby shower was a picture of a sunflower.

Pepper and Natasha had several dresses for you to try on for the shower, but the outfit that won you over had been chosen by Wanda. It was an off-the-shoulder white short playsuit with lace detailing around your clavicle and thighs. You vetoed every heeled shoe until a pair of sandals were dropped in front of you and you let Wanda help you into them.

Once you were fully dressed, Natasha came to stand before you with her hands behind her back. When you narrowed your eyes at her, she smirked and produced a floral crown from behind her back. The flowers were fake, but the small versions of sunflowers and daisies were still pretty. So you bent your knees a little and let Natasha settle the crown atop your wavy hair, fixing your hair once more around your shoulders.

Then arm in arm with Wanda, you let your friends lead you out of your apartment and into the elevator. Your excitement was very obvious and the women couldn't help but chuckle as the elevator doors opened. Your excitement turned into awe at the sight of all the pink and white balloons, and the pink and purple floral garlands hanging from the corners of the room and around each table. There was a table for gifts and a table for finger foods, and of course there was no missing the three tiered pink and white cake. Everything was chic and girly and you absolutely loved it.

Tony, Bruce, and Helen Cho are huddled together, no doubt deep in a conversation about science. Clint and his wife Laura are there, along with their three kids milling about with another young girl who you remember is Tony and Pepper's daughter. And then there is Steve, Sam, and Bucky who each have a drink in hand and are chuckling quietly amongst each other.

"You know from all the stories I've heard, baby showers were meant for women only." At the sound of your voice, conversations taper off and smiles are directed towards you.

"Are you kidding?" Tony huffs. "I know all about the games played at these shindigs. I wanted in on the games and prizes."

"Of course you did." You then direct a smile at everyone gathered. "Thank you all for coming. This pregnancy wasn't exactly.. you know," you trail off, eyes lingering on the gathered kids who are surprisingly paying attention to your stomach, you say, "but I've grown to love this tiny human so much already before I've even met her and I'm just happy she's going to have such a great little community surrounding her."

"Aw look. You made Wanda cry."

You immediately glance to your right where Wanda's laughing, wiping beneath her eyes. "Shut up, Barton." And then, "So what are we doing first? I've never actually been to one of these."

"Games!" Laura and Pepper muse together.

Everyone chuckles at their enthusiasm and you let Wanda lead you to a seat. Pepper sits with Tony and Natasha finds herself being drawn to Clint and Laura, but she doesn't take a seat quite yet. You, however, are led to a sofa chair that Wanda takes a seat on one side of and Bucky the other.

"So the first game is a word unscramble," Natasha says. She walks over to a table and picks up numerous clipboards, along with a cup of pens. "There's a three-minute time limit and the one who unscrambles the most words wins."

Tony claps his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation. "This is so my game."

Natasha passes out the clipboards and pens, and you're happy to realize that this is a game you can play with them. Lila is the only child interested in playing, so Cooper keeps Nathaniel and Morgan busy with a gaming console just on the other side of the room.

Once everyone has a clipboard and a pen in hand, Natasha takes a seat with her own set. "Everyone ready?" At their agreement, she says, "FRIDAY, please set a countdown of three minutes."

"Timer is set, agent Romanoff." A timer is suddenly displayed on the wall across from them.

"Start it now."

The moment the first second ticks away, everyone rushes to pay attention to their piece of paper on the clipboard. You hurriedly scan the words, unscrambling the most obvious words- bottle, crib, bib, booties, blanket, nightlight, and car seat. The others give you trouble and as your eyes dart to the timer, your anxiousness kicks in to unscramble a few more.

Tony is grumbling about impossible words as Laura and Pepper laugh at his misfortune. Wanda is humming, happily it seems, whereas Bruce has just plain given up. Stroller and pacifier give you trouble, and your grumbling starts then. But when you get umbilical cord and morning sickness, it causes you to unknowingly dance in your seat.

Hearing a chuckle next to you, you glance at Bucky and see him peering at your clipboard. You gasp. "You dirty little cheater!"

Steve and Wanda both snort, and you angle yourself away so Bucky can't steal any more of your answers.

You think you've got a good lead, but just as the timer hits thirty seconds Laura calls out, "Done!"

"WHAT?!" Tony shouts.

As the unofficial person in charge of the games, Natasha takes Laura's clipboard to double check her answers. Sure enough, they're all correct. Steve, Sam, and even Clint boo Laura as Natasha grabs a small wicker basket that contains several envelopes inside.

Taking an envelope, Laura opens it and her eyes nearly bulge out of her sockets. "Wow. Every baby shower I've been to had gifts consisting of candles or Bath and Body gift baskets or even kitchenware. This- this is a lot."

"What'd you get, babe?" Clint asks.

"A check for twenty five hundred dollars."

"What?!" Sam yelps.

"Is that a normal prize for a game?" You wonder.

"No. No it's not," Sam says. "Come on. Bring on the next game. I need to know what those other prizes are."

You laugh as everyone suddenly becomes a bit more invested in winning one of the games. But as your laugh tapers off, you glance at Pepper and Tony. Pepper merely smiles when she sees your slight concern. "Don't worry about it. You didn't want an extravagant party, so Tony got a few prizes that were just a little bit more expensive than your average baby shower prize. Trust me, these were the least expensive prizes I could talk him down to."

"Well as long as you're sure.."

You shift uneasily in your seat and then Natasha's walking into the center of the room with a roll of toilet paper in her hand. "Come on, Mother-to-Be. We need to measure your bump and then let these idiots figure out how many squares you are. Whoever guesses the exact number, or closest to, wins."

Natasha helps you stand and you can't help but grumble, "None of you assholes better think I'm huge."

Lila giggles and you send an apologetic look to both Laura and Clint.

Hidden behind the kitchen island, Natasha has you stand still so she can wrap the toilet paper around you. You laugh as you hold the beginning of the first square on your stomach and Natasha reaches around you, unrolling the paper. It's an exact eleven squares.

Taking note of how many squares your bump is, you and Natasha rejoin the group.

"Alright. Give us a twirl. I need to see the bump all the way around," Tony says. Then looking at Wanda, he narrows his eyes. "And no cheating!"

Rolling your eyes with a small huff, you give a slow twirl. Natasha hands Steve the roll of toilet paper and he eyes your stomach before unrolling several squares of it. Bucky goes next, followed by Wanda and Lila. When Clint gets a hold of the roll and unfurls it dramatically, you can't help but growl at him. The others laugh and then take their turn, and then everyone is eagerly awaiting to see if they guessed correctly.

"Are you ready?" Natasha muses. Everyone nods. "It was eleven squares."

"Dammit! So close," Sam whines.

Everyone's looking around, but it's a smug Steve that raises his hand. "I guessed eleven."

"Boo!" Apparently, half the room are sore losers.

You laugh and then it's his turn to choose a prize. When he picks an envelope, he opens it up and his eyebrows raise in surprise. "An all paid expense trip to the spa and then a dinner reservation for two at some fancy restaurant."

"You're taking me to that," Sam immediately says.

Everyone laughs and then Pepper mentions taking a food break so you don't rush through the games. There are a lot of sandwich trays, fruit trays, and vegetable trays. And being the considerate pregnant werewolf you are, you let everyone else make themselves a plate before you, Steve, and Bucky make your own.

Eating carefully so as to not spill anything down the front of your outfit, the laughter and chatter around you makes you feel the most cherished you've ever felt. The finger foods itself is not enough to fill you up, but it does sate your hunger for now. However, with Wanda and Bucky still on either side of you even at the table, between the two of them they're constantly adding extra fruit and fruit dip to your plate.

A few more games are played afterward- Tony guesses the closest to the amount of jelly beans in a mason jar and wins a week-long getaway for two to Fiji, Natasha is the fastest with changing a diaper on a fake baby and wins another set of an all paid expense trip to the spa and restaurant for two, Lila wins at baby bingo and a check for twenty five hundred as well (Clint is clearly happy his family is raking in the cash), and Bucky is the fastest to suck all the apple juice out of a baby bottle which earns him a week-long trip for two to the Bahamas.

Everyone is having such a great time that a sudden alarm blaring immediately puts them on edge. But after Tony rapidly swipes through his phone to figure out what's going on, he realizes they're being called to assemble. Gazes dart in your direction, but you smile reassuringly at them.

"Go. The world needs you guys more than I do right now."

"But we didn't even get to see you open the presents," Wanda frowns.

"And that's fine. You already know I'm going to love whatever has been gifted. We'll gush about everything when you get back."

That seems to be all the team needs to hear before jumping into action and you're a bit surprised to see Bucky hang back. He waves Steve off when he notices his friend holding the elevator and you look up at Bucky with a furrowed brow. "You sure you're going to be okay, sweetheart?"

"Positive." You smile at him, stepping close to him and setting your hands at his waist. "And besides, opening these presents will not only distract me but it'll distract the kids as well. Go save the city or wherever you're needed, Sergeant. I'll be waiting in my apartment for when you get back."

Bucky's hands, both metal and flesh, reach up to gently cradle your face. His gaze darts all over your face for any signs of deceit, but finding none he finally grins. "Okay." He leans forward and kisses your forehead. "I'll be back soon." And then in a move that has you freezing and Pepper, Helen, and Laura's eyes widening, Bucky's hands drop to either side of your stomach as he bends at the waist and addresses your bump. "And you be good for your mama. I see the way you're making her flinch." He brushes his nose from side to side against your stomach and then chuckles when there's a kick in retaliation.

Before Bucky can straighten, you quickly paste on a smile but there's nothing you can do for the burning blush on your cheeks. And the damn prick smirks proudly at how flustered he's made you. "Go," you utter. "Go before Steve comes down to drag you to the jet."

Bucky gives you a nod before stepping back and turning around to saunter towards the elevator. You manage to keep it together until the doors close behind him, the elevator whisking him away, before someone says anything.

"Spill. Right now," Pepper says.

You glance at her, shoulders rising and lowering in a shrug. "I have no idea what the hell just happened, but I'm torn between crying at how cute that just was and wanting to desperately jump his bones." Lila giggles and your eyes widen. You point at her in an accusatory manner. "Stop giggling. You're not supposed to know what that means."

The other women snort as Laura urges her daughter to go play with her siblings and Morgan. Reluctantly she goes. Then as soon as she's out of hearing range, the ladies give you your full attention.

You sigh. "Bucky is.. a very attractive man. Too attractive if I must admit. And if I wasn't knocked up by some random guy's baby gravy, then I could definitely see myself turning on the charm and seeing if he's actually interested."

"First of all," Laura says, "never say baby gravy again."

Pepper snorts as Helen's nose wrinkles. "And secondly," Helen then pipes up, "that man adores you, baby and all." You huff in disbelief. "Don't think I didn't see him pacing outside my office at your last appointment. Or see the way he lit up when you gave him one of the sonogram pictures."

Laura smirks. "Clint told me Bucky keeps a copy of a sonogram in his vest."

And that- that's news to you. Yes you're well aware of your attraction to him as well as his attraction for you (being a werewolf really helps out when you can scent someone's emotions), but you wanted him to make the first move in order to be sure you and your baby were what he wanted.

"Whatever you decide to do, just know we all support you," Pepper says. You're still reeling at the fact that he carries your sonogram picture with him that you have nothing to say. "But until that day comes, why don't you start opening your gifts? I'm dying to know what the men thought were acceptable gifts."

Giving a feeble nod, Helen and Laura hurry to get up and start bringing over gift after gift. Then once you make yourself comfortable, Pepper hands you the gift she had gotten herself with squeals and coos following soon after you pull out onesie after onesie. The booties and floral headbands melt everyone's heart as well.

At the beginning of month nine, HYDRA starts to become a thorn in everyone's side. You figure they're looking for you and their precious cargo, but Natasha assured you everyone in the base you were held at had been taken care of and every file wiped from their computers. As far as other HYDRA bases knew, you did not exist. It was just a coincidence they were active again.

As the weeks slowly pass, your due date is any day now. So it's no surprise when you wake up in the middle of the night one evening, uncomfortable as can be, with pain in your back and lower abdomen.

It's four in the morning and you don't want to wake anyone, but Helen said to call her at any time in case something felt off. And this definitely classifies as something off. So after placing a call to your doctor and friend, Helen tells you to keep track of your contractions and head to the medical wing if they get too close together. She's currently in another state, but after a quick word with FRIDAY the A.I is sending for a quinjet to pick her up.

Moving from your bed to the couch in your living room, you work on trying to find a comfortable position. Sitting or laying down doesn't work, so you take to pacing. But you get tired of pacing very quickly and end up pulling out a yoga ball to bounce on.

By six in the morning, the contractions are about twenty minutes apart. The pain has amped up as the time passed that your claws and fangs have ended up elongating, and you've already shredded two of your couch cushions when you were suddenly seized up by a contraction. Eventually it becomes too much for you to endure so you have FRIDAY alert Wanda with a Code Pink. And not even four minutes later, Wanda is barging into your apartment with concern-filled eyes.

"Is this it? Is the baby coming? What's going on?"

You grimace, hands rubbing your stomach as you lightly bounce on your ball. "Uh, I'm in labor. This sucks."

"Well why aren't you in the med wing?" She asks. She comes closer to you, looking you up and down to make sure nothing else is wrong. "And what happened to your couch?" Instead of saying anything, you end up showing her. Another contraction hits and you snarl in pain, claws digging into your thighs and eyes blazing blue. Wanda's eyes widen. "Oh. I see." Then glancing upward, Wanda asks, "FRIDAY, how close are Y/N's contractions and can you please contact Doctor Cho?"

"The contractions are only eleven minutes apart now and Doctor Cho is still twenty-five minutes out. She has, however, advised me to inform Y/N that she should be heading to the med wing now. The nurses have been alerted and are waiting to have Y/N admitted."

A breath of air whooshes from your lungs just as you get yourself under control and you watch as the claw marks on your legs start to close themselves up. "Wanda," you pant, "I'm not going to be able to walk there."

"I got it." Your eyes watch as Wanda walks over to your kitchen, her hands glowing red as the same energy envelops one of your kitchen chairs. Right before your eyes, the wooden chair turns into a wheelchair. She then wheels the chair over to you, putting on the breaks before walking around to help you into the seat. "Now come on." She beams down at you. "Let's go have this baby."

Since the medical building isn't far, you don't bother with your pregnancy bag. The building is equipped with anything and everything you could possibly need and if you wanted your own stuff then you'd just send Wanda to get it. The elevator ride and walk towards the medical building is filled with your heavy breathing and pained grunts, as well as Wanda's encouraging words that are honestly starting to annoy you.

As soon as the nurses lay eyes on you, it's a whirlwind to get you situated as quickly as possibly. Wanda watches from the corner of your room and as soon as you're settled and the baby's heartbeat is resonating around the room, the terror sinks in.

You're about to have a baby. A BABY!? You're about to push out a baby that you're going to have to take care of for the next eighteen years and who will depend on you for the rest of her life. She will most likely be enhanced too and have to be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life as well.

"Hey. You okay?" Wanda asks.

"No." Your voice cracks and the tears immediately well up as you meet your friend's concerned gaze. "I don't know if I can do this."

"What? Of course you can!" Wanda rushes towards you and takes a seat next to you on the bed, wrapping one arm around you and holding your hand with her other free hand. "This is just the pain and the realization that you're about to give birth talking, Y/N. You're going to be fine. And on the days where it does become too much, you have a whole team at your beck and call. You and baby Wanda are going to be fine."

Wetly chuckling, you say, "Nice try. That's not her name."

"Well you can't blame me for trying."

A wave of pain courses through you and you squeeze Wanda's hand. She hisses, you snarl, and when it finally passes you can sense a wave of pain radiating from your friend. Glancing at her, your eyes widen. "Oh no. I'm so sorry!"

Cradling her hand to her chest, she weakly smiles. "It's fine. It's not broken. I just- I never realized how strong of a grip you have."

You quickly take her injured hand within your own, concentrating on siphoning her pain away. You know it works when she tenses and pulls her hand out of your grip. "What was that? You had black veins-"

"It's okay. I was just taking away your pain. See?" You say, gesturing to her hand. You watch as she glances at her hurt hand once more, flexing her fingers and then looking at you in surprise. "Yeah. I kind of forgot I could do that."

"You forgot?" She laughs. Then sobering up, she says, "I bet you wish you could take your own pain away right about now."

"You have no idea."

When you become truly uncomfortable, Wanda has you sit in the middle of the bed and pulls your hair up into a messy bun before having you lean forward. Using as much pressure as possible, she presses her fist into the small of your back in hopes of alleviating some of the pain. Then when Doctor Cho finally makes her arrival, she comes with a cup of ice chips in hand and tells you to crunch on that while you're waiting.

Doctor Cho is just as excited as Wanda and you can't help but glare at them when one particular contraction has you groaning out in pain for over a minute. "Oh fuck HYDRA!" You shout once it's over. "There's so much fucking pain and I didn't even get to have the fun part of sex!"

Wanda's eyes are wide as Doctor Cho tries to hide her smile, moving around the machines to make sure you and baby are doing okay still.

"Um, bad time?" You glance at the doorway to find Steve and Bucky standing shoulder to shoulder. Steve looks rather amused whereas Bucky is looking at you as if you have bad news to deliver.

"Steve, the next time you go after HYDRA, kick them in the balls. Hard."

He snorts. "Sure thing, sweetheart. How long have you been in labor?" He nudges Bucky and the two of them walk in when Doctor Cho doesn't immediately shoo them out.

"Since four this morning."

Bucky and Steve are both about to admonish you, no doubt, when a contraction hits yet again. Your features immediately transform as you snarl and Wanda makes sure to keep her hands tucked close to herself. "They're getting closer," she muses. Then looking at Bucky, she says, "Come over here and hold her hand. She nearly broke mine earlier."

Bucky gulps. "Doll?"

"Give me your fucking hand, James!" Steve snorts as Bucky hightails it towards the bed, slipping you his vibranium hand for you to squeeze. And once the contraction passes, you slump back into bed and sniffle. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."

"It's, uh, it's fine. I understand."

"Just so you know, I got that on camera." Tony saunters in, Pepper at his side.

But while Tony is far too amused at your pain and yelling at Bucky, Pepper is elated for the life you're about to bring into this world. Wanda relinquishes her spot next to you so Pepper can slip in. "Hey Y/N, how are you holding up?" Her gentle touch as she brushes the sweaty flyaways off your forehead makes you cry once more.

"This sucks."

"I know it does, sweet girl, but trust me. It's going to be all worth it the second you hear your baby's cries."

Another contraction hits and you're grateful that Bucky had never pulled his hand back. You squeeze his vibranium hand and whimper in pain, and Doctor Cho comes forward. "Okay, Y/N, I'm going to have to see how far you're dilated now since the contractions are only two minutes apart."

Doctor Cho helps you prop up your knees and, though the blanket is still covering you, Tony blanches. And that- that makes you weakly laugh. "Alright, everyone, if you're going to stay I'm going to need you to stand near my head and not my feet. Got it? Cool."

Pepper quietly laughs and leans in to press a kiss to your temple. "We're going to go, but good luck! I can't wait to meet her."

"Thank you," you say just as she pulls away. "For everything."

Pepper winks at you and grabs Tony's hand, he willingly letting her take the lead. Wanda reclaims her spot and Bucky doesn't budge an inch. Steve, however, nervously rubs at the back of his neck. "I'll be in the waiting room and alerting everyone." Then meeting your gaze, his expression softens. "You're going to do great. I'll see you after."

You smile at him, but another wave of pain prevents you from saying anything. And once Wanda and Bucky are left alone, Doctor Cho pushes the blanket and your hospital gown up to your knees so she has an unobstructed view of your lower half. You wiggle at the sudden pressure between your legs and then she's looking up at you and smiling. "You're ready to push."

A sob stutters out as your fear comes back tenfold. You hold tighter to Bucky's hand and reach for Wanda's with your other hand, but you don't squeeze her like you are Bucky. "L-Last chance to book it out of here," you say without meeting their gaze. "Because the second I start pushing, you guys are stuck with me."

It's quiet and then, "As long as you want me, you have me. I am not going anywhere, sweetheart."

Your bottom lip trembles and Doctor Cho smiles adoringly at Bucky's words. Wanda chuckles. "Yeah. What he said."

"If you two are going to stay, I'm going to need you to wash up real quick and put on a sterilized cover."

Wanda and Bucky both assure you they'll be right back, and Doctor Cho leads them to a small room connected to yours where they can get ready. You can hear water running a moment later as your friends lather up and then the rustling of the paper coverings they have to put on that covers the front of their bodies. Then when all three return, Doctor Cho hurries around the room to prep what she needs for the delivery while also calling in a couple of nurses that you had okayed to be in the room when the two of you had made your birthing plan.

Bucky and Wanda take their places on either side of your bed, and Bucky immediately slips his hand into yours. Wanda just watches from her spot, anxiousness rolling off of her even though she's smiling widely. The two nurses finally enter the room, taking their place by flanking Doctor Cho when she slides a stool to the end of the bed you're laying on.

Doctor Cho smiles at you and gives you a nod. "Okay. You ready? We're going to push on three."

"Ready or not, she's coming," you say.

"That's the spirit." Doctor Cho then glances down at your lower half. "And push on one, two, three!"

Immediately you push with all your might for the first six seconds, but the excruciating pain flares up and you roar out in pain. You don't need a mirror to know your face has shifted and you barely hear Doctor Cho telling you to take a breath and that that was a really good push. So when you're allowed to take a break, you fall limp against the bed and start crying. "That hurt so fucking bad."

"Hey. That was good," Wanda assures you. "It'll be over soon."

You shake your head, denying her words when you come to the conclusion that you honestly don't know if you can do this. And then, "I think you dented my hand."

You startle at Bucky's words, snorting and then pulling your hand free and swatting him. "Shut up. No I didn't."

"You didn't," he grins. "But I got you to laugh. Now take a deep breath and do it again. Push."

Giving yourself a moment, you do exactly as you're told. You reclaim Bucky's hand and then push again, roaring out seconds later. When you fall back against the bed, tears are rolling down from the corners of your eyes. "I can't. I can't do this," you cry.

"You can and you have to," Wanda says. When you look at her, her own eyes are filled with tears. "You can do this, Y/N. You can. Now push again."

You continue to whimper until Doctor Cho tells you to push again. You do and it feels like the pain is even more excruciating now. Cho smiles. "Oh wow. There's the head." She glances up at you in surprise. "Your baby really wants out."

The nurses behind Doctor Cho immediately go into action, grabbing blankets and preparing for the baby's arrival. "Helen, I don't- I can't-"

"You can." You glance up at Bucky and nearly stop breathing when he leans down so his forehead is against yours. "You can do this, doll. You're almost there. Just a little bit more pain and then the most precious being ever will finally be here."

There's a lump in your throat, but you manage to swallow around it. "Easy for you to say. Your vagina isn't being stretched open way further than it's supposed to be."

