#cause honestly i don’t think marvel would ignore him forever

[acerobbiereyes]

As much as I love Daredevil, my vote is going to have to go to the Big G.

Never underestimate the power of the fans 💪

[cno-inbminor]

iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin​ for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia 

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings:  DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

-

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

-

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

-

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

-

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and  caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him.  It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,”  he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

-

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

-

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

-

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

-

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

-

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

-

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

-

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

-

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

-

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

-

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: The Opposite of Cuddling

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, but - “That’s not gonna work,” he says, feeling a little bad as her face falls. “I’m way too ticklish for that.”

Jester’s expression rebounds at lightning speed. “Caduceus! You’re ticklish?”

“Oh. Yeah,” he grins.

Dome cuddles don't quite work out, but the Mighty Nein make do.

Wordcount: 1.8k (it would be short if it wasn’t supposed to be a snippet fic aaa)

A/N: maybe i am just in the mood for cuddly gang tickles. maybe so. 

---

“So,” Jester is proselytizing, brandishing a diagram from her sketchbook into dubious faces, “if we cuddle up around Caduceus just like this it’s going to be super soft and comfy and warm until we get out of this stupid weather! Any questions?”

Caduceus puts his teacup aside and leans down to peer at the sketch. It’s really good, especially the faces. She must have drawn it while watching them sleep last night.

And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, but - “That’s not gonna work,” he says, feeling a little bad as her face falls. “I’m way too ticklish for that.”

Jester’s expression rebounds at lightning speed. “Caduceus! You’re ticklish?”

“Oh. Yeah,” he grins. It feels good to see her happy, tail flicking as she clutches her sketchbook in clear delight - after two days of nonstop freezing rain, even her forceful cheer has been wavering. “It’s nice, sometimes, but not when we’re, you know. Sleeping.”

“So I could tickle you right now and you wouldn’t be, like, really mad at me?” Jester presses. She’s scooting towards him as she asks, practically trembling with excitement. It’s awfully cute.

Well, it’s been a while, but he can’t say he’s not a little eager for the contact. He ignores the looks from the rest of their group and flops back onto his bedroll, wriggling a little to get comfortable. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Um,” Beau says from somewhere behind him, a little strangled. Oh, right.

“We’re not keeping people awake, are we?” he asks, craning his neck to the various edges of the dome people have settled in. “Anyone set on sleeping right now?”

Beau makes a face. "That's not the weird part, Duceus."

“They can help!” Jester chirps, and then she’s cuddled into his side and wiggling tiny tiefling claws above his belly. “Oh, Ca-du-ceus!”

She’s pitching her voice as deep and scary as it can go. It’s not very far. “Yeah?”

“Where’s your very worst tickle spot?”

He laughs. “Telling you that feels like a bad idea.”

“Then I’ll just have to fi-ind it!” She tugs his shirt up with one quick move, and he barely has time to feel the cold before she’s latching onto his sides and burying her entire face into the downy fur on his belly. “Ooh, you’re so soft and warm! I want to cuddle you forever, Caduceus.”

It tickles, but just a little - honestly, he’s more amused by her. “Can’t say I’ve heard that before,” he chuckles, reaching out to poke gently at her side. “You’re not bad yourself.”

She squeaks, pulling her head up just enough to gasp at him. “Oh my gosh, Caduceus, did you just tickle me back? Guys, you have to come help me!”

“Nah, I’m good,” Beau snorts.

Jester lets out a massive sigh and flops back down onto him, and for a pleasant minute or two it’s just her nuzzling into him as he watches raindrops pelt off the amber dome overhead.

Then there’s a rustle, and some clinking, and before he can do anything more than lazily twitch one of his ears in the direction of the sound Yasha’s upside-down face pushes into his field of view.

“Do you mind if I join?” she asks in her quiet way. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

Jester springs upright, grabbing happily for her hands. “Yes! Join us!”

Caduceus echoes her, snorting out a quiet laugh as Jester regains some of her energy and starts to scribble her way up his sides. He doesn't have any quiet siblings - Yasha reminds him a little more of the mourners, so it’s always nice to see her reach out. He's good at appreciating that sort of thing.

Yasha smiles shyly down at the both of them as she pulls his head into her lap and starts to play with his ears. “These are so soft,” she marvels. “Are you ticklish here?”

His ears have always been one of his siblings’ favorite spots to tease him with, and apparently they haven’t gotten any less sensitive in the last ten years. “Yeah,” he gasps. “Heh - just - hehe - a little bit.”

There's a frustrated groan off to his right. “Okay, I’ll bite.” Footsteps track around to his side, fleet and quiet, and he waits patiently for a flash of blue cloth to cross his gaze. “But only ‘cause ears are a fucking weird spot and I want to see if this works on you.”

Beau crouches by his side and curls her fingers loosely. “I’m gonna punch you,” she warns. “Probably not that hard, but don’t tense up.”

He nods as best as he can while tilting his head to better let Yasha worry her fingernails at the backs of his ears - he’s not sure if he could feel more boneless if he tried, right now.

The heel of her fist strikes him right in the middle of his chest, fingers clutching around something intangible - that something scurries its way down every nerve he has, and he coughs out a startled laugh before he can help himself. “What was that?”

“Payback for growing lichen on me back at your house,” she quips, but her eyes are narrowed in clear concentration. “Okay, ears, ears… wrists? And knees? And - fuck, man, your entire back? Really? Jes, let’s flip him over, this is going to be good.”

Well, that’s unexpected.

“Wait - ha!” Caduceus yelps, squirming as fingers start to pry their way underneath him. “Hold on now-”

He’s bigger than both of them by far, but they’re strong and not above tickling the backs of his ribs until he starts to squeal. "You're so thin, Caduceus!" Jester exclaims, hooking a finger into the tender gap between two bones and wriggling it mercilessly - his back arches entirely without his permission, letting Beau pry him another inch off the ground, and he whines defensively. "We have to feed you more!"

They get as far as rolling him onto his side before Beau loses patience and starts prodding smugly at his spine. “Your ki is pretty shivery around here, Duceus,” she teases. “Trying to hide your worst spots, huh? Bet you thought we weren’t gonna take this seriously.”

Caduceus is too busy laughing to deal with - any of that, really, especially when Jester slings herself over him so she can reach his back too. “I’m - ahaha! aaa! - oh, that tickles!”

As if in direct response to his babbling, a small weight bundles into the back of his knees. He curls up reflexively with a strangled shout - it’s Nott, cuddling up to him with a shivery sigh as an invisible hand starts to pinch at his kneecaps. “You’re right,” she crows to Jester. “He is soft.”

It does feel nice, being buried under this many people and tickled till the marrow of every bone in his body shivers, happy and helpless, and when Fjord finally sits in front of him and presses a questioning hand to his shoulder Caduceus doesn’t resist the impulse to clutch his hands and pull him in closer.

Fjord comes easily, huffing in quiet amusement as Caduceus buries his face in him and Yasha and wriggles like a freshly surfaced earthworm. “You alright there?” he drawls. “You sound like they’re trying to kill you.”

Nott snorts from somewhere near his belly. “We should stop, then, we’ve only got the one cleric.”

“Hey!”

Everything abruptly derails as Jester launches herself towards Nott and, from the sound of it, kicks Beau right in the face - there’s wheezing, and then shouting, and then the telltale sugar-sweet scent of Jester’s healing magic.

Caduceus holds very still. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah," Beau confirms, mangled. He can practically picture Jester frantically squishing her cheeks around as she checks for damage.

A typical tickle fight, as far as the Clays are concerned, just with a different smell - the Wildmother's healing tends more earthy. Even though they’ve stopped tickling, Caduceus can’t help but laugh.

He’s not sure if he imagines Fjord fluttering light fingers along the insides of his wrists as he catches his breath, but by the time he wheezes out one last fit of giggles and rolls himself back over everyone seems to be keeping a respectful distance, if a good deal closer together than they were at the beginning of the evening. “I think that went pretty well,” he says, pleased.

“...so you’re stupid ticklish,” Beau says dryly, scrubbing a bit of dried blood from her lip. “No cuddling Duceus while he’s trying to be unconscious, message received.”

There’s a chorus of agreement from all but one - Caduceus looks around and spots their final member for the first time since they sat down for dinner, nose buried in a book and ears suspiciously red.

He hasn’t moved an inch all night, even to escape the noise, which leaves him only a few feet away from the rest of them. Caduceus gets the feeling he’s about to regret that. “Oh, I’m sure there are those that have it worse,” he grins. “Right, Mr. Caleb?”

