#and since i couldn’t really find a concrete design of it at the time i also based his design on marsh deer

[pamela-lntt]

i don’t normally share these type of sketches, but this post is getting a little attention so i thought you’d all like to see what came out of it:

of course these are only concepts for now, the final results might look a bit different (q!Fit’s maybe not so much, but q!Pac’s will probably have a bit more detail added to it)

also, if you can read my handwriting, i hope you enjoy the notes i wrote down… and if you can’t don’t worry they’re nothing important, they’re mostly for myself anyways

deep in research on prosthetics and different designs of said prosthetics just so i can update my designs of q!fit and q!pac

[nerdasaurus1200]

At last, it’s Argonaut time!!

First off naturally, the stars of the show, Jason and Medea. I tried to give Jason a bit of a peacock color scheme to reflect Hera since he’s her champion. With really shiny and colorful armor both to reflect his prince status and also how much of a showboat he is and how he views himself as a heroic golden boy. Medea, I used mostly purple to reflect her magic and royal status, with just a dash of red to reflect how bloody her story is. And I gave her a cat because why not? I heard somewhere that cats are vaguely connected to Hecate so it felt fitting.

And of course, the Dioscuri Pollux and Castor. I tried hard to really lean into the young Spartan boy aspect while also making them close enough that you can’t really tell them apart from a distance. OSP on youtube inspired some of their physical features- with Pollux having lighter hair, blue eyes, and lightning marks to reflect his demigod status while Castor looks a little more human.

Next, Meleager and Caeneus! I imagine they both step in as leader of the Argonauts when Jason isn’t around. Meleager was fun but a little difficult cause I wanted him to look heroic but also simple. Caeneus was a such a blast as I was digging into his mythology to figure out his design. I tried to make him look a little androgynous but mostly masculine. You’ll notice I snuck the trans pride flag into his outfit.

And the three teenage stooges- Hercules, Atalanta, and Orpheus. They’re probably among the youngest of the Argonauts. Because I’m a disney girl at heart I made Hercules look very close to his disney counterpart. This new version Atalanta was fun cause I wanted her to look like she’s kind of at a level 1 compared to my first design for her. And since Orpheus is a musician and half Muse I tried to make his outfit really flashy, kinda like a circus performer.

Next up is Hippomenes and Eurydice! Now I couldn’t find any concrete source saying they were for sure on the Argo but somehow Hippomenes was there according to some source. And the idea of Eurydice being there too is just too wholesome not to include. Plus more women is never a bad thing.

For Hippomenes since in my headcanons he also grew up isolated into the woods like Atalanta, I wanted to parallel that by also dressing him in brown. I also made him a little bit of a beanpole cause I like to think he was kinda the “weakling/runt” of Chiron’s students.

Eurydice was super fun cause her being a nymph, I wanted to make her look really flowy and unique. To reflect her being a field nymph I put her in a really bright almost flower-like red. And turns out she’s Apollo’s daughter, so I made her a deer nymph since that’s one of his sacred animals.

And finally Laertes, Odysseus’s father and the resident Dad Friend of the Argo. In the Epic fandom I tend to see a lot of people dress Odysseus and/or Telemachus in blue, so I thought it’d be fitting if Laertes is part of that pattern. Like Meleager I tried to make him look a little simple and humble, but a lot more weathered.

[elvirable]

Heart to Heart | Chapter 4

[ Simon Riley x f!Reader ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count:4.4k |status: work in progress themes/tags: mental health, protective Simon, smut, kind of slow build, violence, y'all are stuck in an abandoned safety unit and well… ———————————————————————-

There is a saying, one as old as time: the truth will set you free.

Such a simple phrase turned convoluted since the days it left your mouth — his therapist.

In other words: You’re the mandated therapist for Task Force 141. Simon doesn’t know why he keeps seeing you even though he doesn’t say much. Things take a twist when an evacuation is required, all outside communication is lost. Lost to the world, you begin to really know the real Simon Riley.

{ Chapters 1 & 2 } { Chapter 3 }

- A/N: I was struggling to write this because of stress/schedule lately. So sorry it's kind of short and quick-paced!

Nothing could prepare you for the sharp shiver that rattled down your spine, a firm hand pressed tightly against your mouth and startled you from your sleep.

Your eyes hurriedly blinked away the haze to make out the silhouette blurring into the darkness. 

It was Simon, whose somber eyes were steadfast on your alarmed ones. Their sharp urgency instantly dissipated any trace of sleep residing in your body and your pulse quickened. The air was deafeningly silent, soon broken by careful yet hurried footsteps pattering from the open door.

“Quiet,” he whispered. 

His gloved fingers left your mouth as you stiffly sat up, immediately noticing your boots, gear, and coat assembled on the floor beside your bed. Simon was already assembled, rifle on his back and another gun resting in his holster. You did your best to keep your composure, swallowing the intense panic that already threatened to suffocate you, as you hastily threw on your insulated winter gear. 

Within a minute your emergency kit was sleek against your back and you placed in your earpiece radio. You crouched to mimic Simon’s stance. He was almost a shadow, the moonlight illuminating his broad shoulder as he quickly glanced outside your window. There was no need to ask  — their location was compromised. 

The sudden and jarring crack of a distant explosion jolted your nerves, every inch of your skin increasingly on edge. Simon turned as if it was his cue, now holding his rifle taut and motioning with his chin to move. Persistent snowfall thickened outside, clouding over the night sky. 

Both your earpieces crackled with static. 

“Evacuatin’ to designated spo — Ops delayed by traps but  — forest is the only way t’lose ‘em,” came Soap’s choppy report.

“C’mon,” pressed Simon’s firm whisper. He began to crouch through the doorframe and into the darkened hall. Your fingers couldn’t help but dig into his shoulder as another faraway explosion ricocheted through the outside forest. Muted oranges hues glowed from the front side of the house, some fire taking to the pine trees to the northern section of the forest. 

Simon guided you through the halls, lounge, and at last through the back door. As the cold fought to cut through your clothes, you could barely decipher whether you were shivering from the wind or nerves. Snow steadily fell, thick flurries beginning to blur your vision of the tree line in the distance. Smoke from the explosions permeated the sky and further worsened the surrounding visibility. Voices then suddenly spoke rapidly from the otherside of the safehouse, appearing to circle around.

He swiveled to face you. His eyes stern and commanding, and his voice direct. 

“Take this,” he urged, swiftly unholstering his handgun from his belt and thrusting it into your clammy fingers. “And keep fucking running until you see the chapel.” 

“But  — what about you?” your breath hitched, words fumbling on your tongue.

“I’ll find you.”

He didn’t even give you any time to continue babbling as he turned you on your heel, his push giving you momentum to lurch forward. 

Your legs felt like concrete yet once you started, you couldn’t stop moving. Wind burned your widened eyes, but you kept them trained forward  — you couldn’t afford not to. Adrenaline overrode your brain, even when the shouting was slow to dull behind you. Most of the men were no doubt pursuing Simon now, but all you could hear was your heart hammering heavily like a drum. 

The full moon hung high and casted a hauntingly ethereal glow across the snow, its light barely piercing through the clouds of smoke. Your hastened breath rose visibly into the frigid air and fear continued to grip at your throat. The metal of the handgun was practically frozen in the clutches of your fingers.

Thick trees began to blur into the darkness surrounding you, only the pale moonlight gleaming from the snow-covered pine to guide you forward. Snow crunched beneath your boots as you propelled yourself through the forest. You fervently dodged pine needles and icy branches, some stinging against your skin like a whip; but you didn’t care, didn’t even recognize the pain as you dashed forward.

The forest seemed to stretch endlessly and the snow grew deeper, swallowing your sore feet in a numbingly cold embrace. You didn’t know how long you were running, as your nerves pulsed through every one of your senses. 

But suddenly — as if you saw a beacon — the outline of a pointed chapel roof began to solidify through the rapid snowfall. You caught sight of a small clearing, every ounce of your strength exhausted with a final burst of speed. More of the building began to reveal itself as you grew closer to the steep hill that concealed its view, until—

You cried out, feet rapidly losing its ground. Your backside smacked hard against the ground with only the snow to soften your fall which knocked the breath from your lungs. A cold pain radiated throughout your back but you hardly had time to dwell on it before you fumbled down the hill. All you could do was clench your eyes shut and brace your arms to cover your face, gun still clutched between your fingers. Your weight thrashed into a line of bare bushes at the hill’s landing, coming to an abrupt stop.

Sharp pain streaked against your forearm, and soreness pulsed through every muscle; you couldn’t help but lay still for an entire minute, struggling to regain your breath and simply process what exactly the fuck happened. Slowly and stiffly, you rose from the ground only to notice crimson splattering the snow where your left forearm had been laying. The coat was ripped in a streak, continuing to drip onto the ground. 

“ Fuck —” you sharply inhaled, trying to kick snow onto the blood-covered ground with your boot before turning to face the chapel. 

Every step caused your body to scream while you walked forward. The complex consisted of two buildings, one being the church hall and a smaller storage shed. At least, those were the only two structures you could make out during the blizzard. 

You stuck close to the brick side walls until you found a battered metal door. With a quick and desperate prayer, the knob turned with a rigid squeak. A wave of must and mildew greeted you as you slid through the door. After closing it tightly, no time was wasted; you found a corner to sit down, placed the gun beside you, and rifled through your thin bag. 

One flare. Thermal blanket. Pocket knife. Two freeze-dried food packets. Lighter. Braided rope. Vacuum-sealed sleeping bag. Hand-warmers.

Frantically, you tossed each item onto the warped wooden floor and continued to search for some type of gauze or disinfectant for your laceration  — only to discover a gash at the bottom of the bag. Your head rolled back in a quiet frustration, heaving a sigh. Sweeping your eyes across the room, you couldn’t find anything that looked remotely useful  — some antiqued oak pews were lined in the center and old candle holders lined the walls. 

Although you were technically a therapist, you did have limited first-aid training. To better examine your laceration, you slid off your coat and peeled off your first thermal layer. With a quiet sigh of relief, your wound was only a few inches long. You were mostly sure it didn’t require stitches. However, it would still get infected unless sanitized and bandaged.

You shrugged off your final layer, a white short-sleeved t-shirt, and began ripping it into thin straps with the pocket knife. Once you had three or four, you began to gently wrap them around your forearm in order to stop the bleeding. You hissed when you tightened the bandages at the stinging pain, more evident now that the cold didn’t numb your nerves. 

The last of your adrenaline burned off, and you quickly redressed yourself in your layers. Suddenly remembering the earpiece, your hand reached up to your ear only to find it missing and probably lost in your tumble down the hill. Exhaustion rushed over you.

Fuck. You had no way to communicate with anyone, left only with Simon’s words replaying in your head: I’ll find you.

Exhaustion rushed over you. No matter how hard you tried to fight it, your eyelids began to flutter a sudden onslaught of fatigue before they finally fell shut.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: Burn to Ashes (Firefly x Reader)

Secrets couldn't be buried- not for long and your secrets were scattered in that place. All it took was the wrong person at the wrong time for your whole life to come apart by the seams. Like being locked in a prison but it was one you had built. By design, everything was to go as planned. Secrets were let in but they're never let out. Life never really cared for plans. It welcomed fear, a dear friend, the one thing the future could depend on was its fear friend fear that always peeked around the corner. It was a trait of being alive, the fear of the unknown and what could end everything that is known. How long had it been since your mind made the change to find comfort in something so very wrong? For how long had it been so comforting and easy to knock over that candle and help the flame grow? 

Like pieces of a puzzle, the conveniently placed envelope, stacks of books and paper. A messy apartment that, in truth, was an organised disaster. You could almost see the beauty in it. How nothing, seemingly irrelevant, stand alone objects, all become a part of a bigger plan. In the end, all that would be left was burned remains of what was. No pain, no suffering. A slate wiped clean. Only ashes remained. If left long enough, there'd be nothing left to piece together and you begged any deity that could hear you that would be the case. 

As the expression said, when there's smoke there was fire and that was the one warning those in the building needed. Get out before the flames consume everything in its path. Wipe away everything even you.  Everyone near your building gathered to watch the scene. Rumours slipped much like the smoke did out the cracks of the windows. Garfield Lynns was in full gear and the crowd spread out. His reputation out did him. His presence meant chaos was just around the corner and no one was willing to risk being in the crossfire. His jet pack whooshed as he turned the corner and landed to the ground, feet away from you. You sat on the concrete path, your hands propping yourself upright. "It's beautiful." His eyes were wide and sparkling behind his mask, completely unseen. His voice muffled by the gas mask but not even that could hide the sound of his pride. He crouched down to your side and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. His skin felt almost leathery, his body damaged from burns covering his whole body. "Damn, I'm so proud of you." He watched in awe. "Who knew you had it in you!? I could kiss you!" He tugged you closer to him. "I did it...like my body was on autopilot." You muttered. "Your instincts are beautiful!" He praised you like he experienced the adrenaline rush for you. Perhaps he had one of his own. Maybe that's what love did. When you love someone, you feel for them, no longer just spectating their experiences but living them with them. "It was like the walls were closing in on me." "Sets you free." He nodded, like he could relate. "Can't stay long. This one, it ain't ours." He inclined his head to the fire, turning to you. "I'm waiting for the police." You spoke like all the emotion had been sucked out of you. Perhaps you left that too in your burning apartment. "Oh you're not doing that." Garfield replied, excitement in his tone. "Not a chance, sweetheart." "They'll fine me eventually, Gar..." You whispered. He hummed in amusement. "They won't be looking for you." He said, lifting his blowtorch smugly. "You're...you're going to take the blame?" You asked in disbelief. "Better me than you." He cackled. "So scram, babe."

[rocknrollsalad-moved]

Just a cute fluffy thing I wrote for the holiday. A bit of fun for Steddie through the years.  word count 1660

__________________________________________

Valentine’s day is sort of tough for Steve and Eddie to celebrate. They couldn't go to a fancy dinner, cuddle in the back of a movie theatre, or have a picnic in the park situation. They couldn’t even hold hands walking down the street. Some arbitrary day for romance didn’t suddenly make it okay. 

Now, they’re meant to celebrate in private. The nearest they get to romance is a home-cooked meal and turning the TV off while they eat. Neither of them liked to dress up so they didn't see a reason to do so when no one can see them. 

Flowers and chocolates feel sort of lackluster in the face of that. Sure, the cashier made comments about how lucky some girl is to get things so lovely but they can smile and nod and get away with it. Jewelry was a little harder since it was heavily gendered. Distinctly so. All the cliché gifts were pretty gendered though. 

It made for this grand disappointment sitting in the middle of February. Everyone chimed in with the obnoxious positivity that at least they had someone to celebrate with but Eddie and Steve were both in agreement; being single would suck less than being bound to utter privacy. 

Which led them to the ridiculous decision to get out of town for the week. Like Valentine’s day only existed in Indiana and if they crossed into another state they’d be free of the constant reminders and pink décor. Though picking Dayton, Ohio for this romance-free getaway seemed right, no one was thinking about honeymooning there. 

A plan that sounded great on paper, award-winning even, in reality? It was far more depressing. Exiled to the dining room to share a “romantic meal” was bad enough. Eating in bed in a strange town while the couple upstairs had sex in a way that no television could drown out took “bad” to new heights. 

Yet it birthed a Valentine’s day tradition for Steve and Eddie. In the same way, flowers grow between cracks in the concrete, they made something beautiful out of this mess of a holiday. All thanks to a bit of luck and Eddie’s keen navigational skills. 

(Steve will forever point out he is a man who draws maps for fun, he should have had a better understanding of east and west)

Trying to find their way back to their hotel after eating at a disappointing hamburger joint, McDonald's would have been better, and fighting over which street they were meant to be on the boys wandered past a tattoo parlor. 

No appointments necessary

VALENTINE’S DAY SPECIAL Any two designs for $14 each (must be purchased at the same time)

A sheet of flash designs hung under the advertisement. Small hearts, cupid arrows, a black cat. Nothing grand but for that price they weren’t going to do a whole sleeve. It took Steve and Eddie seconds to decide to do this. 

For one, it didn’t say it was limited to couples. Eddie could have been the one to receive both tattoos, presumably, which helped. Before walking in they did both agree that it’d likely serve them well to have fake girlfriends they were getting these for. Steve didn’t really have to work hard at that cover story. 

Inside a couple sat in the back corner, chatting animatedly as a man with a ZZ Top style beard hunched over the woman’s leg. The receptionist barely managed the word “Hello” before Eddie was blurting out they were getting tattoos to surprise their girlfriends. As smooth a talker as he was a navigator. 

Unfazed, the receptionist went through all the questions and introduced them to their artist in under ten minutes. There was no backing out but only Steve was feeling a bit nervous, Eddie was pumped and ready to go. 

Eddie decided on two hearts pierced by an arrow. The artist kept suggesting a name but Eddie held tight to the superstition that tattooing a name dooms the relationship. Something Steve didn’t know but saved for his turn. Eddie got it on his bicep, it felt perfect, like some old sailor. Steve sat quietly and watched. They were a far cry from the outgoing couple, talking loud enough for everyone, but this meant more to them. They were both sure of it. 

After a quick station clear down, Steve was up and he knew his pain tolerance was great…or at least this needle would have nothing on Russians. Still, he had a bit of nerves about it all, desperately wishing he could grab Eddie’s hand. 

He’d opted for a simple heart with a bit of a flower and some leaves coming out the back. In an effort to be able to hide it, he got it above his ankle. Eddie teased him plenty about the decision but somehow that made it better. 

Pain-wise, it was nothing. Steve could have fallen asleep and he’d already adjusted to the buzzing so he chatted with Eddie and watched the two new couples who’d arrived. It felt quicker than Eddie’s and before the second couple decided what they wanted, Eddie and Steve were walking out the door (with some directions from the receptionist). 

The whole walk back to the hotel, Eddie gloated about corrupting Steve Harrington. Skipping circles around him as he rambled loudly about dishonor and bad reputations. All Steve had to poke back with was the observation this was Eddie’s first color tattoo. Not even an insult. 

Without prompting, Steve offered up that it made him feel more badass. Only making Eddie sing and dance more, saying Steve was going to be covered in tattoos one day. After that first one, it’s so hard to stop. Even when Steve tried to say one was enough, Eddie remained certain it wouldn't be the only tattoo. 

Eddie was right, of course, in a way better than Steve could imagine when they got another one exactly one year later. They drove back to the same shop because what else were they going to do with the day? It made it feel like a proper tradition and less impulsive. 

A simple, single heart not that far off from the first one for Steve and a heart sort of like Steve’s first one for Eddie. The artist didn’t say anything when he see the near-matching tattoos and for that Eddie tipped him fifty percent. 

Their third Valentine’s day added another. 

Steve didn’t bother with anything else, he didn't need to get bats or birds or crazy realistic-looking portraits. Just a collection of plain red hearts. 

For their fourth year, they were on vacation in California and unable to hit up the usual spot. Which might have been for the best. It’d look a bit weird, two guys coming in year after year after year. 

Still, they found a place without a cute deal but reasonably priced and similar styles. Eddie liked their artist’s work so much that he got a non-Valentine’s day related tattoo afterward. Steve joked that Eddie was going to have to break up with him, there wasn’t room for any more hearts. 

In the fifth and sixth years, they were living in Indianapolis and there was a great shop that didn’t care who the hearts were for. Not that he needed it but Steve held Eddie’s hand for both of them. 

By the time they’d amassed ten, they were running out of original designs. Steve was peppering in teeny tiny hearts, plain and boring but they had a good artist who worked to incorporate them all together. Giving them both a few more flowers and leaves to help it out by the fifteenth one. 

Obviously, when they made an impulsive decision back in 1987, neither of them thought they’d revisit it. Let alone every Valentine’s day for the rest of their lives. 

For their twentieth anniversary, not Valentine’s day, Eddie gifted Steve a few hours in a tattoo chair to add more flowers and stems and turn a random smattering of hearts into a full and cohesive piece. One Eddie half-crafted himself but left the artist to her vision as well. 

By the time they could legally get married, something they did immediately at the courthouse and free of ceremony or celebration, the boys had twenty-eight hearts littering their bodies. 

The twenty-ninth heart was the first they’d sat for as a married couple. No bigger than the rest, hardly special despite what it stood for. They both know exactly which one it is too. The only other one they’re able to identify without a fight is the first. 

They’re grilled on when they got them all somewhere after the thirty-seventh when they adopt two kids they’d been fostering for a while. It’s the first time someone's highlighted how much of a story it tells. All their friends are used to them, they’ve been there since the beginning and it’s not all that cool. The kids are endlessly impressed. 

After that, it’s not just a single heart each year. There are no more $14 specials but there’s a bit more comfort in saying it isn’t for their wife but their husband…and two kids. Each red heart is accompanied by smaller green and yellow ones. 

Something that comes full circle one year when the Munsons take every available artist for a couple of hours after closing time. A special accommodation for a special celebration. Steve and Eddie will be adding their fiftieth heart to their collection. Fifty Valentine’s days together and Steve sappily crying for fifty more. As monumental as that is, their kids are both old enough to get tattoos of their own. Each left with a red heart overlapped with a black one. 

