#but yep thanks for the asks captain anon i enjoy them very much

[dreamyautumns]

Glad you're writing again! Could I request giant kazuha and beidou. Have a good day!

Yep yep! Request by Anon! This’ll be added to my collection on Wattpad too! I apologize for such a short read😓

Kazuha's gaze remains transfixed on the distant shores of Inazuma. Soft winds blow past as he sniffs the wind.

"A storm is brewing... perhaps I should warn the captain."

"No need; I can hear ya even from a mile away," Beidou's voice cuts across the breeze. The pirate had climbed to the top of the mountain where Kazuha was sitting and overlooked her ship. The giant shifts lightly, adjusting his position to allow Beidou to see better. The samurai then goes back to admiring the view.

"Feeling homesick?"

Kazuha looks down as Beidou folds her arms. "Perhaps... though I could never return to how life was once before. I am very content with you and your crew. It is just hard. I am far from my homeland. While I enjoy my journey, there are times I wistfully reminisce on my clan."

"Home is wherever you wanna make it," Beidou states. "If ya miss Inazuma and think it's your home, you're totally obligated to feel as such. But if you're stuck dwelling on the past, you'll miss opportunities to find new places to call home. Home isn't just some stationary place; it's the people there that make it feel as such."

"Do you ever miss home?" Kazuha asks, his soft voice carrying across the horizon. Beidou shrugs.

"Not really. Sometimes."

The clouds in the sky begin to pick up. Beidou clicks her teeth and looks down at the Crux.

"I'm gonna go get the ship all hunkered down. Best if we take initiative now, yeah? Thanks for the warning, kid."

Kazuha extends a hand for Beidou to climb into and lowers it onto the boat. The pirate steps off and waves up at him. Kazuha watches Beidou direct the members to start preparations as he continues to watch the sky.

Home is made up by the people who live there...

Kazuha summons his sword, scarlet eyes trailing up the pristine blade. He had been training for quite some time, but he felt he lacked something. He had been lost in his thoughts for quite some time. Getting to talk his emotions out with someone he trusted dearly was refreshing.

I miss them…

Kazuha thought about the Traveller. He held as much respect for them as Beidou did. After all, they did help each other, and he even saved their life. He thought to how the way he held them was the way he held Beidou to protect her at some point from a group of thieves who ambushed her. He, who was as tall as a mountain and impenetrable as a fortress, held life so delicate and fragile, like a little heartbeat. With such immense strength, he began to think about what he wanted to do.

I want to protect my home. And my home is no longer in Inazuma. It is right here with the Crux. I will use my power to protect them all…

[procrastinationonvacation]

It’s the anon again! I loved your rambling about Russingon! If I may, would you like to do the same for Daemags? (Or another ship, I’m really not fussy)

hmm...Daemags… two options:

Crack: enemies to lovers in .01 k words. (They’d like it to be a angsty slow burn, but both are too prone to dramatic declarations/speeches for anything longer. They’re like Hamlet, and are very aware they’re in a play. They just don’t realize its a crack play)

The other one would be a slow thing in the second and or third age and it’s actually really interesting to me. A narrative where they learn to be part of society again, to accept they’ve done wrong that they cannot undo (A certain M named person’s done a considerable amount more wrong but hey thats not the point) but realizing they have to move forwards anyways.

But wait! you say, Daeron didn’t choose to leave, he got lost. That’s valid, but I really don’t see how someone can get *that* lost in their own forest without choosing to. So I imagine that he went into the forest searching for his sister, and on his way back thought about the shame and grief of his family and it just seemed easier to exile himself, and to disappear rather than face that.

Now I’m not saying big grand redemption arc cause idk those often get cheesy. Nor am i saying “oh its been a long time so we’re good now.” Just,, Daemags ensuring that the later half of their lives creates a positive influence (big or small), I’m saying they help eachother let go of the grand aspirations from the past and maybe eventually face up to the consequences of their actions (again Maglor’s got some more actions to have consequences for but tbh at this point im not interested in what they’ve done, I’m interested in the guilt they harbor that so completely removed what could have been 2 very powerful entities from the later narrative)

-

Thanks for the ask, Anon! (gonna name u… Captain Anon!)

Also no worries about asking too much stuff, if I need a break I’ll just not answer for a bit XD    and I’m so hyped to talk about the Nerds next ask.

ok so clarification point on Daeron: I’m on the canon that he’s Luthien’s brother because it provides me lots of space for projection, which is also why things might not smell very canon in this post.

Anyways Daeron’s is really interesting to me once I’ve over projected and made a ton up: I imagine his pov going something like “ok there’s this dude my sister’s infatuated with and like,, first of all no.” (and yeah there’s jealousy involved here too, idk maybe he’s thinking that’s his sibling, and she’s supposed to hang out with him, not some mortal) Then she wants to go on the quest designed to kill the mortal?? So yes, once again appealing to the higher authority here. And lo and behold it works out even worse than last time. Fine fine time to be Helpful. Then he dissappears into the woods. Eventually he gets the news Luthien’s dead, and like maybe a little part of him that he hates is like ‘haha i was right she shouldn’t have dated that guy’ but mostly it’s like ‘hey if I’d stayed at court would she still be alive’ 

[cazimagines]

Oblivious

Request from anon: Hi, I really enjoy your writing, particularly your Zemo fics! I had an idea for one that basically follows the while y/n joining Sam, Bucky, and Zemo through Madirpoor and Riga. Only despite Zemo’s flirting, y/n doesn’t really do anything about it or even notice until y/n along with Sam and Bucky witness Walker (New Captian America) murder a flag smasher in the street. They all go back to the safe house and y/n is like, in shock. “Captian America just killed someone” is all y/n can really say. And Zemo is able to calm them down. Maybe the romance can start then?

Word count: 3.4k

Author’s note: This one-shot can be multiple parts, if you would like to see a sequel please say! If I do decide to write a sequel though it will take me a while as I’ve had a lot of requests, please check out my master list to see what I have coming up next and if requests are currently open or not

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Heels clicked along the pavement as you sashayed along the road, approaching the men before you, two of which you know fondly. The other one, however... not so much.

They all stood close together in a circle, obviously discussing something important but at hearing your voice call out their heads turn towards you, a smile appearing on Sam and Bucky’s faces as they see you. “Long time no see boys,” you say, stopping a few feet away from them to lean on a wall.

They both walk over to you, Bucky pulling you into and hug then followed by Sam hugging you tightly. “Thank you for agreeing to help us out y/n. I know things haven’t been easy for you,”

You fake a smile at Bucky, one you hoped he wouldn’t see past resting your arm around his shoulder. “Anything for my friends,”

He was right, though. These times haven’t been easy for you, especially after Steve Rodgers left. Captain America had always been your idol, ever since you were a little kid you aspired to be just like him. You collected all the Captain America merchandise along with your brother Phil, always arguing with him who owned which toy of his. Meeting Steve had been a dream come true for you. He was the person you were closest to. He helped you come to terms with your brother’s death and whenever you needed help; he was there. You two stuck together through the thick and thin. That’s was how you got to become good friends with Sam and Bucky. You and Steve have always had a complicated relationship, though. You two liked each other and tried to see if you could be something more, but it never seemed to work out. Then Thanos happened. You, along with half the universe, were dusted. For you it was as if you had simply blinked however for Steve it was five years without you. You barely got to see each other again before he went away for good. You couldn’t hate him for it, you understood why he did what he did. He was always telling you about the ’40s, about his childhood, about her. You just wished you weren’t so connected with him. Seeing him there, old, dying. It broke your heart. But times move on. You can’t live in the past as he did.