Caleb’s gaze snaps up over the edge of his book. “Ja,” he rushes out, strangled. “I mean - nein - of course I am not - I am just trying to read here-”

Jester doesn’t wait for him to dig his grave any deeper. “Oh my gosh, Cay-leb, are you super ticklish too?”

Caleb stuffs his book back into its holster and holds a hand out preventatively, reaching with panicked precision for a strip of leather tied just above his knee with the other. “No, I am not-”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Fjord rocks backward and reaches out with one broad hand, latching onto Caleb's wrist, and Caleb promptly abandons all spellcasting to kick at him like a startled rabbit.

Despite that, he reels Caleb in gently, scooping him into a neat little ball before he heaves him into the middle of their little circle and squarely on top of Caduceus. “I think we owe you a nice, long thank you for this lovely dome, don’t we?”

There’s a moment of silence as Caleb presumably thinks about how easy it would be to kill them all in this enclosed space. “This,” he says, as severely as he can with his feet in the air and hair in his eyes, “is the opposite of cuddling, and if you do not leave me alone then tomorrow night I am going to make all of you sleep in the rain.”

Even the seasoned homebody in Caduceus knows that’s the exact wrong thing to say to a group of damp and grumpy adventurers - if the mood in the dome was mischievous before, it takes a steep dive into outright evil.

Beau cracks her knuckles. “Yeah? Let’s see what you have to say when we tickle you again tomorrow.”

And if Caduceus laughs as Caleb gives one startled owlish blink and then scrambles to hide as much of himself behind Caduceus as possible - well, that’s not from the tickling at all.

[itsallyscorner]

BABES! What is she’s a little mix member and a cast member of Spider-Man 💀

YES! Hiya my love and thank you for the request💜 I’m honestly so obsessed with these Little Mix requests, I didn’t think people would like them, but turns out people love them! I’m totally obsessed with these AHHH! Happy reading darling😌

💌.

Exposed

The girls aren’t really involved in this one, but they are mentioned💜 Heavy on the dialogue, I tried :)! This one’s more focused on Tom & reader:)

(Gif from Pinterest)

For your first time being in a movie, you’ve hit the jackpot. Not many people can say that their very first project in the movie industry was with Marvel Studios. You’ve been lucky enough to be casted in Spider-Man: Far From Home, playing Amelia James, a classmate of Peter but was from another universe. Though that last part wasn’t established yet.

You were currently at Capital FM’s studios doing an interview with Roman Kemp, someone who you were very familiar with. Accompanying you were your cast mates, Tom Holland, Jacob Batalon, and Zendaya. You lot were currently on the press tour promoting the movie that was only days away from premiering in London. You were all laughing at Tom who has been retelling a story of him getting punched on set.

Though you’ve only met him a few months ago, you felt as if you’ve known the charming man since forever. A fond smile was set on your lips as you watched him talk animatedly into the mic. You felt a nudge beside you. Turning, you see Zendaya smirking at you. She’s caught on at how you looked at Tom, always teasing how when either of you looked at each other, your eyes would turn into beating hearts.

You playfully roll your eyes and nudge her back. Your attention is diverted from her when Roman calls on you, “I’ve been wanting to mention this from the beginning, but it’s odd to see you without the girls in the studio.”

You nod chuckling, “I know! I actually feel weird not having them with me here because I’m so used to doing everything with them.”

“How was that like? I know you girls are genuinely close in real life, so how was it being away from them for so long?” Roman asked you.

“Honestly, I felt a bit anxious not having them by my side all the time. I hate not being with them because they’re like my safety blanket.” You explained. On your other side, you saw Tom frown at you.

You quickly add, “Not that I’m having a horrible time with you guys, it’s just that I miss them a lot. Like I don’t have Jesy beside me to make jokes with or Perrie to mother me around, you know?”

“She’s lying, she can’t wait to leave us. We’re horrible.” Tom jokes looking at you with that cheeky grin of his. You sigh swatting his arm, “That’s completely false, I loved working with these guys.”

“Have the girls visited you on set?” You tilt your head in thought.

“Well—not really. We’re busy working on our sixth album so everyone’s been at the studio here in London. But we have called each other on FaceTime and texted almost everyday, so we were always in contact even when I was away.” You answered fiddling with the hem of your dress. Tom has known you long enough and been in many interviews with you to know that the gesture was something when you felt nervous. Discreetly, he inches his hand closer to yours under the table until his large palm rests atop your hand. You look at him and flash him a smile before turning back to Roman.

Roman continues with his questions, “I know the girls are very supportive, but what was their reaction when you told them you were gonna be in a movie?”

You feel Tom’s hand squeeze yours and you couldn’t help the smile that makes it’s way to your lips. “They were so supportive and excited. I was actually reluctant about accepting the role, but they literally pushed me to do it and I’m so glad they did. I’m truly blessed to have them in my life.”

“Yeah, thank God for Little Mix, or else we would have never met (y/n).” Jacob says into his mic. Zendaya let’s out a “YES!”, high fiving her friend in agreement. You laugh at the two’s antics.

“Aren’t you glad they pushed you to take the role? Now you have us in your life.” Tom proudly states smirking at you.

“No, it’s actually worse now because you’re in it.” You tease him. Tom gasps and placed his free hand to his heart.

“I actually made it harder for myself because I told him some stuff about the new album and now I’m just nervous he’s going to spill something. Then I’m gonna be in trouble.” You go on to explain. Z shakes her head at you, “I told you not to tell him anything.”

Tom perks up and leans forward to glare at her, “Excuse me? I’m capable of keeping a secret, for your information.” He sassily tells her. You and Z burst out laughing at the man in beside you.

“Ok, so are we just going to ignore the fact that you were about to post a video of me in the studio recording a new song?” You question him. Tom was about to speak but Jacob beat him to it.

“I swear if it weren’t for me or Daya, you would’ve been responsible for leaking a song.” Jacob pointed out. Tom huffed out slumping himself into his chair.

“I just can’t catch a break can I?” He asks rhetorically looking at the ceiling. Roman smiles at the four of you, “Obviously from the energy in this room, you guys all seem to get along.”

“Everyone except for Tom.” Z mumbles under her breath. Roman snickers before continuing, “How was it like working with each other? Especially for you (y/n) because you’re the newbie of the group.”

“I mean for me, it was nice to work with everyone again. These guys are my friends so it was like hanging out with them everyday with a side of working. (Y/n)’s part of the group now too, so even better, karaoke nights are gonna be lit.” Jacob answered first. You sent him a wink with finger guns, him doing the same thing to you.

“I’m just glad there’s more women in the group. Laura wasn’t in this one so we were one girl down, then (y/n) came and we just had an amazing time together. It was nice to get away from those two and all the stuff they’re up to.” Z gestured to Tom and Jacob. You loved both of them, but when they were bored they were always up to no good.

“This was my first movie, so I was really nervous to step foot onto set. I remember when we had our first table read and feeling so intimidated because everyone there were professionals and had experience. Meanwhile there’s me with zero experience at all trying to fit in with all these actors.” You answered with a slight chuckle. Tom hums beside you squeezing your hand once again.

“But everyone was so sweet and welcoming. From the crew to the cast, they’re a really great group to work with and I’d like to work with them again, if given the chance.” You finished off.

“You know, for your first movie, you did amazing.” Tom complimented you. Roman quickly swooped in, “Tom, I actually wanted to talk to you about something you said last time you were here.”

Tom looks at him confused, “What did I say?”

“How was it like to finally meet (y/n)? Last time you were on here you admitted t—.” Roman began to talk but Tom cut him off.

“ADMITTED TO LISTENING TO LITTLE MIX!” Tom yells over Roman. He has slightly gotten up from his seat and was making wild motions at Roman with his hand. Everyone shot Tom a look except for Roman who stared at him amused.

Roman shook his head, a cheeky grin on his face, “Not quite, mate.”

“Y-yes. I did admit to listening to them, Touch is my favorite song.” Tom said nervously, regretting that he mentioned Touch.

Roman snickered at Tom, “Well it definitely had something to do with Touch, you had a lot to say about—.” Tom cuts him off again.

“The visual effects.” You raise a brow at Tom.

“Tom, there were barely any effects in that music video.” You tell him. Tom glances at you with wide eyes before correcting himself, “The camera work was really good.”

“Are you good?” Z asks Tom squinting at him. Tom let go of your hand and rubbed his palms together, something he did to ease his nerves.

“I’m great, man.” Tom’s voice pitches as he adjusts himself in his seat. Roman stifles a laugh before turning to you.

“Tom’s admitted to fancying you.” He reveals. Your eyes widen as Jacob and Z have smirks plastered onto their faces.

“Oh? When was this?” You look between Roman and Tom. Tom was cringing at himself hiding behind his hands.