He smirks. "Shut up and push."

"Fuck off, Barnes."

There's no malice behind your words, but it doesn't stop Bucky from acting as if offended. Then when you position yourself to push again, Wanda grabs onto one of your knees as Doctor Cho instructs her to and then Bucky does the same. You grunt, you scream, and you cry harder than you've ever cried, and after several more pushes there's a piercing wail that emits from the end of your bed.

All noise ceases except for the piercing cry and your eyes widen when you see Doctor Cho lift your baby still covered in a mess. She's laughing as she lightly wraps the baby in the blanket and then stands to lay her on your chest. "Congratulations."

The tears immediately come back tenfold as your arms come up to hold her against you. "Hi," you cry. "Oh my god. Hi."

The baby continues to wail as you glance between Wanda and Bucky, and you don't think you've ever seen them so stunned before. As your head falls back in exhaustion, Doctor Cho says, "We have to take her now. She needs to be cleaned up and we need to run a few tests before we bring her back."

And though you know she's right, you can't help the growl that bubbles up when you see one of the nurses step forward. You manage to suppress it seconds later, but the nurse is glued to her spot in fear. Bucky moves and you don't make a peep as he gently wraps the baby in the blanket once more and lifts her from your chest. Your eyes are glued to him as the smallest of smiles turn up the corners of his lips and then he's handing the baby to the waiting nurse.

"S-Sorry," you manage to say to the nurse.

And a moment later, she grins. "It's fine. New instincts are wreaking havoc on you, no doubt, but we we'll be back as soon as we can."

You nod at her, heart aching as you watch the nurses walk out of the room with your newborn daughter. Doctor Cho taps on your ankle and says, "Ready for the afterbirth?" Your nose wrinkles and she chuckles. "I know. I need to get you cleaned up and then tell you all about what your body's going to go through for the next month or so."

Sighing, you look up between your friends. "Go. Go find out how much Baby weighs and then tell the others she's here."

Wanda chuckles and her nose wrinkles in a cutesy manner as she gently cradles your face in her hands and leans down to kiss your forehead. "You did so well. I'm so proud of you."

"Mhm. Thank you for being here."

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

Wanda takes her leave, no doubt to find the baby, and then you look up at Bucky. The emotion in his blue eyes is enough to make your heart stutter, but instead of repeating Wanda's actions, he grabs your hand and gently squeezes it. "Thank you. Thank you for letting me witness that. I-"

His own voice cracks and you smile knowingly up at him. "I know." You then bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a kiss to the back of his vibranium hand. "And thank you for being here. I wouldn't have been able to do this without you or Wanda."

He grins. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

Chuckling, you gently push him away. "Go. Go find my girl and then tell the others. I'm sure they're dying to know what happened."

Bucky smirks before backing away and then turning on his heel to take his leave. As he makes it to the door, he rips off his hospital covering and trashes it. Then walking down the corridors, mind reeling over everything he's just witnessed, he lets his hearing take him to where he can hear a baby fussing.

He finds Wanda not long after and she glances at him, smiling. "Six pounds, three ounces."

He exhales in awe. "Jesus. She's tiny."

"She is."

Side by side, Bucky and Wanda watch as the nurses give the baby a washcloth bath. The entire time she's screaming her lungs out, but it only makes them smile and laugh and joke about how Y/N is going to have her hands full. They continue to watch as her foot prints are taken for the birth certificate and measured, then rocked back and forth until she calms down.

When she's placed in a bassinet to rest, Bucky clears his throat. "I'm gonna go find Stevie and the others. Give 'em the good news."

Wanda just hums in response and then Bucky's on his way once more. This is the lightest he's felt in a long while and he can't quite explain the pure elation that he felt the moment he watched Doctor Cho put the baby on Y/N's chest.

"Hey there, Tin Man," Sam calls out. "Any news?"

Bucky glances up, masking his surprise that his feet had taken him to the waiting room without really knowing. "Uh, yeah." He slowly grins. "Six pounds, three ounces." Pepper gasps, smiling wide. "She's, uh, she's in the observation room right now. Wanda's there if you wanna see her before they take her back to Y/N."

Pepper is the only one to get up while Steve, Sam, and Tony hang back. A moment later, all three watch as Bucky numbly takes a seat.

"I- that was.."

"Intense?"

"Beautiful?"

"Grotesque?" Tony muses.

Bucky briefly glares at Tony before looking at Steve. "I didn't know seeing the birth of a baby would feel like that."

"It usually doesn't," Sam says. "I mean childbirth is a beautiful thing, but it's not usually so intense unless there's feelings for the lady giving birth. Come into any realizations lately?"

Bucky opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. Slowly closing his mouth, he frowns and then takes a moment to think about everything since Y/N was brought back to the compound. He thinks about every moment he had with her one on one, and one particular moment stands out to him. He'd been sitting in the communal kitchen when he heard someone approaching, their fucking fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck being a dead giveaway as to who it was. Y/N had rounded the corner, hands on her lower back and complaining about the full moon taking a toll on her body this time around.

Bucky suddenly sits up, eyes widening. "And there it is," Steve chuckles.

Sam starts to swear. "That doesn't count! Feelings have to be returned. We don't know how Y/N feels."

"Please." Tony scoffs. "If you can't tell that she's in love with Robocop, then the muffled sex noises from when they're boinking like bunnies after she heals will be a dead giveaway." Sam groans as Steve snorts and Bucky stands up without a word. "Atta boy, Buckaroo. Go get your werewolf."

Back in the room, you're cradling your baby and staring down at her in complete awe as you run your forefinger down the bridge of her nose. Wanda and Pepper sit in chairs next to the bed, and Helen stands at the end of your bed. "So everything checks out perfectly," she says. "Ten fingers, ten toes. Perfectly healthy."

"But," you muse, eyes never leaving your daughter's face. When she doesn't say anything, you glance up and smile sheepishly. "You're nervous about something. I can smell it."

She grins. "Right. I forgot you could do that." You continue to stare at her until she shifts nervously from foot to foot. "Well, um, when we took a sample of her DNA it was automatically entered into the system."

"Okay."

"I wasn't looking for anything. I promise," she pauses to gulp, "but it pinged in our system. We got a hit for a DNA match to someone who was already in the system."

"W-What?" Helen nods, uncomfortable. You glance between Wanda and Pepper, and both are equally shocked as you are. Then meeting Helen's gaze again, you ask, "Who?"

"James Buchanan Barnes."

The air seems to whoosh out of you at that and you don't know how to feel. On one hand, you're absolutely delighted. But on the other hand, he had no say in this and you don't want him to feel obligated when he no doubt finds out. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. I ran it twice more and Bucky's the father."

"I'm what?"

Dread pools in your stomach as your gaze darts to the opened door. Bucky stands there frozen. "Shit," you quietly curse.

No one dares to say anything, so Bucky stumbles further into the room. "Did you just so I was the father?"

You gulp. "I-It would make sense. Why HYDRA was so ecstatic," you explain, tears stinging your eyes. When he glances at you, you say. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't," he says. "I'm not- I'm not mad." And in a move that surprises you after he's just found out that he's a father now, he sits on the bed just right in front of you. He smiles at you before his gaze darts down to your daughter and he chuckles softly while reaching up to gently caress her beanie clad head. Lowering his voice, he says, "I'm.. happy that it's me. That she's mine. Ours." He then looks up at you, his smile vanishing at the sight of your tears. "I mean, I won't push my way into your lives if you're not-"

"Shut up," you sniffle. "She's ours. Of course I want you there, but only if you want to be there."

Bucky's radiant smile in response makes you swoon, and Pepper and Wanda finally chuckle.

"I hate to break up this moment," Helen says, "but I need a name for the birth certificate. And signatures."

Guiltily looking at Bucky, you say, "I already chose a name. If I had known-"

"It's fine, sweetheart. I'm sure you chose a good name."

You nod and then glance over at Wanda. "I, uh, I wanted to honor the pseudo big brother she'll never get to meet." Wanda's smile falters, eyes glistening. "Her name is Petra. Petra Amaris." Pepper immediately coos and Wanda loses her composure. Your eyes widen and you glance at Bucky, gesturing for him to take your daughter. Panic flits across his features, but then he steels himself and reaches to carefully take her from your arms. Then once you're free, you maneuver over to the side of the bed closest to Wanda and reach for her hand. "Hey. Hey, shh. If you don't like it, I can-"

"No," she's quick to cut you off. "I love it. I'm just surprised, that's all."

"It's a beautiful name," Pepper assures you.

"Good."

Bucky looks so enthralled with Petra in his arms that you look for Helen and gesture for her to hand over the birth certificate. Taking it and a pen, you get to work filling in your name and signing it at the bottom. Then looking at the father portion of the certificate, you figure you'll let Bucky fill it in if he wishes. But as for Petra's last name, you fill it in without even thinking about it.

"Here. Your turn," you say. "Only if you want to though. No pressure."

Bucky glances at the birth certificate, reading it over. He grins before glancing at Petra once more and then takes the pen from you, gesturing for you to place the clipboard down on the bed so he can write. It takes only a few seconds and then you're handing it over back to Helen with a beaming smile.

It doesn't seem like Bucky is going to relinquish Petra anytime soon, so you take the moment to lean back in the bed and rest for a bit. However, you only get to relax for a few minutes before there's a knock on the door.

"Aw man, you're lookin' awfully cozy with that kid in your arms, Barnes," Sam says.

Steve elbows his friend as Tony makes a beeline for Pepper. "Huh. She's actually pretty cute," Tony says. "I thought I was going to have to come in here and lie about how cute she was."

"Tony!"

You grin at him, but Steve steals your attention away as he hovers over Bucky and reaches in to touch your daughter's tiny hand. "What's her name?"

You and Bucky meet each other's gaze, silently communicating about whether or not you should tell them. You give him a nod and he slowly smirks. He moves so both his feet are planted on the floor, and Sam and Tony have a better view of the baby cradle in his arms. "Her name is Petra."

"Aw damn. Named after the Maximoff speedster," Sam says, shaking his head. "Should have seen that coming."

Wanda giggles as you snort, but then you have to bite your lip to keep from bursting into laughter when Bucky tells them her full name. "Petra Amaris Barnes."

The men seem to all freeze, but then Pepper and Wanda coo about how adorable it is that you gave her Bucky's last name.

"Wait, what?" Poor Steve. He looks so confused. "Barnes? She has your-"

"I'm the random HYDRA operative who apparently supplied the other half of Petra's DNA."

"Holy shit."

"You got that right, birdie," Tony mutters.

You giggle and then shrug when Steve meets your gaze. "It was a surprise to us all, but apparently Bucky's more than okay with it."

The room goes quiet as the situation sinks in and then Tony starts to giggle. All eyes turn on him when says, "We sent in Barnes to seal the deal with Y/N and he really sealed the deal, huh? Got him a baby momma and everything."

You blink in surprise and then stare at Bucky, grinning softly when he seems to pink in embarrassment and refuses to look at you. You glance at Wanda and gesture towards the door, and she seems to get the hint. "Right, well," she says, standing up. "Why don't we give these two a bit of privacy while we go make some phone calls to Clint, Laura, and Nat. I'm sure they'd like to know Petra is healthy and that Y/N is doing fine."

Steve and Sam get the hint, but Pepper has to push Tony out of the room. Then left alone with Bucky, you smile at him. "Care to explain what Tony meant about you coming in here to get the girl?"

You watch as he gulps and you can see him trying to piece together what he's going to say. "I might have come to the conclusion that I liked you more than a friend and was coming to see how you felt about that."

Your breath hitches. He.. likes you? That was something you kind of already knew, but were waiting for him to say something. And leave it to him to confess after giving birth and your emotions were kind of haywire at the moment.

Unable to speak at the moment, you carefully lean forward until you're on your knees and Bucky glances up in surprise. And without warning, you press your lips to his in one of the most softest of kisses since he is still holding Petra.

It takes a minute for his brain to reboot and when he does, you smile against his mouth as he returns the kiss. "Is that," he mumbles, "is that your way of saying you like me too?"

His eyes sparkle and you huff a quiet laugh, biting the bottom corner of your lip as you nod. "I do. Have for a while, but didn't want to scare you off since I was pregnant."

"You wouldn't have," he assures you. "I adored the two of you long before I found out she was mine. I'm all in if you'll have me," he says.

You nod. "I want you."

"Good. 'Cause you're not getting rid of me. Ever."

"That's fine by me."

[liddolwhynot2000]

Unprecedented Reactions

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Summary: You were too busy kicking one of the drunk soldiers in the stomach to notice the way steel eyes flashed gratefully at you.

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Pairings: Levi/Reader

Genre: Romance, bad dream, death!, Soldier!Reader, Levi deserves happiness

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One second, you're pushing Levi out of the way of an incoming large hand and the other, everything goes black.

Only for you to wake up in your bed.

It was a nightmare, you were sure of that. It had taken you a little while to gather your bearings, but once you had, you hadn't been able to go back to sleep.

You laid back in bed, arms sprawled everywhere while being lost in thought.

Even if it had been real, it hardly mattered that you had died. You weren't some special soldier whose loss had had any impact, which is why you don't mind the idea of giving up your life for Humanity's Strongest Soldier. He's the one who will make a difference-you're a nobody. A poor orphan born in Wall Maria, who had been forced to enlist in her 20s to keep making a living.

You had considered joining the Garrison, but had decided that you had nothing to lose. No parents or friends to mourn you, no lover you would be leaving behind. There was nothing stopping you from at least doing what you could for humanity. As far as you're concerned, this way you die having given some meaning to your life.

And a part of you hopes that you die the way you had dreamed. If your death prevented Humanity from losing its most promising and powerful soldier, you would do it a thousand times over. You would save him in exchange for your own life and you feel sure that you wouldn't regret that decision one bit.

After all, could anyone ever regret saving the person they were hopelessly in love with?

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You never told Levi how you felt, feeling too shy.

You first met him when you had enlisted, only a few mere months after he had. You hadn't known the story behind him much, although the gossip mill had been rife with talks about it. You had seen him and his friends, walking around, keeping away from everyone. Approaching them hadn't crossed your mind, for you were too busy preparing for the upcoming expedition and trying to calm your nerves. It had been your first expedition.

It was only after that terrifying expedition ended that you realized Levi had returned alone, his companions absent from his side. There hadn't been any need to ask him what had happened, his pained expression had been explaination enough.

Later that night, he had shut himself in his room in the barracks. His absence at dinner indicated that he hadn't eaten anything, and against your better judgement, you decided to bring him some.

The door hadn't been locked, and once you had cautiously peeked in, you noticed him lying in the bed. He was facing towards the wall, wrapped in a blanket, and hadn't so much as shifted at sound of the door opening. Maybe he was actually asleep, or he was pretending so he wouldn't have to deal with anyone. You couldn't blame him.

You set down the tray as silently as possible. It had a bowl of soup, two loafs of bread and some ration bars you had found. Just as you moved to turn, you paused, catching sight of him again.

It was an internal battle, that raged on for what felt like hours but was really only a minute. While you could chance trying to talk to him, you sincerely doubted it would go well. You were a stranger and in the past few months, the only people he had even held small conversations with had been his friends. His superiors often got rude, one worded responses from him and friendly comrades had been terrified into silence with glares. You were more likely to piss him off then actually help him.

Resolving to yourself that the food was enough on your part, you quietly crept out of the room, determined to not disturb him.

Once you had shut the door, you sighed, feeling the exhaustion of today's events creep up on you. This was the price of joining the Survey Corps and sating your morals, losing people every expedition. This feeling of loss and despair would be your new constant.

Rubbing a hand on your forehead, you tried to soothe the headache away as you walked back to your room. You stopped short of turning in the corridor as you heard a group of soldiers.

'H-Hey did you see that midget from the underground?'

Your eyes narrowed and you found yourself leaning against the wall as you listened intently.

'Yeah. You see the nerve he has, locking himself up in that room like he's actually mourning. That fucker didn't even join for the cause'

You frowned as another voice joined in. They were all clearly drunk.

'Let's.. Let's teach that midget a lesson. I bet he's putting it on. He's just scum from the underground, he doesn't even belong here.'

You felt horrified as two other soldiers agreed with him. They had all unanimously decided to go wake up Levi up and taunt him about the death of his friends.

While you could agree that Levi clearly hadn't joined willingly, you felt that it was too cruel to go after him like this. Especially when he was already so heart broken.

You weren't the best soldier, but you could kick ass when you needed to. It may be three on one, but if the way their voices were slurring as they talked were to be considered, you had the advantage of not being a dumbass drunk.

As the soldiers came into your view, you rolled your sleeves up.

You were too busy kicking one of the drunk soldiers in the stomach to notice the way steel eyes flashed gratefully at you.

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You could never say you and Levi spent a lot of time together. The two of you had joined around the same time, but Levi had scaled the ranks much more quickly. He had, due to his outstanding skills, joined the most elite squad.

You had remained a mediocre soldier at best, and you were content with it. You didn't have an amazing titan kill count nor fists of steel like Levi, but you did whatever was assigned to you just fine. It was life you could even say you were proud of.

You had, much like the rest of your cormades, braced yourself for death. Any expedition could be your last. In fact, you often set out for expeditions expecting to never come back. Some sort of fate had been keeping you alive so far.

It was luck that kept you alive so far- and then it was Levi.

Levi had saved you from a titan during an expedition. You had been helpless, all out of blades. Your squad had been utterly annihilated and you had been in the midst of struggling as a large hand grabbed you and a titan opened its mouth to eat you.

It's why your dream is so hard to forget. It was earily similar to back when Levi had saved you. You would find yourself in that position again. A titan and it's hand tossing you in its mouth. And much like this time, Levi would be there too.

Except he wouldn't be the one doing the saving.

Back then, he had intervened at the speed of light and saved you. His expression had been as stoic as always, eyes scanning your form for injuries. Once he had found that you had no life threatening wounds, he had helped you up and back to HQ.

It had later made you blush, remembering how his strong arms had helped you settle on his horse with him.

That had been the start of your feelings for him. It hadn't just been the fact that he had saved you, it had been how gentle how he was with you. You had seen how he treated others, talking roughly, trying to be helpful in his own awkward way. He often physically kept away from others, but for some reason, he hadn't hesitated a second in touching you.

You knew better then to delude yourself that it was special treatment-but you couldn't stop your heart from fluttering anyways.

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The two of you never grew beyond anything but casual friends. You're sure that the dream you hadn't regretted dying for him. You, however, know for a fact that you had regretted being a coward and not telling him how you felt.

Now, here you are, very much alive and kicking. It is possible this was just the wishful thinking of a soldier destined to die. Its possible your dream has shaken you to the point of making rash decisions. But you don't care.

All your mind knows is that you aren't chomped in half. That you are well enough to walk up to Levi and talk to him. Dream or not, you want to tell him. You want him to know how he makes your heart beat in a way that no one ever had. You want to tell him that you harbour feelings for him that go beyond comraderie.

And most importantly, you want him to know that you want him.

It was a painful itch- one you won't be able to get rid of. Not until you fess up.

It doesn't matter that you're signing up for an absolute guaranteed rejection. It doesn't matter that you know he won't be nice about it. As far as you're concerned, the end goal isn't getting into a relationship. This is your shot at confessing, at amkigm sure you that you die without regrets.

No matter what the outcome, you know your feelings won't change. And that is what makes it easier for you to confess.

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You have been working with Levi for a solid five years now. You know him rather well, considering that he's one of the few comrades who, much like you, have miraculously lived through being in the survey corps for an unusual amount of time.

While others couldn't classify you as best buddies, you know plenty about each other.

You know that he made special graves for each comrade that lost their lives. He would take their insignia off their jacket as a symbol of their wills. You also know that he had started this tradition since Isabel and Farlan died. Every soldier, no matter how they behaved with him, had been included. You know this because you had caught sight of him in the middle of his task. And without a single word, you had picked up a shovel and joined him in his task.

Levi hadn't said a word to you, silently accepting your help. You had been too busy trying to even out the dirt with your foot to notice steel eyes flashing at you with fondness.

You know more about him then that too. And he knows about you as well. In particular, the two of you had picked up on how the other liked their tea. It was silent gesture, one where if either was nearby and making tea, there would be enough for two people. Hange had once tried to snag the extra cup of tea Levi had in his hand for you- only to find herself best friends with the floor.

You had learned how to live up to his cleaning standards-to the point you held the unprecedented position of being the one person he had never attacked for being a slob. It's wonderful feeling-being the special one he had never been harsh with.

You thought you knew him well. Enough to know his reactions to certain things and situations, enough to pin point how he was feeling at certain times.

So when you confess to being in love with him-you are forced to realize that you don't know this man as well as you thought you had.

The Levi you know was supposd to reject you brutally. He was supposed to harshly tell you to get your head out of the clouds and stop fantasising like a school girl. To get over your shitty feelings and leave him out of it.

But the Levi in front of you is different. He isn't pushing you away-no, his hands are grabbing your wrists and tugging you into an embrace. His forehead is resting against yours. Those steel eyes you had never quite caught expressing anything, are filled to the brim with affection.

You've been proven wrong and frankly, as his lip softly brush against yours, you're glad about it.

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A/N: Heyooo. don't know where this came from. This feels like a 'felt cute might delete later fic'. I hope it was enjoyable at least? I can see a part 2 for this from Levi POV but don't know if anyone even liked this, let alone wants a part 2.

Also ruins part 2 is half way done :)

[starkeristheendgame]

I would absolutely die for a fic where peter and tony are having sex and it’s not Peter’s first time but it is his first time with tony. And tony is just Kissing Peters Body up and down and he accidentally finds Peter’s sweet spots, which peter didn’t even know about. And tony can’t stop teasing peter there, who just melts and can’t form any coherent thoughts and he never knew it could feel that good because the few times he had sex where just mediocre. But this... is not.

This came out probably a lot softer than you intended, and they don’t even get all the way to actually fucking, but I hope that this satisfies! Its very sweet, loving, and now I feel like an empty shell lmao. 

TW: Very brief mention of being loosely tied up with silk. 

Sex was... Okay. 

Like most teenagers Peter had approached sex in a divided mindset; the terror of human bodies and all the things that could go wrong or be embarrassing, and the romanticised notion born from too many movies and books that sex was some magical, intimate act that would transport him to new planes of pleasure and mindfulness. 

And, like most teenagers, losing his virginity decimated any expectations and preconceived notions he’d had. It was... Just sex. It was good, yes, a little awkward maybe, perhaps more intimate in long term relationships, but it was just sex. Two bodies and two orgasms. 

Good like fresh bedsheets or a nice meal. 

Despite all the fantasies, Peter imagined sex with Mr. Stark wouldn’t be all that different. Yes, Mr. Stark was very experienced and would perhaps make it less awkward and a lot better, but Peter was no longer some daydreaming fool when it came to the act. 