Your eyes focus on the man behind Sam and Bucky and you frown, pulling your arm away from Bucky. A man you never thought you would see again was staring right back at you.

He stood a few feet back, knowing he wasn’t welcomed in the warm reunion of friendship. He clasped his hands, unsure what exactly he should do right now, feeling awkward, but as he looked over at you his eyes twinkled with recognition. Now you had been interesting to him. You weren’t a super soldier like Steve and James. Yet you certainly could hold your own against them. He had seen when he had first activated James. No, your strength and fighting abilities were down to your own human powers and he admired that. You were one of the few avengers he might have had an inkling to like if the Sokovia attack never happened. Still, it wasn’t as if you were to blame for it. The people who were to blame had suffered for it. You were merely the pawn in the giant game of chess. Perhaps he could grow to like you, after all, he could admit you were certainly tempting to him, the way your body was shaped excited him, the way your neck was shaped made him want to brush his fingers along it and your piercing eyes felt like they could look into the darkest corners of his soul.

“Why is he out of prison?” you snap, bringing Zemo out of his trance

Sam turns to scowl at Bucky as you all turn to Zemo, who awkwardly smiles. “Bucky thinks we need him,” Sam mutters

“Why would we need him!” you exclaim, crossing your arms and shooting Bucky a glare.

“I am invaluable,” Zemo explains with his hands, his eyes unwavering from you as he answers for Bucky.

“He hates super-soldiers, therefore he will help us in getting to Karli,” Bucky says, stepping in front of your eyesight trying to explain himself.

“That also means he hates you, Buck,”

All of them freeze as you address the elephant in the room. Bucky grits his teeth and steps back, averting your gaze as you and Sam stare expectedly at him but he doesn’t respond so Zemo takes his opportunity to step closer to you, now only a few feet apart.

“I can assure you, getting rid of Karli and her super soldier friends is my priority. Not James,”

You clench your jaw in anger as you look at Zemo. He tilts his head, the side of his lip curling up slightly, hoping you’d take a chance on him. Sighing, you turn to shoot one more look at Bucky.

“Steve wouldn’t have liked this,”

Later you sat across from Zemo on his private jet. All of you sat in uncomfortable silence as you flew to Madripoor. Sam and Bucky did not seem as close as you were to both of them. They both just sat on their respective sides and looked out the window. Zemo had a book on him which he seemed very preoccupied reading, yet there were moments where you could feel his eyes settle upon you. Ignoring his inquisitive gaze, you choose to follow in Bucky and Sam’s lead of looking out the window and daydream the rest of the trip away.

Your mind trails back to Steve. You wondered just what Steve would have thought about you teaming up with Zemo. He would have understood, wouldn’t he? It was the best option you had. Ah, but he had always been such a stickler about the rules. Breaking a criminal out and helping him avoid the law wasn’t very patriotic of you. Yep, he would not have gone through with this plan, he would have found another way that worked. But none of the people here were him. He choose not to be here. You knew you had to let him go.

“Champagne?”

You pull your eyes away from the window, coming back to reality as you see a bottle of champagne in Zemo’s hand and an empty glass in his other hand. He already had another glass full beside him as he looked at you expectantly.

“No,”

“Sure?”

“What part of no do you not understand,” you snap harshly glaring at him then back out to the window

“My apologies,” he says, pursing his lips together as he looks down at the empty glass. He glances over to Sam and Bucky but they both shake their heads as well so he hands the glass and drinks back to his butler and sighs as he opens his book again.

The tension between all of you sticks around as you arrive at Madripoor. Zemo had provided you a tight-fitting dress to ‘appear the part’ of your allice, and it showed off a bit too much of your chest than you liked. It was too bright for you, golden and sparky, cutting off at your upper tight, and had a very low v cut. You try your best to pull it down to cover you some more but to no avail. Begrudgingly, you leave the plane to meet up with the rest of them.

“My my y/n, the dress suits you,” Zemo says, smirking as his eyes trail up and down your body as you walk past him taking a straight beeline towards Sam and Bucky.

“How long will this mission take?” you ask, already feeling the cold air nip at your skin.

“Few hours at the least. I’m sorry that you have to do this, y/n”

“Hey, I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to help you two,” you mutter as you hear a car pulling up behind you

“Not exactly this though,” Bucky grumbles, glowering over at Zemo who motions to the car that had arrived. Zemo opens the door and waits for you to get in however you walk to the other side of the car and get in. Bucky chuckles at Zemo’s annoyed expression as he instead gets into the side, which Zemo held open.

During the mission, Zemo kept getting uncomfortably close to you. Occasionally his hand brushed against your back as he moved past you, or his hand would bump into yours slightly, lingering against yours longer than normal.

You knew why he was doing this. Because of Steve. He knew how close you and Steve were, everyone did. During the fight between Steve and Tony which Zemo had helped cause you stuck by Steve every second. Now that Steve was gone, Zemo was trying to rub that in. Trying to irritate you on purpose. You would not let him get to you.

During the meeting with Selby you stood off to the side with Sam and you were feeling pretty good about yourself that the mission was going well until Sam’s phone rang. You tried to keep cool while also giving Sam the wtf look as to why he didn’t put his phone on silent. You hung out hoping things would go okay, but today wasn’t your day.

Shelby got gunned down in front of you, and the mission was ruined. Running in heels wasn’t ideal, but you had to make do. You followed Sam and Bucky as Zemo split up from you, running off somewhere else. Eventually, you kicked off your heels, believing running barefoot would be better than dealing with the agony of heels.

Finally, meeting back up with Zemo, you were ready to have to fight your way out of this mess, but then someone you didn’t think you would ever see again appeared. Sharon Carter. You two weren’t exactly buddy buddies. You got along for Steve’s sake, but it always felt like a sort of rivalry between you two for his attention.

“Y/n,” she says, finally addressing you

“Sharon,” you say back, feeling the awkwardness seep back in. Sharon didn’t seem bothered however, she even kindly let you have some new clothes and shoes which were much more comfortable than the ones Zemo lent you and more your style.

Walking back into the main room you see Zemo sitting down, once again drinking, Bucky sitting down as far away from Zemo as he could get and Sam standing at the side. You choose to stand by Sam.

“Hey, y/n, you doing okay?” Sam asks as you walk over.

“Better than other days. What are we waiting around for?”

“For Sharon to lead us to a party where she can get the information we need,” Zemo answers for Sam, peeking over at you. You ignore him.

Sharon comes back in and tells all of you not to get in trouble while you are out at the party.

“Trouble,” Zemo jokes, and he once again glances over to you, raising a glass and winking at you as he downs it.