“This is cruel.” You hear him mutter.

“He was promoting Homecoming I think. Then we were playing Touch and Tom just went into a whole conversation about the band and you.” Roman answered, a shit eating from on his face.

Tom pops up from his hand, “You don’t have proof!”

Roman looks at him with a ‘seriously?’ kind of expression as he pulls up a video on the screen. Shaking his head at Tom, “Mate, it’s my radio show.”

Tom groans as he shoves his face behind his jacket.

“Oh this is good.” Z laughs leaning back to face the monitor on the wall.

“Shall we watch my evidence, everyone?” Roman presses play.

“Is Touch the only song you know from Little Mix?” Roman asked. Tom shook his head almost offended.

“No! I’m a big fan of them, I really enjoy their music. Shout Out To My Ex, Woman Like Me, Wasabi? Ugh!” Tom closes his eyes while doing a chef’s kiss, “I’m a man, but their music is so empowering, I love it.”

Roman teasingly smiled at Tom, “Do you fancy any of them?”

“Mate, you can’t ask me that. They’re all very beautiful.” A blush starts to form on Tom’s pale cheeks.

Roman continued to prob at Tom, “You really don’t fancy at least one of them the most?”

Tom shyly smiled looking around, “I mean, (y/n)’s always stood out for me, if I’m being honest. Not just cause of her looks, but I’ve watched her interviews and she seems like a really sweet and funny person. I find that very attracting about her.” He admits.

“Have you seen the Touch video yet? Everyone was raving about her in the video.”

“Oh I definitely have, maybe a few times. She looked stunning, as always.” He dreamily smiled into his palm.

“If she were to watch this, what would you like to say?” Roman asked him. Tom’s face dropped at the mention of you seeing his confession.

“I hope she doesn’t see this. She’s gonna think I’m weird or something. I just ruined my chances.”

The video cuts off and Tom is still hiding behind his jacket. Jacob’s mouth is agape as he looks at Tom, “Dude, you just got exposed.”

“Really Jacob? Have I been exposed?” Tom finally comes out from behind his jacket, face fully flushed in embarrassment. You pouted at him, feeling bad that he was embarrassed, but your heart felt all giddy inside at the fact that he fancies you.

Roman holds his hand out cautiously at Tom, “Now before you permanently hate me, your mate Harrison put me up to this. Something about payback for a prank?”

Tom’s jaw drops as he looks out the window of the booth. Outside Harrison and Harry are seen laughing there asses off with tears in their eyes. Tom curses under his breath. The room suddenly felt like an oven, his face was flushed, his palms were sweaty, and his heart rapidly beated against his chest. Mustering up his courage he looked at you.

“Hey, at least you know who my favorite Little Mix member is now?” He awkwardly shrugged. You smiled at him, cheeks flushed as well.

“I can’t believe you’re an actual fan though!” You say, trying to ease off the embarrassment off him.

“Uh—that’s what you got from the video?” Z asked from beside you. You glance at her real quick to give her a look. Of course you were thrilled that Tom reciprocated your feelings, but at the moment it looked as if he were gonna pop a blood vessel at how hard he was glaring at Harry and Harrison.

“Of course I’m a fan! Who wouldn’t be? You guys are phenomenal, I remember watching you guys at the BRITS when you performed Shout Out To My Ex, it was epic.” His attention immediately turns to you, his eyes softening once they meet yours.

You place a comforting hand on his arm, “Why didn’t you just tell me I was your favorite?”

“Because he has a crush on you.” Jacob states as if it were an obvious fact. Tom was about to protest when Z cuts him off, “Man, don’t even try. You already got exposed and you were never good at hiding your feelings in the first place.”

Roman’s eyes shift to look at each of you, “Did I just unintentionally successfully set two people up?”

You look at Roman and shrugged your shoulders at him nonchalantly, “I don’t know yet Roman, maybe if Tom agrees for dinner, then you could say you’ve successfully set two people up.”

“Oh that was smooth.”

Tom looks at you mouth agape since he couldn’t believe you just asked him out on a live radio show.

“What?” He asks in disbelief.

“I’m asking you out, Tom.” You chuckle, your thumb tracing patterns onto his arm. Tom looks around wide eyed and leans into you, “Is this for the movie?”

Everyone in the room groans except for you and Tom. Instead you roll your eyes at him and shake his shoulders. Moving to be in his view your eyes connect with his brown ones.

“Hi, Tom, honey? I’m asking you out for dinner, don’t make me regret doing this on live radio.” You tell him, slightly joking. His eyes glance down at your lips before they return to your eyes.

“Yes, yes, yes—please, I would love to have dinner with you.” He finally snaps out of his thoughts and a smile forms on his lips. You smile back at him and lean back into your seat, “Great, we could go out tonight.”

“Sounds good.” He nods leaning back into his chair. Tom tries to fight the smile on his lips but was unsuccessful. So he sits there, smiling like an idiot. Sure, he just got humiliated on air, but it was worth it since he left that studio with the girl of his dreams anticipating the night to come.

[hellyeahheroes]

Robin(2021) #1 Review

Opening this comic with an assessment of a character that I have no choice but to agree with is a cheap way to score points with me.

Anyways, we caught heat for being unfair to this story since it was announced because all of us wanted it to be a Cass story since forever. And it became yet another thing Damian absorbs. I mostly ignored it because I’ve always been open about my disdain for the character and his fandom for nearly a decade. I never liked Damian because put these characteristics on a non-white passing character, they’d be dead inside of year. Then again I hate almost all of Grant Morrison monstrosities.

Regardless, new story who dis is in full effect here. We open this bad boy up with Damian gone missing and the Batfamily searching for him. Nightwing tried asking Damian’s old Teen Titans team and they obviously don’t know and probably hope Damian is dead. Tim checked Arkham Ruins(???) and Damian wasn’t there. I honestly don’t think Tim was trying to find Damian. Steph and Cass checked Damian’s farm and Steph concluded Damian has been there at least because while Damian may be a little shit, he loves his dog and pet bat dragon. Barbara checked facial recognition pings and his transactions and dude is an IRS nightmare.

Damian is missing. Bruce is worried that maybe making a violent murderous preteen Robin raised in a cabal of killers to be chief murderer was a bad idea and is worried. Barbara ensures him that they will find his son and we cut to Damian fighting Snake guy in some musty ass fight put somewhere. Because of course it’s a musty ass fight pit because while the story is well drawn, it never claimed to be not cliche.

Damian hands the scrub his ass and it turns out Damian is trying to earn a marker to participate in some tournament. I liked this panel.

Not because of the artist flex of changing the art style, but it establishes Damian with a relatable hobby, reading manga. And not just a Shounen as you expect him to read but a slice of life manga which kind of puts his life in perspective. Also the lesson in the manga is reflective of what happens in the comic. Damian’s mastery is reflective of how he sees Hana. Hana decides to go beyond what her masters taught her. She decides to innovate and make her art her own. And that’s indicative of another flaw of Damian: Damian leans of the prestige of his teachers. He is the student that replicates the style 1:1. He wants to inherit Batman’s mantle, but doesn’t want to shed his teachings that he is proud of. And it comes down to this idea that Damian refuses to innovate and adapt because he is hiding behind his masters.

This panel saved the story so good job.

And after a talk with dead Alfred, it’s revealed that Damian is on this journey as a way to mirror Bruce’s journey into becoming Batman. It’s his way to iron his resolve without a catalyst to find a need to. It highlights his naïveté. He thinks that he can just simply copy the steps and get the same results.

Regardless what happens next simultaneously undermines the story or the impact of it.

Okay, when you think of Martial artists in DC, you immediately think Batman, Shiva, Deathstroke, Black Canary, Bronze Tiger, Richard Dragon, and Shiva. Why I said Shiva twice? Because Shiva is the pinnacle.

So to reveal that three premier martial artists in the universe are not only not participating but they were paid off to not participate, cheated out, or were subbed in as an entry replacement, it undermines the promotion. It’s like going to a Beyonce Concert only to find out that between the words in small print Beyonce and Concert was ‘s Sister’s and now you are watching Grammy award winning Solange. Sure, it’s an unique experience but it ain’t Beyonce.

And also, there is no amount in the world that would keep Shiva away from this tournament if it’s as prestigious as it’s led to be. Let’s be real. If anything, it’s far more likely that she saw the roster of scrubs and decided to make some scratch.

There are two characters that I recognize: Connor Hawke and Rose Wilson. I am not familiar with Connor so I am not sure if he is out of place. Rose is fine but y’know, scrub. I’m sorry Rose Wilson got her ass handed to her by Cass in the previous universe. There is no universe where I take her seriously in a fighting tournament to crown greatest fighter because the ass stomp was so thorough that Cass was beating Slade’s ego by proxy.