The tradition carries on and that’s where Eddie gets emotional. He blames it on Steve but they’re both excited by the thought of tiny little hearts carrying on the memory of their love long after they’re gone. Whether that’s five hearts later or fifty.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Could I mayhaps request your opinion on Lilia Vanrouge? I feel like there's a lot more to him than meets the eye and I'm so glad we are seeing more and more diasomnia peeps in the story lately. -♠️

Hi, Deuce— Oof, Lilia is so close to a Bingo too 😫

***Standard disclaimer: These are just my personal opinions of the character(s); regardless of what I may think of them, sharing my thoughts is NOT meant to offend or to shame anyone that thinks differently.***

***CONTENT WARNING: brief mentions of war, PTSD, and survivor’s guilt.***

I have many, MANY thoughts about Lilia, and while some of those are highly speculative, Lilia himself is still a very interesting character just based on the concrete, canon information we have on him.

Firstly, I have to say that I love his design. I admit that it was initially off-putting because his haircut doesn’t look anything like that of the other characters in the cast, but it was somehow still very fitting in spite of that. It’s oddly a hot mess and yet fashionable at the same time 😅 though maybe I just think it’s fashionable because dark hair with hot pink/magenta streaks reminds me of Draculaura, a vampire girl in a fashion doll line that I really enjoy. I also like how Lilia wears his jacket hanging off of his shoulders and the unique design of his school uniform pants; it helps him stand out in the overall cast and gives him a mysterious, almost antique, aura.

Where Lilia really shines is when he’s interacting with others. Being that he is actually considerably older than everyone, he offers a lot of life experience and wisdom that the others don’t have, and it’s amazingly entertaining seeing how he bounces off of his peers because of that. I particularly love when he and Trey are researching for their Magic History project and Lilia keeps elaborating on things he couldn’t possibly have known unless he lived through them, thus leaving Trey confused as to how he is so knowledgeable. The best part about these interactions is that Lilia never flaunts his wisdom or uses it to elevate himself to a more powerful or privileged position than the other students. He still treats others as his equals and friends, making online friends with Idia and chilling with the Light Music Club crew like a normal high school boy would—but he’s not afraid to call people out when he sees them acting up. I especially loved Lilia in episode 2 when he straight up told Leona that he was being immature and that a collar suited him better than a crown. Lilia’s out here spitting cold, hard FACTS 😌

Lilia is described to us as someone who is well-respected in the Briar Valley due to his record as a successful warrior. He’s also said to be extremely frightful in his true form, often scaring the children in his home country around Halloween season. I find these aspects of Lilia very intriguing, and I hope that episode 7 touches upon this more (specifically his history as a veteran). It isn’t really something that has been often acknowledged in the fandom, but I think that since Lilia is a veteran, there’s a lot of deep topics to explore through his character. For example, a considerable amount of people that emerge from war do so with survivor’s guilt and PTSD, and I’m wondering if Lilia is or has experienced something similar as a result? Or does it not faze him because of how long-lived he is? Does he worry about his loved ones and country being exposed to yet another war? It’d be really interesting to see Lilia from these angles.

Lilia is also a very nuanced guardian figure. I always hear people calling Lilia the “best dad” in TWST (to the point where being a good dad is ALL the fandom ever defines Lilia as), but I believe this does a huge disservice to his character. Lilia is NOT “Silver’s dad”, Lilia is LILIA, and he should not be solely characterized by his relationship to his child. Lilia is also NOT really definitively the “best dad”, he’s just the one that immediately comes to mind because we see the most of him out of all the dads mentioned in Twisted Wonderland.

He’s not a bad parent, but he’s certainly not as perfect as many people make him out to be. Yes, Lilia is a good guardian in that he adopted Silver and raised him as though Silver were his very own flesh and blood, but that doesn’t mean Lilia has NEVER made missteps in parenting or that he has NEVER done or said anything to hurt Silver or anyone else, because Lilia definitely has. He was callous in the way he told Silver they weren’t related. He endangered his classmates because he was far too immersed in pulling off a scary prank. He left Silver unattended to, sometimes for weeks at a time. He made fun of other people (along with Ace, whom people seem to universally agree is an asshole) when they were trying their darnest, then plays victim when he gets yelled at for it/doesn’t take the situation seriously when Jack implies their pride has been hurt by his words. Lilia has done a lot wrong, and I while don’t expect him to be perfect (I think being imperfect only adds to his complexity), but I don’t like seeing the focus on his positives, as it ignores a lot of his character. What Lilia truly has going for him is not that he is a “perfect” parent, but that he is a good balance of easygoing yet stern compared to other guardian characters (Jamil is overbearing, Trey is generally way too lax, Jade is an enabler when the situation proves to be amusing, etc.), and he seems to be willing to change or to be better for others.

It might feel like a weird comparison to make, but I honestly feel like a “Lilia” in the Twisted Wonderland fandom. That doesn’t mean I’m hundreds of years old like Lilia is, but I am definitely “old” in terms of “fandom” years, as I was following TWST since the concept was initially teased. Funnily enough, I have been told before that it’s difficult to pinpoint my age based on how I act, since I can be both extremes. I also frequently get feedback telling me that what I say gives new perspectives and that people appreciate my wisdom (analyses, theories, etc.) which is really flattering and makes me sound like some revered ancestor or something 🥺 Mm… It feels like I usually have to be the “adult in the room” when the fandom is on fire or reacting very negatively and emotionally to TWST news. Like Lilia, I’m here to have fun, but I also know when to step in, offer advice, and remind others to calm down and look at a situation more rationally (ie like Lilia calming Sebek down when he freaks out over Malleus being missing).

[plus-size-reader]

Personal

Peter Hayes x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1846 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader learns that she is in Peter’s fear landscape

—————————————————————————————————

You didn’t know much about the other initiates' fear landscapes until today, when you were going to be going through your final simulations in front of everyone else.

It was designed that way.

Sharing your deepest fears was far from anything done at Dauntless, mostly because it was much too personal, but this was the one exception. This was how you got into Dauntless, how you proved yourself, and you were willing to do whatever it took.

Even if you might not have chosen to share with them had you given a choice. You were pretty reserved to begin with, doing your best to just get through this without drawing too much attention to yourself.

You wanted to be Dauntless, but that didn’t mean you wanted everyone in the compound to know everything about you. Thankfully though, of all the fear landscapes that had been displayed today, yours was far from the most memorable.

At least, for you.

The ceremony was over now, and you were pretty confident that you had done well. The process was a relatively simple one, as uncomfortable as it could be, and it was over before you had really processed what was going on.

You were lucky.

Most of your fears were standard, shared with others in your troupe, but even the ones that weren’t super common didn’t raise any red flags.

For you, the most shocking thing of all was getting to see everyone else’s fears and the things that they hated more than anything else. You didn’t get really personal with any of them in all your time here, so it was interesting to see.

There was just something about seeing someone actively interacting with their greatest fears that told you more about them than any words ever could. In that moment, all they were thinking about was getting out, and that made them impulsive.

It was real.

There was no need to save face in a do or die situation like that.

Though, that didn’t exactly answer all the questions you had that words may have helped to clarify. After all, less than an hour ago, Peter was hooked up to that monitor, the screen showing his deepest, darkest fears without fail.

To start, it seemed like his landscape was going to be just like everyone else’s, which you had to admit you were a little disappointed by. For whatever reason, you had a special interest in Peter’s landscape, because for the life of you, you just couldn’t figure him out.

From one moment to the next, talking to him could be like talking to two different people. He was guarded and hard to read, but having come from Candor, that only reminded you of home.

His standoffish and rude personality didn’t put you off in the least, because when you stopped to think about it, that was just how people acted where you came from. It was normal for you, just like it was normal for him.

However, you never would have thought Peter cared for you at all. As much as you enjoyed his refreshing company and attitude, you doubted he gave your existence much thought at all, he certainly didn’t act like he did.

As best you could tell, he found you just as inconsequential as everyone else here, like it didn’t matter if you stayed or not.

Though, you did have to rethink that as soon as you heard a familiar voice on the screen in front of you. Just thinking about it, you felt a familiar flip in your stomach from that moment, when you looked up to see yourself there.

Initially, you assumed that you must have been mistaken, that it wasn’t you in his landscape at all, but there was really no way to deny it.

The girl there was you, laying on the concrete floor of the pit, clearly bleeding from some kind of wound though you weren’t exactly sure what had happened. All you knew was that something had happened and you were hurt, bad.

...And Peter was panicking.

Even when he was sitting, in the center of the room, you could tell that he was in some kind of distress. He was practically dripping sweat, the muscles in his jaw tense as he took a second to survey the sight in front of him.

It was clear that he’d been here before.

You weren’t sure when something like this would have become part of his fear landscape but the way he dealt with it made it obvious he knew what he needed to do. You weren’t doing well, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

He had to let you go.

The landscape had closed out with Peter turning his back and leaving the room, where presumably, you would die. In all honesty, it was hard to watch in the moment but now that it had passed, you were confused.

Peter had never even given the impression that he enjoyed your company, led alone the fact that he actively worried about something happening to you. It didn’t make any sense, but you couldn’t exactly go get answered.

You weren’t sure how he would react.

It wasn’t like you could just walk up to him and demand answers for what he’d done there, could you? That was something a Candor would do, sure, but you weren’t Candor anymore. This wasn’t as cut and dry as it would have been before.

He didn’t owe you an explanation, you knew that, but the more you sat here, the more your head was spinning, coming up with all these outlandish explanations for what you were doing there.

Maybe it was a mistake? Maybe it just happened to be you but had never been before? Maybe it wasn’t you at all.

You liked to think that you would recognize yourself if you saw your face on a screen, but in that moment, you were still rattled from your own freak landscape so it could have just been a misunderstanding.

Couldn’t it?

Choosing to believe that would have brought you the most comfort, but the actions of the other initiates told you that wasn’t an option. They had been staring at you since this morning, talking in hushed whispers about it.

You knew they had to be.

Besides, even if you hadn’t been so perceptive to the truth, Molly had all but told you that was the case when you passed her.

Eventually, you decided that the only choice you had was to get answers from him. You couldn’t just let everyone else talk about you without even knowing what was going on yourself. If nothing else, you could find out what Peter was thinking.

At the very least, you would be able to put any rumors to rest and move on.

He had to have something to say for himself.

~

You weren’t entirely sure how you were going to lead up to this conversation with Peter, but the nuances didn’t matter all that much . Worst case, he would tell you that what had happened was none of your business and you would know where you stood.

The last thing on your mind was hurting his feelings or offending him, which was why as soon as you sat down beside him in the dormitory space, you didn’t bother explaining yourself.

Instead, you sat down right next to him on his cot, “What was that all about this morning? Why was I in your fear landscape?” you questioned, not bothering to soften the rough tone in your voice as you waited for him to speak.

It was bleak, sure, and not polished in the least but that was one of the things you enjoyed most about knowing Peter came from Candor as well. You didn’t have to worry about refining your approach like you did now that you were in Dauntless.

He was used to that way of speaking.

Still, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to have this conversation. After all, he had been doing well enough at keeping his feelings for you under wraps, but that whole thing at the ceremony was going to make that a little harder.

How was he supposed to deny it? Obviously he cared for you enough that the threat of something happening to you had become something he actively feared.

That didn’t really happen with people you just knew.

“I don’t know. You think I have any control over what happens in those?” he shrugged, hoping that he could keep up the plausible deniability thing for long enough that you would just get up and go back to whatever it was you were doing.

It was harsh, much more aggressive than he meant for it to come out, but similarly to how he paid your mannerisms no mind, you didn’t even blink an eye.

“Come on Peter, I know you know better than that” you hummed, taunting him a little now that you were here. Clearly, he was going to try and make you feel like you had no right to be here but that was very wrong.

You knew as well as he did that he had full control over the things he cared about and the things that worried him. Somehow, you had made it on to that list, you knew that for sure, all you were asking him was how or why?

He knew why you were there, he just didn’t want to tell you.

“What does it matter? You saw how it ended for you, it’s far from romantic” he grumbled, turning to look at you with an almost incriminating look in his eyes. 

He was doing his best to figure out how he could get out of this without going too far, but it didn’t seem to be going that way.

Trying to keep it up wasn’t getting him anywhere.

The idea that it should have been romantic was funny to you, considering the fact that it was a fear landscape in the first place, but you got what he was talking about. It wasn’t like you could draw any connections based on what happened.

However, you knew that the fact it was you in that scene meant something. It could have been anyone dying on the floor, but it wasn’t, it was you.

“Admitting you have a crush on me isn’t going to kill you” you prompted finally, taking a stab in the dark after all the beating around the bush he was doing. You didn’t want to say anything about him, not directly, but you knew the truth.

He felt the same way for you as you did for him.

“Maybe not, but I would have liked to do it in a way that didn’t involve you bleeding out” he shrugged, a small smile creeping on to his lips.

This wasn’t how Peter saw this whole thing happening between you but he figured that it was better late than never. At least now, you knew just how desperate he was to always have you by his side.

[wolferine]

Unforgivable - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture, death

Word count: 2372

Part 1

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife

AN: Please read to the end before you come after me. :)

Everything is a blur. The last thing you remember is cradling Natasha in your lap and seeing the pain of betrayal in her eyes. You did this to her. You couldn’t control your anger and now she had a bullet—shot out of your gun—in her back. You hurt her and there was no way you could ever forgive yourself for that. 

You finally let Tony get close enough to take care of her, because you realized you don’t deserve her anymore. 

You run away from the Avengers Tower, your leg slowing you down, but you don’t care. Each step feels like a knife rubbing against your bone, but even that’s not enough to distract you from the pain in your chest. It feels like someone has torn you open, ripped your heart out of your ribcage, and thrown it into a bonfire.

But you have no one to blame than yourself.

Tears stream down your face as you stumble through the streets, eventually finding some privacy in a nearby forest. Your sobs echo through the trees as you crawl hand over hand, your uniform shredding open on bushes and branches. The trickle of a creek calls to you and you dunk your bloody hands in the freezing water, desperate to wash yourself of your failures.

You can’t believe what you’ve done.

The scene of Natasha falling to the floor plays over and over in your head and you would pay anything to unsee it. You curl into a ball, wiping your nose on your knees. You deserve all the pain and misery for your actions. You’re so caught up in your head, thinking about all the ways you can punish yourself, that you don’t notice the group of men sneaking up on you from behind.

“Over there! Over there!” 

“By the creek, see?”

“Wait—that’s an Avenger?”

“Looks like someone had a bad day.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

At the sound of your name, you finally lift your head, only for the butt of a shotgun to slam into your face. Your nose breaks and blood fills your mouth. You turn away, not even interested in protecting yourself. If they killed you, you would thank them.

“Aw, come on. At least give us a reaction,” someone says.

The shotgun butt smashes against the back of your head and you wouldn’t be surprised if it cracked your skull. Someone kicks your leg where you were shot, and you bite your lip to hold back a scream.

“Well, this is anti-climactic.”

“Hey, if it makes our job easier, I’m not gonna complain.”

“I still think Hammer’s weird for wanting Y/N over the other Avengers.”

“Given the circumstances, he couldn’t really be picky—”

“Stop standing around and get to it!” someone yells. 

The men surround you, punching and kicking every inch of you. The bulletproof vest of your uniform does little to lessen the impact of their blows. You feel bruises forming along your ribs and your rattling teeth bite your lips bloody. It doesn’t take long for you to black out and the peace is blissful.

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

Sometime later—you have no idea how long—you jolt awake, finding yourself strapped to a metal chair in the middle of a dark, concrete room. A man in glasses and a gray suit with white gloves stands in front of you. 

“Hello, I’m Justin Hammer,” he says, offering a hand, then withdrawing when he realizes your arms are tied to the chair. “Sorry, force of habit.”

You stare at him. Your tongue pokes around the inside of your mouth and you notice some teeth are missing. There is a painful crick in your neck every time you try moving your head and every breath you take feels like a razor blade scraping the inside of your lungs.

“You’ve probably never heard of me, but I’m very familiar with you and your work with the Avengers. But the reason I have you here today is to talk about this man.” Hammer pulls out a folded photograph from his pocket and shows it to you.

It’s Tony Stark, but you have no desire to even think of that man anymore.

“Your best friend, right?” Hammer teases and you curl your lip at him. “What’s wrong? He’s the one who got you a spot on the team, isn’t he?” You look away from him. “I heard what he did to your girl,” he continues. “That must’ve felt like the betrayal of the century.”

“What?” you ask, confused as to what he’s referring to.

“I heard about what happened at the Avengers Tower. So tragic.” Hammer crumples Tony’s photograph and drops it on the floor. “Romanoff didn’t deserve that.”

“W-What are you talking about? Is she okay?” Your bottom lip quivers in fear.

Hammer kneels in front of you. “She’s dead, Y/N.”

“No, no…” You feel like he’s punched you right through the chest. “T-That’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry. I know she meant a lot to you.” Hammer stands again.

“How do you even know what happened at the Tower?” Given its security, there was no way news like that reached the public. At least not the truth of it. Maybe Hammer was just trying to mess with you.

Hammer motions behind him and a blonde woman steps forward from the shadows. Her face jolts your memory, but you don’t remember exactly where from.

“Recognize her?” Hammer asks. “She actually works for me, but she’s been pretending to be a SHIELD agent for some time now. She was right outside the door when your little spat with Stark went down.” Your mind flashes back to when you returned from the mission with Natasha. On your way to the private Avengers��� quarters, you remember passing the same blonde woman right outside the door.

“She heard everything that happened inside,” Hammer says as the blonde woman retreats into the darkness again.

“N-Natasha’s…She’s…She’s not dead,” you stammer.

Hammer shakes his head. “She went into surgery after Stark shot her, but due to the placement of the bullet, there were some complications and she coded on the table. They couldn’t revive her. That part was all over the news.”

You feel so sick you want to vomit. “I…I killed her?”

“No. You didn’t kill her. Tony Stark killed her.”

You start gasping for air, only worsening the pain in your chest. “No—But—He—I’m the one who pulled the trigger—”

“But you weren’t aiming for her. You were aiming for Stark, and he’s the one who deflected the bullet into her,” Hammer says. “He’s also the one who sent you two on that mission to begin with, wasn’t he? The reason you lost your cool and pulled your gun out? Think, Y/N. All of this is Stark’s fault.”

But the sadness of thinking you’ve killed Natasha is too overwhelming. You can’t focus on anything but your own guilt. You will burn in hell for this and you won’t even mind.

“Listen to me, Y/N!” Hammer snaps, striking you across the face. His rings cut into your cheek and blood fills your mouth. “I hate Stark just as much as you do. He’s been my business rival for years and I need someone to help me take him down. Who better than you, a former friend of his, who knows how to hit him where it hurts?”

You start crying at the thought of having to exist in a world without Natasha Romanoff.

Hammer tries getting your attention by slapping you again, but you’re unresponsive. You’re too lost in your grief to process anything he’s saying, and eventually he gives up, promising to come back another time to reveal his master plan to you.

It takes an entire month before he can even communicate with you. Your depression is all-consuming and their threats on your life have no effect. They’re startled to learn you actually enjoy the torture because you believe you deserve it after what you did to Natasha. But Hammer is relentless and finally figures out how to manipulate you into his bidding.

Six months after your capture and the accident, you finally crack. Your agony and pain turns into pure rage and hatred for Tony Stark. You can’t bring Natasha back, but you can get revenge on the man who took her life. After training with Hammer’s technology, which is almost as advanced as Tony’s, you’re deemed ready to be let out in the real world. Hammer personally asks for your help to kill Tony Stark, and it’s an offer you accept gladly.

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

Three months after the accident…

Natasha wakes up and looks to her right, disappointed to see the bed still empty. She’s tricked herself into believing that one day you’ll show up, ready to pick up the pieces and continue where you left off. But nothing has been the same since you left.

She sits up and turns the lights on. She scoots to the edge of the bed and carefully lifts her body into the wheelchair parked there.

The bullet had struck her lumbar spine, shattering her L1 vertebrae and paralyzing her from the waist down. Tony requested help from the best doctors he knew, but even the greatest modern advancements couldn’t repair her spine. He had personally designed her wheelchair, and she knows she should be grateful to still be alive, but she’s never felt so helpless and alone. 

After the accident, you ran off and no one could locate you. Secretly, she held onto the hope you would return one day, but she knows your guilt and shame are keeping you away. She wants to tell you that it wasn’t your fault and that she doesn’t hate you, but you’re not even giving her that chance.

Tony made the public announcement that Black Widow had retired from the Avengers. No one knew she had been paralyzed, nor that you had unofficially resigned from the team. Without you, without Black Widow, Natasha didn’t know who she was anymore.

She leaves her bedroom and goes into the kitchen. Tony arranged most of the food and dishes down to her new height but she feels like she’ll never adjust to not being able to stand anymore. She locates a bowl and a box of cereal and rolls over to the table. She chokes down dry Cheerios and pours her second bowlful when Tony walks in.

“Thank God you’re finally up,” he says. “When you’re done, I have something to show you.”

“Y/N?” She perks up.

“Uh…no…”

Natasha knows Tony blames himself just as much as she does for her accident, but it wasn’t his fault either. She wrestled between anger and guilt, sometimes blaming you, sometimes blaming him. But in the end, it’s easier to blame herself. She should have stopped you the moment you took out your gun, regardless of whether or not you pushed her. But she got so caught up in the moment she froze, and now she was paralyzed and you were gone.

“Just come down to my workshop, okay?” Tony disappears again.

With nothing better to do, Natasha takes the elevator down to Tony’s workshop. She doesn’t visit often, but when she does, she’s always impressed by his latest inventions and gadgets. She rolls down the aisle of old Iron Man suits displayed in glass cases, admiring the subtle differences in each one.

“Where are you, Tony?” she calls.