Following Sharon, you head into the party. It was to show off the art pieces she had got a hold of so you thought you might as well look at them as you were unlikely to see any of these genuine pieces again. You could see however Zemo following you. He tried to be sly by checking out the other artworks near you, never exactly where you were, but you could tell because every time you moved to a new place soon enough Zemo would suddenly appear there as well. He leaned into one of the artworks, pretending to study it closely, but the corner of his eyes would flick over to you.

Groaning in frustration at your new stalker, you decide you had to lose him in the crowds. Swaying your body, you enter the dancing crowd and jump along to the music, letting yourself go. You could feel your excitement growing with the crowd as you danced, but with one quick turn around there, you saw him.

Zemo had now entered the crowd and was dancing along to the music as well, pumping his hands in time to it. As you stared at him in disbelief, he notices and takes that as an innovation to dance over to you.

“Dancing is fun, right?” he asks as he claps his hand to the music

“Why are you doing this!” you exclaim glaring at him.

His eyebrows furrow as he looks at you, “I don’t understand what you mean?”

You huff in annoyance and storm away, going to find Sam and Bucky leaving Zemo alone on the dance floor. He watches you go and sighs, moving away from the dance floor. It had been a long time since he last got to socialize with anyone and he was trying with you; he wanted to know you more, but he didn’t want to push you too far either if you were uncomfortable with it.

The next few hours felt like a blur to everyone. Sharon found out where the doctor was and you found out a bit of information before Zemo choose to shoot him. Then the whole place exploded, and you had to fight for your life while Zemo hijacked and car to pick you up. Now you were standing outside the safe house.

Zemo opened up the doors, and with his arm motioned for you to go in first. You roll your eyes at his extravagance and storm in, looking around the place. It was simple, but you could still tell that it was all designer, expensive to Zemo’s tastes. You sit down on the sofa while Zemo instantly gravitates towards the liquor cupboard.

“If you drink so much you won’t have long left to live” you mutter as you watch him pour some whiskey. His head shoots up as he turns sidewards to look at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Concerned about my health now?”

“I’d rather have you not pass out during a mission, at least till you are no longer of use to us then you can drink yourself to death for all I care,”

“Ah concern for the mission, yes you avengers folks are all the same. The mission takes precedence before anything else,” Zemo says, grabbing his glass and walking over to take a seat on the sofa opposite you.

You give him a cold hard stare crossing your arms. “What do you mean by that” you hiss

He tilts his head, smirking as he sees how riled up you were getting. “I’m simply observing that you have to put your mission before human lives. I know from how much I studied Steve-”

“Don’t bring Steve into this!” you exclaim, leaning forward, baring your teeth at him.

Zemo pauses for a moment shocked, he pulls his head back to observe, his mouth slightly ajar as his eyebrows cast down but realization dawns across his face.

“Ah, you and Steve, you two were an item,”

“It wasn’t like that” you murmur, jumping up from the sofa and pacing around the room to try to alleviate the agitation you felt, your nails digging into your arms as you wrapped them around your body in comfort.

“But there was something,” Zemo replies, watching you pace around the room then looking into the glass bitterly, his grip on it tightening.

You turn your back to Zemo to stare at your reflection in the mirror, seeing the tears swell up in your eyes.

“Why are you bringing this up? Why do you keep trying to annoy me Zemo, what purpose are you getting from this apart from some sick sadistic pleasure?”

It was Zemo’s turn to jump up from the sofa, hurt you could ever think so lowly of him, his eyebrows furrowed as he speeds over to you. He stands beside you, getting a lot closer to you than you would like. You turned your head away so he couldn’t see the tears threatening to fall.

“Do you think that bad of me? Y/n we may not have had the best first impression but know that it is never my intention to irritate or upset you,” Zemo says, trying to move even closer to you, but he moves a step too far and you back away.

“Just leave me alone, Zemo” you whisper, then run out of the room to find a bathroom to let everything out.

Zemo watches your form leave, angrily clenching his jaw, knowing he pushed it too far. The vein in his neck twitches as he grabs an ornament by the side of the mirror. Holding it in his hand, he observes the glass figure, a dove, then chucks it into the ground in rage, feeling an inkling of satisfaction at seeing it smash into a thousand pieces. He grabs more ornaments, at that moment not caring how much they each cost, just enjoy the release of anger he felt every time he smashed one.

-

You could hear the blood in your brain roar through your ears, the feeling of your heart hitting your chest in shock as you stared down at Lemar’s dead body.

Your eyes flicker to John’s who knelt beside him, trying desperately to wake him up, but you knew it was hopeless. Lemar was gone. Your eyes flickered around the rest of the room, Karli and her friend realising how bad they have messed up were already running away from the room. Bucky and Sam looked at each other as if knowing what was to happen. Your eyes finally land on Zemo’s. John had tried to arrest him, but you were able to stop him. Zemo was still useful though you hated to admit it, it wasn’t long however till the Dora Milaje would find him.

You feel a hand brush against your shoulder and snap back into reality, “We need to leave, now,” Zemo whispered in your ear, pulling your arm to make you move.

Gathering your senses, you let Zemo lead you out of the building as you hear a crash from above. Running out into the road, you and Zemo catch up beside Sam and Bucky and watch the disaster unfold.

There was John, in Cap’s uniform, holding Cap’s shield above that man.

Steve.

Steve’s shield.

You feel a scream tear from your lips as you watch John Walker bring the shield down, penetrating the man’s chest, staining it in blood. Tears leak from your eyes as you attempt to rush forward, to try and stop it, but arms grasp onto you, pulling you back.

“NO” you repeatedly cried, trying to worm your way out of the grasp, but they gripped you, refusing to let go. Your knees gave out and you sink to the floor, collapsing in the arms of the person who held you, your head buried in the fur part of their coat as they held you to their chest.

You kept sobbing, shaking as the image replayed over and over in your mind.

“Captain America just killed someone,” you whispered, unable to say anything else. The arms which held you picked you up, quietly shushing you, and carried you down a road, back into the safe house.

They tried to put you on the sofa but you clung to their body, not believing you could survive without their support, so they settle on lying down beside you on the sofa.

They turned you to face their body as their arms draped around you, gently rubbing circles into your back. Burying your head into their chest again, you let the sobs wail out as your chest ached from breathing.

“Captain America just killed someone,” you whisper again to him.

“That wasn’t Steve, y/n, Steve would never do something like that,” he murmured, his accent soothing your nerves.

“But it was his shield Zemo. The very thing I had idolized for so long,”

“A shield which by now no longer belongs to him. He was never Captain America y/n, what we just saw proved that. They will give the shield to someone better,”

You sniff, trying to prevent the snot from coming out of your nose as your bloodshot eyes look up into his, “Really?”

He gently smiles at you, taking his hand off your back to push a strand of hair that was hanging over your eye away.

“Yes, they won’t make the same mistake twice,”

Zemo’s words brought more comfort than you could have ever imagined. His embrace brought you warmth and you could feel yourself slowly stop shaking as he held you. Looking away from Zemo in embarrassment, you instead choose to snuggle your head back into his chest, hearing the rapid beating of his heart which lulled you to sleep.