Back to the comic, Damian interrupts the host and basically is the fighting tournament trope of overly confident disrespectful guy with too many accolades which he will proudly tell you about them. What I like about this is the nice nod to the previous manga panel. Damian is not a great fighter. There I said it. Damian’s ability hinges on the idea that he was trained by the greatest killers and Batman but the issue is that name prestige doesn’t make great fighters. Too many times, comic books overly rely on this idea of fighting being a what you know and not being a game of not getting hit and getting hits in. It does not matter if Damian is trained by the League and Batman and it’s questionable as to how much Batman taught him in the first place. Hence why we see Damian with a sword or staff to compliment his lack of range. Damian can’t read muscle twitches like a Cass or Shiva so he has a normal reactive response and comics never highlighted his ability. The most impressive thing I’ve seen Damian do is catch a Batarang which is something I’ve seen Tim do. Damian overly relies on the idea that his teachers taught him to be the best when they simply taught him to survive in a fight.

“But why does Cass get away with it?,” you ask. Cass has this broken hax that is reading muscle twitch and immediately knowing the instant of what you are going to do before you do it or decide to do. Cass doesn’t need range because to her, you are screaming your intentions. She doesn’t need to block an attack when she can just parry. She doesn’t need to step back when she can just step forward while slipping all attacks. She is an autistic savant at fighting with an absolute defense. Damian is just another badass teen in a world of badass adults.

And the humbling of Damian begins...again.

Pros:

-Damian’s new costume. I like that he is branching out and starting to own his own colors. It’s nice.

-Using a character flaw to make it a theme. I like Chekhov’s gun via teachable moment. In tournament arcs, what separates the good ones and the bad ones is the idea that the hero simply must overcome their opponents and not their own self. This is why Yuyu Hakusho is awesome.

- Great art and nice continuity. It’s nice that Damian’s past wasn’t ignored for once and they didn’t just throw his Teen Titans characterization down the tubes. Say what you want, but it was arguably Damian’s longest run in spite of his fans hating it. And contrary to what they believe, it was very much in character for him. My fear going into this that Damian would not face any fallout and lo and behold he ran away.

- it’s a good start for a Damian story. Say what you want, but it’s unique in that the little shit gets his comeuppance immediately. And not that just by losing, but by dying. Damian has killed before and readily justifies it because he never realizes the weight of taking someone’s life. He’s been killed before but those were painted in a way that he is valiant. Here, this is death caused by his own arrogance. He mocks a fighter for talking shit and gets murked while talking shit. He spouts names of his own teachers and expects people to care or be weary as if Rose Wilson and Connor aren’t there. It’s a tournament sponsored by the League of Assassins, Damian. They have been taught by the league too.

Cons:

-Look I get promotion. No promoter is going to undermine their product but the fact that this tournament reeks like ABA is killing my interest to give a shit. It’s a convenient caveat to say that, “Well, a character won this so they can have the title but the title doesn’t mean anything.” I know of regardless of whom wins this, they aren’t the best. Go ham or don’t at all.

-not enough emphasis of the importance of this arc. Why even have this tournament? What’s the prize? What’s even the point?

-While the art is nice, the action is framed poorly. I like physical action like this to be nearly choreographed in a way I can see and piece movement in my head. The two fight scenes we get are somewhat disjointed in that it’s just poses. For example, Flatline’s first kick makes no sense at all and I don’t get her follow up. Trying to picture the movement hurts my head and in an action concept like this, it’s best to frame action scenes as more than doing poses. Here is a good example:

This only emphasizes the action and gets the reader to acknowledge that this a tournament of great fighters or at least a great fighting story.

All in all, do I think this story is off to a good start? Yes. Is it going to change my opinion on Damian? Hell no. My reaction to Damian getting his ass handed to him was this.

The issue is that it never sticks. Damian can learn and be a better person but the development never sticks. It becomes a cyclical series of events because whoever writes him next will just keep writing him as this shitty entitled murder rich kid who never learns anything and gets validated somehow. It’s been over a decade and I’m tired of the same excuses of his shitty behavior. I am tired of writers validating it or excusing it.

Damian losing isn’t an outcome I care for because it’s wasted on him. Honestly I am more interested in Connor and Rose being there. I have no faith that it will stick nor does it undo the shitty idea of the character. I have never wanted to see Damian fight. It’s never been fun to read about nor has the impetus of his character emphasized the ability or style. Placing Damian in an Enter the Dragon style tournament lacks the pizzazz of Cass doing the same thing. For example, let’s try Marvel.

Let’s say someone pitches an idea of a tournament arc styled after Game of Death. Immediately you think Martial Artists non-powered. Danny Rand, Daredevil, Elektra, Shang-Chi, Pei and Colleen Wing. Okay, instead of giving those characters the honor, you give the story to Black Cat. Honestly, I’d read it because Felicia could sell me a documentary on grass and I’d buy it but the point stands, why does Damian have this Bruce Lee inspired Martial Arts story versus the actual Chinese or East Asian Martial Arts focused member of the Batfamily, Cassandra Cain?

But this has nothing to do with what could have been. It’s a fun beginning of a possibly fun arc. In that regard, it delivers but what’s the point?

Like I said, fun story.

@ubernegro

[whataboutmyfries]

Russian Roulette

Okay, okay. I am fully aware that it has been an absolute AGE since the last chapter but Life(tm) got in the way of this one and I'm so sorry it's getting to you so late.

Additionally, I hope you guys are aware that minimal editing has happened here.

@lumosinlove thank you so much for letting us mess around with your characters!!

~

Chapter 5

Logan slammed another cup of coffee to the table, running a hand through his already dishevelled hair. “Shit,” he breathed. “This is….this is probably enough for us to completely wreck their operation”

Finn leaned further back in his chair, blinking at the stacks of paper spilling onto the desk; about as much surprise as he’d show in front of Leo. “It is.”

Leo looked utterly unfazed as he sipped from his cup, closing his eyes at the feeling of the hot caffeine sliding down his throat. He rubbed at his eye, fixing the other one on Finn, then on Logan. “Will you do it then?”

Logan and Finn exchanged a glance. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

Leo studied the two of them before dipping his head in a nod of thanks. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again. “Thank you. For all of this.”

Finn waved him off, taking a long sip from his coffee. “Mm, I was wondering if you’d ever come around and show us that brilliant magic of yours.”

Logan laughed. “Forget magic. How would you feel about a game of cards?”

Leo’s eyes glittered “oh darlin’, I’m going to beat your asses.”

And damn if Leo didn’t deliver on his promises. An hour later, the three of them were sat around the table, staring intently at the cards spread over the wood. Finn tossed his knife, the blade making complicated swirls around his fingers as he caught it.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that to win nutty.” He chuckled; not even turning his head as he threw the knife at the dartboard.

Leo didn’t have to look up from his cards to know it’d hit the bullseye.

“Remind me again, which one of us is the magician here?” Leo drawled, eyes twinkling with mischief as he threw down his card.

Logan and Finn groaned, slapping down their cards in exasperation. Leo had won. Again.

“How does he do it?” Logan groused, pouting at the table, pulling one of Finn’s knives free of the wood.

Leo laughed, reaching behind Logan’s ear. And with a complicated twirl of his fingers, he unfurled a fan of cards

Piercing blue eyes looked over the top of the cards and Leo winked at the both of them.

“Magic.”

~

Three am found them sprawled around the room fast asleep. Mugs and cups and pots of coffee on every imaginable surface, papers spilling onto the floor. Leo blinked his eyes open to warm sunlight, shoving his face off the desk. Disoriented, he blinked his eyes frantically, trying to make sense of his surroundings. His eyes landed on a halo of red, and the memories of the previous night came back to him; only to immediately be ignored in favour of the beautiful boy in front of him. Finn’s head leaned back against the couch, exposing the column of his throat, the freckles there mapping constellations onto the creamy skin. Leo wondered if maybe Finn would ever let him trail shapes into those stars; if he tried hard enough, Leo was sure he could trace a wonky version of his namesake onto the alabaster skin. Unable to help himself, his eyes trailed upwards, crimson eyelashes fluttering against high cheekbones like trapped birds searching for a freedom he wasn’t sure he could offer.

He ripped his eyes away, his traitorous heart beating furiously against his ribs. It proved an even bigger mistake to look away because his eyes found smooth tan skin instead. Logan was almost devastating in his beauty when he slept, Chocolate-y hair shimmering in the early light. Sunshine dripping like honey from aristocratic cheekbones and hazel curls. Leo’s thoughts went into overdrive, his brain offering him vague snippets of poetry and literature in a futile attempt to describe the beauty of gods. The sunlight threw shadows across their faces, casting them in stark relief, and Leo’s heart all but crawled out of him to repent.