“Over here!” He waves her down from the other end. “I’ve been working on this for a while, and I know it’s a little premature, but I couldn’t help myself.” Tony stands next to another Iron Man suit, but it doesn’t quite look like it will fit him.

The suit is curved to fit a woman, black and red instead of Tony’s iconic red and gold. Natasha sees a red hourglass emblazoned on the belt buckle.

“What…What is this, Tony?” she asks, tears in her eyes.

“It’s an Iron Widow suit,” he says. “Or, whatever you want to call it. You’ll have to get in and test it out for yourself, but it’ll allow you to walk again and…be an Avenger again.”

Natasha wishes she could throw herself into his arms, but pulls him down to her level instead. “Thank you,” she whispers, wiping her face. She never thought she would be able to serve as an Avenger again, but she’ll take the opportunity if it means taking her mind off recent events.

“Ready to try it out?” Tony presses a button on the side of the suit and the suit opens up, bending into a crouched position so Natasha can get in it like a chair.

 She smiles for the first time since the accident.

 “I am.”

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

Six months after the accident…

Natasha is in the gym, lifting dumbbells on a bench when Tony walks in. Although she now has a legitimate excuse for skipping leg day for the rest of her life, she now has to make sure her upper body is twice as strong to make up for it.

“Look who decided to slide through my DMs this morning,” Tony says, shoving his phone in her face.

Midnight. Central Park Carousel. Come alone.

The text was from you.

“Oh, my God,” Natasha says, setting the weights down. You haven’t even texted her since the accident, and she’s a little hurt you didn’t reach out to her first. “What’s this about?”

“I have no idea.” Tony shrugs. “I know it says for me to go alone, but since it’s from Y/N, I wanted to ask if you wanted to tag along.”

“Of course.” In a way, Natasha feels like the text is really meant for her. Central Park was where you had asked her to be your girlfriend. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I’ll need you to be on your A-game. We have no idea what Y/N’s been up to these past six months. I don’t know if you’re gonna like what we find,” Tony says.

Natasha has spent countless nights wondering where you’ve been and what you’re doing. Now she has the chance to find out. “It’s going to be okay, Tony,” she says.

He shakes his head. “Just so you know, I’m praying more for you than me right now.”

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

Click here for Part 3!

AN: I never went to medical school, so forgive my medical inaccuracies.

[stillness-in-green]

Why Deku's ultimatum to Overhaul is bad and he should feel bad

This is a bit outside my normal character wheelhouse, but I really need to get a rant about it off my chest, so here goes:

The Deku and Overhaul scene in Chapter 316 is terrible. It is fucking terrible.

I took a whirl around Overhaul's tag up through when the leaks first started dropping, but didn't immediately see anyone talking about why it's so fucking terrible, only concerns about letting Overhaul see Eri (understandable, but baseless, I think), some empathy towards Overhaul's current state (totally warranted!), some snark about Deku being So Done with Overhaul (haha because who cares about Deku's stated goal of trying to understand villains, right?), and, worst of all, some cooing about how Deku was being so compassionate and noble by offering Overhaul that olive branch.

Deku was not being compassionate and noble there. Deku was being arrogant, small-minded, and so shockingly cruel that it leaves me speechless that anyone could think his stunted and hard-hearted "offer" reflects well on him.

Deku's entire motivation in this arc has been wrestling with the realization that he might have been able to avoid some of the desperate battles of his past if he'd understood more about the villains he fought. He thought of three very specific people--Stain, Muscular, and Overhaul--as he reflected, "Maybe it wouldn't have had to go that way if I'd understood them better." He then thought of Gentle Criminal and La Brava, people who he’d come to some understanding of, who he’d been able to soften the conclusion of his battle with by going along with Gentle's fiction downplaying what had happened between them. The whole line of thought was intended to contextualize his newfound desire to save Shigaraki.

It soon became apparent that Stain, Muscular and Overhaul were, in fact, encounters that he would be revisiting, as a chance to see how he'd grown since he faced them, and as a dry-run on reaching out to villains that would give him a chance to practice ways he might reach out to Shigaraki when the time comes.

Well, based on his performance so far, the idea that Deku might be able to reach Shigaraki is laughable.

Firstly, his tentative questions to Muscular were ill-timed, all wrong for the middle of a battle. Muscular laughed him off, and I don’t think there’s any version of that scenario in which he would have done otherwise. Muscular was a huge threat, gleefully violent, disinterested in conversation about his history. Obviously, right in the middle of a fight was no kind of time to try to figure out what made the man tick! But Deku didn’t get the luxury of choosing the circumstances of that encounter, so yes, that battle probably was unavoidable, certainly if Deku wanted to stop him from doing further damage. But the idea that because Deku couldn't reach him right then and there, it's impossible for Deku--or, indeed, for anyone--to reach him at all is fallacious. Not every person has to be able to like or understand every other person. If Deku couldn't reach Muscular, so what? That doesn't mean it's impossible that someone might. And that means an obligation to treat Muscular like a human being, to afford him human rights, to not stop trying to find a way to rehabilitate him, even as you safeguard other people against him.

Deku's battle with Muscular being unavoidable was not some great triumph, for all that the narrative used it as an opportunity to let him show off how far he’d come in mastering One For All. In the way that matters, the way that Deku himself is currently trying to better, he hasn't advanced at all. Imasuji Goto represented his first test in the lead-up to saving Shigaraki, and Deku failed it.

His next trial was Overhaul.* Here, again, was someone who Deku was explicitly trying to understand. So what was the one thing that was most key to understanding Overhaul's current motivation? What was the one thing that Overhaul was ranting about out loud, incessantly? And what did Deku conspicuously fail to ask about? Overhaul's relationship with Pops.

This was so easy. So obvious. And Deku didn’t even try. All he could think about in the moment he was faced with that broken man was the little girl that man hurt--all thoughts of trying to understand where the man himself was coming from went right out the window, flown away in an instant. Instead of asking about why Overhaul feels the way he does, he demanded that Overhaul feel the way Deku wanted. He was essentially holding the only person Overhaul cared about hostage for the remorse he wanted Overhaul to feel.

I'm not going to try to armchair diagnose Overhaul with mental conditions. I don't have the educational background, and I'm positive Horikoshi doesn't. But it seems pretty clear that asking Overhaul to feel guilt about Eri was asking for something that he might not be capable of feeling, at least not without years of therapy that he was plainly not getting in Tartarus. And if Overhaul is not capable of feeling that guilt, then what does denying Overhaul his meeting actually solve? Who does it help? It doesn’t help Eri. Doesn’t help the old man. It certainly doesn’t help Overhaul himself. The only person who gets any satisfaction out of demanding remorse from Overhaul is Deku. And even Deku didn’t look like he found it very satisfying!

Another failure. A meaninglessly cruel, petty failure. A failure that served only to hurt a man who was already a live wire of agony, to sentence an old man to a coma he might never wake from without Overhaul's expertise, and to deprive Eri of the only actual family she had left.

And look, Pops might very well not be the ideal guardian for Eri, and I'm not saying he should get to "keep" her just because of the blood connection, but it's not like he cheerfully handed her over to Overhaul and walked out the door! He turned to Overhaul because he trusted Overhaul, because he wanted someone to help Eri and thought that maybe Overhaul could. And when Overhaul's thoughts about Eri took a very dark turn, Pops first denied his request about using her to further his research and then, when Overhaul kept pushing it, chose Eri over the kid he personally took in from the streets by telling Overhaul that he needed to leave the Shie Hassaikai if he couldn't muster any more respect for human life than that.

But, you know, Eri is so cute with Aizawa and stuff. And Pops was a criminal. Probably. Maybe? I mean, he was yakuza, anyway, so he obviously must have been a criminal even if the police never actually arrested him. Apparently, this means it's okay to just leave him in a coma forever! Even though Overhaul absolutely has enough medical expertise that letting him talk to a neurologist about what he did to Pops might enable them to figure out how to wake Pops up even without Overhaul being able to use his quirk to undo the damage. Hell, Overhaul is also the person alive who has the best handle on how Eri's quirk works. He might even know what her accumulation condition is. Maybe a better thing to ransom his access to Pops with would be Overhaul telling Aizawa everything he knows about Eri's quirk so Aizawa can use the knowledge to help her get a better handle on it.

But no. Obviously undoing some small part of the concrete harm Overhaul did was less important than how Deku felt about that harm.

And there's more! Oh, is there ever. I called Deku arrogant before; let me circle back to that.

Deku said that if Chisaki would feel the way Deku wanted him to feel, then Deku would uphold the promise to let Overhaul see Pops. But where in hell did Deku get off making that claim? Deku is a student. He's not a pro. He has no authority, medical, legal, carceral or otherwise. He has no say in where Overhaul goes or who he's allowed to see.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? What kind of strings did Deku think he could pull that he could just casually make that claim without so much as going into a huddle with Hawks and Endeavor about it first? How inflated has this kid's sense of importance gotten that he made Overhaul that promise without even stopping to think about whether it was something he was in any position to ensure? It was such a bullshit ultimatum, not only because of how needlessly obstructive it was, but because it was so formless.

"If only you would feel a wish to apologize to Eri…" Okay, so what if Overhaul goes back to prison and, three days later, calls out to say, "Okay, I thought about it and I really feel like I want to apologize, now can I see Pops already?" Who gets to make that judgment call? Deku? Is he going to drop his faux-vigilante act and come visit Overhaul in prison just so he can squint at the man really hard to see if he's lying? Is Deku going to delegate the call to someone else? All Might? Hawks? A prison warden? A psychologist? Who? Who gets to be the one to say, "Okay, I think his remorse is genuine."

Then, once that call has been made, how many people have to arrange for Overhaul to be escorted out of prison and to whatever hospital Pops is in? Will Deku get to oversee that visit? Does he think he can overturn a warden declaring, "The scum doesn't deserve a visit, and the old man probably doesn't either," or a doctor protesting, "I'm not letting that man anywhere near my patient!"

The hell of it is, I think Deku could do all of that. He's got a close personal connection to All Might, who was basically a demi-god to this society for decades; he has the ear of the current top three heroes. Everyone is apparently convinced that the power to save this society rests solely in Deku's hands; I'm sure he could ask for anything he wanted. But the fact that that is the case suggests that this society is not even slightly turning away from its dependence on heroes dictating its morality. A hero having the sole right to dictate, out of hand, based on his personal feelings, the fate of people designated "villains" while the rest of society turns away is exactly what Shigaraki is angry about.

The only thing worse than Deku perpetuating the worst problems of hero society in an arc that's supposed to be about him finding a better way is that he didn’t even stop to think about it. It never even occurred to him that that was what he was doing. He thought that what he was asking of Chisaki was just and fair, and thus, he didn’t need to ask for any second opinions or permissions; he didn’t need to think about what would actually be feasible, about what was best for the people involved. He'd made his judgment call about a villain, and that's all there was to it. The villain could fall in line or--nothing. There isn't actually another choice. Hero's way or nothing

I hate it. I hate it. I don't care about whether Overhaul "deserves" to suffer; heroes making the cold decision that they will make him suffer is antithetical to everything a carceral system intended to rehabilitate prisoners stands for. And yes, Japan does at least claim on paper that the goal of incarceration in state hands is rehabilitation.

Restorative justice is superior to retributive justice. It's better for society and it's better for individuals. It is kinder, it is more compassionate. Retributive justice poisons people. It perpetuates suffering for no reason but moral grandstanding. Individuals are allowed to forgive or not forgive anyone they want, but a society should conduct itself with an eye to the long-term welfare of all of its people. That means that even the worst kinds of criminals still have human rights. It means not inflicting pain that serves no purpose.

I've gotten off-track here. Yes, I think that if Overhaul could feel regret about Eri, that would obviously be a positive development for his character. It'd hurt like hell, but it would be a hurt that indicated he was becoming a better person, a person who wanted to do more good, less ill, with his life and efforts. But you can't mandate that someone become a better person. No ultimatum handed down from on high is going to change Overhaul's heart. Telling someone, "I'll help you, but only if you only feel the way I want you to feel. Otherwise, you can just stay there and suffer," is not reaching out to help people who are suffering in the dark, which is, again, what Deku claimed he wanted to do, what he begged for Nagant's help in doing, the way he insisted to the vestiges that OFA should be used.

Deku writing people off because they don't conform to his expectations, because they can't be "good" the way he wants them to be, nor even "bad" in ways he can understand, is him failing to live up to his own expressed ideals. "I wish you'd feel bad about hurting people," wasn't enough to reach Muscular or Overhaul, and it damn well shouldn't be enough to reach Shigaraki.

Cruelty does not beget kindness. You cannot treat people with only callousness and severity, then condemn them for not taking the opportunity to grow. You have to give them opportunities to better themselves. For Overhaul, giving him an opportunity would be letting him help the man he wronged and then moving forward from there. Telling him to feel regret about Eri or else? That's doing nothing but sweeping his pain back under the rug.

---

*I have more or less exhausted my outrage over Lady Nagant in chats with friends, so I'll spare the rant on how disjointed, contradictory and ludicrous her turn was; the gist is "very, on all counts."

---

P.S. Anyone who says that Overhaul "has nothing left to live for" is being a level of ableist that defies description. Prosthetics exist. Assistive devices exist. Speech-to-text software exists. Overhaul is intelligent, driven and highly educated. Even if he never got prosthetics at all, there would still be things he could contribute to the world if he were motivated to do so. The better thing to do, though, would be to get the man some damn prosthetics, hook him up with the neurologist consulting on Pops' case, and let the two of them get on with the matter of waking up the old man.

P.P.S. Overhaul spent six months in solitary confinement. The United Nations considers solitary confinement exceeding 15 days to be a form of torture. Solitary confinement creates severe mental health issues and exacerbates existing ones. It frequently leads to a deadening of empathy, something Overhaul has in little enough amounts as it is. It is absurd to ask a man who's just come out of these conditions to "feel sorry for what you did to Eri," especially if you're planning to turn around and send him right back to solitary. Tartarus is inhuman, and the only reason more of the escapees aren't total wrecks like Overhaul is because Horikoshi clearly didn't bother to do the reading on the wide array of problems that those characters should be experiencing physically, mentally and socially.

[heavenbarnes]

PLEASE STAND BY: She’s not heavy, she’s my lover

Wanda Maximoff x female reader

Warning/Contains: spoilers for “WandaVision”, aspects of mind-control meaning reader isn’t truly consenting, parts of this don’t make sense and are designed to make you feel strange, cheating, pregnancy, fingering, riding,

Word Count: 2.2k

it’s the 70s now and we’re a lot more liberal w our love, we’re also starting to form some kind of idea as to what might be going on hmm...enjoy x

MASTERLIST

Things just were positively brighter these days, and you couldn’t put your finger on why. Each morning the sun shone a little stronger through the curtains, the birds chirped just that bit louder, your morning coffee just a bit sweeter.

Picking the fluff off your husband’s blazer, you moved to adjust his tie slightly, admiring the way the red stood out on his chest. “You really are so handsome.”

James’ cheeks pulled up in a smile, dipping in to press a kiss to your cheek as you beamed for him. “I’ve got to be, to keep up with my gorgeous wife!”

You giggled, a cherry sweet girlish lilt that made your eyes twinkle. Enjoying those last few moments before he left for work, you lent further into his woolen sweater as you felt the firm hold of his prosthetic hand.

“Do you really have to leave-”

“Oop, sorry, Wanda calling!” 

Both your heads turned up, looking to the front door to find your lovely little neighbor and her bright eyes. That sadness of seeing James’ off seemed to fade as you saw your friend, she seemed to replace the warmth that would’ve followed him out the door.

“Great timing, you can keep the missus company whilst I’m earning us money!” He gave you another kiss, before heading off to wherever he spent his time during the days.

Welcoming Wanda into your home, you couldn’t help but notice the thick woolen coat she had wrapped over her front. She looked like a cutie, you couldn’t doubt that, she actually looked like Paddington Bear. But the sun was beaming out there.

Narrowing your eyes you stepped around the couch towards her. “Whattya’ stashing, toots?”

“I’m only telling you cause I love you, and I know you love me, and you-”

“Spill the beans, chick.”

Rather than come out with it, she instead...well...came out with it. She flipped the sides of the coat back off her front and you were met with the round bump of her belly. Your eyes flew wide and mouth dropped a tad.

“Baby!” You cried, hands flying up around your head. “You’re having a baby!”

-

“Run me through what we have so far.”

“Approximately a week ago, Agent 19 entered the energy field surrounding the town of Westview, accompanied by Bucky Barnes. Since then, they have been cast as characters in a TV show created and seemingly controlled by Wanda Maximoff.”

“They went in with a mission, to find Maximoff and stop her, have they even made any progress?”

“From the looks of things, they’ve abandoned mission, whether they realize it or not.”

“So what are they doing in there?”

“Bucky spends most of his time ‘working’, Agent 19 isn’t normally seen without Wanda at her side. They spend a lot of time talking, sometimes dancing, not a whole lot else.”

“So she’s got her right there, but isn’t even doing the one thing we sent her in there for?”

“Sir, I don’t think she has a choice.”

-

Wanda’s hips rolled against yours as she sat perched in your lap, soft lips moving gently against your own as her hands found their way under your shirt. “You sure I don’t look too round?”

Giggling into her mouth, your hands came to grasp her breasts, resting their weight in your hands as she sighed for you. “I think you look positively radiant, like a stone cold fox.”

Pulling back gently, she caught you as you winked for her, still kneading the sensitive flesh in your fingers. Bracing her hands on your knees, she arched her back and pushed her chest further into your touch.

“I didn’t know you and Vision were trying for a baby, and I feel like I only saw you yester-”

‘I know, I know, it all happened so quickly.” She hurried you, shutting you up completely by lifting her shirt over her head and flinging it onto your bedroom floor.

It worked a treat, your mouth falling agape at the sight of her pert chest bared to you in all her glory. You immediately closed your lips around one of her nipples, the hard bud fitting nicely against your tongue as you sucked it further into your mouth.

Those sounds, those beautiful sounds that only she could make, they nearly drove you doggone wild. She felt apart to wonderfully in your hands, she fit so nicely against you making you truly believe that your souls were always meant to cross paths.

Your mind told you, looking at her glowing and luscious and so incredibly perfect, that there was never any other woman but her. It was in the way that it didn’t feel like you existed, until she was thinking about you. Like your day started when she needed you and ended once she’d fallen asleep.

The needy roll of her bare hips drew your eyes down to where she was leaving a wet patch on your flares, you drew your fingers down over the ridge of her belly and underneath where she was softest.

“Please, let me ride your fingers, I need it.”

A wild grin sparked in your eyes as you smiled up at her, more than willing to make her wish your command. Running two of your fingers along where she was parted, you collected the candy-sweet wetness that was pooling in her.

Bringing it up to her clit, you circled around it as her head tipped back with a wanton moan escaping her chest and parting the thick air that’d gathered around you. Slow and easy, you sunk those two fingers into her as she continued to roll her hips for you.

“You always feel better than I ever imagined,” Wanda cried out, fingers gripping your shoulders as she bounced against you. “All I could’ve hoped for.”

You let the kindness and passion of her words wash over you as you kept working your fingers inside her, stretching them out slightly and pulling forward with every motion of her hips. 

Moving your thumb around, you pressed it to her clit and slowly rolled it around as she continued to buck in your fingers. She looked monumental above you, the bedroom light glowing around her like an aura she exuded. Her long hair brushed down her back as she swayed into you.

She looked like your entire world, and at that moment, she was.

You felt her gripping your digits, hugging tight and sweet as she got herself off against you. Never before had you been so pleased to be a vessel for someone’s pleasure, you’d lay there flat on the bed and let her grind against you for hours if it made her happy and wet.

“Yes, I’m so close,” The whine that whistled through her teeth shocked you to the core. “You’re gonna’ make me lose it.”

And as if that was your plan, you sped up the roll of your thumb and the movement of your fingers until her nails were digging into the flesh of your shoulders and pulling your flush between her breasts.

Lips pursing and teeth nipping gently at the taught skin, you left kisses in your wake as she rode through the highs of pleasure centered between her thighs. Hand wrapped around your wrist, she drew your own hand from below and placed the two soaked fingers between your lips.

You smiled, humming in content as you tasted the most unforgettable sweetness, like something from dream state. “You’re everything, pretty girl.”

-

Spying it draped across the back of the couch as you greeted your husband, James’ eyes followed it as he hung his blazer on the coat rack. “Wanda leave that here?”

“Hmm, yes,” You picked it up and draped it over your arm. “I better go return it.”

“I’ll come with you, been meaning to ask Vision if I can borrow his hedge trimmer.”

Hand in hand you bridged the short gap down to their home, knocking a couple times on the door before you heard a soft “come in” from just inside. Slowly pushing open the door, your eyes immediately fixed on the two beautiful bundles in the living room.

“Twins!” You beamed, keeping your voice hushed as James’ followed you inside.

“Aren’t they sweet.” Wanda cast the most enamored gaze upon them, like life had never been better.

“Just the bees knees!”

Whilst your husband had gone to find the man of the house, you turned to the young lady who had also obviously come to offer best wishes to the new parents. “Hi there, I’m one of Wanda’s friends.”

Rather than return your smile, the girl went stark faced, eyes wide and brow just slightly furrowed. A tinge of confusion crossed your features, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt to get her to speak.

Shaking her head, a smile started to work up on her face. “I’m Geraldine, also one of Wanda’s friends.”

“Nice to meet you!”

“It- It sure is.”