Tags: @sinister-sleep @cable-kenobi @faustlyaccused @chipster-21 @icarusinstatic @yallgotkik @montypythonsholysnail @bunniwritesx @checkurwindow @huntheimpossible @jayxkelsi @avgravy @prestigious-tea @aloyssiac @hannahbal-the-fannibal @alainabooks143 @jokerprettyprincess @plumsandkiwis @latenightartist-author @e-barba @flutterskies @wonderwoman292 @there-goes-thefighter @multiyfandomgirl40 @freyjasamael @ineffablebean

[kaminobiwan]

lost in translation

pairing: captain rex  x  engineer!reader

summary: an off day doesn’t always mean a bad day.

a/n: this one was very sweet to write :-) it’s part of my follower milestone celebration, and came from a request from an anon. the prompt was “catching someone doing something they’re not supposed to”, and I really didn’t expect this to take the form that it did! it’s a good thing, though. I really loved writing the fluff and rex deserves the entire world.

finally, here’s something new: my freshly made taglist form is done! as always, enjoy!

He finds you crouched outside the barracks with a datapad in your hand.

It’s not something he’d usually consider abnormal, given everything that happens on the front lines in a single day of wartime, but the way you peek from behind the wall like you don’t want anyone to see you is noticeably out of the ordinary. 

He sneaks up on you pretty easily. It’s in his training, after all.

“What are you doing?”

You let out a surprised yelp, juggling the datapad for a few precarious seconds before catching it and shooting him an annoyed glare. “I could have dropped that.”

Rex tucks his helmet underneath his arm, shrugging indifferently. “Not like you couldn’t have fixed it.”

You shake your head at him the same way a teacher would to a misbehaving child, holding up a finger in correction. “I fix starships, not electronics.” Your voice drops conspiratorially. “It’s a completely different area of engineering.”

It doesn’t really matter that much to him. The math, or physics, or whatever you try to teach him always goes over his head, anyways. The way you’re glancing over your shoulder to see if any of the men can hear you, though, is something he’d like explained to him.

“Are you spying on them?”

“Shh!” You free a hand to clamp over his mouth, and Rex flinches at the sudden contact. Your hand is warm, no doubt from holding the datapad for too long. But he’s thankful, lest you feel the heat rising in his cheeks from your touch. “You’re gonna blow my cover. I’m on a mission.”

Rex’s voice is muffled, but his words come out clear enough. “What mission?” 

You usher him back down the hallway from where he came, dropping your arm from his face. “Can’t tell you,” you reply, gazing up at him with an intrepid grin. Even without your expression, it’s easy to see through your jest with your overtly joking tone. “It’s top secret. Goes all the way up to the top.”

Rex raises an eyebrow. That is new. It’s not often you’ll hide something from him. You’ve always been an open book around the 501st, saying it helps the boys comfortably emote after the trauma of the battlefield. You’re naturally trusting, and it encourages reciprocation without force. Even the General had noticed and enjoyed the calming presence you’d had on his men, hence your current station as head engineer of their mobile base. Good thing, too — Rex is pretty deep in his feelings for you. Has been since the moment you’d stuck out a surprisingly calloused hand and introduced yourself to him. To the benefit of everyone, his command is noticeably more effective after a late night in your private quarters or his separated bunk.

“I think I’d know if you were assigned on a mission,” he holds the door open for you as you duck inside your room. “Seeing as how I’m your C.O.”

“Is that the case?” you tuck the datapad on a bookshelf next to your bed. You turn to speak over your shoulder, obviously attempting to conceal the information you’d been recording from him. “Didn’t realize I’d be dating my boss when I got involved with you.”

Rex stumbles on his own two feet at that, and you laugh at him outwardly.

He’s still not the best with confronting the relationship between the two of you, as under wraps as it may be. After losing so many brothers to the war that birthed them, it’s hard to be vulnerable the way you ask him to be. He wants the same thing you do, but being open about how he feels is almost impossible for him.

Thank the maker you’re patient, though, and can put up with his inability to call himself your boyfriend. It doesn’t stop you from showering him in affection.

“Well, I do outrank you, even if you are a civvie tech.” Recovered from his blunder, he eases himself down on your cot, undoing the straps of his armor. “So, I could just order you to tell me what you were doing.”

A pout materializes. “You’re no fun.”

“Got me mixed up with Fives if that’s what you’re looking for.”

You sigh dramatically, plopping into your favorite sitting corner next to his feet. The stool you usually prop your feet up on is missing, though he suspects it’s in the refresher since you seem to be too short to reach the cabinet there. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Rex lets a corner of his mouth rise in a half smile. He enjoys the way you let your reactions show, exercising the full range of your emotions. You pick up the slack he leaves in that regard, and he braces as he turns, leaning his elbows on his knees as he tells you, “You do know you were holding the datapad backwards earlier, right? I clocked the screen in the hall.”

Your frown deepens, and you cross your arms at him. “Rex.”

“What’re you lookin’ up Mando’a for, anyway?”

He’d immediately recognized the script of the language on your pad. You blow a strand of hair away from your face, the remnants of your so-called mission story falling away with the conversation. “I wanted to learn it, obviously.”

Rex casts his eyes to the ceiling. “Obviously. My question was why.”

You fix him with a thoughtful stare that lasts a second longer than normal, and he extends a hand to you in your corner. When you take it, he guides you to the bed next to him, resting your legs in his lap. His fingers tap your ankle in impatient waiting. 

“Does there have to be a reason?” You flex your toes, wiggling them as you speak. “Maybe I just want to understand you better.” 

“Sweetheart, you understand us plenty. Jesse said you gave him a hell of a therapy session just last week.”

You raise a brow at him, mimicking his expression from before. “I want to understand you, Mr. Brooding-and-closed-off,” you sit up from leaning on your hands, and poke him in the shoulder pointedly. It’s true that he relies on his mother tongue much more than the rest of his brothers. He’ll sometimes unknowingly switch from Basic, to your endless confusion. “I seem to be able to help everyone but you.” You purse your lips before peering at him amusedly. “And I think you mean psychoanalysis, not a therapy session.”

Rex makes a dismissive face. “Whatever.”

You drop your gaze, absently trailing your hand down his shoulder, and he grimaces internally. He can tell you’re already used to him pushing you away. You’re visibly preparing for it, even now.

He’s really bad with words — it’s ironic, considering how efficient he can be when he assumes command. Although he’s known for thinking on his feet, that doesn’t necessarily transfer to his communication skills. He’s never had the patience for conversation like Cody, or the power to convey his thoughts with threatening glares like Wolffe.

But he is good at taking action. And he’s tired of disappointing you.

He takes your hand, squeezing it gently as he brushes his thumb across your wrist. Hopefully, his intentions are obvious enough by the way he pulls you closer and looks you straight on. “You know you can always ask me what stuff means,” he says, “instead of trying to listen to Fives’ annoying voice.”

You laugh, and his heart flips in his chest. His brain reminds him to get it together, but he allows himself to relax into your touch. “He does speak too fast for me to decipher,” you wrap an arm around his waist, almost chin to chin with him. “Though it doesn’t take a protocol droid to figure out that haar’chak is a curse word.” You imitate the foreign word with decent accuracy, Rex notes. Maybe he really could teach you.

“It is. And kaysh mirsh solus is ‘he’s an idiot’.” He pauses. “Well, it actually means ‘his brain cell is lonely’. But that’s a little wordy.”