His heart was beating so loud it honestly surprised him that the two of them hadn’t awoken. This was a mistake. He never should’ve come here, let alone stay the night. Cursing his idiocy, he got up on cat-soft feet and gathered his things, chiding himself for letting down his guard so easy. He saw himself out, sparing one last look for the ethereal beings asleep on the couch. And as Leo let the door fall shut; he failed to realise that he’d been so caught up in cursing his mistakes; he hadn’t noticed hazel eyes trailing him on his way out.

~

Logan— on the other hand— woke to Finn’s feet sliding out of his lap. He knew he was home. He was safe. The syrupy darkness of sleep pulled him back under. Finn woke him again with a hand to his shoulder, the distinctive smell of coffee taking over his senses. Still drowsy, he grinned, a hum rumbling through him. Finn laughed, ruffling his hair.

“I don’t remember adopting a cat, but I can’t say I dislike it.”

Logan shoved at his knee with a socked foot, grumbling incoherently, though the smile on his face rather took away from it.

“Shhhhh it’s too early for your stupid face.”

“So no coffee for you then? More for me I guess”

“Touch my coffee and I’ll punch you”

“Oh shut up, you like my face too much to punch me.”

Logan blinked one eye open. “Who said I was punching you in the face?”

Finn laughed, nudging Logan’s cup closer to him. “Touche.”

Logan took the mug, nursing the warmth of the ceramic between his palms. “You know, that may be the only french thing that sounds halfway decent in that accent of yours.”

Finn flipped him off over the rim of his mug, drinking deeply. “Drink your sugar crash and leave me alone.”

Logan raised an eyebrow “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“It is the sole cause of diabetes in this world and I am willing to die on this hill.”

Logan huffed, shoving papers out from under him so he could shift his feet up onto the couch. The events of the previous night still weighed on him. Lizard had given them….everything. Every detail, every nook and cranny of the snake house was documented. He’d left no stone unturned.

And he’d lost everything, anyway.

“Harz, he’s given us everything we were looking for.”

Finn nodded, “He did, didn’t he?” He gave Logan a look. “What do you want to do about it?”

Logan shrugged a shoulder, staring absently out the window. “We said we’d help.”

“You know you don’t have to follow through, you don’t want to do it, we don’t do it.”

Logan met his gaze, Finn’s sharp edges smoothed into something softer by the early sun. “I want to. It just…..” He trailed off with a vague gesture.

Finn hummed. “I think I know what you mean. But, Lo, we don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do, okay? The second you want to drop it and leave, we leave, yeah?”

Logan swallowed past the lump that formed in his throat. His chest full to the brim with a feeling he’d come to describe simply as ‘Finn’. It was ephemeral and fleeting but felt like warmth; it felt like coming home. It was the feeling of waking up to find a blanket thrown over you, the feeling of a mug of steaming cocoa pressed into your hands on a bad day, the feeling of sunshine after tumultuous storms. It was the feeling of Finn, joyful and constant and forever ready with a bright smile or dry wit.

Logan smiled at his friend, shoving at Finn’s knee with his foot. “Awww, look at that. You might care about me after all.”

Finn shot him a look, the only warning he gave Logan before tackling him to the couch. Logan let out a somewhat aborted choke-squeal as he fought to get Finn off of him, wrestling his tickling fingers away from him. Logan cackled when Finn yelped overbalancing and falling onto the carpet—followed shortly by Logan, who had been too busy laughing to notice that Finn had grabbed him in a desperate attempt to stop his fall. They both lay on the floor, gasping for breath between peals of laughter, shoving at each other playfully.

Finn let his head drop to a side, catching Logan’s gaze. “You know…..It’s not like we have much to do today….”

Logan grinned “Ice cream and movies all day?”

“You know it.”

~

To put it quite simply, Leo’s brain refused to leave him alone. His smile was more facade than anything else, his beloved cards feeling clumsy and distracting in his hands. His train of thought had derailed almost an hour ago, his body running completely on autopilot as we walked the streets of Gryffindor.

They’d said yes. They’d said yes, and now Leo was going to be working with them. For a considerable amount of time. He couldn’t afford to throw something like this away on some fickle feeling, much less fickle feelings for a mob boss of all people. There was too much at stake.

Leo revealed the card in his hand with a flourish, the gasps of the people around him little more than background noise as he slipped through the crowd, surreptitiously pocketing a couple of fifties he certainly didn’t have before. He strolled unnoticed through the city, checking his watch as he went. He was early. good. He slowed his pace, watching passers-by go about their lives as he marvelled at the busy streets. It never stopped amazing him; the fervour that filled the city. Every street and bend so rife with potential, the possibility of wonderful things just itching to happen.

Like anyone else, Leo was wont to miss his home, the sprawling fields and endless forest of the countryside, but there was nothing quite like Gryffindor, with its skyscrapers shoved next to beggarly hovels and the hum of activity and excitement haunting every corner.

As his thoughts wandered through the city, his feet carried him to a familiar street lined with cafes and charming little stores. He ducked into one of them— a quaint bookshop, the well-worn sign hanging at the door proclaiming its availability to its patrons. The tiny bell above the door announced his arrival, the chime sounding through the magical place.

Leo had always thought that walking into Moony’s was like stepping through a portal to another world. Most bookstores were organised, neat. Books lined from A-Z subject to subject. Not Moony’s. Moony’s was a labyrinth. An explosion of literature and colour and homely comfort in every direction. Books covered every imaginable surface in the store, the shelves full to bursting. Haphazard piles of literature graced the floor, leaning against potted plants and comfy little armchairs scattered across the place. The books were stacked layers deep, some piles reaching as far as the ceiling, teetering precariously alongside narrow walkways. Leo loved it. The smell of tea and well-loved paper wrapped around him like a blanket as he walked to the checkout. An indignant meow drew his attention to the plush armchair, the stacks of books leaning against its arms fashioning it into something of a floral throne.

“Cheshire! How are you, you stinky little muffin?” Leo cooed, scooping up the ball of fur that had taken up residence on the chair. The cat in question purred happily, head butting Leo’s hand demanding head scratches. The blond laughed, indulging the cat and dropping a kiss onto his fuzzy little nose as he walked to the front of the store. A head full of tawny curls shuffled around under the till, clearly looking for something underneath.

“Found that treasure you’re looking for, Loops?”

Remus jumped, standing up with a smile, nearly knocking his head on the counter in the process.

“Missed me enough to come in early today?”

Leo snorted. “You wish. No, I just finished up quicker today.”

Remus raised a brow. “Sure you did. What’s bothering you Nutty? Tell me things.”

Leo’s chest warmed with affection. He sighed deeply; the singular breath seeming to take some pressure off his bones.

“You remember what went down with Pascal a while ago?”

Remus nodded.

“And that I went to the Lions for help like he said?”

Another nod.

Leo took a deep breath. “Well, they said yes.”

[cole-grey-writes]

Different, 70 Years Later

Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Timeline: Post-The Avengers

Character(s): Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Male Reader

Warning(s): swearing, perceived homophobia, mentioned period typical homophobia

Request: Omg hi i miss seeing you in here. Can i request Steve Rogers X Male Reader angst + fluff. Like they had a big fight and then in the end they just forgive each other and cuddle and talk about a beautiful memories together until they both asleep. I love you ❤️

A/n: WOW can i just apologize that it took me literally months to finish this. I’ve just been so preoccupied by another fandom that I started hyperfocusing on (it was my hero academia if anyone wants to know). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and ignore the fact it took me a decade to get it out :)

You and Steve have only been dating for five months when you have your first fight. Honestly, it’s surprising that it took this long to happen.

You wish you didn’t remember what the fight was about, you really wish, but you remember exactly.

The fight had started due to Steve’s attitude towards your relationship. It’s clear that Steve isn’t ready to come out to his friends about your relationship, as you’ve come to realize, but that’s obviously not your actual concern. You’re not at all bothered by Steve not being ready to come out, it’s a subject you would never push. No, there’s a much bigger issue that you have a problem with.

It seems Steve is still being influenced by rotten and outdated 1930s ideology, still thinks that being queer is a bad thing which is very much untrue. You had done your best to explain that to your boyfriend, done your best to explain that there is absolutely nothing wrong with two men being in a relationship despite how much Steve’s time period has convinced him otherwise. Your efforts to help had backfired, though, for reason you can’t even begin to figure out.