She was odd, maybe she was shy? Nevertheless, you turned back to Wanda and placed a hand on her arm. “Let me find my husband and get out of your hair, leave you to enjoy your gorgeous babies.”

Geraldine followed you across the lounge room as you called out for James. She caught one of your wrists in her hand, making you twist your head back towards her. Expecting her to say something, you stood in wait with a signature kind smile across your lips.

Strange girl didn’t say a word, she just looked at you again with those worrisome eyes that you couldn’t quite place. “Sorry Geraldine, is there something I can-”

“She’s just new here, looking to make more friends, aren’t you?” Wanda filled you in from her place by her twins.

Nodding in understanding, you felt James’ presence as he came up behind you, hand on your arm to turn you away from the new guest. Reluctantly, she released your grip as you moved by, causing you to shoot your man a slightly perplexed glance.

He just shrugged his shoulders, closing the front door behind you both as you walked back up to your home. Herb was outside, using his own hedge trimmer as you both waved to him. He waved back, shouting a quick “hello” as the blade of his hedge trimmer started to slowly descend through the concrete wall.

Looping your arm through James’ prosthetic elbow you motioned towards the sight. “Pretty powerful motor, better be careful with that one of Vision’s.”

As you served your better-half his plate of meatloaf, he greatly accepted it, cutlery poised in his hands as he waited for you to sit with your own. Making a cheers with your wine glasses, you both took your bites of dinner before crossing knives and forks across your plates.

“That lass at the Vision’s place today was an oddball.” James’ remarked, leaning back in his chair.

“Hmm, I just think she was shy, though I wish she’d told me whatever she was thinking.”

James’ scrunched his nose slightly but nodded in agreement, nonetheless. You thought back to the young lady, how she’d seemingly looked frightened, they way she’d grabbed you. Letting it tick over in your mind, you saw the same kind of look on your husband’s face that you felt you were making.

“My love,” He started, pushing some broccoli around his plate. “Why do we never eat more than one bite of our dinner.”

Your eyes dropped from his to the plate in front of you, pushed slightly up the table and signaled as finished. Gently lifting your head, you let your eyes flicker around your dining room. To the window sills that never got dusty, the clock that never struck 12, the lightbulbs you’d never replaced.

“Where do you go in a day, when you go to work, what do you do?”

James’ smile faltered, eyes seeming to nearly well as it became harder for you to cheek the apples of your cheeks up. “I leave our front door and I- I feel like I wake up as I come back through it.”

Nodding in understanding, you felt the tear before you even knew it’d slipped onto your cheek. Bucky lent across the table and wiped it with his right thumb, the feel of his skin against yours grounding you for a moment.

“We haven’t got long, this means she’s thinking of us, she’ll know that we’re-”

“Hey, hey, I know,” He cooed, getting out of his seat and rounding the table to crouch beside you. “We’ll find our moment, but you just have to be strong, we cant show our fear-”

As you served your better-half his plate of meatloaf, he greatly accepted it, cutlery poised in his hands as he waited for you to sit with your own. Making a cheers with your wine glasses, you both took your bites of dinner before crossing knives and forks across your plates.

“Darling!” James sighed as he pushed his plate up the table. “Your meatloaf is my favorite!”

-

“God! They always get so close, I know they must be trying so hard.”

The television broadcast wavered slightly, seemingly weakening for a moment but still producing the bright technicolor.

“They’re two of the strongest and smartest we have, Wanda must be doing a number on them to reduce them to this.”

The electrical whirring of the old-fashioned set still sounded in the background as they got the same message.

“PLEASE STAND BY.”

[wicked-mind]

Snips

Summary: You are assigned as Bucky’s partner. These are moments or as I like to call them, ‘snips,’ of moments together.

Word Count: 9.2k ( I got carried away )

Warnings: Swearing. Drinking. Some edibles in here. Pining. Serial Killer mentioned (you’re the daughter of one). Violence. 

Note: This contains ‘snips’ of your and Bucky’s relationship/partnership throughout two years together. This contains an idea sparked from Criminal Minds concerning Rossi’s storyline. There will probably more of the Bucky and Snips adventures in the future (:

All Writing Masterlist

Any likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated (: I love that shit!

— The Beginning —

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.” Bucky grumbled with his arms crossed. The last thing he wanted was a partner that wasn’t Steve. Hell, he’d even take the birdbrain, Sam. But Steve had this whole idea that everybody needed a designated partner to go on missions with. He thought it would be good for moral and help create a more open group between the avengers and agents than just having the ‘super squad.’ Bucky followed Steve up to the window here they watched some agents train, glaring down at them. He watched one young blonde haired male agent slip on the obstacle course, causing him to scoff, “Really Steve? They can’t even make it to the end.” Steve chuckles and shakes his head slightly, his arms crossed against his chest, “Don’t worry. You partner isn’t one of these agents. They’re new.” He said, starting to walk further down the hallway until they were looking at the advance training corse. It was set up with androids Tony created to test agents in real life situations. The weapons the androids used weren’t lethal as they were only rubber but left nasty welts and bruises. Steve looked down at the woman pinned behind a concrete barrier as three androids approached, “That’s your partner.”

Bucky looked down at the woman as the androids got closer, watcher her quickly move to take cover behind a metal crate. She was playing too defensively and the androids were cornering her, “God, Steve. She might as well be over with the newbies.” 

Steve looked at Bucky for a moment before back down to the woman, “Just watch, Buck.” He said. He knew Bucky had rolled his eyes but saw from the corner of his eyes that Bucky listened and was watching the woman. The woman peeked her head around the container for a split second before rubber bullets started to fire at her. She took a deep breath and readied her pistol. She looked up to Bucky and Steve for a split second a smirked before stepping out from behind the steel container, eyes closed, and firing three shots. All three bullets hit the three androids in their metal heads, causing them to fall. The woman opened one eye to look at them on the floor before shrugging to herself and walking off the course. Steve looked at Bucky, “Master marksman. Trained by Clint before he retired. She’s top of her class.”

Bucky rolls his eyes over to Steve, “She seems cocky.” He muttered out, arms still crossed against his chest as if to say he wasn’t budging on this partner thing.

Steve smiled slightly and patted Bucky on the shoulder, “Then you two already have something to bond over.” He said with one more pat before leaving Bucky to stand alone in his pout.

Bucky didn’t like very many people. He is not what you would classify as a ‘people person.’ But it’s understandable after all he has been through. So when the idea from Steve came around to set every avenger up with a partner, Bucky wasn’t thrilled about the idea. He didn’t need someone else around him all the time, especially on missions getting in the way. It was a hard first six months of Bucky and you getting to know each other after being partnered with you. You couldn’t even count the times that he called you annoying or a brat. He even called you close to useless one time before you took out a target sneaking up on him which he then apologized for, instead saying you’re just slightly useless. Eventually it seemed a tide had turned and the two of you began being friends. He even gave you a nickname, Snips, given to you due to all your snippy comments you made to him when you went on missions together and also due to you sniping targets at almost a record length.

What you didn’t know is that while you thought you two were becoming good friends, Bucky was developing feelings for you. He loved the way you snapped back to him, always having something to say. He liked having you always looking over his shoulder when on missions even though he spent the first months saying he didn’t need you. You two were like each other’s shadows. Something he loved most about his partnership with you was the trust. You two trusted each other with everything. Loyalty was a big thing to Bucky and the loyalty you gave off just made him like you that much more. Once reporter dared to say something about Bucky still being the Winter Soldier and he had to hold you back from her and drag you away as you yelled obscenities in his defense.

— The Cookie Situation —

There were aspects of the super serum that coursed through Bucky’s veins that he hated. One was that he could never get drunk to have a peaceful night without his nightmares no matter how much whiskey he drank. But he did find something to help take a little bit of the edge off. The super serum that ran through Bucky’s body was different than Steve’s. It was sort of a knock-off version which meant that with enough of the potent ingredient, edibles worked a little bit. He hadn’t really told anybody about this recent development and always had them hand delivered. They were custom baked for him meaning the nice lady who made them always just sent them in a clear container with no warning labels since Bucky was always the one to receive the package personally. His favorite were the peanut butter cookies and he hand an order to be hand delivered today but he had one problem. Bucky was stuck in a stupid meeting with the lead Avengers, going over the missions for the last month. 

You just happened to be taking a walk through the front of the facility when the delivery guy showed up with Bucky’s package. You smiled and signed for it, seeing the cookies through the clear container. You headed back into the facility to set the cookies in Bucky’s room, snatching one for yourself for being such a good delivery girl. 

Bucky looked down at his phone as it buzzed, seeing the message saying ‘My son delivered your cookies to a Ms. Y/L/N.’ Oh no. Oh god. There was no way you weren’t going to eat one of those cookies especially after Bucky had eaten the last slice of your peach pie a few days ago. He quickly sent you a message.

Thanks for picking up my package. Just leave them in my room. For the love of god don’t eat them.

He bit his lip and fiddled with his phone as he waited for you to text him back.

Don’t tell me what to do. You ate my pie.

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Bucky had about another hour of this meeting left and meanwhile you probably ate one of his extremely potent cookies. He hoped to god that the cookies wouldn’t kick in for you until he was finished with his meeting. As soon as the meeting ended, Bucky quickly exited the briefing room and started his search for you. First place he looked was the kitchen for obvious reasons but you weren’t there. Instead, Peter Parker, Tony’s partner, was making a sandwich, “Parker! Have you seen Y/N around?”

Peter jumped slightly at the booming of Bucky’s voice, looking at him as he held his sandwich in his hands, “Uhm… Yeah.” He began, “She came in a little bit ago. Her eyeballs were huge, man. I asked her if she wanted a sandwich and she just backed out of the room. Weird right?”

Bucky let out a fake chuckle before swallowing hard, “Yeah, weird.” He muttered, “Well, if you see her come find me.” With that, Bucky turned and continued his search of the facility for you. He eventually gave up on trying to find you himself, “F.R.I.D.A.Y. where is Y/N at in the facility?”

“Ms. Y/L/N is currently in the south elevator.” The AI responded.

“Where is she headed?” Bucky asks.

“No where, Mr. Barnes. Ms. Y/L/N is just standing in the elevator on the second floor.”

Bucky let out a sigh before making his way to the south elevators, clicking the button from the fourth floor hoping you would sill be standing in the elevator. To his luck, there you were when the elevator doors opened standing in the corner with wide eyes looking at Bucky. He walks in and folds his arms, glaring down at you, “Snips. Did you eat one of my cookies?”

You open your mouth to talk but then shut it quickly. Everything was moving different around you like it was somewhere trapped between super slow motion and super speed. You couldn’t figure out which. You bit down on your bottom lip as you stared up at Bucky with blown pupils. When did he get so tall? You glance down to see if for some reason he was wearing high heels but only saw the same black combat boots he always wore perfectly tied.

“Snips!” Bucky said a little louder, snapping his fingers in front of your face to get you out of your trance. He already knew his answer from the way you were looking at him as if trying to discern if he was real or not. The cookies never made him even close to this but then again he was a super soldier.

“Noooo.” You said slowly, drawing out the vowel. You put your hands behind your back and pursed your lips together as you met his gaze.

Bucky ran his flesh hand over his face, trying to figure out what he should do with you when he heard the elevator doors open behind him to see Sam’s eyes flickering between the two. 

“What’re you two doin’ just standing in the elevator?” Sam asks, stepping inside and pressing a button to the fifth floor. As the elevator started to move, he folded his arms as he looked between you and Bucky, who had moved to stand beside you, suspiciously. After a moment of silence, Sam turned his gaze on Bucky, “What did you do?”

Bucky shook his head slightly, “I didn’t…. do anything.” He said which was true. He didn’t do anything. He didn’t give you possibly one of the most potent edible peanut butter cookies in the country. You took it upon yourself to eat the cookie.

Sam raised his eyebrows at Bucky as if to say ‘I don’t believe you’ but before he could dig a little deeper, the elevator doors dinged open and he walked out leaving you and Bucky alone in the elevator again.

Bucky let out a sigh of relief when the elevator doors shut leaving you two alone again. He clicks the seventh floor button so he could take you back to your room where nobody would catch you all wide eyed and zonked out of your brain. He waited for the doors to open before looking at you, “C’mon, Snips.” He said and started walking out of the elevator but as soon as he did you pushed the close door button and the button to the main floor. Bucky turned around to see the doors close, “Snips!” He yelled before hearing the elevator going down. He threw his head back in defeat and frustration, “Holy shit.” He muttered out before heading to take the stairs to find you once again.

With the help of F.R.I.D.A.Y., Bucky figured out you were outside in the small garden area in the backyard. Bucky quickly made his way out there to find you staring at all the different colors of bloomed tulips like it was some sort of miracle or act of god. He walked up and gently put a hand on your shoulder, “Y/N. We should get back to your room.”

You jumped slightly at his hand on your shoulder suddenly, tearing your gaze away from the rainbow of flowers before looking up at Bucky with wide eyes again, “Bucky!” You said before looking back at the flowers, “Do you think the flowers, like, know what color they are? Or are they just as surprised as we are when they bloom?”

Bucky dropped his head at your words. You were completely stoned and not cooperating. He looked back at you, “Snips. Let’s go back to your room and I’ll make you my ma’s spaghetti.” He bargained.

Your eyes immediately dart back to his at the mention of food, “Oooooh…. Noodles.” You said as a smile creeped across your lips, “And sauce. Bucky’s sauce and Bucky’s noodles…” You stifle a laughter at your own words then just start bursting out in laughter, “Bucky’s noodle.”

Bucky stared at you for a moment, “Oh. My. God.” He hissed out at you. That’s it. He’s done trying to be reasonable with you right now. He picks you up and throws you over his shoulder as you’re still howling with laughter into his back and you didn’t stop laughing for a moment until he put you down in the safety of your own room, kicking the door shut behind him. Bucky watches you take a moment to catch your breath and your laughter turn into giggles until you stop laughing, “Snips, listen. That cookie you ate was a very potent edible, alright? You need to stay in here until your come down.”

You tilt your head at his words, narrowing your eyes onto his face to focus before they widened again, “Oh my god. You’re a secret stoner.” You said, pointing your finger at him.

Bucky rolls his eyes, “No I’m not. They barely do anything to me, just helps me sleep.” He defended, glaring at you, “Now sit your ass down and I’ll make the spaghetti.” He ordered, pointing over to the couch.

You salute him, “Yes, Sergeant.” You said with a smile before turning on your toes and plopping yourself down on your small couch and turning on the tv to some cartoon. You listened to Bucky go through the small kitchen in your apartment suite. Even though there was a full community kitchen downstairs, each room came with its own accommodations such as a full bathroom, a living room, a bedroom, and a kitchen as well. You could smell the marinara waft through the room and you made a small ‘mmmm’ noise at the smell before you were interrupted by your phone buzzing. You pulled it out and checked the message before your eyes widened. You launched yourself off the couch and went over to Bucky in the kitchen, “Bucky! Logan’s downstairs!” You whisper, pointing at your phone.

Bucky looked at you confused, “Who’s Logan?” He asks, “And why are you whispering?”

You ignored the second question, continuing in a whisper, “I was supposed to have a date with Logan tonight and he just texted me to say he’s here.” You tell him, still pointing at the phone.

Bucky couldn’t help but flinch as the word ‘date’ passed your lips. Date? You were going on a date with a stranger? He folded his arms, “Nope. No way you’re going out on a date tonight. Stark is still upset about the whole reporter thing, there is no way you’re going out stoned out of your mind. I’ll deal with it.” He said, snatching your phone from you so you couldn’t do anything stupid with it, “Stir the sauce, I’ll be back.”

You nod slowly to Bucky and pick up the wooden spoon, staring to stir the sauce and getting memorized in the act easily.

Bucky watched you for a moment and rolled his eyes at how easily amused you got stirring the red sauce. He walks out of your room and to the elevators, going to the main floor and out to the front of the facility where he saw a black car parked and a man sitting in the driver’s seat. Bucky tapped on the window until the man rolled the window down, “You Logan?” He asks, taking a good look at the man you were supposed to go on a date with. He looked tall, not very much muscle though and was pretty much the exact opposite of Bucky. He had blonde curly hair and big brown eyes.

Logan nods, “Yes, sir. I’m here to pick up Y/N?” He asks, fidgeting with the phone in his hands. He couldn’t lie, the six foot mass of muscle leaning over to peer at him through the window was intimidating. This must be Y/N’s partner she had told him about. 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen tonight, kid.” Bucky muttered out, his lips drawn into a stern line as he looked around Logan’s car before back to Logan, “She’s sick. Sorry she didn’t tell you.” He said, turning to leave but then turned back at Logan, “And next time you ask a girl on a date, bring flowers and actually get out of the car.” He hissed out before making his way back into the facility. You deserved better in Bucky’s mind. You should be greeted with a smile and flowers at the doorstep before being walked to the car where the door would be opened for you. Stupid kids nowadays. Bucky made his way back up to your room where he found you still stirring the sauce, “All taken care of, Snips.”

You shook your head slightly as he came back inside and took the wooden spoon from you, “What’s taken care of?” You ask confused before remembering, “Ah right. Date night.” Bucky put the pasta into the boiling water, “He’s a punk anyway. You deserve better.” He grumbled out but you were already entranced back to the cartoon playing on the tv. He watched you for a moment, wondering what it would be like for him to be on your level. You were happy about anything and found everything interesting or funny. The cookies never did that to him. Once the pasta was done, he set up two servings and slumped on the couch with you, passing you your plate. He watched the dumb cartoon with you, smiling when you would laugh at things he didn’t really think were that funny. Bucky loved the way you laughed, especially right now. It was pure happiness that rang in your voice. When dinner was done, Bucky did the dishes and cleaned up everything before settling back on the couch beside you. You had changed the cartoon to some comedy movie and were snuggled up half asleep on the couch. You gravitated towards his natural warmth, leaning your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his right muscular one. This was the moment Bucky decided he was unbelievably and unbearable in love with you. The way you curled up against him so easily. The way you looked sleeping comfortably against him like you knew he was there to help you, to keep you safe. 

— Birthdays Are The Worst —

Today was special. It was your first birthday as part of the avengers and Wanda as well as Natasha had made a deal about throwing you a surprise breakfast followed by a party later that night. You didn’t like birthdays. It was always the worst day of the year. You used to love your birthday- the cake, gifts, surprises but that changed when you were fifteen. You groaned awake at the sound of your alarm, picking up the clock from the bedside table and yanking the cord out of the wall to shut it up before tossing it at the wall for good measure. You pulled yourself out of bed, already defeated by this day. You managed to stomp yourself into your bathroom without throwing anything else and showered, brushed your teeth, and got yourself ready for the day. You took one last look in the mirror at yourself before walking out of your bedroom and heading to the kitchen glaring at the floor. You almost jumped out of your skin when everybody yelled ‘SURPRISE! Happy birthday!’ You put your hand to your chest as if they gave you a heart attack before looking all of them over. Natasha, Wanda, Steve, Vision, Bucky, and Sam as well as the rest of their partners were there with party hats on and mimosas in their hands with big smiles on their faces. You looked all of them over for a moment standing in place before seeing an unopened champagne bottle on the table behind them. You took a deep breath and stomped over, grabbing the bottle by the neck before turning back to head to your room without a word to anybody. 

Everybody watched you go until the door slammed behind you to your room. Natasha looked over at everybody else, “Okay… What just happened?” She asks confused.

Vision tilts his head slightly, “It seems she is not a fan of birthdays or surprises.”

Steve looked towards Bucky, “Maybe you should go talk with her.” He said, his brow pulled together to create a pinch in his forehead. 

Bucky sighs, “Yeah… I got it.” He says, taking off his party hat and chucking it on the table before heading down the hallway and turning the corner to stand outside your bedroom door. He sighs and knocks softly, “Snips? Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

“Nope!”

Bucky sighs again, “Well, do you at least need help with the cork? You can never do it right and you don’t need to be losin' an eye.”

There was silence for a moment from you before you finally said, “That would be wise.”

Bucky opened your door slowly and walked in, seeing you sitting on the bed untwisting the metal that kept the cork in place in the bottle. He shuts the door behind him and approaches you to take the bottle, popping the cork without causing any foam and passing it back to you. He watched you take a bigger swallow than you probably should’ve and folds his arms, “So which is it? Hate birthdays or surprises? Because I know you like pancakes.”

You look up at Bucky for a moment then back to the champagne bottle, “I don’t hate birthdays or surprises. I just hate my birthday.” You said softly, “Doesn’t help that Logan dropped his phone in the ocean on his stupid vacation so all I got was a text from some random number that said ‘Happy Birthday! Heart, Logan.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. That stupid idiot boyfriend of yours being stupid again, not a surprise. He couldn’t count the times he’s been annoyed at Logan’s late night phone calls with you, the giggle you’d make when you got a message from him, or the way you’d scrunch your nose when he pissed you off. But the thing that annoyed him most was when Logan would scroll through his phone while you watched movies in the living room with everybody else as you curled up next to him as if trying to grasp his attention. Bucky always ended up watching your movements towards Logan more than the movies, he couldn’t even tell you the character’s names in half the movies from being so focused on you. This just added to the list of why he hated Logan, “Your boyfriend is an idiot.” He said, keeping his arms crossed as he watched you take another sip of the champagne, “Why do you hate your birthday?”

You sigh softly, biting your bottom lip. You didn’t want to answer that question. 