Your eyes light up, both at his seamless transition into the language and his correct anticipation of your first question. It’s his most used phrase, especially around his brothers. Though, the sincerity and circumstance in which he uses it varies wildly.

“There’s another one similar to that,” you press on, and he drinks in your excitement. It’s awfully endearing, even to Rex. “Hardcase says it a lot. It ends with ‘kee-rah-mood’?”

“Kaysh mirsh’kyramud,” Rex grins at your attempt. “‘He’s a brain assassin’. It just means someone’s boring.” A realization dawns on him as you giggle at the literal translations. “Wait, when has he said that?”

You shrink back a little, suddenly more conscious amidst your amusement. “Um…”

He looks at you flatly. “It’s after my briefings, isn’t it.”

“Yep.”

“Or’dinii.” After a beat, you nudge him. “‘Moron’.”

Another laugh breaks past your lips, and you lean your head against him. Despite his grumbling, he tucks you under him and kisses your temple, his face dissolving into a contented expression. You’re happily indulging him with the physical contact he’s always craving, and he silently offers you the first concession he’s given since you kissed him for the first time in the hangars before battle all those months ago. Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.

“What’s that mean?”

Rex jerks up in surprise, angling his neck down to see you watching him curiously. He hadn’t realized he’d said it aloud.

It’s not like him to be so out of his head, but then again, this hasn’t exactly been a regular day. He sucks in a breath, committing fully to the sentiment. He’s never made the first move with you. You’ve had to elicit every last moment from him, breaking down wall after rebuilt wall.

Not this time.

“I love you,” he murmurs, but you hear him, loud and clear. “It means I love you.”

Your eyes blaze with something he can’t get a read on, but you respond with an alarmingly straight face. “Is that what it means literally?”

Rex blinks. “Um, no. It means — ”

“I’m joking,” your facade drops immediately, and you break out into that wide, face-splitting smile he loves so damn much. “Rex, I love you.” You reach up to gather his jaw in your hands, and drag him down into a sweet kiss, and he swears he’s never felt happier. “I love you too, Rex, stars.”

Against your lips, he mumbles it again, the words glistening on his tongue. “I love you.”

Nothing he’s ever said has sounded better.

[visionsofus]

For the mixtape: “death stranding” by chvrches?? Thanks

hi anon! thanks for the request ~ I hope you enjoy!

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |  

track #10: Death Stranding by CHVRCHES 

synopsis: Wanda and Vision spend the night at a glitzy party for a mission and get jealous when they see each other with other people. Pre-CW

“Is this all really necessary?” Wanda asked, slipping her usual rings onto her fingers to retain a little bit of her everyday look.

“Of course, it’s necessary,” Nat said past the bobby pins in her mouth as she pinned up the last few strands of Wanda’s hair. “You’re going to the Hamptons; anything less will make you stand out.”

Wanda sighed but turned slightly to the mirror to take in what she was wearing. It was a rare pleasure getting dressed up like this, even if it was for work. She’d worried that she’d grown too recognisable in her year since joining the team but gazing at herself now she doubted anyone would think she was an Avenger. She’d chosen her dress from a selection that had arrived at the compound earlier that week for this specific occasion. Of course, it was no ordinary dress, the boddice was bullet proof and though the skirts appeared normal, dropping from her hips to the floor with several slits at the front and sides, Wanda had been told which button to press that would make the flimsy material snap its Kevlar protectively around her legs. It wasn’t as though she was going to go into this sting operation unprepared.

A soft rap came at the door right as Nat finished pressing pins into Wanda’s scalp.

“We’re ready,” Nat called over her shoulder admiring her work.

Steve stepped in, decked in a charcoal suit, sunglasses pushed up to rest on his hair. “Looking lovely, Wanda,” Steve said raising his hand to tip an imaginary hat to her, “we leave in half an hour.”

“I too, am ready,” Vision said his voice entering the room as he phased through the solid wall to their right.

Wanda raised her eyebrows at his unannounced arrival. “Captain Rogers was standing in the doorway…” Vision began but trailed off when he caught sight of her properly.

Wanda turned in her chair to admire Vision. He was dressed in a white suit with a pale pink and gold tie, holding the matching ivory jacket in one hand.

“Make sure you rehearse your cover stories, we don’t need any careless slip ups tonight,” Steve reminded him as he looked at his watch once more. “Nat and I are going to head to the jet, meet us down there.”

“We are?” Nat asked, as Steve tugged her out of the room without another word, door shutting behind them.

“You look beautiful,” Vision said reaching out to help her up. Wanda rested a hand on his arm and pushed herself to her feet, remarkably steady despite the outrageous heels. She liked the height they gave her but was quite sure her feet wouldn’t be enjoying things by the end of the night. At least they had a thick enough heel that she might be able to run or fight if need be. Hopefully things wouldn’t come to that.

“You look rather dashing yourself,” Wanda replied, giving Vision another once over. She could have sworn that there were silver threads running through the white of his suit, but it could have just been the harsh lighting distorting her gaze. At the compliment Vision’s gaze dropped to the floor, a happy smile about his lips.

“You remember our aliases?” Wanda prompted, walking over to her dressing table where she’d placed the necklace she wanted to complete her look with. She held it out to Vision, turning around so he could help her with the clasp. His hands were cool against the back of her neck as he delicately swept her hair aside.  

“Of course,” Vision replied stepping around to face her once the necklace was fastened, “I am Viktor Walkins and you are my partner Emilia Williams.”

“Exactly,” Wanda said turning for the door and leading him through the compound as she spoke, “Emilia Williams, 26, a post-graduate art student at RISD. My main focus is on the art of human anatomy, body paint, that sort of thing.”

Vision held the front door open for her and she smiled at him as she stepped outside. He continued their cover story. “Which explains my appearance,” he gestured to himself and Wanda watched as he bent the nanotech of his body to his will, “I am one of your models.”

Wanda had been expecting a new look from Vision, he’d been experimenting more with phasing, but nothing this detailed. His complexion remained the same, but little leaves and branches now extended up his neck, dipping below his collar as the same thing happened to his hands. Wanda resisted the urge to reach out and trace her fingers along the delicate gold whirls arcing over his cheeks. He was a piece of art.  

“Colour me impressed,” she said smiling as he led the way to the landing bay.  

Wanda felt out of her depth as soon as they arrived at the front gates to the mansion where the operation was to take place. The mission itself was simple enough, get close to their target, John A. Sterling a young-ish weapons distributor who had been attempting to recreate old Stark weapons, and get him on record saying where the next meeting was to take place. Wanda thought it was strange how public the underground weapons industry was, they certainly relished in having a good party. According to their sources, Sterling always attended things like this to catch new prospective buyers, inviting them to a private party at the end of a month. Wanda and Vision’s job was to either secure an invite themselves, or at the very least catch someone else getting one.

That wasn’t the difficult part, really. She didn’t doubt that with Vision’s help they’d secure the location by the end of the night. No, the real challenge was the party ahead of her.

She leant heavily on Vision’s arm as they walked up the marble stairs and into an actual ballroom. Wanda had only ever seen things like this on TV. The crowd was a swirling mass of glitz and wealth. It resonated with immorality and fraud and it was a good thing Vision took the lead because she felt minutes away from running away from the horror before her.