Sex was sex, and that was fine. He was apprehensive and eager for it both once he and Mr. Stark began to date, but it wasn’t life shattering or changing anymore.

Until it kind of was. 

Tony’s teeth scraped along his collarbone at the same time as he used his thumb to massage the space between Peter’s balls and his tight, slick hole and he arched up into the older man’s chest with a keen, cock twitching where it lay neglected against his hip. 

Sex, in Peter’s previous experience, didn’t last that long. Most of it was taken up by weak foreplay and preparation, and the main event was typically a ten to twenty minute affair, but it had been half an hour so far and Tony hadn’t even entered him yet. 

“I could keep you like this all night, darling” Tony murmured against the crook of his neck, moving his hand up to massage the ridge of Peter’s hip bone gently, thumb skating along the prominent curve. “You look so beautiful. All flushed, pleased, so pretty under me.”

Being spoken to by Tony wasn’t like the crude, over-scripted talk in porn, or the cringey, poetic sex talk in romance movies and novels. It felt... Different. Genuine. It sank into the core of his bones and made a home there, warming him from the inside out. 

“The sounds you make alone are enough to drive me insane,” Tony continued, kissing his way up the groove of Peter’s neck in soft, barely-there brushes of his hips, right up to the hinge of Peter’s jaw where he pressed another kiss, then begun a path down his jawbone. 

Peter writhed beneath him, patience frayed, and tried to turn his head to catch Tony’s mouth, but the older man quieted him gently and kissed his temple, hand sliding back down slowly, mapping out his body. 

“Tony, please,” Peter tried desperately, hips jerking when Tony’s knuckles brushed against the side of his cock, like the touch was accidental. Tony hadn’t touched his cock in over ten minutes, and Peter had no idea how he was still hard, how this all felt so good when Tony was barely doing anything in terms of objective touching. 

Tony seemed to take pity on him for the briefest moment, palm laying flat over his flushed dick, fingertips sliding over his balls in one firm, downward stroke, and just as Peter could cry with relief, they were gone again, tracing gentle shapes along the inside of his played thighs. It was the sweetest torture, and Peter was a willing victim. 

“I t-thought you said you were gonna f-fuck me,” he tried, voice too breathy to be as taunting as he’d like. Tony merely blinked up at him with a soft smile, flexing his fingers so that on an upstroke, his nails dragged along Peter’s sensitive skin. It made the teen twitch and gasp, thighs falling further apart like that alone might finally entice Tony into sliding between them. 

“I’m sorry. I’m being selfish,” Tony murmured after a brief respite of silence and stilled touch, shifting to kiss Peter’s shoulder, then trail his lips lower, sliding over Peter’s pectoral until he closed his lips over a hard, rosy nipple. 

Peter’s body curled as the air rushed from his lungs, stomach muscles flexing and shoulders hunching as Tony suckled softly, tongue laving over the sensitive bud before his teeth closed over it, the barest scrape that had Peter yelling out, hips rutting up into nothingness. 

He felt like he couldn’t decide between writhing away from it or chasing it, the strange, pointed pleasure nonsensical as he tugged on the weak hold of the silk Tony had wrapped around his wrists, fixing them loosely to the bedposts. 

He could break the hold all too easily, but he was careful not to, even as his lower lip wobbled with stimulation that was somewhere between too much and not enough. 

Tony gave a low hum in response and tipped his head, rubbing a stubbled cheek against his chest that had scratchy pleasure radiating out across his skin, a dribble of pre-cum sliding pathetically over the tip of his cock and onto his stomach. 

“Beautiful,” Tony praised him, kissing his chest before pinching his nipple again, pleasure on the very edge of pain. It left him breathless and ruddy cheeked, staring imploringly down at Tony with nothing on his mind but the hope of conveying the fact that he’d very, very much like to get fucked now. 

He was starting to think that maybe sex had just been ‘okay’ before because it hadn’t been with Tony. 

“Colour?” Tony asked him softly as he pressed a kiss to Peter’s ribs, and Peter let out a breath, relaxing against the bedding for a moment. 

“Green,” he replied without hesitation. That was also some new and different about sex with Tony; the introduction of a system to check in on Peter’s headspace and comfort. It had sounded strange and maybe unnecessary at first, but Peter saw the benefits of it. 

“Good boy,” Tony hummed, shuffling carefully down Peter’s side to wriggle between his splayed legs, running his palms soothing down Peter’s thighs, up and down like one might stroke a dog. The touch was pleasant and calming and Peter let himself lay there for the duration of it, catching his breath. 

One of Tony’s hands withdrew and there was the unmistakable sound of the lube tub opening between Peter’s panted breaths, the squelch of the liquid squeezing out and then Tony’s hand higher on the inside of his thigh, telegraphing his intentions as he gently kneaded Peter’s asscheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles before spreading him apart gently. 

He held his breath in anticipation and immediately lost it when a hot breath blew over his straining cock, soft lips chasing it a moment later. 

“O-Oohh,” he managed, moaning softly as Tony mouthed lazily at the slope between his balls and his slender length, tongue sliding a gentle and wet path up, down, the slickness kissed away by his lips. 

It had no right to feel good for what it was, and yet it did, the faintest hint of pleasure that had Peter wriggling impatiently, tugging at his bindings without intent. Tony kept nuzzling and kissing the soft, thin skin, humming lowly so the vibrations trickled through him. 

He was so focused on the minuscule offering that he almost missed the gentle pressure of Tony’s slick fingertips against his hole, would have missed it entirely if not for the way that they pressed forwards and his body caved easily, bending them opening greedily, welcoming the intrusion and sucking Tony deeper in a warm, silky slide. 

He mouth fell open and he tried to grind down, to force them in deeper. It stretched but it didn’t really hurt, a whisper of a dull ache as Tony’s stubble prickled at the round swell of his balls. 

“Taking it so well, Peter. Look at you, I could watch this for days,” Tony spoke against his skin, warm and earnest. Peter let out a shaky breath and keened, thighs trembling as Tony sank his fingers right up to the last knuckle and kept them there, allowing him to adjust before he pulled them back in a slow, steady slide, again and again until it was frustratingly not enough and Peter felt like he might cry. 

“Shh, shh, honey,,” Tony soothed, kissing his way leisurely up towards the tip. “It’ll be worth it, I promise. I’ll make you feel so good. You deserve to feel so good, Peter” he continued, hot breath over the flushed, round tip of his cock before Tony’s tongue laved over it, slow and paving the way for his lips. 

Peter might actually die here, naked and spent, but that was okay, because he’d feel better than he ever had before.

[werezmastarbucks]

columbus

honeymoon masterlist

word count: 2608

music: little death by +44, violence violence violence by tuff turf, inspiration by red 7

Every day he asked, what do you wanna do today?

After you finally allowed to leave the little, boring, flat island, Kai was so greatful he was down almost to anything. It was also the time when your chaotic, time wasting, unpredictable movements across the surface of the earth started dying down and turning into something more systematic. Although all the places you visited up to that moment were somehow connected with searching for a way out, once you started giving up you suddenly had a plan.

Not for breaking out fo the prison though.

The day (you still felt weird thinking it: the day. Every day was the same day. It was all today. It was all Kai’s birthday) you realized there was nothing much more you could do actively you had one of those moments when your brain suddenly feels like it has had enough. Like in the old times, when you were a teenager and had regular panic attacks after the Katherine accident. Not that you needed a specific reason to justify breaking here and there, with the style of life you were leading.

It happened when you were high, in a literal meaning. On the top of the bridge, where you two climbed up to watch the sun go down. Dublin was a city with lots of low roofs, incredibly cute; neat streets drowning in flowers, and all. Standing there, as you realized the panic is climbing at your throat, there was one question in your head: so, we’re staying here?

Although it’s nice, and everything is so easy, and traveling is quick, we’re staying here?

Although he is good, and he likes me, and I start trusting him, and he clearly tries to be nice, we’re staying here?

Although deep down inside I am starting to think this was exactly what I needed, in a twisted way, to get my head straight, to have an opportunity to dig something up in Kai, we’re staying here for good? Because you didn’t know if you could handle this. You had no idea how he handled this. It wasn’t about the general horror of being completely alone without seeing birds. It was looking at the empty sky and feeling the incredible weight of it, all on top of the head. It was the sound of the wind flying across the land uninterrupted, the quiet of the night undisturbed. It was more than you could describe. It was almost like drowning in space.

Kai had to get you down using magic, and you didn’t have enough breath to tell him not to waste it. Saving magic was a kind of a ritual as well, something that kept you on your feet because it gave you hope for once we get out.

You screamed into the face of green late spring lawn under the violet sky. Kai stood by, watching you without pity in his eyes for he never seemed to exhibit much compassion for you; he showed his presence in a different way. It actually helped; you never felt better if someone held you as you broke down. He then tried to console you, standing shoulder by shoulder, and pointing at the sky,

“Consider this. Nothing like that back in Maldives, right?”

The colors changed and drifted across the sky because here, in Ohio, there were clouds.

You sniffed busily.

“You like being home, don’t you?”

Kai nodded.

“Yeah. I feel connected. You know?”

“Did you feel as connected in the future?”

He shrugged.

“There’s been too much commotion. And before that, none at all. I exist in the past. I exist in the future. I stopped feeling time, you know? I’m a time lord”, he concluded, satisfied, and his eye glinted at you. You chuckled, and the chuckle turned into a deep sigh full of sweet evening air.

“We’re not going back, are we?” you asked weakly. Kai looked at you almost flabbergasted.

“We are. One day. Maybe even today”.

You smiled, tiredly.

“You’re giving up now? Hey, you think I wanna be here? I’ll think of something, don’t be upset”.

That was about the most warm words he uttered to you in the whole time. You felt there’d be more to come.

Truth was, you really started believing he was now better off than before.

“So, what do you want to do tomorrow?”

Once you got relieved from the permanent worry about the time wasting, about finding the loopholes you haven’t thought of, you finally could just... enjoy.

You looked at him and wondered if he knew everything there was to know. Whether he looked like a guy who could skateboard. He certainly did to you, but hey, the beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

“Can you teach me how to skateboard?”

His brows went up.

“I’m sorry. You can’t skateboard?”

“Nope”.

“You made me listen to your five hundred sixty one song playlist named ‘skate pop punk’“, he reminded you.

“Yeah, I compiled it out of sad nostalgia for the times I missed on, while I, you know, was preoccupied with vampires swarming my town”.

“I can’t believe I have an eye for you, and you can’t skate. You know you’re in ‘94, right?”

“That’s exactly why I’m asking”.

“Jesus”.

“Come on now”, you chanted, your voice a little hoarse, “you spent eighteen years here with all the time on your hands and haven’t learnt to swim”.

“That’s because water is scary”.

“So is the asphalt hitting you in the face”.

Kai clicked his tongue.

“Okay, I’m on it. But for that, we have to go to Columbus”.

“Of course we do”, you nodded, having no idea why Columbus. You loved the city, though, so you had no objections.

You asked yourself, if he has been pretending with the Mystic Falls people, too. He kept on going about how you, in his mind, for sure, hid your feelings for him, wanting to expose you for your hypocrisy. But this place had its effect on him, too. He clang on you. He was different. He was more than tolerable. He made you laugh and he cared about what you thought about his cooking. You wondered if he realized he’d been pretending, too.

Kai never missed a chance to place his hands on your waist. Pushing you in the back, he was enjoyin the role of the teacher, but he was trying to grow into it even more. It seemed he was missing role playing, the social kind to which all the adults are subjected, like mad.

Two minutes after you asked him, as you hopped into the car (family Toyota of mediocre grey color), excited, he started talking about every little detail there was to skating. Turned out, he knew absolutely everything about it. Every last trick had been rehearsed by him a thousand times, and though he wasn’t a natural born athlete, he demonstrated pretty damn good knowledge of all the physical aspects. He talked, and talked, and talked, about which board to choose, and the kind of sneakers you’re going to need, and what street will be the best, and the time for practice, and the way he’ll teach you, and no matter how many times you turned up the music, he wouldn’t take a hint.

Not that you ever grew annoyed with him more than, like, 6 out of 10. It seemed you clicked just fine.

“Put your foot here”, he muttered, pushing your heel a little onto the board. You nearly fell over, leaning back on him and feeling his firm hold having your back.

“That’s the trickiest part. How am I supposed to...” falling backwards and colliding with him, you let the board shoot away from under you, and you two watched it roll a little forwards, “keep it under me if it has wheels?”

“Please, stop talking”, Parker moaned.

“Whatever happened to me ending on your dick sooner or later”, you grumbled, going to pick it up. Kai chuckled,

“It’s still on. Who knew fooling around with you would be just as fun”.

How does one love?

You observed him, stunned a little, and his impatiently outstretched hand. He rarely let you fall, but you managed anyway. Your left elbow was burning, and your knee was bleeding a little, blood forming a beautiful snowflake-like (his words) stain in the big hole cut through your jeans. People are only supposed to skate in torn pants, or in shorts, Kai hammered in a very important, responsible voice. You didn’t ask any questions. It was lore, and that was it. Skateboarding lore, like bird swimming.

“Not to lose it, you have to lean forwards, and shift your weight forward, too, a little”, he suggested.

“Here’s the question”, you held your elbow and tried to get a proper look at it, “if we heal, and nothing changes, if our organisms are stuck in this twenty-four hours circle, does the muscular memory still apply?”

“Oh, it does”.

“So, it’s me being terrible at skating”.

“Yeah. If you think of it, the people”, he spat that word like it was poison, “standing behind the whole prison world speck of spells haven’t thought it out too well. Like, your body doesn’t change. It makes very little sense to me”.

“Well, they wanted you to be here forever, without letting you die”.

“You come back at different time after you die”, he said, as if he hasn’t heard you, “every time. It seems like it depends on the way you die. I can’t grow a beard, but you can still learn how to do a cart wheel, because your body doesn’t lose the habit of automatical movements. Same with the brain”.

“Yeah, sounds like hell for a perfectionist”, you concluded, fidgeting with the board. There was connection between Malachai Parker loving it the most in America, of all places, and the fact he looked like he was born on this street. There were friendly looking family houses left and right, standing above smooth ground.

You liked it the most when he pushed you in the back, running beside you, and you tried to balance as you shot along the street. The wind in your hair, and the harsh sound of the polyurethane wheels on the road, and you screaming as the turn manifested itself. Kai didn’t notice the remains of a hole in the asphalt that’s been filled with cement. The little bump stood out like a tiny turtle, and, as one of the wheels stumbled upon it, the board jumped away from you. You felt the muscles of his arms tense as Kai tried to lift you up above the earth, but he was running too, and the acceleration did not let either of you stop in time.

You both leaped through the air about a meter, before crashing onto the sand ground. Kai nearly hit his head on the pole of the road sign indicating kids running somewhere around.

Groaning and ouching, you crawled out from underneath him and lay on your back. You panted and laughed, hissing with pain. It felt like you rubbed your tigh really hard against the curb, and it felt red.

“Once again”, you said.

“You’re pretty much hopeless”, Kai replied, without malice.

“More encouragement, please”.

“You’re pretty! Hopeless. By the way, I just got it. You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about why I jumped after you there in Koureménos. And realized you jumped with me the same way, right? You knew you were going down, and jumped anyway”.

You recalled Damon’s eyes for a second. Something you tried not to think about too much.

Truth was, you really thought he would stop. You didn’t expect Damon to send you away, too. You thought you’d be a wall between him and Kai.

The board shuffled on the ground and stopped there somewhere. All fell quiet.

“We both did a stupid thing, and it felt right”, he mused slowly, as if he was surprised his own mouth was saying it. You pulled yourself half way up, balanced yourself on one elbow (the unharmed one) and leaned over his face, kissing him.

You stayed in Columbus for a while, until you could finally master the skateboard. The board you chose, by the way, was very cool. It had a green a purple zombie face gritting its rotting teeth, and its faded pale yellowish eyes on a roll out. You kept it close to the door of the bedroom, zombie face to bed so that you could look at it. You really liked the design.

The bed heaved under Kai’s weight as he rolled on his back. You were listening to music, waiting for midnight. You never went to sleep before twelve o’clock, when the new today began, because it distorted sleep anyway. As your bodies returned back to default, it always woke you up.

“It makes no sense”, he complained. “It sounds just like the old ones”.

“That’s the point of the whole genre of the retrowave”, you sighed. In the twilight, with no street lights on (you personally broke half of them, practicing your aim with the stones), the zombie head seemed more vicious than it really was.

“Why not just listen to synth wave then?”

“Because the quality is different, and the melodies are still different. It’s fake retro. It reminds me of my youth”.

“You know what reminds me of my youth?” he said crossly, “listening to actually old music. I don’t understand this”.

You found his hair, getting your fingers in it and squeezing lightly. It calmed him down at once, all the time.

“You exist outside the time, you have no youth”, you reminded him.

“Right”, Kai was almost dozing off. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“You know what I was thinking?”

It was hard to keep your eyes open against the darkness of the room in this cute family house, on the Washington Street in Columbus, when Kai breathed right into your ear, nesting his face against the side of yours to distract you from his hand sliding down your belly.

He hummed. You had to catch his wrist to stop him from getting into your pants. Not to this song.

“We need to survive a zombie apocalypse. Shaun here gave me an idea”.

The skateboard zombie’s name was Shaun.

“Oh, that would be so cool!” Kai woke up at once. Your pants and what’s inside of them was forgotten. His eyes glowed in the dark like he was about to lash out on you with rage no less than a brain eater himself.

“We could get a really heavy car, and put up mannequins everywhere in the city, and shoot them”, you said. “We will get post-apocalyptic clothes and make a den somewhere in a high-high building that looks like a tower, and live without electricity. I’ll read you Stephen King at nights. You can reinvent radio”.

“Maybe I’ll bite your arm off”, he whispered, already jumping away into the fantasy, “and you’ll have to mercy shoot me until I turn into a complete animal”.

He crashed back onto bed and stared into the ceiling.

“If you bite my arm off, don’t you think you’re already too far gone? May as well eat me whole then. I don’t wanna go around without an arm”.

“Fair enough”.

You both sighed, thinking.

“But what place looks like it’s been ravaged by zombies?”

“Something like Escape from L.A., but not LA”, he muttered.

“Some city that has a lot of industrial districts and factories...”

Another pause, and then you looked at each other and shrieked at the same time,

“Boston!”

[somerpmemes]

Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist S1 Starters

Change as needed. More under the cut.

“Quick question: do you always have to play and sing your music that loud?”

“Why are you up so early anyways?”

“Oh, I didn’t go to bed.”

“So, you’re ready for this?”

“I just really don’t wanna screw this up.”

“Keeping it lean for the ladies.”

“I need to expand my horizons.”

“It was literally all you.”

“Now is not the time to be modest.”

“Let’s face it, the woman’s a narcissist.”

“Work your magic, feel the glory, in it to win it.”

“Well I’m not really comfortable with anything.”

“Alright, who wants some freshly delivered, slightly cold, mediocre pizza!”

“Could we maybe open a window or something?”

“They’re not that scary.”

“Are you sure this isn’t an elaborate teleportation device that will take me to an alternate universe?”

“I just wanna get this over with.”

“Is this supposed to be happening?”

“That sounds really sad.”

“Why are you singing right now?”

“Why would I sing to you? You don’t even like me.”

“Can I get you anything? Water? Vodka? Xanax?”

“Quick question: did you recently imbibe or inject anything that came from a “medicinal” type shop?”

“But I’m an open-minded person, I’m willing to roll with this.”

“Maybe you’re operating on a higher plane than the rest of us.”

“Child, I’m completely baked. Ain’t nothing going on in my head right now.”

“This is the first thing that I find remotely interesting about you.”

“Will we ever have joie de vivre?”

“My mom left me when I was young and my whole life has been a series of rejections from the opposite sex.”

“You sure you don’t hear that?”

“Let’s party like it’s 1978!”

“And you should really take everything I say when I’m high with a grain of salt.”

“That song is real dark.”

“Good music can make you feel things you can’t express in words.”

“Hey, not that I’m keeping tabs or anything but that’s like your fourth cup of coffee today.”

“That’s a whole lot of tmi I just spewed on you.”

“Who knows what other people are really thinking, right?”

“I’ve found in general death and dying tend not to be the best conversation starters.”

“If I show you something can you promise to keep it only between us?”

“This is the only thing that I can hold onto.”

“I’ve become a real expert on bottling my shame and pain and hiding it from the world.”

“Listen, I’m not an expert on this or anything but you can't just keep it in.”

“I should’ve been the one this happened to.”

“I think we’re just gonna have to stumble through it together. The blind leading the blind.”

“If you had the power to know what was going on in other people’s heads, do you think you’d feel guilty?”

“I’m going to be uncharacteristically honest with you so don’t get used to it.”

“I notice everything.”

“I just feel like everyone’s against me.”

“Two more hours and I would’ve gotten it, just saying.”

“There’s gonna be good days and bad days, remember? Let’s chalk this up to one of the good ones.”

“Mama needs an update.”

“No, no, don’t be flattered.”

“I view you more as a social experiment, like a rat running through a maze.”

“Sounds bougie, I’m in.”

“I'm not in trouble, am I?”

“Bottom line, please?”

“You’re yelling, bro.”

“I’m acting weirder than normal?”

“Believe it or not I didn’t really play any sports growing up.”

“This power is wasted on you!”

“Is this weird? This feels weird.”

“I gotta say, I am loving the energy.”

“I’m pretty sure nobody cares.”

“Any desire to tell me what this is all about?”

“Of course I know that song, it’s a very famous song. Do YOU know that song?”

“With great power comes a lot of nasty stuff don’t nobody wanna do.”

“I’m not NOT mortified right now.”

“Please tell me your day was better than mine.”

“Do I need to hide all of my breakables?”

“I can’t cook. You should see the inside of my fridge.”

“I guess we’ve just breezed right past the whole “knocking-and-waiting-for-the-other-person-to-answer” phase.”

“When I get inspired no doors will stand in my way.”

“Creative. Absolutely terrifying..”

“Could be cool. Could be confusing. Could be both. Let’s see.”

“And I’m kinda obsessed with you.”

“Door’s always open, honey.”

“So could everyone please act as if they care?”

“I haven’t breathed outside air in over forty-three hours.”

“Why did we come up with this stupid, stupid plan?”

“Dolly Parton is my spirit animal.”

“There are lots of reasons why people are unsatisfied, ___. 80% of it is sex related.”

“Do you just make these statistics up?”

“I’m gonna keep this one simple.”

“The only place I’m comfortable dancing is in my bedroom… closet.”

“Don’t ever say that again.”

“First of all, that’s terrible grammar.”

“I was a drum major in high school and that mess would not have been tolerated.”

“I have always found it helpful to vent when I’m feeling dissatisfied.”

“I don’t vent, I scream into a pillow.”

“You dress like a docent at a folk art museum.”

“Wow, we’re still talking about this?”

“___, are you growing as a person?”