“C’mon, Snips.” Bucky said, unfolding his arms and sitting next to you, “It’s me. We tell each other everything.” That was true. You two had a deeper trust than most partners did and you did tell him everything. It’s what made you two the most successful pair when it came to missions even if you two were just as equally reckless. You were always completely open and honest with each other about personal things as well as telling the other when they were being stupid.

You sigh and look up at him from the corner of your eyes, “I made a deal to do something every year on my birthday since I was fifteen. It’s difficult to explain. I’ll just bring you with me.”

Bucky simply nodded, knowing you didn’t want to speak about it and that you would show him the truth soon. He had learned quickly that pressing you wasn’t a good route to go down. You two sat in silence for a while as he watched you take a few more sips of champagne before standing up like you were ready to go. There was already a car with a driver in the front lot waiting to take you to your destination. The drive was just as quiet with Bucky observing the surroundings, trying to figure out where you two were going. But his brow pulled together in confusion when he saw the car pull into a federal maximum security prison, “Y/N, what are we doing here?”

You look over at him, “I’ll explain when we get inside.” You said simply, waiting for the car to pull to a stop to get out. Bucky was right on your heels as you entered, following you through all the security check points before they took you to a meeting room. You looked through the one way glass window as guards brought an older man in with his wrists cuffed as well as his ankles.

Bucky watched the man then looked down at you, “Alright, Snips. What’re we doin’ in a prison on your birthday?”

You keep your eyes on the man who took a seat on one side of the table, a grin on his lips and tapping his fingers on the table as if he was waiting, “Have you ever heard of The Domino Killer?” You ask looking up to Bucky who shook his head, “He was an active serial killer when you were with Hydra so that doesn’t surprise me. He was called the Domino Killer because he would leave hand crafted dominos in the pockets of his victims. He was charged with 32 counts of murder after his daughter turned him in. But he has way more than 32 victims.”

Bucky listened, confusion still written all across his features as he looked at you, “And what does that have to do with you?”

You took a deep breath, “Because he’s my dad. I’m the one that turned him in.” You said softly, “He was supposed to get the death penalty until he made a deal with the DA. He would confess another murder with the location of a body once a year and to one person. Nobody knows about any of this except you. Not even Logan.”

Bucky listened, putting the pieces together, “You’re telling me that asshole in there makes you come here on your birthday to confess a murder to you?” He asks shocked, then shook his head, “No, Y/N. You’re not doing that this year. Forget ‘bout him, he’s nothing.”

You look at Bucky and shook your head, “I have to, Buck. Who knows how many bodies are out there with families waiting to figure out what happened to them… I have to give some sort of peace and if that means sitting across from him while he writes his confession, I’ll do it.” You told him and walked out the door before he could respond. You knew he would watch from behind the glass. You entered the room with your father, swallowing hard and sitting across from him, “Hi, dad.”

Your father grinned, “My beautiful Y/N! Happy birthday, my sweet girl.” He said, moving his hands across the table to take yours but you lean back away. He narrows his eyes at you, “Can smell the alcohol on you, m’dear. Isn’t it a little early for that?”

You grimaced at him, “Yeah, well, it’s my birthday and I can drink when I want. Let’s get to it,” You say, sliding a pencil and the notebook over to him, “Write it down. Every detail.”

Your father sighs, picking up the pencil and starting to write as he spoke, “I ain’t sure why you gotta make this so difficult.” He said, keeping the pencil gliding across the notebook, “All I asked was to see ya once a year on your birthday and ya act like it’s torture.”

“It is.” You replied shortly, keeping your gaze on the notebook instead of meeting his face.

Your father stops writing and looks at you, pointing the pencil at you, “I never treated you badly, little girl.” He reminded, “You had everything your heart could desire ’til you turned me in.”

“What you did was wrong.” You said, meeting his gaze, “Keep writing.”

Bucky watched through the window, his arms crossed and nostrils flaring at your conversation with the man who was your father. He had no idea this was what your father was like, there was nothing about this in your file but it did happen when you were a minor. You must’ve taken your mother’s name after the whole ordeal. Bucky watched you two have short replies back and forth until your father was done writing. He left the room to meet you outside the room as you handed the notebook to the district attorney who thanked you. He walked up and looked down at you with soft eyes, “You alright, Snips?”

You look up at him and nod slightly, “Yeah. I’m fine. Let’s get outta here.”

The rest of your birthday was better. Bucky had made sure to cancel the party Natasha and Wanda had planned for you tonight and instead just had a movie night with everybody. Bucky couldn’t help but feel pity for you- for what you went through at such a young age being the daughter of a prolific serial killer. But he related to the pain of being connected to something you didn’t want to be apart of or had no choice in being apart of. He commended your bravery silently, wondering what it was like for you to have to turn your father in at such a young age. 

— A Change in the Weather —

The current mission you were on together wasn’t exactly going to plan like you two thought it would. Sure, you got the information needed but you didn’t notice the missile that came and struck the quinjet before it was too late and all the flares were used. You and Bucky had to jump out of the back before the missile made contact. The terrain wasn’t the best to be stuck in with no supplies. It was freezing temperatures and snowing. It didn’t help that the two of you had to jump into a lake either. Bucky pulled you from the water, swimming to the shore and carrying you over the slippery rocks as you coughed up water that had been stuck in your lungs. 

“You alright, Snips?” Bucky asks, gently setting you back on your feet but keeping an arm around your waist to keep you from falling. This wasn’t the first time you two had ended up crashing a jet and having to be in the middle of nowhere but the last time was in a nice warm forest area not in a blizzard.

You nod, coughing a little more before taking a deep breath, “Yeah, I’m good.” You said with a half smile and a thumbs up. The cold wind quickly nipped at your wet skin, making you shiver, “Tony’s gonna be pissed about the jet. We gotta get out of this storm or we are going to be popsicles.”

Bucky nods, narrowing his eyes as he looked around, “We should head towards the mountains. Maybe we can find a cave to sit tight in until the storm passes and someone comes to find us. The emergency alarm should’ve been alerted with the jet went down.” He said, removing his arm from your waist and starting a slow stride towards the mountains. 

You nod and follow beside him, keeping up with his strides. It wasn’t long until your teeth were chattering, your wet clothes sticking to your cold skin like ice. You look up at the mountain through the blizzard, only about another mile to go. Your legs started to feel numb and you had no idea how you were still moving them at this point. You stopped, leaning yourself against a tree.

Bucky stopped and looked back at you, “You good?” He asks, not really affected by the cold. He ran hot even if the end of his hair had turned into small icicles. Concern was etched into his features at how cold and weak you looked.

You nod, blinking slowly, “Yeah…” You said softly, your breath shaking from how cold you were. You used your hand to push you away from the tree but your legs betrayed you- instead of putting one foot in front of the other you just collapsed face first into the snow with a groan.

Bucky would’ve laughed at you but he knew your body couldn’t take the cold like his could. He leans down beside you, pulling you up and onto his back with ease, “Hold on, Snips. Not that far now.” He said, pulling your legs around his waist as he piggybacked you the rest of the way to the mountain. He could hear your teeth chattering together in his ear and could feel you shaking violently from the cold, “You need to stay awake.”

“I’m trying…” You whisper towards him between your shivering, “Talk to me about something… How about your date with the girl from accounting? What was her name… Lydia?”

“Lindsey.” Bucky corrected with a small chuckle as he continued stomping through the deep snow, “Ah, I bailed last minute.”

You closed your eyes but listened to him, “What? No! Why? Lindsey seemed nice.” You say softly to him. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders a little tighter. Bucky was warm even with all the snow collecting on you two. 

Bucky shrugs slightly, his eyes scanning the mountain for any openings for a cave, “She wasn’t really my type.” He replied. 

“What is your type?” You ask, your voice getting softer and more shaky. You needed to get out of this cold. Your fingers and legs were numb and you could feel your suit practically turning to ice on your skin. 

You. Everything that you are. That’s my type. That’s what Bucky wanted to say but instead he settled with, “I’m not sure. I’ll know when I see it though.” He stopped in front of the mountain, looking at the wall but seeing no openings, “Snips, I’m gonna put you down for a minute and run ahead to look around for a cave.” He said, kneeling down and letting you slide off his back onto a rock. He turned and looked at you, staying at your eye level as you seated yourself on the rock with your arms wrapped around your body for any type of warmth, “Hey, you stay awake.” He said, placing a finger under your chin and pulling your face upwards to meet his gaze with your drooping eyes, “I mean it, Snips. Stay. Awake. I won’t be gone long, stay here and wait for me.”

You nod, “Okay. Staying awake.” You said with a small smile to him before watching him run off along the mountain side to look for a cave. Once his figure disappeared into the white of the blizzard, you pulled your legs up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, tucking your head onto your knees. So… Cold… You thought. You thought you couldn’t get any colder but each passing second proved you wrong, “Stay awake…” You whisper to yourself, lifting your head up. Your vision was blurry as you looked for Bucky through the snow. You blinked a few times, trying to keep the sleep from taking over but you fell over into the snow, looking up to the white sky before darkness surrounded you and you did that thing you weren’t supposed to do. You fell asleep.

Bucky eventually found a cave a little away from where he left you. He ran back to the rock he left you on, groaning when he saw you weren’t sitting there, “Dammit, Y/N.” He growled out, looking around. He paused for a moment and listened, hearing your faint heartbeat and breathing. At first he thought you had wandered off then he heard the soft sounds before seeing some of your fingers sticking out from under the snow beside the rock. He ran over and dropped to his knees, pulling on your arm until you were out of the snow. He swings you up into his arms, pulling you close, “C’mon, doll. Wake up.” He muttered as he quickly started a run to the cave he had found earlier. He had to get you out of this blizzard before you were past the point of waking up again. He walked into the cave, still holding you close as he sat down as far away from the entrance as he could. He held you tightly against his chest as he sat on the floor, rubbing your back as he listened to your shaky breath and soft heartbeat, “Snips, wake up for me.” He muttered over to you.

You adjusted slightly in his grasp, blinking yourself awake. Your icy eyelashes ripped apart from each other, then you huddled towards the warmth in front of you, pressing your face into Bucky’s chest, “I’m awake..” 

“Thank god. You had me worried there.” Bucky breathed out, keeping his hands running along your back, “Gonna warm you up a little more. No more sleeping. As soon as this storm lets up, someone will come get us. As soon as the jet went down it sent a signal.”

“I’m tired, Buck…” You whisper out against his chest, closing your eyes again at his warmth. 

Bucky leans his chin on the top of your head, pulling you impossibly closer, “I know. Just stay awake. Let’s talk about… Logan. How’d your vacation with him go last month?” He asks. Truth is, Bucky didn’t want to talk about that annoying boyfriend of yours that always made you laugh and left kisses on the side of your head, but he had to keep you awake. 

You sigh softly, “It didn’t… I broke up with Logan in the airport. I went alone.” You mumble out, “Turns out New Orleans is a pretty good place to be stuck alone. Everybody was friendly and it’s easier to get free drinks when you’re single and sad looking.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped slightly at your words. How could you keep this from him? Here he was, pining over you everyday he had to watch you with that stupid boyfriend. The whole time you were supposed to be on vacation he couldn’t help but be jealous over the fact that you were probably having a romantic time tangled in the sheets with Logan but apparently that wasn’t the case. He wished he would’ve known, he would have taken you to New Orleans and enjoyed it with you, “Why didn’t you tell me, Snips?”

“I didn’t think it was that important.” You say, pulling your head away from his chest to look up at him, “Plus I didn’t want to talk about the reason we broke up in the first place.” Logan had always been jealous of how close you and Bucky were. Logan claimed that you spent too much time with the tin-man even though you explained to him every time you were partners, best friends and that it wasn’t anything he thought. He told you how he would always notice Bucky staring at you from across a room like he was just waiting to get a moment alone with you. The way Bucky would take any chance to make you smile even if Logan was standing right there. He hated the inside jokes you had with Bucky. Logan had said he hated how you were his ‘partner’ and would go off on missions for weeks at a time alone together. 

Bucky frowned slightly at you. You didn’t tell him this. You told him everything- even the dark bits nobody knew about like your dad. But you couldn’t tell him something as simple as a break-up with that moron Logan? He keeps his eyes on you huddled into the warmth of his chest, “Let’s talk about it.” He said, “We don’t have anythin’ else to talk about and you need to stay awake.”

You sigh and look up to him, “We were at the airport and I was late because I saying goodbye to you. That started a fight with Logan and he went in saying he doesn’t trust you with me and hated that we spent so much time together. Then he said I should ask for a new partner instead of being with the Winter Soldier.” You sigh again, “I may have punched him and got locked in the airport jail for twenty four hours before driving myself to New Orleans.”

Bucky listened, his jaw dropping slightly again at the story, “You got arrested punching your boyfriend?” He asks, a slight bit of pride filling his chest at the fact you defended him and punched Logan. 

“Ex-boyfriend.” You corrected quickly, “And yeah… That’s why Tony was scolding me when I got back from vacation. Apparently I’m already on thin ice because of the whole journalist thing still and getting arrested in a public airport was sort of a big deal.”

Bucky smiles slightly, “Well, I’m proud of ya’.” He said down to you, “It’s about time you got rid of that dumb boyfriend of yours.”

You chuckle slightly, “Yeah… I guess so.” You mutter out quietly.

Bucky eventually lost hope in keeping you awake. Every time you drifted to sleep and he woke you up, you were out in an instant afterwards shivering against his warm body. The only thing he could do was hold you as close to him as possible, trying to keep you warm. He watched your lips slowly turning blue as you let out shivering breathes. Eventually the storm did let up after a while and Bucky could hear a quinjet incoming towards their location. He stood up with you still wrapped in his arms, carrying you towards the noise where Steve and Natasha were waiting at the quinjet. Bucky carried you inside and watched as Natasha inserted an IV into your arm to pump warm fluids through your body as well as wrapping you in heating blankets. There isn’t a word to describe the relief Bucky felt at washing your skin pinked up as well as your lips from the warmth, listening to your breaths grow less ragged and your shivering slowly subside. He planned on giving you a few weeks to recover from almost freezing to death as well as your recent break up before he would take the chance of asking you out.

— I Hate Trains—

Bucky had finally built the courage up to at least ask you out for dinner, or maybe make you dinner and watch a movie together. He hadn’t felt this jittery in a long time. He had been nervous about this for the past week, trying to figure out the perfect way to ask you out but not make it sound like just a friend hang out type of thing. But before he could ask, you two were sent by Tony and Steve on a mission. So here you two were sitting on opposite ends of a train after a random tip came in that there were dangerous Hydra affiliates traveling on the same train. You sat in your seat, pretending to read a book but keeping an eye out around you. The train was pretty much empty besides a few travelers. You looked down and pulled the book up to your nose, speaking into your earpiece to Bucky, “You alright? I know you hate trains.”

Bucky was sitting a few train cars over at the bar, drinking a whiskey and keeping a look out for anybody suspicious. He hears your words in his earpiece and has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, “Shut up, Snips. I’m fine.” He muttered out and looked around slowly, “Everything’s good over here.”

“Good here too.” You mutter out back into the earpiece.

Bucky looked up as a new bartender from the wait staff came and poured him another whiskey. Bucky grumbled out a thanks to the bartender before throwing back the liquid in a single swallow. It hit him like a boulder instantly, his stomach twisting and his vision becoming blurred. He stood up and stumbled out of his stool, looking at the bartender who had a gun pulled out pointing right at him, “Snips… Trouble.”

As soon you heard there was trouble, you threw your book down and started in a rush to get to Bucky a few train cars down. You were quickly blocked by passengers and staff that were Hydra agents undercover. You pulled out your knife and made quick work, knocking them each back as you progressed through the train cars to get to Bucky. Some of the agents landed some blows to your face and stomach but nothing you couldn’t handle. When you managed to get to the train car, you quickly locked the door behind you and slowly walked down the corridor until you saw Bucky slumped in a chair dazed looking. You quickly rush over to him, “Buck, you alright?”

Bucky looked at you, he was seeing three of you staring at him with a concerned look and your voice sounded like you were far away. Whatever the bartender had slipped into his drink was strong enough to garble his brain and make his body feel numb, “Look out.” He muttered out, seeing an agent coming up behind you.

You quickly turn, punch the approaching agent square in the jaw before kicking him back. But just as the Hydra motto went: cut off one head and it’ll be replaced with two more. More agents started advancing at you. You pulled out your knives and fought them the best you could, trying to keep them away from Bucky at all costs. One agent managed to land a good punch to your ribs, causing you to drop to the floor with a yelp.

“Snips!” Bucky yelled in a slur, seeing you get beaten. He still saw three of you but could make out the red bruises that were forming along your jaw as well as the split lip.

You stood slowly, glaring at the four Hydra agents that remained. You kept yourself standing in front of Bucky, knowing he was probably the target they came for. You rolled your shoulders, pulling out your two blades for each hand, “You want him? Gotta go through me…” You hissed out at them. Your ribs ached, knowing you probably had a few cracked and you had taken quite a beating with it being many of them against you. But your will is strong and you wouldn’t let them take Bucky away. He was your partner. Your best friend. Your person. 

Bucky watched as you continued to try and fight the Hydra agents to defend him. He clicked his earpiece, “Sam.. Steve… Anybody we need immediate extraction… I’m down.” He said softly before pushing himself to his feet. He stabilized himself by holding onto the tops of the seats as he watched you take a knee to the same spot from before on your ribs followed by a hard punch to your jaw that made you fall to the ground. As much as it swelled him with pride to see you fight tooth and nail for him, it also caused him pain seeing you take the beatings that were probably meant for him. He stumbled over to the Hydra agent that floored you and landed a hard punch with his vibranium arm to the agent’s face, causing him to fly back and topple over some other agents. With still blurry vision and stumbled steps, he picks you up carefully, “I got you, sweetheart.” He murmured out to you before turning and looking at the emergency door for the train. He walks over to it, adjusting to hold you in his right arm while he pried the emergency door off the hinges, tossing it over at the Hydra agents that were still trying to get to their feet, “Hold on tight, Snips.” He said, holding you to his chest and tucking your head into his arms before taking a jump off the moving train, ducking and rolling as he hit the hard dirt ground.

The next thing you remember after being floored by the enemy agent was staring at the ceiling of the quinjet and Sam trying to talk to you. He sounded like he was underwater and far away, you couldn’t make out his words very well. You look over to across the jet where you saw Steve talking to Bucky who was laying across the floor. When Bucky’s eyes met yours, he stopped mid sentence and tried to get up to go over to you but was held back down by Steve. You reached your arm a little to reach your hand out to him before passing out again.

Sam and Steve got you and Bucky back to the facility and to the med-bay where Dr. Cho was waiting. You were immediately given morphine while they waited for your x-rays to be done of your ribs. They worked on Bucky but whatever Hydra had slipped him was already wearing off and the wounds he sustained from jumping off the moving train were already healing. He was more concerned with how you were doing and the doctors informed him you were being well taken care of. After you were all patched up and weened off of the morphine, you woke up to see Bucky sitting beside you, glaring at you. You groaned slightly and lifted your hand to rub the side of your head, “What’s with the look, Sergeant?” You mumble out.

“You’re an idiot, Y/N.” Bucky hissed out at you much harsher than he originally wanted it to sound. He looked over your bruised face for a moment before his gaze softened, “Taking on all those agents alone was a stupid move. You could’ve been killed.”

“Okay first off, I didn’t die.” You said, looking over to him, “And two, you jumped off a moving train. Don’t talk to me about stupid.” You squirmed your way to sit up in the medical bed with a slight wince at the movement of your ribs, “What did you want me to do, Buck? Just let them kill you? Or worse, take you?” You shook your head at the thought. You couldn’t lose Bucky, “I’ll never let that happen.”

Bucky sighs as he listens to you. Your loyalty to him was unwavering, nothing could tear it down even if it meant you staring death in the eyes, “I’m sorry, Snips.” He said softly, meeting your gaze, “Just seeing you get hurt and not being able to do anything about it…” He flinched at the memories of you getting knocked down to the floor, getting up every time to defend him, “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you.”

“Well, I’m still here. Didn’t die remember?” You say, reaching out and placing your hand on his gently, “You’re not losing me and I’m not losing you. Ever. You’re my person, Bucky.”

Bucky’s heart swelled as you called him your person. That’s all he ever wanted to be in every definition of the term. He wanted to be your best friend. Your safe place. Your only love. Your person. He intertwined his fingers with yours slowly and managed to give you a half smile, “And you’re my person, Y/N.” He said back to you before swallowing hard, “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you. I was actually going to ask you before then we got assigned on the mission…” He paused, watching you look at him curiously with an eyebrow raised, “I wanted to ask you out on a date.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words. Bucky wanted to go on a date… with you? I mean, yes, you’ve thought about it a few times but he was your partner and thought it would be unprofessional to date a coworker let alone your partner which is why you tried dating a civilian like Logan but that obviously didn’t go well. Bucky was a beautiful man, you’ve known that since the first time you laid eyes on him. He had a matching attitude to yours and he was so easy to be around. You watched Bucky stare at you with nervous eyes about what your reaction would be, “Bucky… I…” You began, trying to find your words.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky said, looking away from you in a defeated fashion but kept ahold of your hand tightly as if he never wanted to let you go. He just wanted you to be happy and if that meant just being your best friend and partner, that’s what he would do.

You bit your lip for a moment before speaking, “What I was going to say was that this is a really awkward moment to be asking me out.” You said softly with a small smile, “You just asking me out because you thought I was gonna die? Or you feel pity for me getting the shit beat outta myself for you?”