Steve had gotten defensive all of a sudden, the conversation getting out of hand and blurry from there. The conversation turned into something else, something bordering on a screaming match. The fact that it was near midnight when the fight began had saved your neighbors from having to endure any interrupted sleep.

You and Steve had broken apart, eventually. Unfortunately, it was not because you were actually done fighting and instead, because Steve had stormed out of your apartment where you both had gathered after a long day (well, more like a week) of work. Maybe it sounded cliche or something, but you realized you wouldn’t be speaking to Steve for a while once you hear the echoing of the apartment door slamming shut.

You were right about you and Steve not speaking because you’re sitting in a local coffee shop called Honey Bean all by yourself by the time a week has passed.

You’re settled down at one of the two-seater tables in the front of the coffee shop so that the sun can bath you in light. You’d ordered a large muffin, although it’s not your favorite kind because apparently they don’t make more batches after 10:00 a.m., and are also half-way finished with your second venti cup of iced coffee. It’s not much of a lunch, though you don’t really care because you weren’t paying attention to your food all that much.

Your mind is still preoccupied with the fight, unable to force the thoughts revolving around it away.

“Want some shop with that coffee?” the voice breaks through the constant replay from behind your eyes. Your eyes snap up to Clint who has taken a seat across from you. You and Clint have both worked for SHIELD for years so you are very close, working as partners on missions many times. Actually, missions are where you and Clint grew closer, Natasha Romanov as well, which lead to your inevitable friendship.

You press your lips together, putting your coffee down as you refrain from rolling your eyes. “How’d you find me?” Clint’s mouth opens as if he’s going to say something but you interrupt him at the last moment. “Why am I even asking? You had Nat track my phone, didn’t you?”

Clint smiles too sweetly for the conversation you have no doubt is fast approaching. “You got that right.”

“Well,” You sigh heavily, “have at it. Say what you want to say.”

Clint hums, clearly appearing amused is the smile he’s failing to hide is anything to go by. “You know, I think I’ll start with the fact that you’re sitting in a coffee shop all alone because you’re too embarrassed to run into Steve in the SHIELD cafeteria.”

You don’t reply to Clint’s spoken truths as you play with the crumbly remains of your muffin. You mumble something along the lines of, “Hate being friends with SHIELD agents,” but your miniscule snip only causes Clint to laugh.

“So,” Clint says, “are you gonna explain why you and Steve are avoiding each other?”

You stare straight at Clint instead of avoiding eye contact, otherwise that would be admitting defeat, but you don’t say anything either because that would also be considered admitting defeat mostly because you have absolutely no idea what the hell you’re supposed to tell Clint. You and Steve are in a secret relationship. It’s bad enough that spilling your guts to Clint would be sharing your relationship without Steve’s permission but you would also be outing Steve in the process, which is completely out of the question disrespectful.

“No?” Clint says in a wondering tone before he shrugs, almost as if he knew you were going to refuse to answer the question. “I guess I’ll just tell you why you’ve been avoiding each other. You two got into a fight, a pretty bad one, not that it was hard to figure out. Bad enough to drive a visible wedge between two best friends who’ve been practically joined at the hip for months.”

You’re even more speechless, more than before, as Clint stares at you knowingly from across the table. Apparently, it’s his turn to sip his coffee pointedly.

You choose to bite the bullet and speak when Clint doesn’t continue picking apart your relationship with Steve after about a minute of complete silence. “Do you have a point to this?”

“There is a point,” Clint confirms. “The point is to make you talk to Steve.”

“Yeah, no shit. But, why?”

“Because you pout everywhere you go,” Clint informs you as if you didn’t already know. “Look, you’re obviously really bothered by whatever the fight was about. You and Steve aren’t gonna go back to what you were before unless you talk to each other about whatever happened.”

Your gaze lowers dejectedly, towards the muffin crumbs that stick to the napkin it sits on. The picture is clichely symbolic of what your and Steve’s entire relationship is gonna be if you don’t at least try to work through your fight. “You really think me and Steve could go back to being what we were before?”

Clint doesn’t even seem to hesitate before answering. “Guess you won’t know until you talk to him.” You roll your eyes more due to the harsh truth behind his words than any actual annoyance towards Clint for saying it.

You chew the inside of your cheek as you wonder if you should say what you’re thinking because you know it’s gonna be a very high ego boost for Clint. Ultimately, you decide to say it anyway. He deserves it after coming all this way so he could get two friends back together.

“You’re too convincing for your own good,” you tell him, Clint only smiling smugly in response. “Thank you.”

Clint shakes his head slightly. “Thank me by tracking Steve down and talking to him.”

Smiling, you nod in agreement. Finding Steve and making up is definitely going to be an immediate priority.

Standing from the table, you pick up all your trash, which just consists of a dirty napkin and two empty coffee cups, so you can throw it out on your way out of the door but Clint is stopping you.

“You can also thank me with another coffee,” Clint quickly adds before you’ve even begun to walk away. You scoff in disbelief before you internally give up.

“I’ll buy you as much coffee as you want when this is all over,” you promise him while grinning at the return of Clint’s playful personality.

Clint grins back at you, saying, “I’ll hold you to that.”

It seems as if the walk back to SHIELD takes forever while simultaneously taking no time at all which makes you even more anxious because now the discomfort and awkwardness that will be accompanying this talk is closer than you would like. But, that thought is quickly shoved away by the other side of your brain. Instead, it presents you with another thought, a fact actually that if you didn’t have this talk with Steve, your relationship would never be able to heal.

You suddenly realize that this fight could very well cost you your relationship with Steve which is even worse than having to deal with some minor discomfort for an hour at most. You don’t want that at all.

You remember how Steve had been adamant that being queer wasn’t right, most definitely from internalized homophobia, but you also remember how painfully upset he had looked while you two were going back and forth. You don’t want to give up on Steve, he doesn’t deserve that, especially not after enduring so much violent discrimination in his day and even some in the current years. Steve deserves to finally have some reprieve, deserves at least a shot at a happy ending.

You waste no more time wallowing in your own side of the story, pushing yourself to find Steve quickly.

Trudging through the halls of SHIELD headquarters seems to be more confusing than usual but you still manage to find Steve before the end of lunch. You spot him through the giant windows that provide a good view into the cafeteria. Steve is sitting with Natasha at a table with half-eaten food forgotten in front of them. Now, you want to march right inside the cafeteria so you can talk to Steve immediately but you don’t want to interrupt his lunch with Natasha so you just wait impatiently in the hallway.

Leaning against the wall across from the double-doors leading into the cafeteria, you watch as Steve finally stands from his table. Steve and Natasha exchange some sort of short conversation before he’s hastily making his way out of the cafeteria. Steve’s in such a hurry that you’re almost worried you won’t catch him before he walks off.

“Steve!” you call out, Steve pausing in his apparent quest to turn towards you. His eyes widen slightly upon recognizing you. As you approach him, you wonder, “Hey, um, can we… talk?”

“Wha– yes, of course!” Steve stutters awkwardly. “I was… actually just looking–”

And then there’s a buzzing noise echoing out from his pocket, clearly coming from his phone. You and Steve stop moving at the same time, the same look crossing your faces because you know exactly what that buzz means.

“You have a mission,” you state plainly as if Steve didn’t already sense that.

Steve sighs sadly, mumbling, “Yeah.”

You had feared this precise situation. You had wanted to make up with Steve before he left for a mission so that your fight wouldn’t stew any longer than it already has.

“This isn’t over,” Steve blurts. You look at him, confused and slightly worried at his phrasing. “I–I mean… I’ll text you. When the mission is over. We’ll talk.”

Managing a smile, you nod your head in agreement. When Steve steps forward, eyeing you questioningly, it takes a second for you to understand why. He’s clearly wondering whether or not it’s okay for him to kiss you goodbye. Kissing goodbye was just something you always did before Steve left for missions, your shared way of expressing that you’re gonna see each other again.

You take a step forward as well, understanding and relief flashing through Steve’s eyes as you do so, and you come together to exchange your goodbye kiss. You stay in the kiss for as long as you can but Steve’s phone is buzzing inside his pocket once again.

Separating reluctantly, you watch as Steve turns and walks away from you as the kiss lingers in your mind. Remembering how it felt, remembering that it felt like every other goodbye kiss you’ve exchanged before, which is surprisingly comforting to you.

The kiss in no way signifies that everything is fixed between you and Steve but it definitely means that you aren’t going to run away from each other anymore.

The mission doesn’t last very long, surprisingly, because Steve texts you around 9 o’clock asking you if he could stop by your apartment after he lands which you immediately agree with. You don’t even have to think about it anymore, the hours you spent alone giving you some time to really think about your fight.