“And the good news is I’ve been banned from the grocery store.”

“There’s been a radical shift in the way I perceive the world, you wouldn’t understand.”

“There is nothing in the world that I love more than your smile. But not if it isn’t real.”

“Don’t make this into a thing right now.”

“That term hasn’t been used in well over a decade.”

“I can see your side eye.”

“You can take the fifth and stop telling me about it.”

“Do you know anything about faith at all?”

“I think we might be vibing again.”

“Are you sure that everything’s okay with you because I feel like maybe it’s not.”

“See, that whole “leap of faith” thing really doesn’t work for me.”

“Empathy is a wonderful gift to have.”

“I have faith. You should too.”

“I recognize your tiny footsteps.”

“Okay, that’s enough gaping at the shut in for one day.”

“I swear this is the last one.”

“Why so secretive?”

“I am very aware of what a duet is.”

“Why do I even answer the phone this early?”

“My brain does not like functioning until night o’clock.”

“What’s the good of bad news if you can’t share it?”

“I love barely meeting expectations!”

“Is it great? Feels not so great.”

“I think you’re crushing it, that’s all that matters.”

“You two would be great in a female cop show.”

“Something’s going on with you, I can tell.”

“How do you do that? Really see me. No one else has the ability.”

“I’m just not used to negative feedback.”

“Care to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Can I take a picture? I’m gonna take a picture.”

“Uh oh. Don’t tell me you’re depressed too.”

“My body’s doing all sorts of disgusting things to me like making liquid appear in my eyes.”

“It’s too gutless, it’s too passive-aggressive. I like aggressive-aggressive.”

“I just feel like I’m failing.”

“Why do you put so much pressure on yourself?”

“Wow. I just got a window into your soul and, baby, it is not a place I wanna visit.”

“Did you know I once stared at the ocean for literally seven hours?”

“How about you lead the way and I’ll just holler if I need any medical assistance?”

“You’d tell me if you weren’t good, right?”

“So, tell me some good news please.”

“Thank you for not trying to fix me or make me feel better. Thanks for just being real.”

“Why are you smirking?”

“Sometimes I just feel like I can’t do anything right.”

“Someone sounds like they’re in a good mood.”

“The world is waiting, so am I.”

“I have no interest in hanging around a bunch of 20-somethings talking about artisanal beer all night.”

“___, this is a classy affair. Of course they’ll be pigs in a blanket.”

“Now it’s time for a makeover which is literally my favorite thing to do.”

“No matter how hard I try I just never say the right thing.”

“At least let me help you accessorize.”

“I gotta admit this is kinda fun.”

“Now they just taste like water.”

“Who do we know with a hot tub?”

“You are super fun. Like sloppy, dance on a bar fun.”

“I might also be drunk.”

“I’m a mess… and emotional… also vodka.”

“Life doesn’t always go as planned. It just doesn’t.”

“Is it weird that I want one of those?”

“Yeah, nothing good happens after someone sings that song.”

“I hate when people assume I know their names.”

“So, you’re attractive and talented.”

“I can’t believe that happened, and how quickly…”

“If there’s something going on I’d love all our friends to hear about it.”

“You should probably leave this party before you burn something else down.”

“That’s almost funny.”

“I need that thing more than you’ve ever needed anything in your entire life and I’m ready to fight you for it if you make me.”

“I wouldn’t trust myself to ride that thing sober let alone now still halfway drunk.”

“The last thing I want to hear from you is another apology.”

“I really need to be mad at you right now.”

“Are you crying?”

“What? I’m not allowed to get emotional at a superhero movie? Lives were lost, ___. Ethical questions were raised!”

“He only responds in one letter. ‘K’? Who does that?”

“Just— let’s talk about you.”

“It’s hard to accept that I can’t do this all on my own anymore.”

“Wouldn’t peg you for a food court guy.”

“We are gonna be ultra professional from now on.”

“What’s the crisis? Did I cause it?”

“Can you believe it?! ...apparently you can and perhaps already knew?”

“___, are you okay? You look paler than usual.”

“You okay? You look shaken.”

“But I feel great and I’m gonna be totally fine.”

“Can you google that for me?”

“Are you seriously hiding from me?”

“I listen to true crime to calm myself.”

“Look, we both know I’m not good with feelings or emotions.”

“Mad respect for your pun game.”

“Men don’t check on men in bathrooms, it’s not a thing.”

“Well now I know you’re telling the truth because no one would ever lie about doing something that heartless.”

“Were we ever even friends at all?”

“Real friends have hard conversations. They owe it to each other.”

“I’m gonna get deep for a hot second so bear with me.”

“Stuff like this has been going on for a while now. You wanna tell me what’s up?”

“You’re starting to seem like a liability, man.”

“What’s the point of rising if we can’t do it together?”

“Here to pour salt on my wounds?”

“It’s all coming from a place of love.”

“It is not exactly what I expected but I’m rolling with it.”

“Watch how fast I nail this.”

“Are we talking witchcraft or just shameless career advancing?”

“I’ve got a super chill brain that never needs calming, so…”

“Was I just singing out loud?”

“Am I going crazy? I feel like I am. I mean, I don’t know what crazy feels like but I feel like this is it.”

“That’s… bad.”

“Are you fine? I mean, I know you’re not fine but…”

“Can you schedule your nervous breakdown for another day?”

“In solving one problem I’ve created another.”

“I… I don’t know why that happened.”

“Okay, yes, I’ll admit I’m in a good mood but it’s for completely unrelated reasons.”

“Okay, this is getting worse by the second.”

“I apologize in advance for whatever’s about to come out of mouth.”

“I'm really sorry. Just know, it’s not me, it’s my body.”

“That’s such a strange way to phrase that.”

“There you go, now you know. Hey, that rhymed.”

“I will go to the supermarket… one day.”

“I ruined my entire life yesterday.”

“I just call that uninspired.”

“Honestly, I think I’m broken.”

“What exactly is going on here? A creative inspiration or a massive cry for help?”

“I’m broken and I’m gonna die alone.”

“How do you go through all that suffering and not let it break you?”

“I don’t know what to do. And it’s tearing me up inside.”

“Hurt people hurt people.”

“I think it’s best if you don’t look at me or worry about and focus on what I’m thinking or feeling.”

“It can be challenging sometimes, knowing the right way and the wrong way to care for somebody.”

“Well, it’s the almost-thought that counts.”

“That’s a terrible surprise face.”

“I think it’s finally time I focus on my own happiness for a change.”

“I don’t want to talk. Lord knows that we’ve done enough talking.”

“I’m exhausted. And exhilarated. And thoroughly depleted.”

“Stay aloof, reveal nothing, keep small talk down to a minimum.”

“You’ve been there for me, I wanna be there for you.”

“Don’t smile at me, I don’t wanna look at your sad, appreciative eyes.”

“What? He’s hot, I’m weak, you do the math.”

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a hoodie before.”

“This would be a great place to murder someone, huh?”

“So, who’s ready to talk about death?”

“It doesn’t have to go down like this, ___.”

“You can only postpone the inevitable for so long.”

“In moments like these sometimes you have to haul out the big guns.”

“Someone better be dead or dying, I’m not in the mood.”

“I am worried. This is how I compensate.”

“I find you charming and disturbing, like a Pomeranian wearing a tutu.”

“I go big or go home.”

“Death is hideous and ugly and grotesque and wildly, wildly unfair.”

“Believe me, I’m not doing well but I’m not doing that badly either.”

“I guess we gotta face the music sometime, right?”

[percyinpanties]

whee happy valentines fellas ♥

my health has been all over the place, so my secret plan of writing a few tiny valentines fics sadly wasn’t doable, but i finished this one at least. i didn’t edit, so there’s most likely typos. it’s... not the best thing i’ve ever written but it’s soft and fluffy and I hope you enjoy ♥

ship: percy/ nico

rating: teen +   words: 2.6k

____________

Nico still isn't sure how he feels about going for a first day on Valentine's Day of all things, but when Percy had asked him, he hadn't found it in himself to turn Percy down. If it meant getting a shot with the one guy Nico has been pining after for an embarrassingly long time, Nico was perfectly happy enduring the kitsch and romantic expectations that came with a holiday as silly as this. If he is perfectly honest, Nico isn't entirely sure what his own expectations are going into this - or what Percy’s might be - maybe because Nico still struggles actually believing that Percy sees him as more than a friend, or at least wants to get to that point. The point stands though that Percy asked Nico for a date on Valentine’s Day, and even Nico doesn't manage to convince himself that Percy didn’t mean it that way given the romantic nature of going out tonight of all nights.

Percy hadn't actually said all that much about what he planned to do, beyond promising Nico he wouldn't take him to a stuffy, fancy restaurant for boring small talk and overpriced food neither of them cared to eat. It's a small mercy and while Nico is glad they won't be stuck awkwardly sitting across from each other with very little to distract from the uncharted territory between them, only knowing what they won't be doing gives him very little to work with. Of course, Nico could just ask, but he's almost afraid Percy might change his mind about the whole thing after all if Nico pushes it too much. It doesn’t make sense, and Nico is very aware of that, but it doesn’t stop him from staying quiet just in case.

In a stroke of luck, Nico has to work the day of the date - which doesn't only guarantee his evening will actually be free, but also distracts him enough to stop from agonizing over every little detail. He just knows he'd have spent most of the day pacing his room if he'd stayed in his dorm, and even busy at work he still finds enough time to do just that until his shift is done. There's a hundred worries buzzing around his head, most of them entirely nonsensical - from silly questions like whether to put his hair up or down later to the truly worrying implications this date going badly could have for Percy's and his friendship - and thinking it all over for the hundredth time doesn’t serve to calm Nico down at all. If anything, it only increases his anxieties. Nico tries to convince himself that it's just Percy and they'll be fine either way, but given that Percy has never been just Percy for Nico, that line of thinking doesn't get him particularly far either. 

In the end, all Nico can do is fully throw himself into work in an effort to distract himself enough before he does something stupid like cancel their date last minute because his anxiety got the upper hand. It’s a mediocre solution, but it gets the job done more or less and by the time Nico leaves work, he’s more stressed about making it on time than he is about all the ways the date could go wrong.

Nico has just enough time to change out of his work clothes and freshen up before Percy texts him, already waiting downstairs and ready to go. Despite the nervousness now permanently settled in the pit of his stomach, Nico finds himself smiling. He is looking forward to this, has been for days, even if right now it feels like there is a tangible chance that he’ll either spontaneously combust or go into cardiac arrest before the night is done. Nico only allows himself to stall for a moment longer, check his pockets, take a deep breath and tell himself it’s going to be fine before he is out the door and down the stairs. 

When Nico steps out of his dorm building, Percy is leaning against a streetlight right across from the entrance. It's already getting fairly dark outside and Percy, only sparsely illuminated by the cheap yellow bulb above, looks absolutely stunning in the low light. Granted, Nico would think Percy looked good in a ragged trashbag and crocs with tennis socks, but this is different: It’s clear Percy made an effort tonight, all dressed up and put together in a way Nico isn’t at all used to seeing Percy. 

Percy looks up when the door opens, a smile, soft and shy, settling on his face. Nico's heart gives a painful squeeze and if he hadn’t been completely whipped already, this might be the last straw. 

"I would've brought flowers, but..." Percy says in lieu of a greeting and pushes himself away from the streetlight as he trails off, shrugging. 

"Good call." Nico says and steps up to Percy, indulging in the briefest of hugs before he can chicken out. His heart is already beating hard enough that he can feel every thud against his ribcage and as much as Nico tries to get a handle on it, he doubts he stands a chance. "Wouldn't have wanted to carry them around all night. Where are we going, anyway?" 

"It's a surprise." Percy says and the wink that follows turns Nico's cheeks a bright red. As grateful as Nico is for it not being awkward, he also wouldn’t mind Percy being a little less smooth because at this rate, Nico might not make it through the night.

"My car’s parked just down the street, it's not a long drive." Percy adds after a moment and tips his head to the side to indicate where he’s talking about. 

They drive for maybe twenty minutes, talking quietly over the radio, Percy watching the street while Nico mostly watches Percy. There is certainly something in the air, but even so, it’s not nearly as awkward as Nico had feared it might be. Percy makes him feel just as at ease as he always has, and there being more on the horizon that just friends hanging out doesn’t change that. 

The surprise turns out to be an honest to god drive through cinema just on the outside of town. Nico didn't even know those were still a thing, but evidently he was wrong. It's nothing he ever would've come up with, and much better than any of the places he'd thought Percy might take them too. It's cheesy, sure, but not really in a bad way. Unlike going to the movies, they’ll still be in their own little bubble here, just the two of them in Percy's car. It’s more intimate, even though that thought alone is enough to make Nico blush while Percy shows the tickets to the guy at the entrance before they’re allowed to pick a spot. They're lucky to be there early, parking in one of the front rows without any big cars ahead obstructing their view. It’s dark all around them and Nico can barely see into the cars next to them - which means they won’t be able to see much of them either. Somehow that’s a comfort too. Nico doesn’t necessarily want to have strangers bear witness to their date, even if nothing happens at all. 

"So…" Percy starts as he turns off the ignition and shifts in his seat. "I hope this is a good surprise?" 

Nico grins - he's already feeling much more at ease than before Percy picked him up. 

"Depends entirely on the movie you picked." He says jokingly and pulls his legs up to the seat, shifting until he manages to get them crossed under himself. He’s leaning more against the door than he’s leaning against the seat, mostly so he can look at Percy as much as he can look at the (so far unlit) screen up front. 

 Percy is quiet for a moment, his lips pursed, and Nico can’t tell if Percy’s actually worried about his movie choice or only trying to hold back a grin. "My bloody Valentine?" 

Nico laughs. For Percy he’d have suffered through one of the mediocre “romantic classics” theatres screen on Valentine’s Day but this - this is so much better than that. 

 "I love horror movies." Nico says, not even trying to hide his grin. It’s maybe not the obvious choice for a first date, but it certainly feels like the obvious choice for Percy and him.

Percy smiles softly. The expression does something to Nico’s insides, especially when the same fondness shows in Percy’s voice when he replies:  "I know."

Nico has to avert his eyes, because if Percy keeps looking at him like this, Nico might just do something stupid like lean over the console and plant a kiss on Percy’s lips. It’s not the first time tonight that he realises how much thought Percy actually put into this and while it shouldn’t be a surprise that Percy wants this to go well, too, it still catches Nico off guard to be reminded. 

Before Nico can say anything else, the screen up front comes to life and breaks the spell. The pre-movie ads start rolling, audio coming directly from Percy’s car radio. Nico settles more comfortably into his seat  and Percy grabs them some snacks and sodas from the backseat, and whatever line they were toeing a moment ago is forgotten again.

Nico has seen the movie before, and he’s fairly sure that Percy has too, not that he’s going to mention it. Given that the car affords them some measure of privacy, too, there’s nothing stopping them from quietly talking - and honestly, mostly poking fun at whatever happens on screen. Nico wears an almost constant smile on his face, and Percy seems to be enjoying this just as much, eyes moving between Nico and the screen up front every now and again.

Horror movies don’t scare Nico much, especially the 80s Slasher flicks like the one on screen now - but even he isn’t immune to jumpscares and well, if he grabs at Percy because of a particularly surprising spook and Percy takes that as an invitation to hold Nico’s hand, Nico certainly won’t be the one to take his hand away again even if it makes his heart rate double for a few beats. 

By the time the credits roll, Nico feels a little less like a silly highschooler getting nervous over his first crush and more like a completely smitten idiot hovering a foot above ground and he’s not sure if it’s really an improvement. Nico only reluctantly lets go of Percy’s hand when they have to pull out of the parking spot, taking their place in queue of cars getting out of the cinema.

“This was really nice.” Nico says quietly as silence starts to stretch between them. It’s not an uncomfortable quiet, but it’s late and Nico isn’t sure how much more time Percy’s planned to spend together tonight and he wants to say this before he loses his chance.

“You really put a lot of thought into it, didn’t you?” Nico adds and he’s careful to keep his tone curious rather than disbelieving. 

Percy hums, eyes darting from the rearview mirror to Nico and back again. He’s smiling and for the first time tonight, Nico catches sight of a blush spreading on Percy’s face, too.

“Well, yeah.” Percy admits and this time, he’s not looking at Nico but rather keeping his eyes on the traffic slowly weaving together. “I… wanted it to go well, because I… I mean…” Percy huffs, then takes a shaky breath. Maybe he was more nervous than Nico realised until now. “I really like you, Nico.” Percy finally says, and now is face is flaming red. “I didn’t wanna screw up my chance.”

Nico gapes at Percy for a moment, then drops his gaze to his lap, feeling his own cheeks burn, too. Technically, Nico knows that Percy likes him, given that it was heavily implied by Percy asking him on a date on Valentine’s. Hearing it is something entirely different, though.

“You didn’t. Screw it up, I mean.” Nico says before making himself look up again. Percy’s eyes are still on the road, as they should be - and it’s probably for the better too, because Nico isn’t sure he’d be able to hold back from crossing the distance if Percy looked at him with that soft gaze again now. “I had a really good time - I mean, I still do, I guess.”

They’re finally at the exit, and Percy pulls out onto the main street, glancing over for a moment once they’re going straight on the road. 

“Good.” Percy says quietly, softly, and takes his hand off the gear shift to offer it to Nico again. Nico’s heart skips like it’s preparing to leap out of Nico’s chest, but that doesn’t stop Nico from reaching out and lacing their fingers together.

They drive in silence for a few minutes, only interrupted by Nico’s yawns becoming increasingly frequent. Percy smiles at him, looking over every other moment before his eyes are back on the road, and Nico in return doesn’t bother pretending that he isn’t watching Percy just as much.

“I was going to suggest getting a milkshake from the drive through before I drop you off.” Percy says and, almost absentmindedly, strokes his thumb along the length of Nico’s hand. “But it looks like you’re gonna fall asleep before we get there.”

Nico groans before he can stop himself, the thought of ice cream sounds almost entirely too good right now.

“I’d kill for a McFlurry.” He admits, making Percy laugh. Nico squeezes his hand, mostly because he can. 

“McFlurry it is then.” Percy says and there is that fond tone again that Nico doubts he’ll ever get over.

It’s well after midnight by the time Percy parks the car outside of Nico’s dorm building. They walk with fingers laced between them and Nico can’t deny being tempted to invite Percy up with him. There’s no need to rush though, Nico knows that, and he’s dead tired too, so chances are nothing much would be happening tonight either way.

Even so, Nico stalls at the door, not quite ready to let go of Percy just yet.

“Thank you.” Nico mumbles, feeling himself blush again as he looks up at Percy. They’re standing close together, and after a second of hesitation, Nico grabs Percy’s second hand in his free one too, both hands held between them now. “I… I’d really like to do this again. Soon.”

Percy is looking down at their joined hands, stroking a thumb across Nico’s knuckles again before he raises his eyes to meet Nico’s gaze. “Yes, please.”

Nico feels like his insides are putty, like he could just melt and disappear through the cracks in the pavement. Percy is looking at him, fond and smiling and warm, and Nico can’t take it. This time, there is nothing holding him back, and no reason to try either.

He doesn’t let go of Percy’s hands as he steps closer, bringing them practically chest to chest. Percy’s face is turning pink, like he knows what might be coming but still wants to leave the choice to Nico.

Nico doesn’t quite have to rise up to his tiptoes, but it’s a close thing. At first, it’s only a chaste peck pressed to Percy’s cheek, but even that is enough to send a jolt of electricity through him. Nico’s eyes are lidded, they are so close, and when Percy turns his head, Nico doesn’t make himself stay away any longer. He lets his eyes fall shut and presses their lips together. 

Nico has kissed people before, but this feels like the first time all over again. He thinks his heart stops entirely for a moment, before resuming it’s beating with vigor. A shiver runs through him, skin tingling and hair standing up. Nico doesn’t back away when they part, and it’s hardly a second before Percy is kissing him again.

[chloroformthelittleb4stard]

Family Relations - Part 2

Summary: Your criminology teacher is acting all kinds of weird, which is the norm, except for the part where his eyes glaze over and he tries to kill someone. Stiles, the hero he is, tries to stop your professor with little avail until he gets some unnoticeable help from you. Stiles seems to find himself with you at the location of multiple attacks, just barely making it out alive. Through the bloodshed feelings, family, and friends mix to create a perfect blend of chaos and calm.

T/CW: Blood, gore, panic attack mention, violence

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

You didn't see Stiles for another two days, but when you did see him, he wasn't alone.

"Y/n! Over here!" Stiles called you from across the quad, despite the almost murder college life hadn't slowed down much at all, and your local coffee shop was still swamped with people. Instead of leaving your place in line to see Stiles and the tan man next to him, you beckoned them over to you, indirectly inviting them for coffee as well.

Stiles shuffled up next to you, still not use crutches, and dragged Scott along with him, introducing you both immediately.|

"Scott this is Y/n, Y/n this is Scott." You both shook hands and exchanged greetings, a comfortable small talk taking over the three of you. You'd been so close to getting your sweet iced tea when a blood curdling scream rang out from the shop. Everyone ran towards it, including you, Scott, and Stiles, but when the general population saw the body of a barista, throat slit and bleeding out onto the counter still holding someone's drink, they ran away. Another scream came, this time from behind the "employee only" door and you all looked at each other before running towards it. Stiles burst through first, taking off seconds later to round the corner with you and Scott not far behind. You barely avoided running into one another as Stiles stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of a man, possibly a college senior, holding a knife to the throat of a crying barista who couldn't have been older than 19. She cried out to you three and immediately you all sprung into action.

Without a second thought Stiles grabbed the nearest object, a wooden crate, and ran towards the man who in response dropped the barista and charged at him. Scott had already transformed and was charging towards the man as well, fangs and claws out, his eyes glowing a blood red as he focused on his target. You panicked for a moment, frantically looking around for a way to help, when you caught sight of a pipe hanging above the man's head. Taking a deep breath you blocked out the scene around you, focusing only on the pipe you threw your hands forwards, sending blades of air to cut off a section of the metal which then fell just behind the man, the metal rolling forwards and tripping him into Scott's waiting claws.

Stiles at this point had backed off and run towards the barista, who was curled in a ball and crying on the floor, still bleeding slightly from where the knife had pressed into her throat. She was sobbing as he talked her down from her panic attack, a skill he had mastered by now. When she calmed down he made her promise to not tell the police what he, or his friends, looked like and she agreed, still shaken up from the entire ordeal.

On the strong possibility that you and Stiles would be suspects, having been at, as you're aware of, the only two crime scenes, you all decided that you'd simply go back to Stiles' dorm to have his watered-down coffee. The walk back was quiet, no one had seen your feat of magic and you pretended not to have seen Scott's shift, blaming the chaos and fear for your being frozen in place, which the boys believed. Stiles and Scott had comforted you the entire walk back to their dorm and you played heavily into the role of the scarred witness, leaning into Stiles' side for comfort and ignoring the warmth that spread through your body at the contact.