Bucky narrows his eyes at you as you spoke. You were smiling and that wasn’t a no. You were being snippy with him and it caused a small smile to appear on his face as he squeezed your hand, “Neither, doll.” He told you confidently, “Like I said, was going to ask you before the mission and before I felt pity for you.”

You laugh a little, wincing slightly at the pain your ribs from the action but keeping your smile on your lips, “Alright, Buck.” You told him once you stopped laughing, “I would love to go on a date with you. But I’m not going anywhere until my face is healed up.”

Bucky beams at your answer, grinning like a teenage boy who just had his first kiss. This was just as good as a first kiss. You were the first one he’s actually felt something for since the 40’s. You were his person as much as he was yours, “Don’t worry about that, you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He said, reaching up his free hand to sweep some hair from your face with his vibranium fingers, “Besides, I rather cook for you.”

You smile at him, “Oh that sounds good.” You reply before an obnoxious smile covered your features, “More of Bucky’s noodle.”

Bucky laughed slightly and shook his head, “Dammit, Snips.” He chuckled out, “You gotta stop saying that.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Permanent Taglist: @buckypops @stcrryslibrary@bibliophilewednesday @redhairedfeistynerd​ @princessnnylzays​

[capricorn-stark]

Protégé

pairing: red hood!jason todd x robin!reader, slow burn 

warning: swearing

a/n: for context, this is somewhat loosely based off of Battle for the Cowl (2009) which I definitely recommend as a read! 

There was something about falling that you would never, ever get tired of. 

Ever. 

Probably.

With the wind whistling in your ears, your hair floating up in a million directions, and your limbs seemingly weightless as the buildings and lights blurred into one endless streak of color, the rush of adrenaline that ran through your body right before your grappling hook shot out and you landed quietly on the concrete was about a million times better than any sparring session back at the cave. 

You grinned as you straightened, rather proud of the fact that you had actually managed to land so smoothly without nearly paralyzing yourself. Again.The landing was something you had been working on for a while now.

You could practically hear Bruce’s voice ringing through your head after your little stunt, lamenting on and on about how you had more important things to focus on during patrols, and you let out a sigh as you ran down the backway of the nearly empty streets. 

The heavy man who had been bound up with a decently made gag and one of Bruce’s fancy tech pieces (Batcuffs, maybe? Something else with Bat smacked in front of it?) grunted beside you. 

“What? Not like you had someplace to be.” You grabbed the back of his rather tacky-looking spandex suit to drag him along back to where your mentor was supposed to be.

Despite your (many) disagreements and his (many) criticisms of your hand-to-hand combat skills, attitude issues, and pretty much everything else relating to you, Bruce had actually still allowed you to go off on your own tonight. It might’ve been because he wanted a few hours of nothing but beating up petty criminals by himself for stress-relief, it might’ve been because he had started trying out that whole independence thing with you a little more (even though you were still only permitted to be about five blocks or so away), it might’ve been plot-convenience - but either way, you appreciated the gesture.

It didn’t take long for you to pull your new friend over to what should’ve been your rendezvous point with Batman, letting the man drop with a dull thud and a grunt of protest against the concrete as you glanced around for the other man. You weren’t particularly concerned by the fact that the Bat himself wasn’t there yet - after all, he was the goddamn Batman. He’d show up eventually. In the meanwhile, you decided to go over the information you had gotten on the criminal with you. 

Just for the sake of it. Bruce would make you go over it anyways.

“Drury Walker, thirty-two years old, found him trying to mug someone in a back alley and make an escape. Called himself…” you paused, looking down at his sorry-looking outfit for a few moments while he looked up at you with murder and vengence in his eyes. “...Killer Moth.”  

“Killer Moth?” A completely new voice repeated in disbelief, causing you to immediately whirl around to face them in a fight stance, heart racing at a million miles per hour. The guy in front of you had his hands up in the air, his face concealed with some sort of red knock-off Iron Man helmet. He was gonna get copyrighted by Marvel Studios. “Shit, sorry,” he started at the sight of you, still leaning up against one of the walls. “I was supposed to make a wholeass dramatic entrance, but you said his name was Killer Moth and that-” The man made a noise that was either a sharp cough or a laugh of some kind. “-sounded so fucking lame I couldn’t help myself.” 

Despite the fact that you were definitely in some sort of major trouble with this new guy, he really did have a point. Even Killer Moth himself would’ve been embarrassed by how trash his name was, if not for the fact that he looked like he was on the verge of an aneurysm - understandably so, since the new guy had produced not one, but two guns out of apparently nowhere. 

“And let me guess,” he continued, pointing one of them at your head, his tone still all-too light and easy. “You must be the Bat’s brand-new Robin.” 

Now this is where most people would've shut up and proceeded to be complicit with the dude holding two guns. But Batman hadn’t seen reason and made you his (sort of) partner because you were like other people. Hell no.

“Do I look like a traffic signal to you?” It had been the very first of your amendments with Bruce. You would not be fighting crime looking like a literal traffic signal or, at best, a clown from Haly’s Circus. And the tiny green shorts had to go. “Or Robin Hood?” The guy had a rather awkward pause where his gun sort of dipped. Killer Moth was looking between you with wide eyes. “Do I?” 

“I guess you kinda got a point.” You huffed and he raised his gun again, getting more in-your-face as his already angry-looking helmet somehow managed to look angrier. You weren’t exactly sure how a helmet could convey so much emotion. “But you work with Batman. And I heard you went by Robin.” 

Okay, so you couldn’t make him change the name, but you had agreed it would be more of an honorary thing.

“It’s complicated.” 

Using such a phrase as an excuse to escape from situations you didn’t want to go into was one of the many things you had learned from Bruce in your five months of training. Somehow, that seemed to trigger the guy further.

“So you do work with Batman.” 

Before he could do something actually insane, you had managed to push the gun pointed at your head away from you, using his brief second of surprise to take it out of his hands, kick him in the chest, and round back on him with it in hand. 

“And what about it?” 

As cool as you thought you might’ve sounded didn’t cover for the fact that you were still nerve-wracked about what was happening right then. Especially after the guy started to dramatically slow-clap like some sort of evil thespian in a high school drama. 

“Not bad, Robin. Not bad.” He looked at the gun in your hands and grinned. “If you weren’t Batman’s new replacement sidekick, I might’ve believed you had the balls to use that thing.” 

Now, you were an excellent fighter. You had to be, after your excessive training with the guy who had literally mastered about every martial art in existence during his (give or take) five year-long mission to find himself. Plus, some personal experience. But fighting someone like this guy? Built like a tank and padded up in a whole lot of armor and packing an assortment of knives, guns, and even a damn taser you got a first-hand taste of?

You fought hard, but about five minutes and another round of the taser later, you saw the knock-off Iron Man helmet staring down at you before the world went black.

~*~

You woke up in what you assumed was the self-dubbed Red Hood’s safehouse of sorts. 

“How the hell did he rope you into this shit?” he demanded with what you could only assume was him glaring at you through the helmet. Probably some expression that made someone look all angsty and annoyed - which was fair, since he had been trying to drill you for information you straight up refused to give while bound (way too tightly) to a chair for quite some time now. Rather rude. “Let me guess. You watched your parents die.” You stared at him before shrugging.

“Nope.”

“Oh, so they just went ahead and died somehow. Untimely accident caused by some psycho bitch in a Spirit Halloween costume.”

“…nope.” 

“They abandoned you as a child.”

“No, they didn’t - does divorce count?” 

Red Hoodlum’s hands kept clenching and unclenching while he stood there, staring at the wall behind you in silence. From the way his chest kept rising and falling, you were tempted to believe he was practicing breathing exercises amidst his rather violent twitching. 

“Divorce - what the hell is your trauma supposed to be? Why did he pick you?!”

“Hey, just because my trauma doesn’t include people dying doesn’t make it any less traumatic,” you scoffed in response, knowing you were absolutely right about that. Your middle school guidance counselor had said so (and it’s true, ladies and gentlemen, trauma comes in many forms!). “Kinda rude to assume it didn’t affect me somehow.”

He seemed rather abashed at that and you heard him clear his throat a little. 

“...right, yeah. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted - can you loosen these ropes a little? It’s starting to kinda hurt.” 

“Do I look ten? That’s the oldest trick in the book, I’m not gonna-”

“I’m not going to run, just loosen the ropes a little.” He still looked like he didn’t believe you. “Come on, I don’t think I can outrun your guns.” As in his literal array of guns tacked up to the wall behind him, not his gigantic biceps. 

And you weren’t too worried about being held hostage by him, either. You figured you had ten minutes tops before Batman burst in through the doorway, ready to give you a lecture on why straying from the specifically designated parts of Gotham he had let you traipse around was a terribly stupid idea. 

“No.” He was already walking towards the door, because apparently, he had enough of trying to interrogate you. 

“Hold on, I feel like my wrists are actually about to start bleeding or something - where are you going?”

“Keep talking and I’m gonna get the duct tape.” 

“Is that a threat?” Sounding more confident than you actually felt should eventually make you more confident. Eventually. 

The Red Hood sucked in a breath, stopping by the doorway and turning to face you, reaching into his pockets to get what you assumed was either a gun or duct tape when you both startled from a sudden crash. The man in front of you was already whirling around with two guns positioned to shoot when you heard the familiar voice of someone else.

“Hold your fire, soldier. I’m not here for you.” A pause. “Or I wasn’t, but now I kind of am.”

Apparently, Batman was too busy to save you. Now, you got Nightwing. 

And as much as you liked Nightwing, that still kinda stung. 

[aquillis-main]

Misery Tastes Chapter 11

I can go ahead and say this - I'm really excited to be writing this again.

I'm actually quite happy with the progress of my arm and whatnot, and I want to share that with the rest of you guys soon enough. But first, I got to post the chaptter. This is essentially the Moment before the first fight, and I want to make it clear that the fight scenes won't be comming in this chapter specifically. Eggman does get to torture my OC Ovi, though!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13(1/2) | 14

Ovi found himself admitting he felt a bit nauseous, almost touching the clouds as they sailed over Obsidianna.

Eggman had not uttered a word of gloating from his Eggmobile since they started flying to the other side of Obsidianna - whether to prevent Ovi from snarking back, or because he was cooking something in his head, Ovi couldn’t tell. Metal dangled him over the buildings of Obsidianna, watching the mismatched architecture of the city. Modern buildings clashed with older, shorter designs -  Overtop a giant tower with stepping-stone-esque buildings beside it, Eggman paused over it. Hovering in place just long enough to make Ovi squirm. Eggman could and would order  Metal Sonic to drop Ovi if he so wished. So the time was spent in the awkward silence of humming engines.

Eventually, arriving at the seaside, which was just a vast amount of ocean underneath a concrete harbour. Eggman beelined towards one of the out of the way warehouses, its colours long since rotted away to a monotone gray. Anyone passing by would think it was slated for demolition.

Eggman pressed a button as he descended, causing the warehouse doors to open up before they got close to it. They went inside, Metal Sonic finally letting Ovi go to find something to restrain him. Ovi almost managed to bolt, only to find a gun pointed at Ovi’s temple to prevent him from escaping. 

“Brat, I will not be responsible for whatever my trigger finger decides to do.” Eggman growled out, his patience wearing thin. “You, on the other hand, will be responsible for the way my trigger finger acts if you so much as take one step to run off.” Eggman pulled the barrel away from the changeling’s head, gripping both of Ovi’s hands with one of his own.

Ovi sighed, and waited for Metal Sonic to clasp him in multiple chains and cuffs, preventing the sneaky rodent from escaping easily. Ovi looked around as he did so, finding the place lacking Eggman's usual flare. 

“Must be a temporary location, then”, Ovi thought, before hearing the cling cling of chains on him. Metal harshly tugged on one of the chains, making Ovi lurch as he was dragged towards the one thing that stood out from the rest of the warehouse as ‘Eggman’s base’ -

Which, actually, wasn’t there at all. Was Eggman becoming senile in his old age?

“Look upon my latest, greatest machine - redesigned to destroy your pathetic woodland friends!” Eggman roared, arms waving above him in triumph. Ovi couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that, knowing that everything made by Eggman was the ‘greatest’ to him. 

Ovi fell over as the area shook with soft rumbling, ending up being caught by Metal Sonic as it got more chaotic. Chains from above shook with finality, as if the place was resigned to come down. Boxes and crates were thrown/shoved aside as the ground broke apart, revealing the cause of the sudden earthquake.

Ovi blanched as a beast of a machine rose from the ground. It was the Egg Mole from before, only completely redesigned. It resembled the standard Grounder enemies, only without the ugly antennae hat and more mole-like. The red of the machine shone in the artificial light, a small bendy bit Ovi had sworn was for buses only keeping the top half and the bottom half together. The machine hissed as it fully emerged from the hole, opening up to showcase a compartment filled with empty rocket launchers, waiting to be filled.

“What once was one drill on each paw is now multiple, tiny drills! I fitted them with electric charges to prevent you from smacking them.” Eggman started, pointing at each part as he boasted. “The treads at the back had to be covered by a guard that contains spikes, making it harder for Sonic and your pathetic friends to traverse up the back.” Eggman coughed, before continuing, “ - which also sports electric prongs designed to shock those on the back when they spring out.” Eggman then motioned to the torso of the beast, grin encompassing his face. “As it trundles about, the top part of the machine will be able to twist and contort, allowing it to turn and give me a chance to see whoever’s climbing on its back.” Finally, Eggman motions to the back of the Egg Mole, smile broadening sinisterly. “That pales in comparison to the massive amount of missiles that I placed into the back of the machine, which I had to pop out to load them.” He finished, giving a bow as if he finished a presentation.

Ovi, despite his anger and frustration over everything, couldn’t help but be amazed how quick Eggman was able to redesign the Egg Mole.

That month was really worth Eggman’s time.

“Well,” Ovi thought, a sly smile coming to his face, “Time to be the brat Eggman thinks I am.”

“Well, it seems rather…” Ovi shrugged, gesturing to the lack of current paint job to the machine. Eggman, having just put down his favourite gun, sharply turned toward Ovi in seething anger.

“Ah ah ah! Did I ask for your opinion, brat?” Eggman waggled his finger as he spoke, before flicking Ovi’s nose. Ovi, getting irate and feeling bold, decided to go straight for the jugular.

“I’m going to say it anyway: It’s trash.” Ovi sneered, looking to Eggman’s ugly glasses and stupid sneering face. “Besides, all of your stupid, ugly little machines would never be as useful as even one of my friends!”

“Oh, Metal Sonic~” Eggman sang out, and Ovi could sense Metal’s hand lingering over his long-damaged shoulder, before digging into the spot where it broke with a grip comparable to a hydraulics machine in strength.

“Arrrgh!” Ovi screamed out, the pain causing him to topple to his knees. Even the pain of landing on the chains and cuffs wasn’t enough for his body to disregard the flaring sensation in his shoulder.  Metal Sonic let go at that point, looking to its master for praise.

Eggman didn’t bother to even acknowledge Metal Sonic’s look, picking Ovi up and throwing him into Metal. The robot caught the thrown changeling, head dipping in some attempt at emotion.

“Spare me the theratics, boy. You simply don’t have enough appreciation of the fine arts. Now stay silent for a bit, as I make the last few tweaks of my greatest invention!” Eggman ignored Ovi’s yelling, preferring to wax philosophical about what his Egg Mole would do to Sonic. He never acknowledged his trusted machine’s wordlessness as he went off on his tirade. “The one that’ll crush my archnemesis to smithereens-!”

Ovi rolled his eyes before he tuned Eggman out - he heard enough of Eggman’s mad ramblings for a lifetime. Instead he turned inward, thinking about how wrong he was for running off in the first place. If he'd known that was Eggman’s plan all along-

Stop that, Ovi.

“Great, the Chaos is talking to me again.” Ovi sighed, turning his head to the side and trying to think different thoughts. Suddenly, the memory of Sonic speaking about Metal Sonic came to mind:

“Metal Sonic’s not much of a talker. The last time he was, he ended up getting downgraded by Eggman…”

And Metal Sonic had been talking in its disguises…

“So, Metal Sonic, how did you -” In place of Metal Sonic was the kid that Metal Sonic had turned into, a smile wider than many anthronians taking most of its muzzle.

“My current model allows the usage of nanites to allow me to change shape and form…” Its face started to melt as it talked, causing Ovi to try and step back. But the amount of chains and cuffs prevented him from doing that, forcing him to watch Metal Sonic as it changed shape and disguise.

“Meaning -” It turned into Tails, after spinning around in place.

“I can -” Amy.

“Become -” Cream the Rabbit, and Ovi thought that was weird without Cheese hanging by.

“Whomever I want to be!” Hope. Ovi gulped at that.

“As long as -” Nebula.

“They’re in Eggman’s data banks -” Shadow.

“I can become your bestest friend!” Sonic, and it got really close to Ovi’s face then.

“Or your worst nightmare.” It melted into Harold’s face, making the feelings of nausea come back stronger than ever.

“As for my talking,” Metal morphed into the generic anthron’s face again, its smile back in place. “I’m only allowed to speak when in disguise. When idling, it would ruin my master’s work.” Metal then ‘sighed’, before looking eager; “Unless… you want to be my ‘friend’?” Ovi’s eyes bulged at the question, wondering where Metal got that idea from.

“I already have enough friends, thanks.” Ovi growled, not bothering to look when Metal Sonic’s ‘child’ disguise drooped at the answer. This was still a dangerous weapon he was talking to, bound only to its creator/master for its loyalty. No matter how it tried to act like his friend.

There’s no reasoning with something that’s not ‘alive’, after all.

“Oh ho ho, my boy. I didn't think you’d care about those lowlifes!” Eggman cawed, breaking Ovi out of reverie. “Why, they just happily let you run away from dear ol’ daddy Harold, right on cue for you to deliver the Chaos Emerald to me!”

“You liar! They would never do that!” Ovi squealed, his voice rising an octave higher than his usual amount. Eggman gleefully smiled at Ovi’s despair, glasses gleaming as he thought his next words.

“Oh, am I now?” Eggman said, taking on a gentler, almost grandfatherly voice. “Tell me, Ovi. Why are you here?”

“Wha-what? You brought me here!” Ovi yelled, not wanting to play Eggman’s games.

“And yet,” Eggman leaned closer, keeping the grandfather act despite creeping Ovi out, “You came on your own volition to me, boy.”

With that, Eggman left Ovi to think on what was said. The horror dawned on the brat’s face as Eggman went back to the finishing touches.

Meanwhile, with Sonic and the gang…

After Harold finally wrangled out of Terestri where he last saw Ovi, Sonic and the gang scoured the Kintobor Manor’s entire forest for any traces of Ovi. They had split up, tackling different parts of the woods. Nebula floated over the trees, keeping an eye out for movement as she scoured the tree tops. Tails was using his Miles Electric as a dowsing machine, hoping to find the trace signatures of Ovi and the Chaos Emerald.

Hope and Amy - as Harold refused to let his daughter out of someone’s sight - looked around inside the tree line, calling out Ovi’s name as they traversed carefully. Harold himself kept checking the ground for tracks, following the line of footprints as Sonic zipped and dashed by all of them, barely leaving an imprint before it was swept away again.

Eventually, the entire group converged to the point where Terestri had said he last saw Ovi, taking the steps to find the container the Chaos Emerald was kept in, along with the last of Ovi’s footprints in the grass. Right until Ovi’s signature bootprints stopped.

“It seems his trail ends here.” Harold stated, keeping a neutral mask as he surveyed the area. “Ovi seems to have picked up the habit of placing his signature onto his shoes.” Harold mused to himself, tracing a faint outline of Ovi’s name left in the ground. Sonic was the first to react to the news, stomping his foot in the ground.

“Damnit!” Sonic yelled, slamming his fist into a nearby tree. He regretted it right away, as he shook his hand to try and alleviate the bout of pain.

“That can’t be the end of it! Are there other paths he could have taken?” Nebula floated down, arms flailing as she gestured to the spot that Ovi’s last footprint was.

“No, it seems they just… flew off.” Harold bemusedly muttered, not understanding what happened.

“Flew off?” Amy’s eyes got wide. As soon as she and the others heard that, then looked at each other, a silent nod of understanding given between them. Apart from Harold and Helen, that is, who stared at the trio. “Do you know something I don’t?” Harold asked.

“Eggman probably got on his stupid Eggmobile to prevent anyone from tracking him…” Sonic’s voice had an edge to it as he swiped his nose. Helen looked at Sonic, expression blank with confusion.

“Eggmobile?” She asked, which Tails obliged.

“The Eggmobile is Eggman's own hover car. A nifty invention that allows him to take control of his robots quickly and efficiently! You see…” Tails and Helen kept talking about the mechanics of the Eggmobile, geeking out over its ability to levitate despite no known thrust…

Nebula decided to tune them out, and pick up the canister. There, her heightened senses picked up something that she couldn’t tell before - but remembered smelling when Ovi and Sonic had come up with Harold the previous day. Hesitantly, Nebula stuck her snout into the container’s opening, and - 

Sniff, sniff

“Hmm…” Nebula hummed out, looking through the canister to make sure. Yep - The strong, almost distorted taste/smell of the Chaos Emerald mixed with the canister itself, almost giving off an ethereal glow as she looked into it.

“Nebbie? What do you smell?” Amy asked, looking over to Nebula’s position as she regarded what they could do. 

“I smell the container that the Chaos Emerald was trapped in.” Nebula stated, licking the container for good measure. “It seems the Chaos Emerald stayed long enough for the canister to absorb most of its smell.” 