They walked around the edge of the decadent room, stopping finally at a table of canapes and fading into the background as one of many couples milling about the food.

“I have eyes on him,” Wanda said quietly pretending to straighten the lapel of Vision’s already impeccable suit.

“Take your time getting close,” Steve’s voice crackled in his ear, “we don’t want to scare him off.”

“I’m not scary,” Wanda huffed, grinning at Vision but he was keeping his eyes on the crowd, watching their target dancing. “I’ll just go and dance with him.”

“Go slow, and if you have the opportunity to get close, plant the mic on him,” Steve reminded her before going quiet.

“I think I’d rather you just scare him,” Vision said his eyes narrowing at the figure moving through the crowd. Wanda tilted her head but decided not to question what he meant and instead turned back to the crowd.

“He’s on the move,” she murmured, placing her hand at Vision’s elbow once more and casually starting to move around the room. She followed the example of couples they passed, smiling at those whose eyes were unable to avoid Vision’s glamour, though his appearance was on par with the cosmetics of some guests.  

Sterling had left the floor with his wife and was making his way to the spread of tables and seats at the back of the ballroom. Wanda paused briefly to collect a plate and some canapes so that they might fit in better and then led the way to a table near their target couple.

Vision gave her a look that said he thought they had gotten too close, but she shook her head imperceptibly and sat him down next to her. The tables were mere feet apart, but she had positioned them so that their backs were to the Sterling’s, whilst being close enough to listen in on their conversation.

“… too warm tonight,” she heard Sterling say gruffly.

“John, stop complaining,” came his wife’s short reply.

Wanda pushed the small food about her plate, feeling too on edge to eat. Vision was sitting unnaturally beside her, his head too high as he glanced around suspiciously.  

“You look too nervous,” she whispered, lifting a champagne flute to her lips and pretending to take a sip. She also wasn’t going to let alcohol dull her senses tonight. Vision snapped his eyes to her, and she was shocked to see his demeanour change almost immediately. He sat further back in the chair, smoothly crossing a leg over one knee and leaning closer to her chair, an arm slouched haphazardly at her back.

“Better?” he whispered back, his head now much too close to hers, she felt his warm breath on her neck.

“Yep,” Wanda murmured, this time taking a legitimate drink.  

They remained sat behind the unsuspecting couple until they rose once more to join the crowd milling about the ballroom floor. Wanda’s eyes snapped to Vision’s and she gave him a look someone along the lines of trust me. At least she hoped that’s what her face said because he looked shocked as she abruptly stood up, spinning and walking straight into their target.

“Oh my goodness!” She gasped delicately, bringing her hands to her mouth in shock as Sterling was forced to stagger back slightly. Wanda tried not to cringe at the warmness her hand was met with when she patted the man’s shoulder in apology. “I am so sorry.”

All those months working on her American accent with Nat was worth it all for this moment, her intonation was perfect.

Sterling had steadied himself and looked fit to argue until he looked up and saw precisely who had run into him. Wanda gave him her best apologetic smile. “Oh that’s, quite alright.” His hand went absentmindedly to his hair, running a hand through it.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Sterling’s wife piped up, standing up from the table and extending a hand to Wanda.

“Emilia Williams,” Wanda smiled shaking her hand delicately, “I am here in my father’s place.”

“Your father, Williams you say,” Sterling murmured with false understanding as though he were familiar with the man, which was of course impossible considering he was a fictional father.

“Say,” Wanda said turning a hopeful, yet shy, gaze to John Sterling, “I don’t suppose you can dance; my partner doesn’t like dancing.” Vision scowled from where he was still sitting.

“Well as a matter of fact, we were just about to join the floor again.” John looked at his wife for permission, “you don’t mind do you darling?”

“Not at all,” Ms Sterling replied, her gaze on Vision, “I’ll be quite happy sitting here and talking with this fascinating figure, I’m sure.”

To her dismay, Wanda had to take the arm Sterling offered as they made their way out to the dance floor.

“How has your father been?” Sterling asked as they stopped in an open space, Wanda taking one of his hands while the other came to rest at her waist. It amused her that he was still pretending to know the fictional man she had created, but all for networking she supposed.

“Oh he’s doing well, he just wasn’t feeling up to this evening and I was more than happy to come in his stead,” Wanda said sweetly as they starting to dance slowly. “He speaks of you often, always talking about the good work you do.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Sterling said graciously dipping his head, but Wanda knew she’d pressed the right button to direct the conversation where she needed it to go.

The music picked up and the dancing became livelier, and she had to focus on keeping up with her dance partner. Over his shoulder she spotted Vision still stranded with Mrs Sterling, who appeared to have gotten quite touchy in investigating the paint on his body. Vision was in the midst of rolling up his shirt sleeve to the elbow so that she could see more clearly, and Wanda’s heart tightened with irrational jealousy. She mentally reprimanded herself, she had no right to be possessive. Instead, she focused on the task at hand, she needed to get more out of Sterling and the sooner the better judging from the friendliness of his hands.

“Such terrible disasters happening in California this week,” she said in an attempt to make small talk.

“Dreadful,” he replied shortly, and Wanda resisted the urge to step on his toes a few times as his gaze dipped too low.

“I almost wish I had a better way to protect my family, if such things begin happening further north,” Wanda said contemplatively and tried not to bristle at how quickly his eyes snapped up to meet hers. Now he was paying attention.

“It’s important,” he murmured more quietly, “that we can all protect ourselves in these troubling times.”

“My father agrees,” Wanda sighed forlornly, “but alas we don’t really have any good contacts in that sort of industry.”

They were quiet a little longer and Wanda feared she had pressed too far. Regardless, the conversation had made him serious enough that she’d had an opportunity to drop one of her rings, one with a microphone within the gemstone, into his pocket as the dance swapped directions and they traded hands. Mic planted.

“I have special parties each month,” he began slowly, “if you are interested, I could put you and your father on the guest list for July.”

Wanda let herself smile I surprise and excitement. “Really? My father would be so grateful.”

Back among the tables, Vision was trying to figure out why he had grown so irritable all of a sudden. It was really interfering with the flattery he was currently delivering to Mrs Sterling whilst Wanda was busy out on the floor with their weapons distributor. He kept one eye on the spinning couple, growing frustrated at how easily the man was touching her.  

“Gosh this paint is just divine,” Mrs Sterling said, fawning over his glamoured skin, “she is quite remarkable.”

“I know,” Vision said not thinking as the words left his mouth and the tenderness that went along with them.

Mrs Sterling smiled wryly at him. “Don’t give up yet. A nice man like you? She’s sure to fall eventually.”

“Pardon?” Vision choked out, wondering what on earth had given the woman the impression that he and Wanda were anything more than platonic.

“Oh you know what I mean,” she waved a hand and laughed lightly, “shall we go rescue her from my husband?”

Vision looked at the woman with new appreciation and offered his hand to help her to his feet. “You know, I think you’re right, I am suddenly in the mood to dance.”

“That’s the right attitude,” she said patting his arm affectionately as he led her onto the dance floor.

“John,” Mrs Sterling called out, waving a hand as he and Wanda spun past, “give this young man a chance, will you?”