"I take it you're not from here Y/n." Scott assumed, head tilting in your direction as you settled into the boys' dorm for a cup of mediocre coffee.

"Nope, I'm from out East, DMV baby!" You laughed, proud of where your home was.

"DMV? No way, I wanna work out there." Stiles' eyes went wide, not paying attention to the coffee machine and almost spilling it onto his hands. Thankfully you managed to redirect it away from his hand with a small gust of wind, sparing him some nasty second degree burns.

"I kind of figured, FBI and all that." You waved your hand submissively, making Scott chuckle since you were the first woman outside of the pack who wasn't immediately taken with the fact that Stiles wanted to be a FBI agent.

"Well what do you want to do smartass?" Stiles rolled his eyes, not being used to someone who was unfazed by his career choice.

"I want to work for the ACLU in legal defense and legislation." You held your head high, the legacy of the ACLU and your family shining behind you as you were reminded of your mom's accomplishments before she passed.

"Ok I want to be a vet so I don't know what the hell you two are on." Scott's comment made you all laugh, the energy friendly and calm as you personalized your coffees to make them less plain. Stiles' cup looked almost light brown by the time he was done, it had a swirl of whipped cream on top of it and he slurped it down greedily.

"Can that even be considered coffee?" Your comment made Stiles roll his eyes, Scott having made similar ones before.

"That's what I said! He doesn't even need all the sugar, look at him he's hyper enough." Scott made an exasperated noise as he gestured to Stiles who was fidgeting as per usual and his leg was bouncing a mile a minute.

"ADHD?" You wondered aloud, a quick nod from Stiles and Scott confirming your theory which in turn caused you to mention your own ADHD casually so that Stiles hopefully wouldn't feel so called out.

"Great now you'll both be bouncing off the walls." Mutters came from Scott and you gave a snort in response, Stiles slipping his arm to lock with yours and playfully defend you of his roommate's accusations.

"She's not bouncing off the walls, look she's perfectly still!" While gesturing at you Stiles noticed your tremor, and the way you kept moving your feet in your shoes, choosing to ignore them in favor of winning in his defense of you.

You spent the rest of lunch with Stiles and Scott, milling about their dorm room while the conversation hopped from topic to topic, ending with a heated debate between you and Stiles over Star Wars and Star Trek.

"I cannot believe you're a Star Trek fan, that's so old!" You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the idea that something being old means it's bad.

"It's original! I can't watch Star Wars without thinking of Star Trek every second, they're a total rip-off!"

"That's not true! Star Wars has an entirely different plot, and they have different fights and different universes even!" Scott was banging his head against the wall, the nerd speak of his best friend and his best friend's new friend driving him absolutely insane with boredom.

"Enough! I have studying to do, or something, Stiles you have class in twenty minutes. No more nerdy stuff please." Letting out a chuckle you made your way towards the door, lingering so you could exchange numbers with them both. Stiles walked you down to the door of their building, gently holding your arm so you wouldn't leave immediately.

"I just wanted to thank you for helping me a couple of days ago, again." His hand came up to scratch at the back of his neck while he chuckled, leaning against the doorframe to take the weight off of his injured leg.

"Yeah, 'course, no problem really." A shy smile appeared on your face, the blush heating your cheeks making you tilt your head down slightly as you tried to avoid looking in his eyes for fear of giving your feelings away.

"Well, I really appreciate it. So, I'll text you?" He was still nervous, the energy around you both crackling with tension.

"Yeah, absolutely." Your eyes met his for a final goodbye as you reluctantly turned away, giving him a wave while you suppressed the grin that was threatening to overtake your face. A grin that finally came out as soon as you turned away, and didn't leave until you made it back to your own dorm, smiling like an idiot while you thought about him.

[tbonechessor]

Really wish I could have admitted to myself along time ago that the thing I want to do with my life is make Mediocre internet cartoons.

I wanted to make the things I was seeing on newgrounds that made me wide-eyed and laugh. I wish my health didn’t keep me from that for so long. I wish I wasn’t so wrapped up in wishing I was dead for so long that I missed out on generating a good life for myself. I think I’ve found a place for all that without identifying with it too much but still.

I’m at this weird place now where the overwhelming-ness of the internet is hard to confront and my sensibilities are so radically different. Where once, I used to stare wide-eyed at the communities and things being made, now, I have become nauseatingly disillusioned with the web and it’s overwhelming need for content to be fed to it like a meat grinder.

There is just. So. Much. Shit. It’s really hard to conceptualize just how much of a myriad of things there are to consume and it makes me wonder if there’s even a place for what I want to make, let alone how I could possibly keep up with anything. 

I have to remember that good writing never really goes out of style and that there are people way more famous than me making absolute dogshit and still being successful.

Like it’s insane. I tried watching Helluva Boss. Absolute shit. Millions of views and attention. Voice actor legends are in that shitty webseries. Norman fucking Reedus is in that stupid little show. I don’t even think most people even Like that show, and yet!

But I’m also paralyzed by doubt and dumb fears that get in the way.

What if you fuck up like you’ve done with so many different artistic pursuits? What if it gets attention but people make scathing video essays about how flawed it is? Or reaction memes on twitter? What if you try something progressive and fuck it up so hard you lose your core audience? What if you release a couple of episodes but can’t follow through and the overwhelming pressure of living up to what you’ve created breaks you?

What if. What if. What if. 

The front-lines in the battle between my Doubt and my Craftsmanship are always shifting much to my internal motivational chagrin.

The answer to all of these what-ifs is to simply MAKE. Create. Move. Do. Anything to keep the fear away because living in fear has slowly become the pathos of my own personal hell that I kept creating for myself in my life. I cannot continue to live the way I do.

Doubt has this way of melting apart when the work begins and I get into the flow of doing what I need to do.

I try focusing on the need for the thing that I am making to simply exist. The things that I am making NEED to exist. The products I want to create, while an extension of me, are not reflective of me. I am not the things I make, no matter how much I see myself reflected back in the choices I made to bring things into existence. And they are coming into existence because they must. Because I said so. Nothing more, nothing less. When the product is done it will stand on it’s own two feet and it might die on it’s own two feet as well.

But until then, the work, and nothing but the work, awaits.

[thebeltanequeen]

The (Blurred? Nonexistent? Inconsequential?) Line Between Canon and Fanon: An Impromtu Essay by Me

I’m currently have an existential crisis. An absolute, balls to the walls, pull my hair out, stare at the walls wondering what the meaning of existence is, kind of existential crisis. Why, you may ask? Because the older I have gotten, the more Fanfiction I have read. That’s normal. Millions of other people read fanfic like me. Well, in the past few years, I have also realized that the more fanfiction I have read, the less shits I give about the actual canon of the media I love. I care less and less about what “actually” happened, and delve into fanon instead. It’s as if the two have SWITCHED ROLES in my brain. The canon is the lie, and the fanon is the truth. This used to not be the case though, so how did we get here? And why… why is this realization sending me into an absolute spiral of insanity? Why do I feel like I have been sucker punched in the jaw? Let me explain.

I’ve been reading and dabbling in writing my own fanfiction for over twelve years. It used to be an escape, a way to further delve into my latest obsessions and become consumed by them. I have this annoying habit of also picking ships that do NOT become endgame, so I’ve always sought out fanfiction as a balm for my shipper’s soul as well. I still read fanfiction as if my life depends on it… but now it’s at the expense of reading new books. Watching new media. When I do eventually dip my toes into a new fandom, I either reject it quickly or become consumed again and make a grab for fanfiction… but in the past few years, something in not only me, but in fandoms in general has shifted.

The difference between me now, and me back then is this… I used to uphold the canon as sacred. Untouchable. Set in stone. The only credible source for the media I consume. All of the fanfiction I read was just beautiful window dressing. A lovely past time to further increase my dopamine intake.

This is no longer the case.

Now, when I read and write fanfiction, it’s as if it is an act of protest. I am actively seeking to reform the narrative. It’s to “take back” the story, the characters, EVERYTHING, for myself. To make it anew. To make it perfect. I’m not alone either. I see you. I see all of you. Now more than ever, I see more and more of us doing this exact same thing.

THIS is why I am having an existential crisis. I have just realized that I will no longer be content with the canon. Ever. Even the canon of my favorite media. It’s not enough. It’s no longer enough. It won’t ever be enough again. Why? Because there will always be places where the canon is falliable. The authors of the canon, are falliable. As an author myself, this is at once an alarming yet powerful realization.

I went to college for creative writing. At the beginning of my academic career, I thought of fanfiction as a beautiful fairytale world. It was glorious, but it was other. Separate. Not as credible as canon. Had I read fanfiction better than the media it was based on before I entered college? Absolutely, but in my head it still didn’t matter because the canon was the word. The canon was the law. As a writer, I held the power of the author (and by extension the power of myself) as sacred. By the end of college, that began to change.

The more I was taught about writing, the more I came to realize that sometimes, authors are just straight up WRONG. Sometimes, there’s soooooo much potential… AND THEY JUST FUCK IT UP!!!!!!! The bones are incredible, but the canon is weak, the logic is lacking, the story makes no sense, the characters don’t reach their full potential and you know what? I’m tired. I’m tired of it. This is why fanon is canon’s salvation. Fanon makes canon look pathetic. But… if I accept the fanon as the reality, and make the canon the lie, does that still make it fanon? No. I don’t think it does. I think fanon has become something other. Something greater.

I have become disillusion by “published” or “credible” books. 95% of the novels I actually buy at the store today are garbage. Trash. Half written nonsense that only serves the purpose of paying people. I’m TIRED OF IT. I’ve become disillusioned by the “power” of the author. I have become disillusioned by canon. FUCK canon, quite frankly. Rip it apart. Dissect it. Take out it’s beating heart and transplant it into a new body. Give it the soul that the narrative was begging for. REVIVE IT. LET YOUR OWN IMAGINATION MAKE IT ANEW. Characters mean too much to people. Fiction means too much to people. Stories mean too much to people for anything less. Only then will you or I be satisfied.

Now, even an impromptu, unedited, gibberish essay is not complete without examples. I’ll start with one that you probably thought of while reading this. Game of Thrones. I think that two years ago, the ending of the most influential show of the entire decade, is where my subconscious began to shift in this direction. Now, I doubt my opionions about GoT are the same as yours, but you know what? It DOESN’T MATTER because FANON CAN FIX THE CANON. The stories that meant so much to millions can be fixed by accepting the fact that THE CANON ISN’T THE LAW! IT FUCKED UP!!!! CANON DOESN’T DESERVE TO SPEAK ANYMORE!!!! TAKE BACK THE STORY AND TRANSFORM IT INTO A VERSION TRULY WORTHY OF THE GLORIOUS BONES IT HAS!!!!!

We also can’t ignore the role that monetization plays in the media we consume. Why leave our fiction in the hands of just the big names? Why let money dictate what is real and not real? WHY SETTLE FOR MEDIOCRE STORYTELLING JUST BECAUSE IT WAS SOLD TO YOU AND THEREFORE IT’S “LEGIT CANON”??? FANFICTION IS FREE, AND THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PIECES OF WRITING I’VE EVER READ WERE WRITTEN BY FANFIC AUTHORS WHO DID IT FOR THE STORY. WHO DID IT FOR THE ART. WHO ACTUALLY DID IT JUSTICE. FUCK THE CONCEPT OF FANON AND CANON. THE STORY WE WANT IS ALL THAT MATTERS. GET MONEY OUT OF HERE.

Ahem. To avoid going on even more of a tangent, I’ll move on and give the example that triggered my existential crisis in the first place. Sailor Moon. To give some background, Sailor Moon is it for me. I have grown up with it. I’ve watched it my entire life. As a child, I ran around with my toy moon rod and desperately wanted to be Usagi. Ironically, I grew up to be quite a bit like her (but with Rei’s temper admittedly). It is my comfort show, my happiness. It makes me laugh, it makes me cry. I never tire of it. It makes my heart swell. I have never, nor will I ever, love any piece of media the way I love Sailor Moon. Flash forward to today, I watched Sailor Moon Eternal, the two new movie adaptations of the Dream arc in the manga (stick with me non-manga and anime lovers). I liked the films, but I was left with a deep, disatisfied yearning. I want back the feeling of complete bliss I experienced while watching the 90’s anime as a child. The problem with this? I’ll never get it back. I’ve just realized this. I’ll NEVER get it back. Why? Because it’s no longer the perfect version of Sailor Moon that it was to my young eyes. Crystal, while good, is also not the perfected version I seek in my adulthood, and Eternal has not scratched my insatiable itch. I am heartbroken because I’ve realized that Sailor Moon in its perfect form doesn’t exist anymore. If I held any canon sacred, it was this. But the story is flawed. The manga is flawed. The anime is flawed. It’s not infallible, as much as it truly, deeply hurts me to admit to the world and to myself. The only perfect version of Sailor Moon is the one in my heart. It’s the one I choose to piece together for myself with the building blocks that others who came before me have handed over.

Another, more recent example of falliable canon is The Grisha Verse. More specifically, the Shadow and Bone trilogy. I was brought in to the fandom by Ben Barnes’ depthless eyes and magnificent scruff. And you know what? I liked the story, but I stayed for Ben Barnes. I liked the Darkling so much that I bought the entire grisha verse books. It was a premature decision. I’ve only made it halfway through Storm and Seige, and you know what? I’m tired of the canon already. It’s not that great. The bones are there, but it could be SO. MUCH. MORE. I haven’t read the crow books yet, and by all accounts Leigh Bardugo has improved tremendously as a writer. Which incidentally proves my point. Authors are falliable. Ergo, the canon is falliable. I can’t help but think while I read these books, “Damn. I could write this better.” and you know what? I’ve read fanfics that HAVE written it better.

Am I saying this to trash Bardugo? Or even GRRM? (Yes I admit to trashing D&D but that’s beside the point ahem…). NO. I am NOT trashing the writers. I’M A WRITER. I GET IT. YOUR STORY IS YOUR BABY. I G E T I T . But I’ve realized, and what I think future authors will also have to realize, is that fiction doesn’t belong to anyone. As soon as it’s out the door, the fiction no longer belongs to the author. It belongs to us. The people. That’s what is beautiful about fanfiction. It’s not here for the money. It’s not here for the clout. It’s here for the fiction itself. Plain and simple. It belongs to no one and everyone.

In the past, I would have fought this. I would have wanted my work’s canon to be law. To be the word, the truth, the way etc. Now? I can’t be a hypocrite. I can’t be selfish. It isn’t about the author. It’s about the vision. It’s about the story, the narrative, the characters. It’s about art. And sometimes, the authors give birth to the idea (and they deserve credit for that without a doubt), but it’s also true that sometimes, someone else just writes it better. Someone else quite simply saw the vision, the story, the characters, more clearly than the author did. I make this vow now, as an author, to strive for the vision. If someone takes my vision and does it better than me, that only improves my perspective of my own story. It improves the world of fiction as a whole. It makes me better.

So, canon? Fuck the canon. Take back the story. Take back the characters. Take back the art. Fiction is ours. It belongs to us, and we can do with it what we please. Let’s strive for OUR OWN perfected version of the media we love. Canon doesn’t truly exist. The concept of Fanon doesn’t even exist anymore in the way we used to think of it. The author’s version of events is their own Fanon of the story. Canon is meaningless now. There is only the story that you accept in your own mind. There is only the story that I accept in my own mind, no matter how different it is from yours. There is only the art. There is only the limitless potential of countless people’s imaginations. Let’s continue to collaborate and celebrate beautiful stories together, in any conceivable way, over and over and over again, until the end of time.

Fin

[notcanoncompliant]

Tasting

I'm binge-watching Chef's Table, and this fell out.

(No powers AU; Peter's 20-21, Tony's in his mid/late forties)

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

Peter applies for and accepts a job as a live-in housekeeper for semi-retired chef Tony Stark’s vacation home, a cabin in upstate New York. The ad states pretty clearly that Peter would essentially be there alone except when Tony’s visiting with his wife once a month.

A few weeks after Peter starts, Tony Stark shows up for the first time, sans-wife.

Peter hadn’t met him in person before, but they’d spoken over the phone and he’d met with Mr Stark’s legal representation to go over contracts--even mostly retired, the chef apparently still kept up the constantly moving life of the kitchen, hadn’t had time to sit down--and Peter’d seen pictures of him, looked him up when he accepted the job.

He’d wished fleetingly the man wasn’t married, because Chef Stark was--is--gorgeous, even more so in person than in anything Peter had found online.

Peter’s frazzled almost immediately, because Mr. Stark doesn’t pause. Greets Peter with a distracted smile as he shucks off his jacket and hangs it beside the door, beelines right for the kitchen. When Peter actually follows him in, he’s already going through the cabinets and the fridge, pulling out...bowls, pans, ingredients.

“Sit,” the older man says, gesturing with a wood spoon at one of the barstools on the far side of the kitchen island, “I need a guinea pig.”

At a loss, Peter moves and drops into the indicated seat wordlessly, heat crawling into his cheeks.

And then...the chef cooks. Says nothing about Peter’s blush. Offers him things to taste; sips from spoons, or small pieces of ingredients he tells him a little bit about: chunks of history, flavor profiles, anecdotes. Just sort of rambling in the calm and unselfconscious way of a person who knows their craft inside and out, and loves it to death.

Watching Mr. Stark work feels like a privilege, and a temptation; Peter’s not sure what’s more mouthwatering--the scents of fresh cut tomatoes and herbs, the sizzling of the meat, or the tattoos crawling up those bare forearms: fine-lined, colorful sprigs of herbs and flowers overlaying defined, shifting muscle and disappearing into rolled up sleeves. The man’s as much a work of art as any of the dishes he could prepare.

And he’s kind, too, warmer than Peter would’ve expected from someone so busy and well-known. When Peter shyly admits he doesn’t know much about food, the older man just smiles at him, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling further.

“You don’t have to be familiar to enjoy it.”

It’s innocent in itself, but Peter doesn’t think he’s imagining the spark in those dark eyes, either.

*

Peter’s never had spaghetti this fresh, this good; pasta and sauce both made entirely from scratch, with a crisp side salad and parmesan crostini. Mr. Stark pours him a beer, tells Peter it’s a local IPA, private reserve, and Peter already feels a little buzzed as he watches the frosted glass fill in front of him. He still has no idea what’s going on, but it’s hard not to feel at ease.

They don’t talk as they eat, but it doesn’t feel awkward. If anything, Peter keeps catching almost grateful looks from the older man, though he’s not really what he did to earn them. It just seems wrong to put focus on anything but the food, the work that went into it, despite the seeming effortlessness with which it had been prepared. Not that Peter could’ve paid attention to a conversation even if the food was mediocre.

Mr. Stark looks amazing in the soft lighting of the dining room, contemplative and absorbed in each bite. It’s difficult to keep from staring at the cut of his jaw, the bob of his throat, the way his eyes slide shut occasionally as though he’s blocking everything out just to savor. It makes Peter think of things, things that warm his belly as much as the beer and the perfectly spiced red sauce.

Plates empty, one beer turns into two.

Peter offers to take the dishes away. Mr. Stark gives him a look, tells him not to worry about it, and collects their plates himself.

“I don’t mean to be rude, Mr. Stark,” Peter starts slowly, trailing after him into the kitchen and coming around to lean back against the edge of the island as the chef moves to the sink, “the food was amazing and I appreciate you helping, but...I kind of figured I’d be taking care of you--um, doing the housekeeping. For you...and Mrs. Stark.”

He blames the beer (and his own terrible lack of tact, let’s be real) for the absolute fumble of an inquiry, but he’s too curious now about the response to apologize or take it back.

Mr. Stark rinses and cleans the plates, dries them and puts them in the cabinet. He stands, facing the counter for another long moment, and Peter watches the exhale, the line of the older man’s (broad) shoulders slumping just slightly.

“It’s just me, now, kid. Divorce finalized. I let her keep the townhouse, as long as I got to keep this place.”

“Are you…I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter says.

“It is what it is. And, Tony, please,” Mr. Stark--Tony, says, turning to lean back against the counter and give Peter a small, tired smile.

There’s only a few feet of unobstructed space between them. Peter feels a little guilty for the way his eyes drop automatically down Tony’s front, sticking on the vee of skin revealed by the undone top buttons of his shirt, his still bare forearms and the tattoos Peter kind of wants to run his tongue over.

When he looks back up, it’s in time to catch Tony’s eyes flicking back up, as well, gaze darker than before.

Oh, this is dangerous. He knows nothing about this person except this evening, but the glimpse is tantalizing enough to make the risk seem worth it.

“Then, did you--” Peter starts, blushing when his throat sticks, but pushing on anyway, “do you still want me to take care of you?”

The older man stares at him, gaze flickering down and back up again, and then he pushes off the counter, steps forward and eases into Peter’s space. His hands come to rest, lightly, almost questioning on Peter’s hips.

“Is that something you want?” he asks quietly.

Peter swallows, huffs a breathless laugh. “Yeah. Yeah I really do.”

Tony smirks, and Peter’s breath hitches as fingers slide up under his shirt to caress bare skin.

“Good,” he says, low. “Because I’ve been dying to get a taste of you all night."

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

@the-amazing-spidertwink, @silkystark, @starkercrossedlovers, @hoeforthegays, @problematic-sofatini, @starkeroverlord, @starker-reader, @mrstark-please, @youknowwhoiamx, @aoifelaufeyson, @erasnegras, @fastenyourseats

[theawkwardterrier]

Ship game

Rules: Movie/TV ship questions, no repeats, answer with a gif. (I couldn’t make my own, but I’ve credited below.)

Honored to be tagged for this by the fabulous @nevertothethird and my wonderful meme partner, @lavellenchanted. Let’s talk ships!