Harold, still looking at the footprint Ovi left longingly, immediately swiveled and glared at Nebula in disbelief.

“You can smell electronics?” Harold asked, surprise written in his features. He got up from where he was kneeling, walking over to Nebula to assess the cylinder.

“It was how we managed to find out your address - her smelling your microchip.” Tails stated, he and Hope coming towards Harold and Nebula.

“That… that should have exploded along with your tablet.” Harold’s brows knitted together as he ran things through his head. 

“It didn’t.” Tails stated, shaking his head in thoughtfulness. “The microchip had your address on it, so we used it to find your place.” Harold blinked, huffing a bit at being bested by faulty machinery.

 “Great, I'll have to let them know not to put my address onto these chips…” Harold growled to himself, thinking about the division in KintoborTech who thought it was a great idea to leave his address on the microchip. He’ll have to demote the person, now…

“Okay, enough already!” Everyone immediately looked to Sonic, happy for the interruption. “We need to get to Ovi, and fast. Who knows what he’s doing with Ovi?”

“Yes, it would be a problem if Eggman found Ovi to be worthless in this endeavor…” Harold muttered, his mind drifting to the possibility of his son dead.

“Right. Nebula, can you smell where Ovi went?” Sonic asked, mind frazzled and ready to bolt.

“Yes, I think he went that way!” Nebula bolted into the sky, floating off as she followed the scent without bothering to see if the others followed. Sonic immediately grabbed Harold’s hand, not bothering to check if he was okay with it as the hedgehog zoomed off after the dragoness.

Amy, Tails, and Helen looked at each other, before Tails grabbed Helen’s hand and darted off, flying in the air as he did so. Amy was not far behind them, her own training with keeping up with Sonic helping her catch up with the others.

“Nebula, wait!” Amy and Tails yelled, trailing after Sonic and Nebula.

Back with Ovi and Eggman…

Ovi sighed, left alone while Eggman had gone off to gather more scrap metal for his Egg Mole. Ovi had taken a nap in between pretending to listen to Eggman’s newest spiel and fighting off an existential crisis, trying to avoid thinking about it by getting Eggman irate. Fortunately, Eggman deemed Ovi ‘too useful alive’, as most of Ovi’s ‘punishments’ for back talking usually came to Metal Sonic roughly squeezing the breaks and fractures all over Ovi’s body - most of which were made from his careless attempts from the circus.

Now, without the ability to sass Eggman, Ovi was stuck, with only Metal Sonic for company. Currently, the robot was idling, unable to even provide Ovi any moment of entertainment, even if it was horrific.

 “Friends don’t allow rich brats like you out of their sights.”

“Why, they just happily let you run away from dear ol’ daddy Harold, right on cue for you to deliver the Chaos Emerald to me!”

“You came on your own volition to me, boy.”

“Damnit!” Ovi yelled out, bringing his hands over his head to massage the thoughts out. Tails was right - Eggman would go for your weaknesses in the moment you showed one. He needed to force them out…

How can you say that? You agree with him!

That… That was true. Ovi did agree with them. It didn’t matter how much he wanted them out - Ovi always believed that he was a monster, from the sharp incisors he had since birth, to his orange hair and red eyes that he got after nearly dying from trying the quadruple flip. A mix between human and anthron. Never belonging in either.

“You’ll always have a place with us.” Sonic had said to him, one time, but Ovi never really believed it. He still didn’t, despite how he and Sonic were close.

After all, if Tails, his somewhat equal in being weird… Well, there was no other way to put it - Tails hated him, didn’t he? Hated that Ovi took up most of Sonic’s time from the fox, hated how Ovi charmed Amy and Nebula so easily, while the little fox seethed in the corner…

Well, now he won, didn’t Tails? Managed to get Hope to like him, when Ovi couldn’t -

“No, don’t think like that.” Harold’s old words creeped into Ovi’s head, shattering his dark thoughts with a purpose. “Wallowing isn’t going to help you at this moment in time. Take a look around yourself - what’s available to you that’ll help you get out?”

Ovi immediately looked around the area, compartmentalizing his thoughts for another time. Around was mostly boxes, not much close to him that would work… Well, save for the screwdriver Eggman had used to tighten some stray wires earlier. It seemed Eggman had forgotten to place it with the rest of his tools before leaving.

Ovi, knowing that Metal Sonic would do nothing as long as he didn’t try to run away (Ovi had tried to run a few times before, Metal Sonic kept on dragging him back before he managed to get away), Ovi got a marvelous idea.

One that would probably help his pals in the upcoming fight.

Using the screwdriver to get himself out of the restraints, Ovi took a look around now that he was unbounded. Ovi didn’t know what the warehouse contained - well, besides Metal Sonic and the giant, obvious Egg Mole in the building - and he needed something that would work.

Eventually, his foot caught a spray paint can, causing it to roll away from Ovi. Taking a look to his right, he saw all the boxes of spray paint right beside him.

Ovi smiled cruelly, looking back to the Egg Mole.

Immediately taking a few paint cans, Ovi leapt onto the Egg Mole, and started spraying more colourful patterns over the dull red, black, and grey the design had. In addition to the machine’s new ‘makeover’, Ovi took a look at the potential weak spots, areas where Ovi knew Sonic could dispatch easily.

At least, up until Eggman returned from wherever he went.

“I am the EGGMAN, That’s what I am - What! My creation!” Eggman dropped the bag of scrap in his hand as he entered the building, looking at the ‘paint job’ that Ovi gave his new masterpiece. “You insolent little brat! How dare you paint over my masterpiece!” Eggman’s voice boomed throughout the warehouse as he stomped towards Ovi.

Ovi, having just enough time to hide his ‘additions’ as random additions, yelped and nearly fell off the Egg Mole. Catching himself on the edge where the Eggmobile would be inserted into, before hauling himself up and trying to relax carefully on its sides.

“It looked a little drab, so I painted it!” Ovi snarked eagerly, not mentioning the fall he had earlier. He was sure Eggman didn’t see it, but Ovi noticed that Eggman’s face was alight with glee. Ovi was so focused on his slip up, he didn’t notice the swift presence of another coming behind him.

“Bah, you absolutely have no understanding of colour coordination! You’ve got blues and greens over top my brilliant red, and left bright yellow on top of my perfect blacks and grays! Oh, and Metal? Our guest needs another lesson in manners.” Eggman sneered, offering his palm as if he were allowed to bring a lady down the stairs.

Instantly, Metal Sonic charged up its electricity, grabbing Ovi before the changeling could move. A shock resounded throughout Ovi’s body, causing his muscles to react erratically.

“AHHHHHH!” Ovi screamed, his throat going dry immediately as Metal Sonic dropped Ovi onto the ground. Who knows when Metal Sonic was moving Ovi to bow towards Eggman, as he was being electrocuted, but hey.

“No, don’t stop. I’d like to hear you cry out for daddy.” Eggman childishly snarked, making Ovi look up to the scientist, snarling his teeth at the comment.

“You… You bastard.” Ovi growled out, rasping out his breaths as he glared at his captor, body spasming from the residential electricity in his body. Eggman’s smile widened with a vengeance.

“You know, your dear old dad wanted you to be sent to me, didn’t you?” Eggman stated, causing Ovi’s eyes to widen in response. “After all, I know how to take care of petulant children.” He emphasized, seemingly in accordance with his rivalry to Sonic. Ovi chuckled without humor, making Eggman growl back at him.

“Please, as if he’d give me to you.” Ovi slurred out, yet trailed off as he thought of it - how it explained both Harold’s current and past behavior. He couldn’t tell anymore if what he stated was true. Had it been, once before?

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.” Eggman cut through most of Ovi’s cruel thoughts, lapping up the realization in Ovi’s eyes. In the corner of his glasses, Eggman saw his cameras sighting a rather intrepid gaggle of morons out on his front door. “Oh, here he is now.”

“Harry -?” Ovi whined - whined! - at that. Eggman soaked in all of the little pest’s fear.

“Yes, you brat.” Eggman then turned to Metal Sonic, pressing a button on his jacket before addressing the robot. “Now, you get to take a backseat while Metal Sonic greets your friends. Right, Metal?”

“You got it!” Ovi’s sharp, yet snark-filled voice reverberated in the warehouse, causing Ovi to turn around. There, in place of the robot Ovi hated to see, was himself.

Save for one detail…

“You do know that my friends will see right through this trick?” Ovi growled out, glaring at Eggman as he pointed at Metal’s Ovi eyes.

Metal Sonic’s disguise used white sclera, as opposed to the black sclera that Ovi had.

“Bah! Semantics. Besides, ” Eggman chuckled, waving at Metal “Ovi.” At once, “Ovi’s” sclera turned black, before returning to white.

“A master showman never starts with all of his tricks! You’ll get to see them not fall for it, then fall for it when it’s you!” Eggman lifted Ovi as Metal Sonic walked off to the entrance, getting ready to fight Sonic and the gang. Ovi stunned out of his mind, could only watch as Eggman threw him into the insides of the Egg Mole, his laugh haunting him as he fell into darkness.

“Ho, oh oh oh - hoh!”

[raindownforme]

Theater Kid

Ted Nivison x reader [she/her used]

It wasn’t odd for me to be left alone in the big open space. Most nights I was there into the late hours when my teachers were too tired to remember I was there. But tonight they’d actually forgotten, so I busied myself by sweeping the giant black stage. The push broom had been left near the side lighting panel, so I chose a few flood lights to turn on to better see the flooring. The lightbulbs hummed to life above me and I went back to take center stage as a starting point. I turned to look towards the house but, as I stared out into the seats, I saw someone standing who hadn’t been there before.

“You turned the fucking floods on.” His voice echoed across the near empty space and I shushed him as quickly as possible. Fucking actors always having to be the loudest.

“Jesus Christ Theodore shut up. Haven’t you ever done this before?”

“No. I don’t stay after school cleaning like a weirdo.”

“Well you’re here. And I’m not a weirdo! It’s a shared space. If anything you should appreciate me.”

I watched as he awkwardly picked up his backpack and walked down the aisles towards me. He stood at the foot of the stage, staring up at me, which wasn’t that much of an angle for him. He was an abnormally tall person, especially for a highschool student. Of course it only added to the strange charismatic spell he held over almost everyone else in our shared department, and I hated it. I hated the way he never talked to me but talked to everyone else. I hated the way he would sit on the desks and the tables in the classroom and the makeup room and on the edge of the stage and when he caught me looking he would give me this wide, crooked smile. I hated how loud his stupid improv club was that he got to lead was because he was the only student good at it. I hated how I spent every day inside the workshop and the prop hallway and the sound booth and the set alley and the lighting booth and he never payed a bit of attention to it. It was everyone else but me. And even knowing how close I’d gotten to being the stage manager, I knew I’d always be one peg under him.

“Did you hear me?”

I blinked myself out of my angry thoughts, trying to catch up with the real world. “I’m sorry?”

“I said you don’t have to call me Theodore. Ted is fine.”

“Oh.” I rolled my shoulders back unsure of what was the appropriate next step. “Well my name is-“

“y/n I know.” He cut me off. I stared at him in confusion, simply having assumed he didn’t know who I was. “We have like five classes together. We’ve done every production together since freshman year. You’re the one in charge when I come to set days. I sit across from you in the makeup room during lunch. And I know you do all your homework at the director’s desk.”

I stared at my feet as I felt my face flush. It felt like I couldn’t make words. It didn’t make sense that this guy I thought was a prick for the last three years knew me? But I knew that I liked him knowing me. And that was the worst part; I’d been fine with thinking he didn’t know me and didn’t want to because it gave me a name to whatever this feeling was. And now I don’t know. I looked back towards him, trying to think of anything to say. “You don’t care about tech.”

“I- what?” I couldn’t tell if he was angry or confused, and I wasn’t sure which was worse. Staring at him again I noticed the strange tint to his face, which seemed to be turning pinker by the second. I could see my reflection in his glasses and I realized how awkward of an angle we were at.

I bent down on my knees to meet his eye level. “You don’t care about tech. You’re the guy who’s a lead character and comes to rehearsal just to fuck around when you’re not needed act all high and mighty when really you never do anything.”

He narrowed his eyes, as if thinking, and then slapped his bag down on the stage near my feet. “Give me a fucking broom.”

We spent the next while peacefully sweeping up the stage. At some point I switched to the nail detector (which was really a long stick with a magnet on the end) and began going around the edges and crevices to try and find anything. We crossed paths a couple times, shoulders brushing together or brooms clinking.

Eventually I had passed him just enough that he stopped me in my tracks. He grasped my forearm gently, but I stared at his hand. I didn’t seem to want him to let go. “Here.” He took an AirPod out of his ear and handed it to me.

“Ooooh fancy actor boy has AirPods.”

“Literally shut up and appreciate me.” I smiled as I walked towards the trash can. I didn’t know what was playing, but it seemed like some indie bullshit I probably would have admitted to liking if it wasn’t coming from Th- Ted.

I sighed as I leaned the broom against the wall. “I think we’re done here. I can put away the broom in the morning if you don’t know where it goes.”

“I got it.” I watched as he took the trash can under one arm and the broom to the designated little outcropping in the workshop.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you in here.”

“Eh.” He shrugged and stood up straight to look down at me better. “Freshman year someone smacked me straight across the face with a roller. Worst acne I’ve ever had.”

“Oh. Ouch. Still on the handle?”

“Nope.”

“Wet or dry?”

“Wet. With paint. Fresh paint.”

“Ooh. What color?”

“Forest green.”

“Euch. Nasty.” I chuckled as I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. It wasn’t uncommon for this part of the school to be the coldest, especially surrounded by walls of exclusively concrete and a single garage door, and the seasons still changing as we neared the end of winter. I felt a shiver run through my spine, and Ted looked at me funny.

“Is it cold in here?”

“For some of us.”

“Here.” Ted shrugged off the heavy bomber jacket he had been wearing and draped it over my shoulders. It was warm on the inside, much warmer than I’d been expecting. It almost fit, but I guess his torso and arms were just slightly larger than mine. I looked back to him to say thank you but instead he was staring at me with this dumb look. He was smiling and his head was tilted slightly, and his face was pink again, but darker this time. I felt my face heat up as we stared at each other.

“We should leave.”

He seemed to snap back to reality. “Right. Yeah no right god it’s- what time?” He flicked his wrist out to move his sleeve in order to see his watch. Of course the pretentious bitch wore a stupid watch. “It’s like 6. I guess it’s eating time.”

I nodded and walked back out towards stage left, Turing off all the lights except for our single ghost light that had to sit center stage. It cast a hazy shadow over everything. I watched Ted walk towards center where the lightbulb stood. He started to reach for his bag but I heard the song change in the AirPod. He made eye contact with me as a slow waltzy song moved through my ear. He extended a hand to me and I tentatively reached for it. His hands felt good in mine. They were soft but worn, I and I could clearly feel the lines that ran through his palms and his fingers.

He took one of my hands in his and his other hand placed itself gently on my waist. “Have you ever waltzed before?” His voice was low and raspy, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I whispered back, “no.” He began to shuffle us around, pulling me left and right and pushing away and pulling me. I felt surrounded by the way he smelled and the way he held me gingerly, like a glass figurine. I stared down at my feet as to not step on him, but he took the hand that was holding mine to gently lift my chin up.

“It’ll be easier if you look up at me. I know you can hear the rhythm.” He began to hum the song as we continued to move. The song began a flourish ending as he threw me out in a twirl, then pulling me back in to his arms. I felt him dip me to the ground as the ending came. I let my self dangle, my head up side down, staring at the ground, then gently lifted my face back upwards. Ted was mere centimeters away from me. I could feel his breathing on my neck.

“Ted. I should-“

“Yeah. No no I know. Yeah.” He lifted me up slowly until I was sure I was flat on the floor. I grabbed my backpack, holding the straps.

“Do you want your jacket-?”

“Keep it. I can get it back tomorrow.”

“Today’s Friday.”

“Right. Monday then.”

I nodded and walked towards the door. I could hear his heavier footsteps behind me, gaining quick due to his longer legs. The door clicked shut behind us, and the cool February air rushed through my skin and hair. I watched Ted take a keychain out from the pocket of his back pack. He looked at me and frowned.

“Did you drive or do you have a ride?”

“Oh yeah. No they’ll uh. They’ll be here in a bit.” I dropped my bag and sat on the curb with it on my lap to try and stay warm. Ted’s jacket was lovely but not lovely enough.

I heard Ted drop his bag and watched as he took a seat next to me. He looked over at me. “What? I’m not gonna leave a pretty girl out alone at 7 at night in the winter. Besides my parents probably think I’m at the game anyways.”

Now that he mentioned it, I could hear the sound of cheering and drum line off in the distance.

Did he call me pretty?

We both waited on the curb for probably another 10 minutes before he started talking again. “There’s no one coming is there?”

“Ted-“

“I never see you leave because you always leave last. After anyone who could possible give you a ride has left. You’re one of those kids.”

“I’m sorry one of those kids?”

“No I didn’t-“ he exhaled and closed his eyes. “You don’t have anyone waiting for you. So you just walk.” We were both quiet for a moment, taking in the cold as it burned your skin. Ted stood up and extended a hand to me. “Get in the car.”

“Im sorry what?”

“Get in my fucking car. I’m not going to leave you to get kidnapped on the way home so you’re coming with me to get food.”

“See now this feels like kidnapping.”

“Oh my GOD get in the car.”

I reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat of his car, looking at the very minimal personalization that had been done: a couple stickers on the back window and a glasses case in the center cup holder. I watched as he reversed out of the parking spot, extending his arm against my seat to better turn around. I did my best not to stare, but I wasn’t sure what else to look at. He stopped before going into drive, asking if I didn’t mind McDonald’s even if there was a long line.

“Sure. It’s not like there’s someone waiting on me.”

He frowned at my response, but nonetheless kept on driving. “Well, there’s also a Dairy Queen, Sherri’s, maybe a Taco Bell-“

“Sherri’s.”

He glanced over at me with a confused look. “Really??”

“Come on, you know sitting in a dirty trashy restaurant at night is the total teenage coming of age moment.”

“Yeah but a Sherri’s? The food isn’t even good enough to justify.”

“You only say that because you haven’t tried those loaded hash browns.” I jokingly placed a hand on his shoulder, but I felt him tense at the contact. I retracted my hand and he sighed, moving to turn on his right blinker.

Ted swiveled his head to check for passing cars, but he grinned at me as we made less than a second of eye contact. I turned my head away towards the window next to me, trying to swallow whatever heat was rising towards my cheeks. I watched us pass cars and headlights as we approached the poorly lit parking lot. I jolted as ted’s plastic bumper lightly scraped the ground. He mumbled something under his breath as he pulled into a spot.

“I hate this stupid lot. Always scratch something coming in.” He unbuckled his seat belt and got out quicker than I expected. I went to unbuckle and get out but as I reached for the door handle, Ted opened it for me from the outside.

“Oh.” I stared at him for a second and he grinned at me.

“I know. Such a gentleman. Now get out of the car before I break your heart.” He winked at me, obviously joking, but I still felt my heart drop out of my chest.

“HA.” I pushed him away from me gently, but my fingers burnt at the touch.

I heard Ted shut the door behind me as I walked into the restaurant. There was really no one inside other than a group of kids tucked away in a booth in a far corner. I watched as the hostess approached me, saying I could sit in any table I wanted. I heard Ted walk in behind me and I turned to look at him, but he was staring at the group of kids in the corner.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “Oh shit-“

“HEY. TED!” One of the kids started yelling at him from the booth. The other boys laughed at him as the maybe two or three other girls giggled. I looked between Ted and the boy, who seemed incredibly belligerent or under some sort of influence. He waved his arms in a wide span over his head, as if telling Ted where he was. “NIVISON! COME SIT OVER HERE! COME ON FUCK THE LOSER! GET OVER HERE.”

Ted looked at me, making a prolonged eye contact, then back to the kid. “No thanks! I’ll see you later.”

He linked arms with me and rushed over to the other side of the restaurant, tucking us into a small booth by the window. He said almost nothing, staring just out at the bushes. A waiter came by, dropping off two thick plastic menus.

“Anything to drink?”

Ted mumbled, but I was sure the waiter wasn’t able to hear. “Water for him please. And how much is a vanilla milkshake?”

“$2.50 for a small.”

“A small vanilla milkshake then. Please.” I smiled gently at him, and the waiter seemed to straighten himself a bit, more self assured than he had been two minutes ago.

“Of course. Right away.”

The waiter walked away and Ted stayed quiet. I slid my hand across the table towards him. “Theodore-“

“I’m not friends with Jake. I mean I was when we were younger.” He was looking me now. Well not exactly me, but my extended hand at least. “He joined the football team and some other sorts and we just stopped hanging out because of time. And he does still wear the lettermen’s jacket but....” he dropped his voice and leaned in, I copied and leaned closer to him. “He got cut from the team because he would show up drunk so now he goes to games just to drink under the bleachers and pick up cheerleaders from the other schools. He tells anyone who asks that he got a brain injury and can’t legally practice but still goes for support.”

“Oh my god.” I blinked, my voice still at a whisper. “That’s terrible.”

Ted nodded eyes wide. He looked over my shoulder, tapped my hand, and then sat up. I sat up too, assuming it was the waiter, but stared at how close his hand was to mine.