It seemed they were too far away to hear, and John was decidedly preoccupied by his dance partner. Vision caught Wanda’s eyes and she tilted her chin down slightly. It was done.

“Thank you for your charming conversation,” Vision said patting the back of Mrs Sterling’s hand at his arm, “but I had best get to her.”

Vision arrived just in time to see Wanda spin in time with other dancers and reached out a hand to catch hers before she could spin back into Sterling’s grasp.

“Oh,” she said softly, as his hand came to rest at her back, steadying her.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Mr Sterling,” Wanda said apologetically, “it seems my partner is finally ready to dance, it was lovely chatting with you.”

Mrs Sterling was at his arm in a moment, coaxing her husband away from the dance floor.

“I’m glad thatis done,” Wanda sighed, turning towards Vision once the other couple was out of sight. “Mic planted, and hopefully Cap will get news of a personal invitation for Emilia Williams by the end of the night.”

“Excellent work,” Vision said taking her hands and putting them on his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asked slowly, but she didn’t pull away.

“It would look suspicious if we left now,” Vision said, “so I am dancing.”

“I didn’t know you could dance.”

“While Natasha gave you your lessons, Steve gave me mine.”

“Huh,” Wanda murmured in surprise but stepped into the music with him, their feet moving in synchronicity, taking them around the other pairs about the floor.

It was different, being with her like this. But Vision enjoyed the closeness. In the past they had been physically affectionate without thinking about it but Vision was becoming more conscious of exactly how often they reached for each other, and what was worse, he was beginning to question his own reasons behind it. He rarely thought of ignorance as something good but there was a nagging feeling to this situation, an apprehension that if he examined the emotions he felt around Wanda there would be no going back.

Steve’s voice crackled to life in Vision’s head, “good job you two, get out when you can.”

“Sure thing,” Wanda murmured but made no move to leave the dance floor. When she saw Vision’s questioning gaze she smiled. “You wanted to dance right? It would be a shame the let those lessons go to waste.”

“Yes, it would be a shame,” he said absentmindedly, overly conscious of her hand resting at the nape of his neck.

“You seemed to be getting on well with Mrs Sterling,” Wanda said, her gaze a little distant as she looked determinedly over his shoulder.

“No more than was necessary,” Vision replied and then felt a little silly for saying it in such an assuring way, what did Wanda care if he had been friendly with their target? After all, it wasn’t as though she had done anything different. “You didn’t seem in a hurry to get away from Sterling.”

Wanda huffed in frustration and Vision felt bad for pushing further.

“It was part of the job,” she explained through her teeth trying to keep a smile on as they danced past chattering bystanders, “at least I wasn’t rolling my sleeves up and showing off my muscles.”

Vision actually sputtered. “That is not what I was doing.”

“Could have fooled me,” Wanda shrugged smiling pleasantly, but her refusal to look at him showed more.

He sighed wishing he hadn’t teased her or gotten onto this line of conversation. “I did not want for us to argue.”

“And what did you want?” Wanda said, her voice a dare asking for the truth, her eyes a constant on his and Vision resisted the urge to look away, maintaining her steel gaze.

“I want to be honest,” he said quietly and when Wanda didn’t prompt him, he continued speaking. “I’m afraid of saying something that might change things between us.”

Us.The word hung between them as an unspoken truth. They hadn’t acknowledged the possibility that they were becoming something other than Vision and Wanda, that perhaps there was a third alternative where they were something more.

“I’d rather honesty, even if it changes things.”

“As silly as it sounds,” he began hesitantly, “I was jealous, seeing you dancing out here without me. It irritated me that I had been shrugged off in favour of that man, even if it was for the mission.”

Wanda smiled and raised a hand to his cheek, his skin warmed as she brushed her palm over the intricate gold ‘paint’ still on his face. “It was not a choice I was making, but if I’d had to choose you could have no doubt it would be you.”

Vision resisted the urge to close his eyes and lean into her palm, trying to focus on the understanding in her gaze. “I was jealous too, watching you with her.”

“That has to mean something doesn’t it,” Vision said, his voice barely above a whisper as Wanda moved imperceptibly closer, his hand moved comfortably around her back as they slowed to a stop.

“It does,” she smiled and nodded, and Vision felt a wave of relief emanating out of him that they were on the same page. “The truth is out in the open now I suppose, no going back.”

“I think I’d rather look forward,” he said and slowly pulled them towards the outskirts of the ballroom and to a stop. Wanda’s cheeks were pink from the dancing and her eyes were light as she turned to him.

“So, we’ll just see what happens?”

“I’d like that,” Vision said keeping a tight grip on her hand, reluctant to let her go just yet. They went to leave the ballroom and once out in the night air he shrugged his suit jacket off and let it rest around Wanda’s shoulders. With one arm around her waist and the other holding her hand they left the faux cheer of the ballroom behind. The evening had been an adventure and a step out of his comfort zone, but Vision was as eager as Wanda was for home, to be back in the space they both knew so well and to relish in the step they had taken, to dream of all that was to come and all that they might be.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Prompts 10 and 36 just scream Spideychelle. They don't have to be written together, though that might tickle your fancy too

Thanks for the prompts, @soonersgirl86 and Anon! I did end up writing 10 and 36 together, so thank you for putting that idea in my head! Hope you enjoy the results!

The Game’s a Foot on BluePairing:Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle)Rating: TWord count: 1764

10.“You’re wrong and I’ll prove it.”

36. “I’d be fine having sex with the same person forthe rest of my life, if it wasn’t the same sex every single time.”

When you grew up as the ‘smart kid,’ you knew it. You wereeither fawned over or pushed too hard by your parents. Either admired orresented by your siblings. Your classmates simultaneously teased you and wantedyou in their group for projects. Maybe you were lonely, or maybe you enrolledin a good high school, full of ‘smart kids.’ Then you might take it a stepfurther and join Academic Decathlon, grouping yourself with the students thatthe rest of the overachievers thought of as the ‘smart kids.’ Once you’dreached this level, this upper echelon of tomorrow’s leaders, you couldn’t justplay a board game in your spare time. At least, that was what Flash was attemptingto convince them of.

MJ was currently trying to disappear into the thick cushionsat one end of the couch in Flash’s family’s living room. Every time herobnoxious teammate paced by her, she got a lungful of air that had the generalscent of Too Much Body Spray. She was full of regret; one surprise, come-from-behindvictory during a Decathlon scrimmage with another local school had made herfeel dangerously friendly towards the losers she captained and, in the insanityof the moment, she’d spoken two fateful words: “team bonding.”

Now the entire team was spending their Saturday nighttogether at the Thompsons’ while Flash’s parents had a ‘romantic weekend’(Flash’s words―uh, barf) in Las Vegas. Weird family. Somewhere between animpromptu video game championship and the time the tower of pizzas arrived (apparentlya purchase that qualified as an emergency, subsequently charged to Mr.Thompson’s credit card), MJ had identified sinking into the depths of the couchas the least obvious escape route. They just had to forget about her for awhile. If she was completely still, there would eventually be an opportunity tobook it to the door and taste the freedom of her old life. A life before teambonding.