1. First Ship ↳ Jack/Sue, Sue Thomas FBEye

This show used to air at random times on my local UPN station and I was - completely inexplicably - wild for it. My best friend and I would call each other frantically if we happened to catch it when it was on. A big part of my interest? This very chaste pair of coworkers who wanted to be something more! (Gif via @suethomasfbeye) 

2. First OTP ↳ Buffy/Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Cannot tell you how completely gone I was for this ship for essentially all of high school. Was it the soulmates aspect? The Yearning™ because they couldn’t be together? Their sweetness and encouragement toward each other, the way they relied on each other despite everything? My enormous thing for David Boreanaz? (It couldn’t have been my total 😍 for the symbolism of the cross burned into Angel’s chest in 1x07 - I was not astute enough to appreciate it until later.) Regardless, I spent much of driver’s ed when I was 16 writing a full on treatise about how they were meant for each other. Still do not drive, but they’re still with me, so I think I took care of the important stuff. (Gif via @buffysummers)

3. Current Fave Ship ↳ Elizabeth/Henry, Madam Secretary

It’s not a huge surprise that I got into this show, considering my love of The West Wing and my past as a college aged Good Wife fan, but I was shocked at how absolutely wonderful this ship was. I’m always here for functional married couples, and they are a prime example of believing in each other, having complementary values, communicating, and sticking together through everything. I’m about it. (Gif via @beautifuldisastr)

4. Your Ship Since the First Minute ↳ Booth/Brennan, Bones

I purposefully picked a gif from the first Bones episode I ever watched (2x04, The Blonde in the Game) because from the second they walked through those woods arguing about the possibility of having a pig for a pet, I was gone for them - and they didn’t even get together for another four seasons. The show shifted tone in later years in a way that I wasn’t totally on board with, but at the core, their bickering and chemistry and rock-solid partnership remained a draw for me. (Gif via @becauseyoulovemebb)

5. Ship You Wish Had Been Endgame ↳ Mary/Marshall, In Plain Sight

Y’all. It makes no sense that these two didn’t end up together. I rewatched somewhat recently and liked Abigail much better this time around, but these two had a best friendship that was extremely obviously a romance, and they passed it over to stick them with random others. (Gif via @browncoatgrl221b)

6. Ship You Wish Was Canon ↳ Sam/Ainsley, The West Wing

The idea of the principled Republican doesn’t exactly carry the same meaning these days, but I’m with Aaron Sorkin: not keeping Emily Proctor on West Wing was a huge mistake. Watching these two characters walk and talk through disagreeing on nearly everything and still managing to be friends of a sort is an unexpected joy of any rewatch. (Gif via @donnajosh)

7. Ship that Most of the Fandom Hates, but You Love ↳ Rory/Logan, Gilmore Girls

I’m not completely alone in shipping them, but Jess is definitely the more popular Rory boyfriend and Logan gets a LOT of hate. And in some ways I get it, but my heart belongs to these two beautiful messes who filled my life with adorable moments of banter and affection as they learned to be in a relationship. (They were also a candidate for “different storyline” - where was my revival non-cheating media power couple, Palladinos? Where was it?????????) (Gif via @rosedatlantis)

8. You Don’t Even Watch the Show, but You Ship It ↳ Jim/Pam, The Office

Mike Schur is my guy, but The Office has always been too awkward for me to handle. Still, if I ever force myself to watch, getting to see these two will have been a big factor in the decision. They look adorable, and history has shown that I’m wild for a sweet Schur relationship! (Gif via @bymine)

9. Ship That You Wish Had a Different Storyline ↳ Dawson/Casey, Chicago Fire

Part of the reason their relationship turned out the way it did was because of behind the scenes real world stuff, but I would have absolutely loved for Dawson to stick around and for them to figure out their issues (and maybe even eventually build a family). Also for them to have gone through just a touch less Drama™! My brother was recently binging the show and as I watched over his shoulder I found that I didn’t remember about 400 fairly large obstacles and random soap opera plots they added in for them. (Gif via @jayhalsstead)

10. Fave Ship That’s Endgame ↳ Steve/Peggy, MCU

It’s gotta be them, ya know? It was in the prompt. I’ve been extremely #blessed to have a lot of endgame or at least canon ships (Ben/Leslie from Parks and Rec? Matt/Julie from Friday Night Lights? Parker/Hardison on Leverage? Logan/Veronica on Veronica Mars since they got married and lived happily ever after and nothing else? Jake/Amy from Brooklyn 99? DON/SLOAN ON THE NEWSROOM??????), but the surprise and delight of these two finding their way back to each other? Unparalleled. A joy. 10000/10. (Gif via @onscreenkisses)

I’ll tag @mediocre-mee, @sisforsammi, @nightlocktime, @thesokovianaccords, and anyone else who wants to do it!

[artificialqueens]

Level Up, Chapter Two (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

“They make ones with velcro, y’know.”

Vanessa snaps her head up and Brooke is sitting down across from her, leaning against the wall of lockers while looking like more of a model than anyone has the right to while all sweaty. Brooke raises an eyebrow, gestures to Vanessa’s failed attempt at her wrap. “Let me.”

“I can do it myself.” Vanessa doesn’t need help; sure she’s a beginner, but she can do it-

“I know.”

AN: Hello hello hello Christine, thank you all SO much for all the kind words about the first chapter. I’m so happy that you guys like it so far. Chapter two time, hope you enjoy.

Thank you times a million to writ for both betaing and being the best support system ever, I love you <3

“The bills-”

“Don’t say it-”

“The bills for the month are here.”

Brooke groans when Kameron hands her the envelopes, monthly reminders of the fact that the costs never end, that they’re scraping to keep the gym afloat. Because it’s not supposed to be this hard, the pipes aren’t supposed to fall apart and the windows aren’t supposed to need replacement and Brooke needs to keep the place alive.

Kameron lifts herself up onto the counter, giving Brooke the look that she always does when she wants to talk. “I know you don’t want to, but it may not be a bad idea to-”

“No.” Brooke doesn’t need Kameron to finish her sentence to know what she’s about to suggest. But she can’t do it.

“Imagine not just the money, but the publicity for the gym-”

“Absolutely not.” Brooke’s voice is flat, and it feels as if it’s reflecting the way she feels inside, the sudden blankness that never fails to overtake her when it comes to thinking about these scenarios. “I’m never competing again. You know that.”

“D’you really think he’d want that for you?” Kameron’s question makes Brooke wince because it’s a low blow, one she doesn’t really want to think about.

“Fuck off, Kam. Don’t you have a class to teach?”

Kameron raises an eyebrow. “It isn’t for another forty five minutes. You ever pay attention to the schedule?”

“I’m not one of the instructors.”

“Which is a shame, y’know. You’d be good at it.” Kameron hops off the counter, resting her face against her palm, and Brooke hums noncommittally, shrugging.

“Managing the administrative piece is enough for me.”

It’s strange, to Brooke, the way that her relationship with boxing has shifted. How one small little event has changed the course of her trajectory, of what she’d been planning on doing with her life. But taking a backseat, solely running the gym, is safe. It’s less of a reminder of what had happened even if she’s in this building every day, even if she’s reminded of her dad by every picture on the wall, each trophy on the shelves.

Kameron’s words replay in her brain as she sits at her desk, figures out the payroll. She could easily hire someone and go back to fighting, to competitions - Kameron’s not wrong about the fact that it’ll bring in more money, more publicity, that the mere presence of her last name alone will be enough to boost talk about her. Maybe then she’d be able to give some badly needed upgrades to the gym, replace the broken mirror on the far wall or maybe get some new punching bags that don’t hold thirty years of practice and sweat. She wouldn’t have to worry about finances every month, about keeping the doors of the gym open-

But Brooke can’t.

She can’t.

She sighs, rubbing her eyes before glancing up at the clock on the wall. The giant poster of her dad that hangs underneath it stares right back at her, and it’s hard, really, to try and ignore his influence when he’s quite literally imposing it on her the same way he did when he had been alive.

What would her dad do, in a situation like this?

The answer comes easily to Brooke. He’d go back to fighting - in fact, he’d never leave, he’d participate in more and more matches the way he always would and then-

Well, Brooke knows the rest well enough. She’s not going to let that happen to her.

Besides, the gym’s going to survive solely because her dad’s eventually going to come back as a ghost and keep the doors from ever closing. Brooke wouldn’t be surprised by it in the least.

She closes the open tabs one by one once she’s done her work, shutting the computer monitor off and leaning back in her chair with a sigh. Her brain feels like a jumble of numbers that she knows she’s going to have to go over at a later time, to make sure she hasn’t missed any mistakes. The ache in her neck and upper back from sitting at the desk the entire day doesn’t fade as she reaches back to massage her shoulders and roll out her neck. She’s not one for being sedentary all day, no matter how much she tries to convince herself of the fact to get through the workload.

But one good part of owning a gym? She can peel herself out of her desk chair and leave her office, shaking off the cobwebs that are surely beginning to weave themselves onto her shoulders. And since Brooke has no qualms about coming to work in athleisure, she can get herself moving and sweating before she even has time to think about it.

It gives her the chance to clear her head, take one of the bags hanging in the back of the gym and just turn her brain off. Practicing her old drills against the heavy punching bag, getting the chance to relish in the recoil as it swings against the chains suspending it from the ceiling checks off an imaginary tick box in her brain, gives her a sense of satisfaction that not much else can. It allows her to give into the muscle memory that’s deeply rooted into her brain and almost feels like an instinct, an ingrained habit.

She doesn’t have to worry about money, or about how she’s going to keep the gym going, or about how her mom really thinks ‘you should try talking to someone, honey,’ or the fact that she still needs to get her car’s oil changed. None of it matters anymore, not when the adrenaline in her system is stronger than the impact of her knuckles against the bag, and the feeling of sweat dripping down her back.

If Brooke punches hard enough, it all goes away. If she hits a combination the way she’s supposed to, she can almost hear her dad on the other side of the punching bag telling her to do it again. She can go back to being in his shadow, still growing, still learning in anticipation of what’s to come. She doesn’t have to carry all of the responsibilities anymore.

But then comes the part when Brooke pulls off her gloves and wipes the sweat that’s dripping from her forehead, unraveling the wraps around her hands to reveal her calloused knuckles. The adrenaline coursing through her body that keeps her from feeling any pain starts to fade as she takes a few breaths, catches herself, only to feel less stable than before.

It’s hard, trying to soothe over a wound with the very instrument that caused it in the first place. It hasn’t worked for Brooke yet, though it doesn’t stop her from trying.

“Rob! Stop smacking lips with Alexis and come outside already! You said you’d practice with me!”

“Vanj, I’m gonna lock you outta this apartment if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

Alexis’ growl isn’t enough to deter Vanessa, not when Rob’s at their place to practice drills with her and not to make out with his girlfriend, despite Alexis trying her best to distract him enough to do so.

Vanessa snickers when Alexis and Rob reluctantly detach from one another. “This is your fault, Al, y’know. If you and Rob didn’t force me to take boxing classes I woulda never gotten into it and never wanted to get better and practice more-”

Alexis rolls her eyes. “And now you’re Rocky Balboa, we get it. If you get to take Rob outside will you shut up now?”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Rob’s grinning as the two of them make their way down to the alleyway beside the apartment complex, an area that has proven to be an ample practice space over the last few weeks. “Now tell me. How much of this is you actually wanting to practice drills, and how much of it is you wanting to annoy the shit out of your sister?”

Vanessa sticks her tongue out at Rob before swiping at his gloves, ducking when he swipes back. “Guilty. Though it’s a shit ton of fun, and I wanna get better for real. How else will I whoop the asses of everyone else in the class?”

“Is that your motivation for everything in life?” Rob grunts when Vanessa puts a little bit more power into her jabs, watching as he recoils back slightly. “Is it because you’re the shortest and have something to prove-ow!”

Vanessa scowls before landing another combination against Rob’s gloves. “You deserved that one.”

But Rob’s right - maybe Vanessa does have something to prove. Not necessarily to the other girls in the class, but more to herself. She’s found something that she enjoys, something that she wants to work on. Something that’s made her punches at least 30 percent more effective. Boxing has made her want to go straight to the gym after work, rather than spend all her money at the bar while fruitlessly scrolling through tinder and feeling her twenties slip away from her in a haze of mediocrity.

Maybe the sensation of becoming quicker on her feet, of being able to execute combinations that she’s never been able to do before, is making her drive grow more and more. Vanessa feels like she’s climbing more than she’s able to do in her job, experiencing a sense of growth that’s bigger than the tiny apartment that her and Alexis share so that they can afford the rent. It’s the feeling of accomplishment when everything else in her life feels like it’s at a standstill.

Well, a feeling of accomplishment in everything except one area of boxing.

“These stupid fucking wraps…” Vanessa grumbles to herself when the fabric unravels on her hand just as she’s about to pin it down, letting out a sigh before wrapping the cloth again.

It’s been almost a month of boxing, and Vanessa still can never get the wraps to sit properly on her hands. They always shift and loosen underneath her gloves, feeling like more of a nuisance than any sort of protection. She needs to get Monet or Monique to show her exactly how to wrap them one of these days, before she does something stupid like throwing them out.

“They make ones with velcro, y’know.”

Vanessa snaps her head up and Brooke is sitting down across from her, leaning against the wall of lockers while looking like more of a model than anyone has the right to when all sweaty. Brooke raises an eyebrow, gestures to Vanessa’s failed attempt at her wrap. “Let me.”

“I can do it myself.” Vanessa doesn’t need help; sure she’s a beginner, but she can do it-

“I know.”

Brooke’s pulling Vanessa’s hands onto her lap and Vanessa’s brain doesn’t have any protests left anymore, not when Brooke’s deftly wrapping the fabric around her hands with a touch that’s firm but gentle. Brooke’s fingers glide over the fabric as she presses it down, smoothing it to Vanessa’s skin to protect her knuckles and palms from the impact that they’ll take once she’s out of the change room.

Brooke’s face is calm as she works, a slight furrow in her brow as she pins the edge of the wrap on one hand to keep it steady. She grabs Vanessa’s other hand and repeats the process, until both of Vanessa’s hands are snug and protected and she’s not quite sure if she wants Brooke to let go of them anymore.

“There. Done.”

Vanessa can feel the way her breath hitches in her chest, even through the normal action of trying to bring air into her lungs. Brooke gives her hands a squeeze before letting them go, and Vanessa brings them back onto her own lap while trying to maintain an air of suaveness that she’s not sure is truly believable.

“Thanks.”

It comes out more sheepish than Vanessa intends it to, but it’s hard to come up with words when Brooke’s looking at her like that, the knowing half smile on her face that somehow knows too much even though Vanessa’s barely said anything.

Brooke grins. “Anytime. Now, don’t you have a class to get to?”

It’s enough to break the imaginary ice because Vanessa rolls her eyes when Brooke cracks up, and suddenly it’s not hard to feel at ease with someone who laughs at her own jokes. She doesn’t miss the way Brooke’s eyes linger on her when she reaches the locker room door, turning back one last time.

“If I’m late, I’m telling Kameron it’s your fault.”

Brooke swings out of her office when Kameron gets her class started on their practice drills. The administration work can wait, because it’s more fun to watch the way the students attempt to bonk each other with the gloves that still are an unfamiliar armour around their fists.

“Monique and Monet haven’t argued yet about who throws a better punch, so I’m considering it a win.” Kameron points to the two girls in the back, and Brooke leans against the wall beside her, tilts her head as she watches.

“These guys a good group?”

“Good as any beginner class.” Kameron shrugs. “They’ve all paid their registration fees and that alone makes them gold.”

Brooke ignores Kameron’s words, the ones that keep reminding her of the way the gym is teetering on a financial cliff that she doesn’t quite want to think about. “Tell me about her.”

Brooke knows that Kameron doesn’t even have to follow Brooke’s gaze to see that she’s talking about Vanessa. Really, how could she not, when Vanessa’s holding her gloves up to her face like it’s her job, just a tad too close but enough for Brooke to see that she’s been paying attention and practicing in class? Vanessa’s eyes are laser focused, narrowed as she hits up against her partner’s gloves and there’s just something about her that Brooke can’t pull away from, a magnetic force that she doesn’t quite understand just yet.

But it’s no matter. Brooke just likes how spunky, how unapologetic she is - someone refreshing enough not to walk on eggshells around her, to not be intimidated by her. Sure, maybe it’s because Vanessa doesn’t know her history or that of the gym but it’s…nice. To meet someone who volleys comebacks at her like it’s second nature.

Vanessa throws a punch at the girl she’s partnered with, who lifts her gloves a second too late and ends up taking the hit. Vanessa lets out a woo , both hands up in the air, before going close to the girl, putting a glove on her shoulder (‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, are you okay?’).

“Hello? Did you listen to anything I just said?” Kameron’s waving her hand in front of Brooke’s face and it makes her jump, pulling her attention away from Vanessa.

“What?” Brooke blinks, running a hand through her hair and trying not to let her gaze shift back to the way Vanessa’s already sparring again. “Repeat that.”

Kameron snorts. “You’re already smitten, aren’t you? She is your type, after all.”

Brooke wrinkles her nose. She doesn’t have a type. Not that she dates much, anyway. “What’s my type?”

“Girls who make you this googly eyed, that’s what. A rare find.” Kameron snickers, nudging her shoulder.

“Shut up.” Brooke rolls her eyes. “She’s just fun to watch.”

“And that’s not a creepy thing to say at all.”

Brooke sticks her tongue out at Kameron, who looks a little too proud of herself. “Shouldn’t you be teaching a class right now?”

“See, I would be, if there wasn’t someone distracting me with conversation right at this very moment.” Kameron gives Brooke a little wave before going back to the class, already yelling about the next drills she wants them to practice.

Vanessa’s mimicking the moves Kameron does as she demonstrates for the class, as if trying to commit them to memory, and Brooke has to hold back a smile. The sight reminds Brooke of when she was younger, so eager and willing to learn and just wanting to be better. And honestly, after all the gym has been through, and as weary Brooke has gotten over the years? It’s refreshing.

Kameron yells at the class to try the drills out on their own and Vanessa’s already bouncing in place, ready to go. Brooke watches as her eyes flit around before landing on hers, and doesn’t miss the way Vanessa pauses, a hitch in her step. Vanessa doesn’t pull her eyes away, tilts her head slightly as if in question, and Brooke can’t help but wink back. Especially when it makes Vanessa nearly miss the jab that her drill partner throws in her direction.

Oops.

Brooke heads back to her office, because she really does need to call the electrician to fix the thermostats and she has to organize the schedule for next month’s classes, even though watching the beginner group get used to their boxing gloves is more entertaining than she wants to admit. The administrative part of owning a gym is menial - tasks that turn her brain off, ones that she could probably hire someone to do, but…she doesn’t mind them. It’s nice, having control over the little aspects of the gym. Making sure everything is running as it should be.

She’s absorbed in the excel spreadsheet in front of her and doesn’t even notice Vanessa in the doorway until there’s a knock on her desk that makes her jump. Vanessa sits down across from her, gloves slung across her shoulder but knuckles still wrapped, 5he light beads of sweat along her forehead and cheekbones and the way she’s still out of breath betraying the fact that the class has just ended. Vanessa slouches in the chair, lifting her leg onto her seat and Brooke can’t help but lean forward.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to check out your digs.” Vanessa’s eyes trail along the pictures on the wall, the awards that line the shelves and she whistles. “Damn. You win all these?”

Brooke snorts. “No. Some of them. Definitely not all of them.”

Truth is, Brooke hasn’t known what to do with her dad’s old trophies and newspaper clippings and memorabilia. She can’t just throw it all away, because it would be wrong somehow and her dad would probably turn over in his grave and as much as it hurts to see…it wouldn’t be right to let it go. But having it all around her isn’t much better, she knows that. It’s become a mosaic of reminders of events that she wants to forget, banish from her mind even though it would feel sacrilegious to do so.

So she just ignores all of it, pretending that it isn’t there. Even though it’s hard to do when Vanessa’s craning her neck up, pointing at the pictures that decorate the surfaces like wallpaper.

“No way. Is that you? Six year old you had abs? What the fuck?” Vanessa’s out of her seat, squinting to read the caption on a picture from a newspaper article.

Brooke remembers when the picture had been taken. She had been competing in a tournament, one that her dad had coached her in and when she’d won, the reporters had wanted a picture of the two of them together. To show off the family legacy, as one would. Her dad had hoisted her on his shoulders and Brooke remembers the way she had felt a million feet tall. Unstoppable. Like all the matches she would ever have would be hers to win, and that she never ever wanted to stop fighting, not when the feeling of winning was so satisfying.

She wonders what six year old Brooke would think of her now.

“You were cute as fuck.” Vanessa makes a little pouting face and Brooke can’t help but grin, roll her eyes.

“Was, huh?”

“Don’t you go fishing for compliments, I see you.” Vanessa wiggles a finger at her and sits back down, leaning her elbows on Brooke’s desk. “Now what you up to here in this little office dungeon of yours?”

“It’s not a dungeon. It has plenty of natural light. Sort of.” Brooke can’t help but try to defend the place, even though Vanessa is right. It is a little bit bleak. “Working on administrative stuff. Not quite that exciting.”

“You’re telling me this stuff is more fun than being out there, beating up a punching bag or two?” Vanessa makes a face as she looks at her, and Brooke shrugs.

“Nah. But I have to do it. So I do.”

Vanessa blinks. “Man, my ADHD ass is hella jealous that you can just do things. You ain’t gotta argue with your brain for an hour about it first?”

“Sometimes, when it comes to the financial stuff. The math always gets me.” Thank goodness they hire an accountant when it comes to taxes.

“Amen to that.”

Vanessa leans back in her chair and Brooke closes the window on her computer, gathers all the papers on her desk because she’s not going to get much done anyway, not with Vanessa here. Instead, she turns her attention back to the girl in front of her. “So, how’s that beginner class treating you? Is boxing everything you thought it would be?”

The way Vanessa’s face lights up is almost cute, as is the way she sits up in her seat. “It’s fun as hell. How’d I not know y’all were hiding this gym from me until recently?”

“Hiding, huh?”

“Anyway,” Vanessa airily waves a hand, “I like it. I wanna take more but there’s only two beginner classes a week. How am I supposed to get better with just two?”

Brooke raises an eyebrow. Vanessa wants to take more? She’s already seen her around when they have open gym nights, and it’s true, Vanessa hasn’t really missed a beginner class since she’s started. Huh.

“Why are you sticking to beginner classes? Don’t think you can handle an intermediate one?”

Vanessa’s reaction is exactly what Brooke anticipates it to be. “Can’t handle-bitch, I’ll show you handling.” Vanessa lets out a grumble as she crosses her arms, and Brooke has to hold back a laugh.

“Try one. I think you’ll be able to hold your own.”

Vanessa can’t stop herself from following Brooke’s advice. She starts attending the intermediate classes, spars with girls who have been taking boxing for years and yes, sometimes she gets her ass kicked when they catch her off guard or are too fast, but-

There’s times where she doesn’t. Times where she’s able to execute a combination perfectly, times where she’s able to get a win or two or three and the feeling is absolutely addictive. Winning. Having Kameron look at her with an impressed expression and having her opponents give her reluctant nods.

She notices the way her arms and legs get firmer to the touch, the way the faintest hint of abs begin to peek underneath the soft layer of her shirt. The way braiding her hair back takes less than thirty seconds now, because the faster she’s able to do so, the faster she can get out on the floor.

Silky and A’keria notice one early morning, when they’re in front of the floor to ceiling mirrors at a shoot that’s going to be paying them well. Vanessa’s trying to focus, she really is, on the strange combination of purple and green that she’s supposed to follow for the model’s makeup, despite the fact that it’s a little too reminiscent of Barney. She rolls her neck once she finishes the model’s cut crease, stretching her arms up to loosen the way her muscles have tensed.

Silky makes eye contact with her as she does, letting out a little whistle. “Damn, Vanj. Since when are you ripped as fuck?”