“Okayyyyy one ice water and one vanilla milkshake.” I moved my line of vision towards the drink set in front of me. It had the standard glass cup and whipped cream topping, but on top were red and pink heart-shaped sprinkles. I stared at it, and Ted must of noticed it as he took my hand firmly in his, lacing our fingers together on top of the table. The waiter stared at it.

“Hey I think we’re ready to order if you don’t mind.” Ted’s voice was louder than I expected as it took command of our whole corner of the restaurant.

“Uh yeah. What can I get you two?”

“You said you wanted the loaded hash browns, right babe?” He turned to me smiling, but I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Y-Yeah. Those are the ones.”

He gave me a giant goofy smile, and turned back to the waiter. “We’ll have two orders of that please. And an extra straw for this milkshake if you don’t mind?”

“Uh yeah. Coming right up.”

The waiter walked away and Ted sighed, relaxing his grip on my hand but not quite releasing it. “Fucking creep.”

“What?”

He looked back at me, confused. “You didn’t notice he was flirting with you? He put heart shaped sprinkles on your milkshakes.”

“I guess he’s not that good at it then.”

We sat in silence as I drank the thick vanilla shake. Ted cleared his throat and looked towards me. Our hands were still together.

“Well what can we talk about together?”

“I don’t know, theater kid shit?”

“Alright.” He though for a second. “Fine. Movie musicals.”

“Oh. Oh my god I hate the greatest showman.”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes I do! PT Barnum had no excuse to be an asshole and the whole thing is just him being an asshole to his family who somehow accepts him again.”

“I think if you have a shitty life you could have the right to be an asshole, and he wasn’t that bad! He loved his wife, and the music is good!”

“Okay some, some of the songs are good, and the whole kiss with the red head was totally not his fault. But just cause you have a shit home life doesn’t mean you can be an ass. I would think it would make you want to be nicer so other people don’t experience the same treatment, you know?”

Ted pauses, seeming to consider, then nods and moves to take a drink from his water.

We spent the next while talking about random topics: stories, tv shows, movies, books, anything. At some point the waiter came back and set the food down without a word. Ted released his hand from mine to grab his fork, and I stared at the place his fingers had been. My hand felt cold and unfamiliar as I set it closer to my plate. I ate slowly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, but Ted ate quicker than I thought he could.

“You were right these are delicious.”

“I told you, only good thing they have.”

I was probably close to finishing when the waiter came and slapped the receipt on the table. “We close in ten.”

As he walked away Ted chuckled. “It’s Sherri’s. They’re open 24 hours?”

I shook my head, smiling, as I dug around for some cash. I grimaced at the amount I had, realizing I would have barely two dollars left. I looked up, prepared to go broke, but Ted had already gotten up with cash in hand.

I reached out and grabbed on to his t-shirt as he walked towards the register. “Theodore, wait-“

“If I get to be your fake boyfriend I can pay for our fake date.” He smiled and continued walking. I rustled through all the small bills and coins I had. I was still holding them in my hands when he came back and sat down across from me.

“Y/N, i told you-“

“But, tip-“

“I got it. Finish your food.”

We sat in silence for a little longer, and as soon as I was done he stood up, shouldering the backpack I’d brought in with me. He stood next to me, holding out his arm towards me. I giggled as we linked arms and walked to the door. I made eye contact with the creepy waiter and watched as Ted flipped the guy off.

The air was cold as we exited the building. I probably would have shivered again if not for Ted’s jacket still around me. I used my free hand to pull it closed in front of me. We were silent getting into his car, but as he turned his key over to start the engine he looked to me and smiled.

“Thank you for an amazing fake first date.”

I laughed and felt a small heat rise to my cheeks. “You make an excellent fake boyfriend.”

He turned up the music as we pulled out of the parking lot. I could hear him scrape his bumper again, but he didn’t say anything about it this time. “So, how do I take you home?”

“Oh. You don’t have to! I can just take the bus-“

“y/n. It’s late and it’s dark and it’s cold. Please let me take you home.” We were stopped at a red light, and we paused, staring just at each other. Ted’s face was bright red, and I’m sure mine was too. But even when the light turned green, his face was still red, and I’m sure mine still was.

A car behind us held a sustained honk, and Ted jolted out of his stupor and peeled out across the intersection. Of course Ted wasn’t a bad driver. He was a highschool driver, so he drove to look cool half the time. Meaning right now he was driving with one hand at the top of the wheel and the other arm rested against on top of the center console. I made the judgement call to reach over and take his free hand in mine. I did so loosely, allowing him to let go if he wanted to, but if anything he laced his fingers with mine tighter. I looked down at our hands, smiling, then back towards Ted’s face. He was smiling widely, but when he saw me looking he made a stupid attempt of trying to play it off and act like he wasn’t smiling, but I started laughing so he eventually fell into laughter with me. We didn’t talk much on the way to my house other than me giving directions every now and then. He didn’t let go of my hand the whole time, except when he had to put the car in park.

I stared out his window towards the front of my dark building. I knew no one was home, and it was probably pretty cold inside since I usually forget to turn on the heater before leaving for school.

“I guess this is me.” He watched me throw my bag over my shoulder as I stepped out of the car. “Thank you Theodore. For everything.”

“Ted.”

“What?”

“You can call me Ted.”

I smiled at him. “Right. Thank you. Ted.”

I shut his car door and walked up my sidewalk, but I turned when I heard another car door shutting behind me.

“y/n, wait.” Ted was walking towards me, hands shoved in his pockets as the giant man toward over me. “I, uh, I really enjoyed being your fake boyfriend tonight.”

“I enjoyed it too-“

“And I enjoyed sweeping the stage with you. And holding your hand. And dancing with you. And driving you home. And arguing over food. And laughing. And sharing music. And pretty much everything. And I don’t want it to be because I’m your fake boyfriend you happened to be on a fake date with because we happened to be in the same place at the same time.” He sucked in a breath as he took my hand gently. He stared at our fingers and palms pressed together. “I want to do all that stuff because I’m your real boyfriend. I want to dance with you and take you on dates to shitty diners and act all jealous because it’s real.”

I could feel my face burning. “You were jealous?”

He laughed a little bit. “Oh my God, yes, I was jealous, he was flirting!!” I laughed, gripping his hand a little harder, then pulling it downwards. “Ouch! What the-“

I placed a kiss on his cheek, and I watched him short circuit as his whole face turned red. “Theodore, I would like to let you know, I am free tomorrow night for a date if that’s what your asking.”

“OH. Okay! Yeah is 7 okay?”

“7 is perfect.”

“Yes! Yes yes!” He pulled me in for a hug and kissed the top of my head. “Oh my god! Okay. Tomorrow, 7!”

I laughed, still trapped in his arms. “I expect dancing.”

“Oh absolutely.” He pushed me back a bit, smiling as he stared at me. “I have to go home. I have to get ready!”

“For a date in 24 hours?”

“Yes! I have plans to make!” He kissed me on the forehead again and ran back to the car. Hand on the handle, he looked back at me, smiling. “I can’t wait.”

[vslattae]

TRUST

Part one part two

↝ ᴊᴇᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪɢɢᴇsᴛ ᴄᴀᴍᴘᴜs ғʟɪʀᴛ ᴀʟᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʜɪᴍ ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ sᴄʜᴏᴏʟ, ʜᴇs ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪs ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ. ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴋɪɴᴅʟᴇᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ?

this is a little unedited so if you see any mistakes...you didn’t :)

campusflirt!jungkook x semipopular!reader

warnings: language, jin (is kind of a dick) mentions of alcohol, weed, there’s a smudge of angst. jk is kind of a dumbass, tae and yoongi being soft for yn,

———————————————————————

let’s get straight to the point, college is fun but despite all the movies it was all lies. Some people have it worse and thank god you didn’t have it so bad.

you sat in taehyung and yoongis apartment it was a quiet night. “let’s go to namjoons party tomorrow night” taehyung glanced at you smiling. “sure we can go” you smile back grabbing your stuff to make it back down the hall to your apartment.

Once you wave goodbye you slowly make your way out and into your apartment. sighing you placed your bag down and noticed something under your bed stuffed in a box.

cautiously sitting down and opening the box, the memories flood in. jeon jungkook what the hell happened to us? Jungkook or his nickname you gave him “kookie” was your best friend growing up, until freshman year of high school when he met those dicks that just happened to be friends with your yoongi and tae.

Once jungkook found out about them the hours you spent sitting in your makeshift fort dissipated from minutes to hours to day then weeks..all the up until a few years. the only good thing is that you two happen to be at the same college, but obviously you don’t even know if he remembers you.

going through the small notes and pictures one stands out, it was the night jungkook took you to your eighth grade dance where you both shared for your first kiss.

giggling at the memory you never noticed the small tear that tumbles off your right cheek. you slide the box back underneath your bed to be forgotten and continue getting ready for bed.

beep beep beep

your alarm clock flashes 5:35 exactly one hour before sunrise, changing into shorts and a hoodie and running shoes you burst out the door into the nice breeze chasing the path that led to a small clift where you spend your early mornings.

The path passes by a small dance studio with huge open windows, you never pay attention to it because the windows are always dark but once you stop you noticed a guy with way blonde hair with hand tattoos. he sways to the music but a female pops out to hug the boy and you continue to run.

bzzz bzzz

it’s yoongi.

“hello?” you pick up

“yn taehyung isn’t here” his voice sounds worrying.

“what do you mean?” you stop glancing out to the scenery.

“yn he never came back he told me he went out for a walk and hasn’t been back. i’ve tried calling and nothing straight to voice mail.” your heart sinks wondering if something really bad happened to tae.

“i’m coming okay? well go check out places maybe he just crashed at a friends place.” your insides churning as you run to yoongis place.

now walking with yoongi around to a different apartment lot about 10 minutes away from yours, it belongs to seokjin or just jin. the name sounds familiar but you keep it to yourself.

arriving at the gray apartment building, yoongi marching straight up to room 202 and knocking on the door.

a very tall slim guy opening the door, his hair peeled with light brown hair and purple ends...this must be jin.

“is tae here” yoongi glares at jin the taller male. “please come in and she can come in too taes on the couch” he invites you both in. you get the stench of weed and a very high taehyung on the couch.

“tae jesus christ” you hit him on his arm he winces a little and whines, there’s a weird noise coming from down the hall you ignore it of course and try to pull taehyung up with the help of yoongi but you both fail and he pulls you down and wraps his arms around you.

“tae” you whine “yoongi get him off” yoongi pulls you out of taehyungs arms. The noise from the hall stop as you hear a whine and a guy making his way into the living room where it’s crowded with voices.

it’s the guy from the dance studio. the very toned blonde haired boy with the tattoos on his hand. he made his way towards you and froze.

it was jungkook. in the flesh...

“jungkook yoongi and his friend came to get tae” jin look at jungkook and he still stood frozen. eyes widened at your figure along with the beads of sweat stuck on his forehead.

“oh jin shit...this is yn the girl that lives down the hall from us” yoongi pointed to you while you shy waved.

“yn..?” jungkook looked at you and he wanted to do was scoop you in his arms and apologize for ghosting you and ignoring you...it pained him to watch you both slowly drift apart away from each other.

“can we talk..?” he looked at you while your thoughts ran wild. you thought he was dead for crying out loud..and he thought you moved away and never wanted to see me again.

nodding you got up and walked outside of the apartment. you noticed the space in between you two. you had no idea what you were gonna say at all thank god he opened his mouth otherwise you would have darted back up to grab tae and leave.

“so..how’ve you been?” he scratched the back of neck while glancing at you.

“i’ve been okay...you’ve changed” you try your hardest to hold back the tears that swelled in your chest begging to not cry in front of him. god that’s pathetic.

he quickly caught on and held you. “i am so sorry yn..i forgot about you..and i fucked up oh my...we lost so much time and i don’t even know what to do..” he rambled on.

“i thought you were dead kook...you stopped hanging out with me to be with those pot smoking fuck boys..what happened.” that’s when the first tear fell and the bitterness bubbled in the pit of your stomach.

he watches you stunned...he doesn’t what happened to him. it was just one of those you meet things. they were more interesting than you at the time so time slipped away and so did the jungkook you knew.

“yn...i’m sorry...what else do you want me to say?” he looked you searching for face. “it’s okay kook...your girl is inside and i have to go.” you look at very high tae who pushes himself onto your shoulders as he giggles.

he watched the three of you walking away, as he returns back into his apartment to finish the girl he was with.

the night came for you and your little duo to head over to namjoons. watching the mirror with your ripped jeans tiny crop and yoongis windbreaker. you tip on your favorite shoes and walk out with yoongi and tae. The walk is easy, the light breeze along with the dim lights that spread along the road.

Once you reach the medium size house, it’s crowded with college guys and girls and it reeks of cheap alcohol and shady smelling weed. the minute you step into the house your swarmed by yoongi and taehyungs friends. yoongi manage to wrap his arm around you while he pushed his way to rm and jimin.

“hi guys” jimin looks at the three of you.

“you didn’t tell me this many people were here” you whined glancing around watching taehyung come back to give you a red cup filled with whatever he was drinking. “yeah me either but uh i think jins coming with his guys” he tipped himself back on the couch.

sipping your drink you immediately choke on it, in your line of sight lays jungkook. He’s paired in black ripped jeans, a designer hoodie and a pair of black combat boots. His hair is a little messy along with the row of piercings that lay on his ears. his left hand holds a red cup as he’s surrounded by a few girls until he notices you.

“jesus i think i’m going to be sick...can someone come outside with me?” you stand up immediately holding your hand out to whoever grabs it first..that is until your eyes land in your palm with jungkooks tattooed hand as he pushes his way outside.

“thanks” you mumble sitting on the warm concrete not sparing a glance to the boy in front of you. your head is pounding with the amount of alcohol in your system along with the super loud ass music that blasted the house.

“yn..” jungkook calls out. you look up only to find the boy hovering over you and for the first time since yesterday you got a glimpse of jk. “i know the reason i stopped hanging out with you” he softly spoke. tilting your head you waited for him to continue. “i wasn’t good for you yn and you know that. i couldn’t introduce to the guys i hung out with. they’d tear you apart.” he finally admitted.

“what- jungkook...you just left that’s the thing. you couldn’t have just told me that you’d go missing?” you scoffed already much annoyed and read to go you stood up to tell the boys you were going home.

walking back into the house to greet your friends goodbye but they were nowhere to be found out all.

making your way back to your apartment unlocking the door and stepping inside, you shower the party off and get dressed no bothering to put a bra on.

knock knock knock

slowly inching your way to the door and opening it, you were thinking it was a drunk tae or yoongi but you were definitely wrong. and definitely sober.

jungkook was out there..you looked up at him and then it just clicked. “come in..” you noticed his eyes drifting towards the small shorts you put on.

once you were both seated on the couch time began to move slower and all it took was the drift of jungkooks hand to your thigh and you were now under his spell.

———————————————————————

[aria-33-20]

A New Spark, Part I

Jaskier had always wondered what his Guardian would be like. Friendly? Brooding? Would they have a strong sense of justice, or a taste for violence? Since he split from the Traveler, he’d had a lot of time to wonder. Centuries, in fact. In his time not spent searching, he would create and revise lists of desirable and undesirable traits. He could never really decide what he wanted, but it helped fill the void a bit.

Today, he was on Venus, hunting through a Golden Age research facility. He’d hitched a ride with a Guardian, and had the good luck to find a location riddled with old bodies. Most would consider that an uncomfortable place to be at best, but for a Ghost searching for their Lightbearer, it was a treasure trove.

He meandered through the ruins, scanning every skeleton he could find. From what he’d heard, it wasn’t really necessary, but he did it anyway.

“‘You’ll feel it when you’re near them, like a tug on your Light,’” he whispered to himself. Old advice. He couldn’t even remember what the Ghost who told him it looked like. He’d often questioned if it was even true.

“Still searching?” came a voice. The Guardian he’d ridden with, peering in through a crack in the wall.

She was a bit of an odd one. Dressed mostly in pink, she didn’t exactly blend into the environment like most Hunters tried to do. At least, he figured she was a Hunter, based on the cape. Her music choice on the flight was also… unique. Pre-Golden Age J-pop never really took off in the Last City even after that drive full of the stuff was found.

“Yeah,” Jaskier replied. “Don’t worry about waiting for me, I’ll catch a ride when I’m done looking.”

“Hm… alright. When you get back to the City, drop me a message. I like to make sure I’m not leaving Ghosts for dead.”

“Will do,” Jaskier called as a she turned to leave.

He set his mind back on his search. A skeleton crushed under a rock, another draped over a chair… scan, scan, scan again.

It was finally when he drifted through a door labeled “Prototype Storage” that he saw it: a heavily rusted mechanical hand, sticking out from under a collapsed wall. A jolt went through Jaskier.

That’s them! And an Exo no less! How exciting!

He zoomed over to the body, and instinct took over. This is what other Ghosts had told him about! As he gathered his Light, an image of his Lightbearer should appear in his mind, something to recreate their body with… there. He took no extra time examining the image before releasing his Light in a pulse.

He floated in close.

Aaaaaaany moment now. That hand’ll move and they’ll shove off the rocks and concrete and get up and I’ll finally have found my Lightbearer.

The hand didn’t move.

He waited.

A minute.

Five.

Ten.

Thirty.

An hour.

As his excitement faded, so did his hope. Why weren’t they getting up?

“Maybe the rocks are too heavy?” He tried to convince himself, and began transmatting the chunks away.

What he found underneath dashed his hopes even further. It wasn’t an Exo. It was just a frame, and by the looks of things an outdated prototype. Still, something told him this was what he was looking for.

But… frames can’t become Risen. They can’t store or channel the Light like humans and Exos can. Still, I have to at least try to bring it back. If I can’t use the Light…

Light from Jaskier’s eye washed over the frame, scanning it. Some fried circuits, crushed and rusted out servos… all somewhat simple to fix. He could do this, even without a proper resurrection.

Two days later.

| Frame BOOT | Running POST | Core Speed: 83.5 THz, Count: 128 | Allocating drive space for system memory... Done. | Initializing motor systems... Done. | | Retrieving system data. | System ID: XM_33-20_000000000 | Unit ID: 000000000 | Unit Designation: “Aria” | System START

Servos whir as the frame rises to a sitting position, and a blue glow fills its large full-face visor of an eye. A bright, electronic voice emanates from a hidden speaker on its head.

“Good morning, Doct-!” It stops mid-word, scanning the room. “Where is Doctor Danniston? What happened to this facility?”

Jaskier pauses for a second, then launches into the speech he’d been preparing while he worked: “Welcome back! You’ve been offline for several centuries, so it’s likely that anyone you’ve worked with previously is… gone. My name is Jaskier, and I’m your Ghost. Our first order of business is to get you back to the Last City. We’re going to try to hitch a ride with another Guardian leaving Venus.”

The frame stares at Jaskier. “I’m afraid I cannot do that. I must remain here to assist with development of the 22-30 series of frames.”

“You’ve already completed that objective though. The 22-30 series is so old it’s not even in use anymore. You need to come with me, really.”

The frame looks over the room again, the azure glow in its face jumping around behind its protective visor. It spends a good minute examining everything and collating information, before responding with a “…very well.”

The frame gets to its feet. Jaskier gives its bare body a lookover, then mumbles to himself.

“We should probably get you armored. Hold still for a moment.”

After a second, a teal-blue light shines from the frame’s feet and begins moving up, weaving grey and brown armor around it.

“Most of the armor patterns I know are designed with humans in mind, so I’m mixing what I know about the Lightmail Titan, Born Spark Warlock, and Prototype 0.9 Hunter patterns to make something that will work for you.”

The frame examines its hands and arms, glancing at Jaskier out of the corner of its eye periodically.

“What do I require armor for?” Its tone hasn’t changed, but something makes it seem concerned.

“I’ll explain on the way to the landing zone. Come on, we don’t want to be sitting in the open like this.”

They arrived at the landing zone to find something unexpected: a bright pink modified Odyssey-class jumpship.

A similarly colored figure, accompanied by a Ghost in an inflatable shark shell, transmatted out of the ship. “Hey.”

Jaskier squinted in confusion. “I thought you were heading back to the Tower?”

The pink Hunter looked past him to the frame. “I was, but I checked the Tower’s bounty board and flight itinerary before heading out and it seems like nobody’s going to be heading here any time soon. Didn’t want to leave you stranded.” Her tone of voice turned inquisitive as she asked, “Who’s this?”

The frame took a step forward and assumed a somewhat stiff-looking stance. “I am Aria 33-20, frame prototype testbed, Unit ID 0. According to Jaskier, I am, as of an hour ago, what he refers to as a ‘Guardian.’”

The Hunter and her Ghost both glanced over at Jaskier.

“I’ll… explain on the way back to the City. Can we head out?”

The Hunter continued to stare at him, then sighed. “Alright, hop aboard.”

Suddenly, Jaskier’s vision flickered and he felt himself falling to the ground. As everything went black, he watched the Hunter reach for her own Ghost and crumple in place.

Aria 33-20 looked down at the Hunter as she struggled to return to her feet.

“The Light—!” she gasped. “Sonia!”

“Are you in need of assistance?” Aria’s voice seemed to hold little concern.

The Hunter shook her head, seemingly to clear it, and her voice trembled as she spoke. “I… I can get up on my own. Grab your Ghost. W-we need to get into orbit, away from the Fallen and Vex.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “We need to get back to the City…”

Aria kneeled to pick up Jaskier, attaching him to a magnetic clip on her thigh, then watched the Hunter struggle to her feet.

On the Hunter’s signal, her ship’s transmat system brought the four on board, and it began rising back up to orbit.