In all honesty, as the hours ticked by, the fight between you and Steve grew to appear increasingly stupid and kinda messed up. You can’t even believe you’d blown up at Steve like you did instead of trying to reassure and comfort him. Steve isn’t like modern day homophobes, he didn’t have an open environment in his days to safely navigate and learn about queerness.

Your mind races with all the better ways you could have reacted to Steve as you impulsively made your living space cleaner for your boyfriend’s arrival. He knocks on your door at just past 10:30 p.m. and you don’t even have the willpower to stop yourself from instantly opening the door so it doesn’t seem like you were anxiously waiting right next to it.

You and Steve nervously stare at each other from opposite sides of the door before you finally step aside and invite him in. Steve smiles and enters your apartment, which is when you notice that he’s still dressed in his Cap uniform meaning he came straight to you after he landed. It’s a little dirtied and has clearly been drug through the mud but it’s not destroyed.

Relocating to the living room, Steve sits on the couch while you choose to sit perched up on the arm of the single seater. “Okay, so I think I should start off by telling you that I’m sorry,” you say, speaking meekly while subconsciously rubbing at the back of your neck. “I know that’s probably not what you wanna hear–”

“No, I’m sorry, too. I didn’t react the way I should have…” Steve trails off, as if he’s trying to get his thoughts and feels in order. “It’s just that I don’t think I’m ready to tell people, yet.”

Your mind stalls at your boyfriend’s words for a moment, your confusion causing you to stutter. “Wha– Steve, you don’t have to be.”

Steve’s face falls as he seems to cave into himself slightly, the sight twisting your guts in circles. You have never wanted to make Steve feel like that, like he has to hide from you. “That’s not what you said earlier.”

You feel your face scrunch up in confusion as your head tilts to the side. “What do you mean?”

Steve shifts around in his seat awkwardly. “Earlier, you know…” he shrugs and waves his hand around a bit, as if to help remind you of what he’s talking about. “when you were trying to convince me to come out.”

“What, Steve, no!” You’re immediately sitting up straight in your seat, your entire face widening in surprise. “That’s-that’s not what I was trying to say at all.”

“It wasn’t?”

You shake your head vigorously. “No, of course not. Me trying to bully you into coming out is just as bad as outing you myself. The only person who gets to decide when you come out is you.”

“Well, then what was I even mad at you for?” Steve wonders, his turn for his face to mold into a questioning expression.

“I have no idea… alright, let me get something straight,” you speak slowly, trying to make sense of the fight you and Steve had a week prior. “Last week, during our fight, you were only telling me you weren’t ready to come out about our relationship.”

“Correct.”

“And… and you weren’t actually saying you that being queer was a bad thing?”

Steve’s eyes darken with worry. “You thought I was saying that?” his voice seems so small, it makes you feel guilty for even thinking what you thought.

“I don’t know,” you sigh heavily, hands coming up to rub at your face. “I thought you were still being effected by your time period’s public homophobic ideals.”

Steve hums understandingly for some reason. “I know I used to internalize that stuff before, but I’ve worked through all that. I know being queer doesn’t make me less than others.”

You stand from your place on the arm of the single seater sofa so you can approach and reassure your boyfriend of the feelings you had previously thought he had. “That’s good, it doesn’t,” you pause before continuing. “I only wish I could go back and actually understand what you were saying. This whole thing wouldn’t have happened if I had just listened to you.”

“We both weren’t listening,” Steve smiles up at you sadly, clearly just as regretful as you are about this stupid fight that obviously shouldn’t have even happened in the first place.

You and Steve sit in silence for a moment, processing everything that’s just come out about your fight. There’s not more words exchanged between you as you both stand from your seats and gravitate towards each other in order to wrap your arms around each other.

You hug tightly for quite a long time, not saying anything, until you finally say, “I know you didn’t say anything about spending the night…”

“… Yeah,” Steve answers your unvoiced question without hesitation.

Somehow hugging even tighter, you and Steve manage to maneuver yourselves into the couch, laying side by side while pressing up against each other. You’re mostly on your back with Steve’s head resting near your neck and unable to stop yourself, you rest your hands in Steve’s soft blond hair in order to play with it despite how much soot and dried sweat lays within it.

It’s a while before one of you speaks. Steve begins to wonder out loud, “You remember how we met?”

You scoff lightheartedly, “How could I possibly forget?”

The memory comes to your mind easily. It was in the SHIELD cafeteria, you and Steve walking with your respective companions when Steve makes a sharp turn and accidentally bumps into you. Steve’s tray of food, as well as your own, spills all over you and your agent uniform. You remember Steve becoming a stammering mess of apologies out of embarrassment while Natasha stood next to him, surveying the scene in obvious amusement.

“You cost me $15 in dry cleaning,” you remind your boyfriend.

“I paid you back,” Steve whines as he pouts playfully.

Pressing your lips to Steve’s forehead, you mumble, “You certainly did.”

And, in fact, Steve did pay you back and he paid you back in the form of a two hour coffee date three days after he’d asked you out with a face as red as the tomato soup he’d spilled all over you.

You and Steve fall into a comfortable silence as you both seem to reminisce about an easier time in your relationship. Not that you want to go back to that time, you’re confident in that because while the first few months were easier, you and Steve have become more connected as time went on. You and Steve are closer to each other than you had been in the beginning and you don’t want to lose that for anything, not even for an easier time in your relationship.

“I know we can’t prevent fights,” you mutter, voice catching Steve’s attention. “But, can we at least promise that we’ll never stay away from each other for that long ever again?”

You feel Steve trying to burrow further into your neck as he says, “Only if we promise not to yell at each other that loud ever again.”

You agree immediately.

(NOT MY GIF)

Main Blog // Other Side Blog

((NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE EVEN WITH CREDIT))

[futurewriter2000]

Intricacy on Strings - pt. 13

A/N: Okay, the first part is all J.K Rowling, alright. I got it right out of the book just put y/n in for the dazzle pazzazzle, cuz that’s who she is. I honestly fell out of this fic for so long. I feel like I’m losing my fanfic touch or it’s just the fact that I’m trying to rush these things without thinking about it too much but I’m going to be honest, I’m really trying here and I feel like I’m falling out of my fanfic phase. Pls don’t hate me.

XX

“No!” Harry said loudly, his voice ringing through the kitchen. “No way!” 

“I told them you’d take it like this,” said Hermione with a hint of complacency. 

“If you think I’m going to let six people risk their lives-” 

“- because it’s the first time for all of us.” said Ron. 

“It is the first time for some of us.” you said, emerging from the hall and finding yourself looking at Harry, glancing over to Moody and giving him a nood. “Sorry, I’m late. Struggling with apparation. Landed few blocks down.” you laughed, scratching the back of your neck nervously.

“SEVEN?!” Harry exploded , glaring at Moody. 

“Calm down, Harry.” you ruffled his hair but he pushed your hand away.

“You don’t get it! I can’t risk all of your lives!” 

“Now, that’s a bit offensive, Harry. You really think we’re that defensless?” 

“No. It’s just- this is different, pretending to be me-.”

“Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry,” said Fred earnestly, causing you to finally see the other people in the room, including the two gingers in the corner. “Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever.” 

Harry did not smile but you did.

You did when his eyes finally locked with yours and both of you managed to put everything aside. Everything that had happened to the two of you in the past. 

“You can’t do it if I don’t cooperate, you need me to give you some hair.” Harry said.

“Well, that’s that plan scuppered,” said George. “Obviously there’s no chance at all of us getting a bit of your hair unless you cooperte.”

“Yeah, thirteen of us against one bloke who’s not allowed to use magic; we’ve got no chance,” said Fred.

“Funny, “ said Harry “Really amusing.”

It didn’t take too much effort to get his hair. Hermione just chopped it off and brought it to Moody. 

You drank, transformed and changed into his clothes. 

You could see  the discomfort in Harry’s eyes, so when you finally pulled the shirt over your Harry-self and walked over to him. “You alright?” 

“Yeah...” he shrugged, looking around. “It’s just...bizzare. That’s all.” 

“I’m so sorry.” was all you said because from everything you went through in the past, you knew that this boy had the worst luck in the world. You cried and mourned the people you lost but he lost more than anybody in this room. He had too much to lose still.

That was why you were sorry. Because nobody, not a seventeen year old kids should ever go through all of this. Nobody should. 

“Arthur and Fred-” Moody started to pairing them up as you waited. 

“I’m George,” said the twin at whom Moody was pointing. “Can’t you even tell us apart when we’re Harry?” he said and winked at you from the other side, making you roll your eyes.