“What?” Vanessa’s brows furrow until Silky points at her shirt, which has slightly risen up from stretching her arms. She tugs it back down, her cheeks reddening, and busies herself with blending her model’s shadow and hoping she hasn’t noticed.

“It’s cause you always be at that gym.” A’keria tuts, waving her mascara wand. “You ain’t even coming out with us these days.”

“Hey! I came out last Friday.” Vanessa protests, because it’s true. She did. So maybe she went home by 10:30 so that she could get enough sleep before going to open gym hours the next morning, but that’s beside the point. “You guys should try it. You’d like boxing, too. I feel so good these days.”

Vanessa really does. Like Yoda, or some shit. All that she wants to do is go to the gym and train and maybe it’s a bit of a shift from how she’d been about six or so months ago, but it’s fun. Maybe A’keria and Silky would enjoy it, too.”

Except Silky just gives her a look. “You think my ass would ever willingly go in there? What I enjoy personally is going to my couch and watching 90 Day Fiance. ‘Cause I have taste.”

“I prefer my yoga, sorry Vanj.” A’keria shrugs. “That being said, your ass is definitely calmer. You haven’t lost your shit at anyone in ages.”

Vanessa pauses. While A’keria’s statement isn’t exactly true, since she’d gotten into an argument with Alexis this morning about their shared conditioner in the shower, the fact that her ass hasn’t had to be bailed out from the local station in a while is…nice. Even if Rob’s usually the one that books her after one too many bar fights.

“Does boxing teach you to talk about your feelings?” Silky snickers as she sprays setting spray across her client’s face, and Vanessa scowls.

“Want me to break my streak, Silk?”

“Geez, relax.” Silky sticks her tongue out at her. “Big Silk is proud of you for it, y’know.”

“Hmph.” Vanessa tries not to smile as she turns her attention back to her model. “Whatever.”

It’s something that sticks in Vanessa’s mind as her workday ends though, as she grabs her gym bag and heads out for the evening. It’s not that she doesn’t feel as strongly as she used to, because she definitely does. Sometimes things get so overwhelming that all she wants to do is snap and let out the extra energy that feels like it’s building and building and building but…she can’t do it when she fights in the gym. She has to hold back, only throw a punch when necessary and be strategic about it for the strongest impact. And it feels like that strategy has shifted over to other parts of her life, too.

It isn’t her first instinct anymore just to go off on someone. She’s better at holding back, at waiting even when she wants to burst, and she supposes that it isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Maybe Alexis had been onto something all those months ago.

The change room is rowdy when Vanessa finally reaches the gym, changing into her sports bra and leggings like it’s second nature. Monet and Monique are spread out on the ground, lying across from one another and attempting to arm wrestle, and Vanessa shoots a questioning look to Asia, who only shrugs.

“What can I even say at this point?” Asia grabs her water bottle, heads out the door. “See you out there, Vanj.”

Vanessa braids her hair to the sounds of Monet and Monique arguing about arm wrestling techniques and she’s glad, really, that her friends have moved up to take the intermediate classes, too. It makes it fun, and even more so satisfying when she beats one of them while sparring.

It’s nice. Vanessa’s steadily gaining a community around her, and it’s one that she doesn’t want to lose anytime soon.

Kameron’s face is excited when the class comes to an end, when gloves are coming off and water bottles are being picked up for some much needed swigs. Vanessa watches as she grabs a flyer, holding it up for the class to see like a flag.

“You guys think you can hold your own against a bunch of bitches who aren’t from this gym?” Kameron cocks her head, her eyes trailing across the group.

Vanessa can’t help the way she stands on her tiptoes, trying her best to take a peek at the flyer. She’s a bit too far back and is about to poke Monet’s side to ask her to read it out loud, but there’s no need, because Kameron’s voice echoes across the gym before she even has to.

“We’re joining a tournament. Or rather, you guys are. Not much at stake except the entire reputation of our gym and it’s extensive legacy. That’s all.” Kameron snickers, before shaking her head. “I’m playing. But signup sheets are going to be posted on the change room doors for a week, so think about it if you’re interested.”

Vanessa tries her best not to fidget much until the class is over and they’re given the okay to head for the change rooms, and then she can’t hold herself back anymore from wrapping her arms around Monet and Monique’s shoulders.

“So are you guys gonna do it?” Vanessa undoes her wraps, wiggles her fingers, and even though she’s just sparred for an hour and a half, she feels more energetic than ever.

A tournament. Not just sparring in class with her friends, but a real boxing tournament.

“What, the competition?” Asia hums noncommittally, shrugging. “Thinking about it.”

“Come on! It sounds so fun.” Monique sits down beside Vanessa, sticks her leg out to trip Monet as she walks by, and the resulting explosion of swear words from Monet makes Vanessa crack up.

“I’m saying!” Vanessa nods. “We could go and fuck some shit up with people from other gyms.”

“What makes you think that it’s going to be your ass doing the beating, and not getting beat?” Monet snickers, and Vanessa gives her a look.

“Are you forgetting I just won a match against you twenty minutes ago? That memory of yours really has turned to shit with that many hits to the head.” Vanessa volleys back, and Asia and Monique let out twin cackles.

Vanessa’s mind is made up as she catches the subway home, the ache in her muscles from the class not nearly strong enough to dull the possibilities and excitement already beginning to grow in her brain. Sure, she’s never boxed in a competition setting, but why not?

Maybe Brooke will be there to watch the tournament, too.

[aloneeedra]

Mint 2 B pt. 2

This is part two. Thank you for reading!

Japril fanfic| Disclaimer: All rights belong to Shonda Rhimes, I only own my version of the ending

One Year Later

April hurried across the parking lot of the elementary school, not having a chance to stick around to here the sound of her car alarm locking. She could feel the cold rain slowly penetrate through the layers of fabric she wore, but she didn't pay any attention to the feeling since a much bigger one took up her mind. She pushed pasted a parent holding tightly the hand of a little kid. "Sorry," she yelled, but she didn't look back. Her heels hit hard against the tile floor, and she felt that harshness against her toes as she ran past three hallways and finally took a left turn into the fourth. She ran past more parents with their kids, never giving them the smallest bit of attention, her eyes on one class the entire time. She thrashed into the open classroom, crouching over to try to get some air into her lungs before she even had a chance to see who was in it.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. The traffic...it's...it's a nightmare. I left an hour early, believe it or not and yet, it still wasn't enough. It crazy, really. It's ridiculous, actually." She raised her left wrist close to her eyes. "But, really, I'm only like 47 minutes late. So it's not that bad." She finally stood up, her red curls flying around her face, before her soft brown eyes widen. She looked at Ms. King, Harriet's kindergarten teacher, then she looked at the two parents sitting in front of her across the desk, with a child sitting on of their lap's. All three adults looked at her like she was crazy. Even the tiny human had her mouth gaped open.

"Ms. Kepner, you have not missed your meeting. As you can see, I am currently with another family, so if you mind waiting out in the hall?" Ms. King asked, looking at April like a teacher would like at a 5 year-old. 

April felt her checks burning. She nodded her head, a fit of laughter due to awkwardness fall out of her mouth. "Of course I can wait," she giggled. She threw up her hands up in finger guns, playfully, making the situation from awkward to  absolutely horrifying. She quickly dropped her hands. She pointed towards the hall she had come in so wildly. "I'm going to be out there. Waiting."

"Sounds good."

"Okay." April walked out of the classroom, for the first time allowing the fact that she was covered in rain sink in. She dropped her head, her eyes closed tightly as she involuntarily played the scene in her mind. She was so caught up with the idea of missing Harriet's parent/teacher meeting, that she didn't really give herself time think logically. That always happened when Harriet was involved. April consider herself a person that thrive from organization and calm thinking. She was a trauma surgeon for Pete's sake, yet just the thought of Harriet and any logical thought flies out the window. She started to rub her face almost like doing so would make the memory go away. She stopped when she heard laughter. April slowly lifted her head up, her eyebrows pushed together as she spotted who was laughing. 

Jackson had his mouth cover, but he didn't look like he was trying to hard to cover his laughter. He was sitting on one of the many chairs against the small halls of the elementary school. His green-blue eyes stared at hers unafraid as his laughter began to gain fire. No one else was there beside empty chairs and a sleeping Harriet sitting against her dad's shoulder.

April raised her hands up in disbelief. "Were you there the whole time?" Then, when Jackson nodded, she added, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I called out your name, but I guess you were in such a hurry speeding past me you didn't hear me." He continued to chuckled. As much as April was irritated by this, she found herself laughing along to the entire situation. Jackson moved his head towards the free chair next to him. April sigh, before taking the few steps towards it to sit in it. Each step felt like she was inching her feet into a wet carpet, the sound of slush following. This made Jackson laugh even harder.

April placed her bag on her lap. Hating the feeling of pressing against the plastic chair, she avoid leaning back. The rain made it feel cold. "I totally made a fool of myself," she said.

"I highly doubt that."

April crossed her legs. The wet fabric of her skirt made a sound similar to her heels when it moved. Jackson looked towards where the sound came, this time holding in his laughter. His eyes shifted from her crossed legs to her face. "You're all wet."

April looked at him with such with sarcastic smile. "What? Really? Thank you for letting me know."

"You have a raindrop on your cheek," he said, before he brushed his thumb across her cheek.

 It had been a year since April and Jackson put away any kind of romantic interest for each other into a box and decided to move on. Not soon after, April found herself married at a wedding that wasn't hers originally with Mathew, someone she somehow reconnected with. The past year, Jackson and April were doing pretty good at just being co-parents of Harriet and friends, like before. They, however, did not hang around each other much of the time. April blame it on have two different jobs, two different lives. Of course they couldn't spend much time together when they were constantly living their own individual life, only seeing one another when they dropped off Harriet for the week. Only say five to nine words, before go back to their piece of living.

But then Jackson does something like brush off rain from her cheek, or look at her for maybe a little too long, and April wonders if maybe the 'having two different lives' reason was crap. Maybe the real reason why they didn't spend so much time with each other nowadays was because it was hard to act like before. They have a way to make simple, very innocent gesture intimate. It was a slipper slope that they found themselves in and it was just easier for both their different lives if they didn't spend time together.

Jackson dropped his hand quickly, looking forward. He cleared his throat, but didn't say anything anything.

"You didn't have to come," April said. She was already aware that what they do best is act like nothing happened. It happens every time they saw each other. You would think it would have lost it's effect on her. She would think that too. "I thought I took care of parent teacher meetings?"

"They called me when you didn't show up. I was at work."

April looked at Jackson's scrubs. "You didn't  have time to change?"

"I have to go back right after this." Jackson smirk. "Like you're the one to talk." She could feel his eyes on her outfit. "You would look nice, if you weren't dripping the forecast."

"I can't control the rain, Jackson."

"You ever heard of an umbrella?"

"I didn't think I had time. I hurried out of my car and into the school without much thought. I thought Harriet was here alone. Thank God, she's fine. Has she been sleeping the whole time?"

"No, when I came here she was playing in the playground with her friends. She has a lot of them. Our daughter is very popular."

April smiled proudly. "Of course she is. When did she fall asleep?"

"Maybe a few minutes before you showed off your running moves, or your lack of." He paused to laugh. April rolled her eyes. "She must of have tired herself out." Jackson had his right arm wrapped protectively around Harriet. Her small head resting against the side of Jackson's side as her small open mouth out let out soundless snores.

"No, it's because of you. She always falls asleep much faster when it comes to you. It's a little annoying."

He pushed his shoulder against her playfully. "Jealous?"

"No," she lied. "Okay, yes. Of course." This made Jackson laugh again. He always seemed to happy whenever they did see each other. April wanted to believe it was because of her. "You can leave if you want. Since I'm here now. There's no need for both of us to be here."

Jackson seemed to think it over for a moment as he used his other hand to carefully push back the baby hairs sticking out of Harriet's braid, only for them to reappear once his hand left. He then rested his left arm on April's chair. The idea of leaning back become more intruding. She hated that such a small act of affection drove her mad. Jackson made her feel something that she couldn't get anywhere else. It was ridiculous. "No, it's okay. I want to hear all the good things that my daughter does. It not like everyday you get to hear someone that's not family brag about her."

"Yeah, it is a pretty good feeling." April looked forward as they sat in silence. She wanted to lean back against her chair. Was that crazy? Was she crazy? Something in her core urged for it. She could feel every muscle in her body, hear every mediocre sound like it was right against her ear as she very slowly leaned against the plastic chair. She first felt the wetness from her blouse touch her back, but then their was this feeling when she realized she had done it. She couldn't feel his arm, just the atmosphere it was creating by just being their, hovering over her, as a sort of affection. 

She could sense Jackson tense up beside her, but she refused to look. She waited for him to remove his arm, but when he never did, it was like they both knew something that neither one of them could ever share, maybe because there was no words for it. To a normal person walking by, his arm was resting on the chair that she was sitting in. It was no big deal, but for April, it meant something. Something more than she would ever admit and deep down she hoped that it meant something for Jackson too, but she knew that was unlikely.

It was strange. They had gotten closure a year ago in Jackson's car, yet, though April was happy with Mathew and she was happy for Jackson and Maggie, her feelings for him didn't disappear like she thought they would. They still lingered in her like some kind of ghost that would become alive whenever Jackson was close. When she thought about it, it was silly to think that the feelings she had for Jackson could ever disappeared. Maybe this was just how it was. Maybe there were a bunch of people who were still in love, but could never be, and they all act like those feeling weren't there, but they were.

The family she had interrupted earlier walked out of the classroom, and soon followed Ms. King. The sight of people made April sit up quickly and Jackson take his arm off her chair. It was as if the kindergarten teacher had caught them doing something. She looked at them weirdly, before stepping aside. "Now, it's time for you parent teacher meeting," Ms. King said.

Jackson began to laugh again. April completely over it, stood up and walked into the classroom. Jackson followed soon after with a sleepy Harriet into his arms. 

It had become nightfall when the small broken family walked out of the large elementary school. April was clearly upset, blowing hot air out of her nose as she rambled on. "Violent? She called out daughter violent?" She cried out.

Jackson rolled his blue-green eyes as he followed her to her car. He held an awake Harriet in his arms, close to him, as she played with the collar of his blue shirt. "She didn't say that."

"She practically did."

"No, she said that Harriet has shown violent behavior towards her classmates. She didn't call Harriet violent. Though, April, we need to take this serious. It's not okay for her to be hitting other kids."

April threw a nasty glare as Jackson, reaching her car. She opened the car door next to the car seat, before grabbing Harriet from his grip and placing Harriet safely into the seat and buckling her up. "Kids hit. That's what they do."

"No, it's not. Don't try to write Harriet's behavior off. She needs consequences for her actions."

April gave Harriet a small smile, before closing the door. She walked past Jackson and around her vehicle, with him following closely behind. "I'm not trying to write off her behavior."

"You kind of are."

April turned around, crossing her arms over her chest. "Okay fine. I'll...take her toys away for the weekend. Happy?"

"You need to talk to her about why what she did was wrong."

"Why do I have to talk to her? Why can't you talk to her?"

"Fine, then I'll talk to her." Jackson made a move to get into the car, but April put out her hand to stop him.

"Fine. I'll talk to her," she said. She got into the driver side, shutting the door and turning on the car, before putting her seat belt on. Jackson stood outside her window. She waited for him to leave, but then he knocked on it. She sighed, before putting it down. "What now?" she asked, her shoulders slum. She just wanted to go home.

"We should also think about what she said regarding why Harriet is acting this way."

"You mean when she accused us of fighting?"

Jackson nodded his head.

"I don't know what she talking about. That's ridiculous."

"So are you saying that you and Mathew don't fight?" Jackson asked.

April opened and closed her mouth a couple of times as she looked at the large tree she had parked in front of. She didn't know how she wanted to answer this. It was normal for couples to fight, healthy even, but admitting that it was happening to Jackson seemed too vulnerable. April didn't understand why, but she wanted Jackson to believe she was happily in love all the time, even if she wasn't. Eventually, she looked at Jackson with his eyebrow raised and ended up asking, "Are you saying Maggie and you don't fight?"

His expression changed. He looked down to his shoes. "No, we don't." For a split second, April wonder if Jackson felt it too. The need to pretend like everything was okay with their love lives. They were adults, full adults with a kid now, so admitting that maybe they weren't where they wish to be seemed almost like a failure. But that idea went straight out the window with his next set of words. "Actually, Maggie and I broke up, so."

April eyes widen. She sat closer to the window, her hands grasping the ledge . "Jackson, I'm so sorry. I didn't know." He brushed the idea away with his hand. "When did you guys...?"

"A little more than a month ago."

"Oh." April pulled back her hands. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, it's not something you just announce during a ten second conversation and that's all we've been having lately. I was going to tell you when time was right, it just never seemed right."

"Right." She wanted to ask why they had broken up. She wanted to ask who had broken up with who, but she didn't want to pry into his business. She also felt she wanted to know for the wrong reasons. "Well, I'm really sorry it didn't work out." She thought that was the end of the conversation and smiled at him kindly, before about to press the window button.

"What about you?"

She removed her hand from the bottom. The conversation was still alive and running. "What do you mean?"

"Mathew and you? Do you guys fight?" he asked.

April didn't understand why he was asking when he clearly knew the answer. If Jackson and Maggie aren't together to fight, that only leave April and Mathew to be the reason behind Harriet 'violent' behavior. She looked towards the backseat to see Harriet playing with her favorite toy, before looking towards the radio. She made sure the air was on, before getting out of the car. She shut the door behind her before crossing her arms over her chest once more to bring some kind of comfort.

"He got a job offer in California," she said.

"Oh. Are you going to move to California?"

"He wants us to, but I don't want to. My life is here. You're here." April paused and watched as Jackson eyes looked at her like they did before. It brought feeling to her stomach as they kept eye contact. The air around them felt thick. She quickly looked down. "I mean, you're Harriet father. I don't want her growing up with her dad being miles away." Jackson stayed silent. "Anyways, we've been arguing a lot about it. Him trying to convince me that it's a good idea to go and then getting upset when I tell him I don't want to." Mathew also usually turned their argument into something having to do with Jackson, but April didn't bring that up.

"Do you want me to talk to him?" Jackson offered.

April made a face. "No, no, that's okay. We'll figure it out."

Jackson looked down to the ground. "He doesn't deserve you, April." He said. April eyes widen. Before she knew what she was doing, she slapped him. Jackson quickly touched his check, his eyebrows pressed together. "Ow. What was that for?"

April covered her mouth with her hands, surprised that she had done that too. "I-I'm so sorry, I am...but how could you say that? You encouraged me to married him." Jackson held his check as they looked at each in the dark. When she realized that he wasn't going to say anything, she turned around, opening the car door once more before getting in.

Jackson quickly stood in front of the down window, his eyes lingering on her as she placed her seat belt on. "I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have said that. I don't know why I did."

April placed her hand on the stick, but felt Jackson hand on her shoulder. She looked at Jackson. She could clearly see some red on his face and immediately felt ashamed for her own actions. "I'm really sorry," he said.

April grab the hand on her shoulder, before carefully pulling it off. "Good night," she told him before finally raising the window up and putting her car in reverse.

3 days later

April tossed candy into goody bags as she watched Harriet jumping on the bounce house. She had been talking to herself for a solid minute, asking herself what she could do if she saw someone be mean to Harriet, but whatever plan she had come up with was never used since Harriet didn't seem to get pushed into that situation.

April sighed alone, as she sat in the wooden bench as parents around her had their own conversations. Her eyes would shuffle between watching Harriet play in the bouncy house and Jackson make a bunch of parents laugh as they stood by the grill. Jackson was always so charming and had a way to attract people, something April clearly couldn't do. When Pete had invited her to his kids party, she never in a million years thought he would too invite Jackson. She had no idea their relationship went past patient and doctor. Jackson always seemed able to connect with people in a way April couple.

She watched as a very flirty mom placed her hand on Jackson arm. April rolled her eyes, unable to watch people gape over the existing of her ex. She placed the reminder candy in one bag, before standing up and walking into the house. She smiled politely as people she only kind of knew, before reaching the kitchen. She let out a large breath of air once she was finally alone. That didn't last long.

"Are you okay?"

April turned around to see Jackson slowly walking to the kitchen. Her eyes widen. "Did you follow me? Who's watching Harriet?"

"She'll be fine," he assured her.

"No, Jackson, she might not. There's a lot of people here who we don't know." April started walking out of the kitchen towards the backyard, but Jackson stopped her. He had his arm out. She stopped walking, looking out towards the backyard.

"She'll be fine," he said.

April could feel his eyes on her. She chose not to meet his eyes as she turned around back further into the kitchen. She stood in front of the island, using it to keep distance from Jackson. Ever since she had found out that Jackson is single, things had been weird between the two. Jackson has become more forward towards her, looking at her like she was made from the sun itself without any shame or even trying to hide it. It was different than before. Though April allowed small moment of affection, she thought there would never be anything more. Now, though, it felt possible and that scared her.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked.

"Oh, you know, just...cleaning," she said. She grabbed an open bag of bread, beginning to close it.

Jackson leaned against the island. "Are you sure you're not trying to avoid me?"

"What? Of course not. What makes you say such a silly thing?"

"I don't know. Maybe the fact that you can't look me in the eye." April tried to look him in the eye, but quickly looked away. "See," Jackson said.

April let her shoulders drop. "Well, maybe I could look you in the eye if you stopped looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like the way you do, Jackson. Don't act like you don't know what you're doing. I was married to you, remember? I know that look."

"I don't mean to. It just kind of happens when I look at you, April."

April burst out laughing. "Really?"

"What?"

"It just happens when I look at you, April?" she mocked. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"Don't act stupid."

"I'm not."

"You know what that means."

"I don't. I really don't. So, please explain it to me."

"It means I like you, April," Jackson hissed.

April dropped the bread on the grown. "Shit," she mumbled, before bending down to start picking up the fallen bread. Jackson quickly walked around the island, bending down next to her. He started to help her pick up the bread, but she quickly took the bread out of his hands, dropping it to the floor. "Stop it. I don't need your help," she said.

"What's your problem?"

"You are Jackson! You're my problem! You like me? What the hell are you trying to do here? I'm married!"

"I'm just telling you how I feel. I don't want to hide it."

April eyes widen. "Yeah, well, you're telling me a little late, don't you think?" She picked up all the fallen bread, putting it back on the island, before standing up. She should just throw away the whole bag. Maybe buy Pete a bag of loaf bread.

Jackson stood next to her. "You don't think I get that? I was stupid, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? That I should have tried a little harder before getting a divorce? That I was so focus on how I felt right in that moment that I didn't realize that it would eventually pass. Everything passes."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Well, I'm saying it now. I'm sorry, okay. I didn't know then the stuff I know now. I was so hurt by everything that I just wanted to make it stop, even if that meant giving up on the things I love. On giving up on you. But the more time that passes, the more I realize that my feelings for you aren't going to stop, April. I waited and waited, and they are still there. I constantly think about you. It's frankly annoying. I don't want to. I know you're married. I get it. I don't want to feel this way, but I can't help it."