But then Flash started in on his board games rant and beforehe’d reached the end of it (she hoped there actually was an end), he’d beguncounting the other people in the room in case teams needed to be formed. Whatpissed MJ off even more than being counted for participation reasons was thefact that Flash didn’t know how many people were in Decathlon. Not like theyhad biweekly practices or he’d been on the team for three years with very fewnew faces or anything. Moron.

“So we combine them,” he insisted. “Play multiple games atonce.”

“More challenging,” Cindy agreed, perking up next to MJ. “Ilike it.”

“Bonding is cancelled,” MJ protested wearily. “I’m thecaptain.”

Flash rounded on her, crossing his arms.

“Well, there should be another captain, for, like, moraleand chilling!” he said. “And that’s me.”

“That’s the last thing we need,” she grumbled.

“You’re wrong,” Flash argued, “and I’ll prove it.”

That was probably when she should’ve protested harderinstead of slouching off to the bathroom, but hey, she’d drunk two cans ofginger ale and her bladder was feeling it. Constant small sips meant shorterresponses and therefore, fewer chances of being engaged in conversation. Now,walking back into the living room, MJ saw that she was going to pay for her peebreak and pay dearly.

There was a creased Twister mat unfolded on the floor.

Logically, there wouldn’t be room for them all on theplastic sheet, but solving that problem was another thing they’d done while shewas gone. (She’d been two minutes! What the hell?!) These devious,academically-accomplished bastards―had already laid out and begun the alternategame, what looked like a combination of Clue and Life. Betty was sitting withher legs neatly folded, hashing out rules that seemed to require players tosolve the murder before they reached retirement. Oh, and the killer was one ofthe family members they would collect on the way.

MJ was going to lose her shit. If she was about to be heldagainst her will for… who knew how long, potentially hours… she would have atleast wanted to be in the group that wouldn’t be contorting themselves to reachthe correct coloured circle.

She could almost convince herself that was how she felt aslong as she didn’t make eye contact with Peter, staring at her from the otherside of the Twister mat. MJ swallowed and did what anyone with a massive secretcrush and a deficient sense of self-preservation would do: she peeled off hersocks, rolled up the cuffs of her boyfriend jeans, and stepped up to the edgeof the mat.

A dozen rounds in and she was lying to herself again. It wasobviously Flash’s body spray that made her want to knock him over, not the factthat he was positioned between her and Peter. (Yeah right.) Maybe he’d toppleon his own if she announced that she knew Peter was Spider-Man. Was that anappropriate conversation starter? Parties weren’t really her thing.

MJ eyed Peter as he placed his left hand on yellow.Seriously, was no one else paying attention to the ease with which that nerdshifted his limbs? You didn’t get casual strength and defined arm muscles likethat from constructing Lego Death Stars, that was for damn sure. It was thelatest in a long, long trail of breadcrumbs she’d been gathering for months. Sheclosed her eyes for a second and refocused on the game. Again, the urge to bumpFlash possessed her. But she wasn’t supposed to wish for him to be out―Flashwas on her team. Twister wasn’t meant to be a team sport, but Christ, thesetouchy-feely saps.

Ned, who had apparently been killed off in Clue/Life (yeah,she really hadn’t gotten a good grasp of the rules, or they’d evolved), was nowworking the Twister spinner and cheerfully reading out each round’saccompanying question. Because it had to be a combination of games. Because,again, Flash was a moron.

“Right foot blue, MJ,” he directed. (Fucking easy for him tosay, she thought as she stretched with a grunt.) “And your question…” Ned drewa card from the deck. “Would you rather have sex with the same person for therest of your life, or never get to have sex with anyone more than once?”

“Flash, where did you get these questions?” she wondered, movingher foot with a smack.

It wasn’t the first time she’d asked, but he was being cageyabout it. Honestly, most of them sounded like they’d come from some kind of sextherapy manual. Oh god, maybe it was a real game and his disgustingly-in-loveparents played it.

“Just answer,” Flash demanded. “I can’t…. stay…”

He slipped and fell on his ass. MJ blurted out a laugh. Finally,she was having fun at team bonding night.

Flash extricated himself from the mat, being a good enoughsport not to try to take MJ or Peter down as he made his exit, going to watchClue/Life. Peter and MJ were the only two left now. MJ rotated her footexperimentally on its circle, making her toes brush Peter’s. A blush raced uphis face like a burning match. Fascinating.

“MJ?” Ned asked, waiting.

“Uh, can you come back to me?”

He frowned.

“You’re supposed to―”

“They’re fake rules,” she reminded him, “and Peter doesn’tcare. I’ll answer my question after he moves.”

Peter shrugged. Ned sighed dramatically.

“Fine, but I think you should be setting a better example ascaptain.”

“Noted.” She rolled her eyes.

“’K, Peter…” He paused as the spinner whirled around. “Lefthand blue.”

MJ clenched her teeth together and squeezed her lips shut asshe analyzed the circles surrounding his current location. She would not smileshe would not smile she would not smile―Peter lunged towards her and, aftermaybe a second’s worth of hesitation, reached his arm over her extended leginstead of under it. She had her stomach to the ceiling, braced on hands and feetlike a crab, which had been extremely unsexy until Peter positioned himselflike he was about to climb on top of her. The front of his t-shirt draped overher thigh. MJ wasn’t sure he strictly had to be that close. She narrowed hereyes.

Dammit, he’d been playing a long game too.

After settling into his new posture by rocking a bit on hishands, he glanced up, flicking hair out of his eyes. They looked at each other.Yep, definitely dammit.

“Back to you,” Ned reminded her. “No more passing.”

“What was the question again?” she checked, trying to soundbored.

“She’s stalling,” Peter accused. Their eyes held for asecond. “MJ has the best memory in this room.”

Playful complaints? Flattery? And, oh, he wanted her toanswer the question? She would answer that question.

“I’d be fine having sex with the same person for the rest ofmy life,” MJ told Ned (while really, actually, telling Peter), “if it wasn’tthe same sex every single time.”

She was almost certain he’d started to lean over her bodymore before shifting back. And his mouth was open. Though she never stared athis mouth. (Another lie.)

“What if it was one person who behaved like two people?” Nedasked gleefully.

Peter’s head whipped around to shoot his friend a wide-eyed lookthat, to MJ, blatantly said shut up.Could they make it any more obvious that Peter had a secret identity? It wasbaffling. These were the stupidest smart kids she’d ever had the misfortune ofmaking friends with… and in one case, accidentally falling head over heels for.If they were going to be that dumb,she would indulge herself in a moment of pretend ignorance.

“Like roleplay or something?” she asked. Peter made a weirdsound in his throat. MJ decided to go in for the kill, catching his eye. “Yeah,maybe. I’m kind of into masks.”

“I forfeit,” Peter announced, springing to his feet.

Once he’d bounded away down the hall to the bathroom, MJ letherself collapse onto the mat.

“So I guess it’s pretty much impossible that you haven’tnoticed Peter likes you,” Ned summarized, idly flicking the spinner.

“I’ve noticed lots of things,” she replied, smiling as shestared at the high ceiling.

She chose not to specify that one of them wasPeter’s super alter ego. Or that another was the bulge in the front of hisjeans he hadn’t managed to completely block with his hands before running out.Not that MJ would ever look.

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