April finally looked at him. "So what?" She asked.

"What?"

"What the hell do you want from me?"

Jackson looked around, before shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know? To say you like me back, I guess?"

Every part of April's body stopped. Was this it? Was this what she wanted? All those small gestures of middle school affection, craving for a moment when her skin could touch his, turning the most innocent thing into some kind of forbidden act. Was this what she was longing for all those times?

April began to laugh. She laughed so hard that her stomach began to cramp.

"Why are you laughing?" Jackson asked.

April looked at him with amusement. "Jackson, I love you." He began to smile, but April quickly threw her hands up. "No, you don't get it. I love you, but you like me. Don't you see? You treat me horribly. I bet you have feelings for me. I don't doubt them at all, but you are so unsure of what you want and you're so impulsive about it. I gave you my heart and you encouraged me to give it to someone else. And then a year later, that's when you tell me you like me? After treating me like nothing?" April looked downwards, in her thought for a moment. "And I was pathetic trying to get any affection off of you. Like trying to get leftovers. I was settling for leftovers." She looked back at him. "I deserve more than leftovers."

She grabbed the bag of bread from the island, throwing it away in the trash as she walked out of the kitchen. She could hear Jackson footsteps as they followed her. He quickly stood in front of her, his hands out wide.

"You're not happy with Mathew. I can see it."

"You're right. I'm not," she said. He raised his eyebrows at her, like she had proven his point. "So?" she asked.

"I want to be with you, April," he said.

"And I want to be with you, but that's not enough. I don't want to do this if you're suddenly going to feel like this isn't right and dump me on the side of the road again to find yourself. Having feelings for someone is not enough of a reason to be with them forever. I want to be with you forever, Jackson, but if you don't 100% want the same thing, then there's no point. There just isn't."

Jackson stood very still. "You're the only person who makes me feel alive," he said. He moved his face closer to her, their nose almost touching.

April gave him a sad smile. "Those are awfully big shoes to fill, don't you think?" She kissed him on the check, before walking around him to the backyard, where she scooped Harriet from the bounce house, and they headed towards their car.

6 hours later

April had her cover up to her chain as she looked at the fan above her in the dark. It went around and around. She thought back to Jackson and their conversation, thinking it over and over again, with new topics popping in her head. Things she wished she had said. The whole thing seemed messy and gave her a headache.

She could feel the bed dip towards her right as Mathew got into it. The cover on top of her slip towards her right as he moved around, trying to get comfortable. April eyes never left the fan above her as she spoke. "You should accept that job offer."

"Does that mean you're okay with moving?" Mathew asked the dark.

"No," she said, "It means I think we should get a divorce."

Five Months Later

Having a house warming party was never the plan, but April hated how quiet the apartment was when Jackson had Harriet. She however, did not think ahead about the mess that was going to be left afterwards and was starring at large amounts of food and plates left everywhere once everyone had gone home. Everyone except Jackson.

"Harriet is asleep," Jackson said as he walked into the living room. He took a look at the living room and pulled his sleeves up. "Wow."

For some reason, Jackson had come over to the house warming party with Harriet. Turns out mentioning an event can be confused as inviting the person. Ever since his confession, Jackson and April had agreed to keep their relationship strictly co-parents. They only talk about Harriet when drop off Harriet. That was their relationship. At first it was awkward, but with time they had found the perfect place they needed to be where Jackson could walk into a room and April could look at him without feeling completely heartbroken.

"Yeah," April said. She started to pick the dirty dishes collecting them one after the other, placing them on top of each other to make a sort of tower. She saw Jackson doing the same thing and quickly spoke up. "You don't have to."

"It's okay. I don't mind."

April nodded her head as a thanks. They did for a long time in conformable silence. April ended up in the kitchen, in front of the sink, scrubbing off the food as Jackson stored leftover in the fridge before joining her. He dipped his hands in the sink beside her and started to wash off the plates April had scrubbed off. They shoulders were touching. They did this in silence too for a while, before Jackson spoke.

"The party was great," he said.

"Thanks." Silence again as Jackson tried to balance all the dishes on to the small plastic dish dryer. "Thanks for sticking around, too. I would probably be stuck doing this all night if it weren't for you."

"No problem. I actually want to tell you something."

April lifted her eyebrow at him. "Are you going to confess your love for me again?" she asked.

Jackson chuckled. "No."

She looked back to the sink. "I'm just teasing."

"I'm sorry about that. I really didn't think it through, to be honest. I mean, I meant what I said, but..."

She cut him off. "It's okay. I forgive you for...everything. I wasn't completely in the right either. We were both wrong."

Jackson smiled. "Yeah we were."

"What's the thing you wanted to tell me?"

"I am dating this girl. She is a firefighter and I think it's becoming serious."

April thought her heart was going to sink. She thought that something in her would break. She waited but it never came. After she divorce Mathew and made friends with people at her church, she started to see things in a different way, almost in a bigger way. She didn't understand at first how five months could make her feel so new when years past and she felt the same. She realized thought with the help of her friends that it not really about how much time, but what you do with it.

"That's really great, Jackson. I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks. Also, I've actually decide that I want to go to church. Try it out."

April smiled. "Really?"

"Yeah. Do you think your church would mind if I...?"

"No, they wouldn't mind. They would love to have you."

"Awesome."

After they washed the dishes, April went to her trash can, about to grab the bag to dumb it outside. She stopped her actions though, her eyes looking intensely at the trash. Jackson stood by her, wiping his hands off a rag as he looked at the trash too. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I, uh, I think someone threw away my bread." April reached down and grabbed her almost empty bag of loaf bread in the air, before looking at Jackson. They held eye contact for a few seconds before both of them burst out laughing.

Nine Months Later

April sighed deeply as she entered yet another speed dating event. The first she had ever entered one it was because her friends had forced her into it. Now, however, she found it fun meeting so many different people and even met a guy once. They only lasted a month, but she really enjoyed that month a lot. She was worried that have two divorces under her belt was going to make it hard for people to date her, but it turned out, it wasn't as big as a deal as she made out to be. She realized that everyone has had heartbreak.

She had become a regular at the speed dating in a way, this being her third time. She even greeted the host. April was completely surprise though when she saw Jackson with a name tag, hold a glass of champagne as he stood by the table of sweets looking like a spend dating virgin. Spotting him first, April quickly went over to him with a large smile. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"April, hey! I guess the same thing you are," he laughed. They shared a hug.

April grabbed one of the drinks, before smiling back at Jackson. "You are the last person I thought to see here." April knew Jackson and his firefighter had broken up and he was dating again, she just never imagined to see him at speed dating.

"Yeah, this really isn't my thing, is it?" he said. April shook her head. The host cut the music and began to clap his hands, getting the attention of all the single adults. Jackson looked overwhelm as the host started signal people to get in their seats.

April started to walk towards the tables when she noticed Jackson wasn't following. She walked back to him, her eyebrows raised. "You coming?"

Jackson looked down at his drink, before he shook his head. "No, actually. I don't think this is for me."

April looked back to the people waiting for her to meet, before looking back at Jackson. "You wanna go to the bar across the street instead?" She asked. Jackson's blue-green eyes met hers, before he nodded his head. April left her glass of champagne on the table she got it from, before taking his hand and leading him to the bar. It only took half an hour until the pair was laughing over nothing, letting the alcohol over take them.

"Can I admit something silly?" April asked him.

"Sure. Go ahead."

She smiled, but then started to shake her head. "No, no, never mind."

"No, now you have to say it." He gently pushed her shoulder with his. "Come on spill."

April gave him a look, before looking down at her almost empty drink. "Fine. Do you remember that time when we were in your car, after you read my letter, when I said that maybe we weren't meant to be?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I kind of hope that you would have told me I was wrong or something. This is gonna sound a bit silly, but I always kind of thought that God made you for me or something."

Jackson shifted his body towards her. "April, I didn't know."

"I know, but if you had felt that way, then you would have said something, wouldn't you? I guess it all worked out in the end, anyways. We both have good jobs, we're stabled. We can survive without being together." She took the last sip in the glass.

"Would about when I confessed to you that one time in Pete's kitchen? When you turned me down. Did you want me to tell you you were wrong then too?"

April shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe? I don't know. It doesn't matter now."

"You should have told me. If I had known," Jackson paused. He shifted his body forward, facing the bar. His blue-green eyes looked at his drink. "I thought I was causing you more harm than pain. You told me I was being awful to you. You told me that we weren't meant to be together. I thought I was doing the right thing by backing off. You should have said something. I can't read your mind. If I had known-"

"Jackson, forget it. I mean, you're right. I have this tendency to not say anything. To just assume you should have just figured it out. It wasn't fair to you, but hey, it all worked out." April looked at him with a smile.

Jackson didn't smile. "If I had known, of course I would have told you were wrong about us. I encouraged you to marry Mathew because I thought that's what you wanted. I got my stuff together and made an effort to become the man you could with forever after you divorced Mathew, but then you told me we should strictly be co-parents. If I had known, April, maybe things would have been different."

April gave him a kind smile. "Maybe they would have, but honestly I needed to know that I could be alone. I think you needed to know that too. All these maybe's and if, we should let that stuff go. We're here. We should allow ourselves to be." 

"Allow ourselves to be?" Jackson question. He couldn't help but let a small chuckle escape his mouth, before taking a sip of his drink once more. He watched April order another drink, before swirling the small amount of liquid left in his glass. "You know, I'm willing to try again if you are."

April looked at Jackson with disbelief. "You aren't serious."

"I am. All those times before clearly weren't the right time. I think this is the write time. We are both single and we are both grown. We have become better people. I'm not saying get married. We should take it slow. Just start off with dating and see were that goes."

"Date? Again?"

"Actually, when you think about it, we never did that. We were never just boyfriend and girlfriend. Let me take you out on date, April. Let me buy you flowers and lets just go to places and talk for hours and text like we're teenagers." He titled his head to the side, a cute smirk on his face. "What do you say? Wanna try again?"

April open her mouth just when the bar tender told them both that they were closing. They both hopped off their stools. April rampaged in her purse to pay for her drinks, but Jackson stopped her.

"I got it covered," he said, before putting a few bills on the bar.

April still pulled out the little cash she had and set it next to his money. "He deserves a good tip," she said. They eyes were stuck on each other. "I had a lot fun tonight. I didn't think this is how my night would be, but I'm glad it turned out this way."

"You haven't answered my question," he said.

April smiled at him. "Good night, Jackson." She walked past him, but his hand shot out, catching hers. She looked back him, her eyebrow raised.

"Come to my place." Before she could say anything, he added. "Come on, just for some drinks. 'Let's just let ourselves be.'"

She was silent for a moment, before nodding her head. "Okay."

 34 minutes later

April thought Jackson's apartment lacked a lot of decoration. He lived in a one bedroom apartment that only had pictures of Harriet , his mom and him with April's face in a few of them. April headed to the bathroom as soon as she entered his apartment. She had to go through his room to get to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror for a couple of minutes, asking herself what she was doing.

She didn't know how to feel or what she wanted. She never expected this to happen. It felt almost sprung on her. When she asked Jackson if he wanted to go to the bar, never did she imagine it would lead her to going to his apartment for something not Harriet related.

Eventually she had to get out of the bathroom. She took note of his room as she walked through it, accidentally bumping into the end table. The plant on it slip from the surface and crashed onto the floor. "Shit," April mumbled. In panic, she opened the drawers to find something that could help her clean up the mess she made. Dirt was everywhere and she thought that maybe Jackson had some kind of rag or something, but instead in the lower drawer, she found her letter.

She quickly left it there and closed the drawer when she heard footsteps. Jackson walked into the room, an amused smiled on his face. "You broke my plant."

"No, I didn't. I just broke what was holding your plant." She began to gather dirt in the middle with her hands.

Jackson bend down next to her, starting to do the same thing. They finger brushed against each other a couple of time.

She could feel his eyes on her. April met them. She felt something beautiful shiver through her. She thought back to the bread she had dropped once when he confessed to her. How awful everything felt. It was fast, and her thoughts were jumbled. They weren't now. She looked at him, and it was calming and smooth and she felt like she could breathe. It felt natural and obvious when he looked from her eyes to her lips. Like of course he would. Of course this is where they should be.

He stood up with the broken pieces of the pot. April followed his lead, her hands covered in dirt. She looked down at them. "I should wash my hands," she said. Jackson nodded, setting the pieces on the end table. They went into the bathroom. The water turned on. April placed soap on her hands and Jackson did too. They washed them then dried them then looked at each other in the small bathroom.

They stood close to each other. Jackson leaned his head down towards hers. Their lips so close a small moment would make them touch. April could feel his breath as he spoke. "We should take it slow," Jackson said.

"Okay." April said.

She leaned in. She pressed her lips gently against his. He wrapped his arms around her, bring her closer. She locked her hands behind his neck. Then, after a while, she pulled away. "I have to go. Harriet's babysitter is probably worried."

Jackson let her go. "Right. Then...I'll call you? Ask you out on our very first date?"

April pecked his lips. "Okay" She walked past him out the bathroom, feeling like all the pieces had finally fallen together.

She reached his door with her purse in hand when he called out her name. She turned around only to meet his lips again. He pushed her against his front door, before pulling back. "I'll see you tomorrow." He creased her check.

She closed her eyes at the touch before leaning upwards and kissing him again. "Okay. Don't forget to call me."

Jackson nodded his head. "I won't."

April peck his lips one last time, before wished him goodnight, and leaving his apartment with hopes of tomorrow.

[givelove-always]

Little Things

A/N: Hi! This is my first fic ever. I know it’s not that great, but if I do end up continuing to write, I promise it’s going to be (hopefully) uphill from here. It’s a common concept with my own spin on it, I’m just trying to play around with writing styles rn. I hope you like it, please be sure to leave me some feedback (but please be nice because I will cry haha)!! Also reblogs to help with exposure would be so greatly appreciated!! Anway, I hope you enjoy!!

Summary: Just some cutesy Shawn waking up one morning and thinking about the adorable things his girlfriend does :)

Warnings: None, except for really mediocre (probably even below-average haha) writing

Word Count: 2058 words

Shawn groaned lightly as the early morning sunlight hit his face. He was really regretting not getting up to pull the curtains shut last night - he most definitely could’ve landed himself a few extra hours of sleep if he had. Blinking a few times to awaken himself, he slowly adjusted to the sudden burst of light he was being exposed to.

As he looked down to see his girlfriend sleeping on his chest, light snores escaping her, his heart skipped a beat. Her legs were entangled in his, her hair was sprawled across her face, and her hands rest gently on his chest. She’d slept over multiple times before, but seeing her so at ease and close to him in the morning, he swore he was feeling just as nervous yet filled with adoration as the first time she did.

Staring down at her peaceful image, thoughts of all the things he absolutely adored about her started flooding his mind. The immense amount of support she showed him through absolutely everything, the depth with which she was always trying to understand everyone and everything around her, the amount of ambition and determination she had to reach her goals. Not to mention her smile - seeing it made everything around him disappear. If he could somehow make sure that her beautiful smile never left her face, heaven knows he’d do it in a heartbeat. The list just went on and on.

Like those little notes that she would randomly leave for him all the time? He swore those things had the ability to make his entire day. It didn’t matter where in the world he was, he’d always receive sweet little messages from her.

He still remembered the first time she left him a note, and how the tradition started:

Shawn woke up, yawning, unaware of what time of day it was. He had flown in the night before (and then driven about 2 hours to her dorm) to surprise his girlfriend of a month. He usually wasn’t one to sleep in very late, but after a long night filled with cuddles and laughter (and a few episodes of Arthur), it was safe to say that the exhaustion had caught up to him. The emptiness of the bed and the silence filling the condo told him that she had probably already left, and the bright sun shining through the blinds on the winter day that it was probably sometime around noon.

As he rolled over to look at the clock on the bedside table, he noticed an orange notecard sitting there. Picking it up, he started reading it, his furrowed eyebrows and slight frown quickly turning into a big goofy smile. “Good morning (or afternoon) baby! I have classes until 5 today, and then I’ll be home as quickly as my feet will let me. I baked some muffins before leaving, but remember - “only one sample per customer please!” Kidding, DEVOUR as many as you want! See you later!” was scribbled across the little paper, with a little heart drawn on the bottom-right corner. Shawn imagined her writing the note quickly in that felt-tip pen she was obsessed with and couldn’t stop talking about, chuckling at the reference she’d made to the episode they’d been watching the night before - only y/n would remember obscure lines like that.

Ever since that day, it had practically become a custom - every time he was over, she’d leave him a little note for him to find and smile at. Finding spots that would be unexpected yet upfront enough for the oblivious boy to notice them was a challenge, but y/n always had fun watching him walk past the little piece of paper over and over again, until she’d get fed up and start dropping very obvious hints.

If he was traveling, she would make sure to send him sweet messages as often as she could, ranging from simple texts saying “I hope you have a great day bub!” to heartfelt messages about how much she appreciated him and all that he did. Sometimes, she would just send him pictures of adorable little things she’d seen on her way home from class, other times, images of something at the mall that reminded her of him. No matter what, even if they were arguing, there would always be a little heartfelt message or note that would come through, and just like that, everything would suddenly feel okay.

Shawn lay there, gently running his hand up and down her arm, thinking about how grateful he is to have someone so caring in his life. The amount of love she had for not just him, but people in general, and how willing she was to go out of her way to help anyone she could left him in awe every single time. Just when he thought that there was no way a person could be any kinder, she would do something and leave him awestruck.

Shawn sat across the table from her at the little restaurant they were at, both of them in a fit of giggles over a crazy incident from tour Shawn had brought up. Y/n looked over as the bells over the front door chimed and a young couple walked in with their toddler. The little kid made eye contact with y/n and waved at her, earning a little grabby wave in return.

“I love children so much,” she told Shawn with a soft smile on her face. “There’s just something about them being so innocent and carefree that’s just beautiful to see.”

Shawn nodded softly, thinking about how wonderful it would be to have a little family of his own someday. “I’m just going to use the restroom really quickly,” he excused himself, pointing in the general direction of the loo.

When he came back to the table, he noticed that y/n was missing. Confused, he looked around, only for his eyes to land on her talking to the couple they had seen earlier. As he began walking over to her, he realized that she appeared to be translating something between the family and the waitress. Quickly, he understood the situation and sat back down at their table, watching her patiently talking to both parties.

A few minutes later, when she had finished helping the family, from what Shawn presumed to be ordering their food, she was warmly telling the couple something while pointing over to her and Shawn’s table. As she turned and saw Shawn sitting there, she smiled and said a quick goodbye to the family, giving the little boy a high-five and making her way back to Shawn, who had been watching with his adorable Bambi eyes.

“I’m so sorry I left midway, they’re new here and can’t speak English very well and were having trouble ordering their meal. I heard them speaking when they were walking in and figured I’d be able to translate since I’m fluent enough, so I went over and helped them. I didn’t realize you were already back, I would’ve cut our conversation short if I’d seen you,” she explained.

“No, honey, don’t worry about it one bit,” Shawn replied, gently grabbing her hand across the table. “You’re so insanely sweet, I don’t know what I did to deserve such a kind girlfriend like you. I’m sure they appreciate you so much right now darling, I’m glad you helped them out.” She blushed, quickly shifting the focus of the conversation to anything but herself.

He wished she wouldn’t brush his compliments off so easily. In that moment, he made it his goal to make her realize that she was worthy of every single praise the world had to offer, one day at a time.

Shawn still didn’t understand how someone could hold so much beauty in their soul, and moreover, how he got so lucky to make that someone such a big part of his life.

Gently stroking her hair off her face, his mind wandered to their weekly movie nights. Fridays had always been designated to be theirs and theirs alone, although movie-watching rarely actually happened - updating each other about their lives was what the chatterboxes were usually up to. Staring up at the ceiling, he was taken back to the previous night.

It had been an extremely long week for both of them. Shawn had spent a large chunk of it at the studio, and with finals soon approaching, y/n had been spending a lot of time in class and then at the resource center with her classmates. They both deserved to take a genuine break to spend time with each other, and that was exactly what they did.

It was a very silent night in his condo, both of them laying in bed entangled in one another, just enjoying each other’s presence. A movie played in the background, neither of them caring enough to watch it or turn it off.

“Are you cold honey?” Shawn asked y/n, noticing how she had been trying to bury herself into him. He chuckled to himself when she tiredly mumbled a “yes” and whined a little as he got up to get them both a blanket. Turning off the movie, he placed the blanket on her and quickly got under it. She snuggled right into him again, falling asleep almost instantly, leaving a soft smile on his face.

His feet were sticking out of the blanket, courtesy of her gathering the entirety of it. Was he cold? A little bit. Was he going to move even the slightest bit and risk waking her up after she was finally giving herself the rest she needed? Hell no. He just cuddled right back into her and held her tighter, enjoying the warmth she was radiating. In that moment, regardless of the fact that his feet were a little uncomfortable, everything felt right. It felt like there was nothing in the world that could bring him down as long as she was in his arms, like that moment was written in his destiny and he’d finally achieved it.

He’d fallen asleep with the same warmth in his chest that he woke up with. Everything felt okay, and there was nothing he wanted to do more than hold her and cuddle her and make sure she was happy in every waking moment. He knew that wasn’t possible, but that’s what his heart wished it could do.

He was drawing little shapes on her arm, and hadn’t realized she’d woken up until he heard her mumble, “You’re staring again babe.”

Gasping, Shawn quickly pulled the “No I’m not, you must have been dreaming” card.

Slightly more awake by this point, y/n decided to mess with him a little. “You know what, you’re right. Why would you be staring at me? My hair is gross and sticky, my lips are most definitely chapped and-”

“What are you talking about? Y/n, you’re absolutely gorgeous no matter how much effort you’ve put into looking it. Besides, even though your hair is plastered to your forehead and your face is puffy, you’ve never looked lovelier to me. There’s no other sight in the world I’d rather wake up to, honey, I hope you understand that.”

Blushing, she cooed and hid her face in his neck, feeling his chest booming underneath her as he let out a hearty chuckle at her cute antics. Shawn was supposed to be the one getting all flustered here, not y/n, she really hadn’t seen this mushiness coming - at least not this early in the morning.

As his laughter died down, the room was engulfed by a comforting silence.Of course, y/n being y/n, had her mind running the whole time to come up with a new way to tease Shawn. As an idea crossed her mind, her eyes lit up, and she looked up at him.

“Shawn?”

“Hmm?”

“So you were staring,” she giggled, getting up and running away as his eyes went wide.

If reflecting on everything in the last little while hadn’t made him sure of it, watching her run out of the room completely engulfed by his shirt definitely did - he loved her. He, Shawn Peter Raul Mendes, was completely in love with y/n y/l/n. All that was left to do now was to find a special way to tell her.