“Sorry, George-” 

“I’m only yanking your wand, I’m Fred really-”

“Enough messing around!” snarled Moody. “The other one - George or Fred or whoever you are - you’re with Remus. Tonks-”

“I’m going with (Y/n).” said Fred, walking to your side.

“No!” Moody said. “You’re with Arthur.” 

“I’m not leaving her.”

“Afraid I’ll have to save you.” you put your elbow on his shoulders, watching his hazel eyes with your hazel eyes. 

He let out a chuckle, shaking his head but you only pushed him away.

“Go with Arthur. I’ll go with Tonks. Hufflepuff with Hufflepuff.” the two of you fist bumped, letting out giggles.

You didn���t want to admit what you were really feeling inside. You felt butterflies all over again. You felt what you always felt when Fred was close but you didn’t believe it because why would you feel something so strongly after so much time had passed. It was supposed to be fading, right? But how is it that it’s stronger then you remember it to be. 

---

Tonks and you came last to the Burrow. She immediately ran to Remus and you ran to the living room where so many redheads were gathered around one. 

You knew something was wrong when you saw Fred’s smile not match his eyes anymore. You knew he wouldn’t be looking this terrfied and still smile through the fear for nothing. 

You ran to him and saw George passed out on the couch. 

Fred tried to joke around, standing next to you and laugh a bit. “He said he’s finally holey.” he pointed at his own ear. “Get it... holey...” he tried to laugh but you only hugged him tightly. 

He didn’t bother to restrict himself anymore, grabbing you so tightly and holding you close. Holding you in his arms as he would hold a diamon. He wanted to sob, he wanted to break down but how could he? He’s Fred. He jokes around, he pranks people, he- “I missed you Huffpuff.” he seemengly blurted out without thinking. 

All the scent that reached his heart, the smell of you, the warmth of you, the love of you- it caused his heart to shout it. 

“I missed you too, Gryfsmith.” you smiled, your heart shouting as well. 

---

Bill’s and Fleur’s wedding was soon after. Nobody waited in this war and you thought that it was for the best. Bill was the oldest and he didn’t always took care of his siblings but he cared for you too. He loved you and Fred together. He always said the two of you will end up. Back in your First year that was the ickiest thing to hear but now... now it was something that caused your heart to feel warm and fuzzy; you in white, Fred in a suit. 

“You’re blushing.” you heard somebody behind you.

You turned around to see the man who made you blush, this time the redness only increased. 

He looked at your soft pink dress. It fell down your hips perfectly. It wasn’t puffy, nor too tight. It hugged your body in all the right places. He swore that for a moment his future with you flashed across his mind and left when he heard your voice.

“Drooling, Weasley?” you teased and he rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Huffpuff.” he came into the room, watching as you put your earings in. He sat himself on the wooden chair to Ginny’s desk and continued to marvel at you... alll of you. “You look stunning.” 

You smiled at his compliment, finally clipping your earrings and walking towards him. You sat on his lap and wrapped your arm around his shoulder, your hand playing with his hair. “You look handsome yourself.” 

“You doubted me?” he flashed you a cocky grin, leaning a bit forward to smell the lovely parfume on your exposed neck. He then looked back up at you, differently this time. His grip softened a bit, his eyebrows tensing a bit. “I’m sorry.”

“Fred...” you smiled, cupping his head yet he had to say this. He had to. If he wouldn’t, his bones would break. 

“No, listen to me. I have to say this.” he took your hands from his jaw and into his hands. “You and me are perfect for each other. Always had been but I just didn’t know that bing this perfect would come with this much messy emotions. I was always jealous of Perry Bash, even after he died, I was jealous of him because he still had your attention. I was selfish and ignorant to not see that you were grieving. I’m so sorry.” he continued to look at you, finally realizing that you had a bit of sparkly eyeshadow in the corner of your eyes, which made your eyes so much brighter. 

You let your hand fall under his jaw again, pulling his chin forwward to you and kissing him. He didn’t dare to object, only smile. Feeling his smile under your lips, you pulled away and leaned your forehead on his. “I told you, dummy. It’s always been you. Nobody else but you.”

[aelaer]

How about Stephen being infected with a symbiote, but to prevent it from destroying humanity, he merges its existence with the cloak's essence (read: badass venom!stephen)!

This is my oldest prompt - I think over a year now - largely because I knew nothing about Venom or symbiotes; that's one part of the Marvel universe I haven't explored. Some time on Wiki later, I guess this is one of the "corrupted" symbiotes, though I honestly can't figure out how one of them is supposed to destroy a whole planet if it doesn't like, create duplicates of itself to infect millions of beings at once. I guess there's something I missed that I can't find on wiki, but I'll assume it's very dangerous haha. But I threw something together, or tried to, on the off-chance this anon is still around. I don't know if symbiotes all talk disjointed like Venom, but this one really doesn't - sorry if that's not fully accurate. Maybe this one has a better command at English.

Defying the curse that has taken hold

The moment he understood what was happening to him and knew what being had attached itself to him, Stephen threw himself into the Mirror Dimension to isolate himself from all others.

What is this place? said the foreign voice in his head. It is different and yet the same.

"Mirror Dimension," he answered, forcing his voice to a calmness he didn't feel.

The alien parasite—this symbiote—could feel everything, though. Of course. You understand me now, it answered. You know what I am. And you are afraid. 

There was little point in trying to deny the accusation with the creature in his body. It could probably sense the subconscious changes that caused shifts in the chemical balances within him, that charged his emotions. "I know that your species has destroyed entire planets with but one host to start." And despite rumors of more benevolent symbiotes, this one certainly was not. He had felt the strange, sudden urges of blood lust several times throughout the week. It was that symptom in particular that had eventually led him to the awful discovery.

It laughed. It is my nature. And yet you still try to fight. That is pointless. I am amongst the eldest. I have eaten many worlds. You will be mine and this world will be like the others.

Like hell he would. "You underestimate me. If I cannot find a solution to neutralize you, I am fully prepared to die."

Again it was amused. And I move to another host.

"You won't be able to from the Mirror Dimension," said Stephen. "This place is inaccessible to most of humanity. If I die, you are forever stuck here."

It scoffed in disbelief. Your pontificating is quaint. I will enjoy consuming you.

Oh, this thing had no idea what it was getting into.

—— —— ——

This is tedious, said the symbiote five weeks later. It had been quiet for a couple days until that point, as if finally realizing that Stephen was more than willing to make good on his threat. The lofty gestures of destruction and grandeur had also fallen away to something a bit more casual.

Stephen couldn't help but smirk. "I've been through worse tedium." Dormammu came to mind. Hell, even parts of med school were worse than this. This alien parasite really had no idea what war it had started with him.

In the beginning, it wasn't at all difficult to create a portal far from his body, then cross the astral plane to visit Wong with his impromptu plan for the foreseeable future. Wong, in turn, left food and books in a designated drop spot twice a day at designated times. It was easy to avoid it during those times, and Stephen effectively kept himself quarantined within the Mirror Dimension as he researched and experimented on getting rid of the symbiote.

The bad news was that nothing was removing it from his person; the symbiote was too strong for what tricks his research had unearthed this far. The good news was that the symbiote was a good deal less patient than Stephen.

There was silence again for a little while, and Stephen thought it would be quiet again for some time. So when it spoke again about an hour later, he was surprised.

I'm not leaving, the symbiote said. Stephen raised his brow; the tone was interesting. It was less haughty. You know I feed off what you call hormones. You normally make much more in one of your days than I see in other mortals. It's very satiating.

"And yet you still wanted more. I felt your attempted encroachment upon my mind and your desire for blood, and I will not allow it."

There was silence for a moment. I… might be convinced to live with your hormones. There was a lot in the beginning. It was delicious. I especially liked what you call adrenaline.

Stephen pressed his lips together. "That might suit, but from all I've read, your species absorb key nutrients that my vital organs need at an unsustainable rate. I'm afraid the human body simply isn't enough to provide for you long-term." He looked back at his book. "Now that you're more agreeable, perhaps I could place you in a dimension with no organic lifeforms for you to kill."

But that's boring! it whined. It actually whined. I want more adrenaline. You've given me so little.

"You're ignoring the fact that I just told you my body physically cannot handle you." He grimaced. "Even if I could make you swear not to harm Earth or its residents, this isn't sustainable."

Stephen felt a grudging admiration that wasn't from himself. I can't do anything you don't want. I've tried. No one's ever stopped me before. You're strong. There was a pause. I like your strength. I want to stay here—even if you'll only give me hormones.

"Did you not listen to a thing I said about my body's ability—"

You're a sorcerer! the parasite argued. You don't have normal mortal inhibitions. I can feed off many things. I can feed off your magic and you can keep your body's nutrients, as you say.

Stephen felt a spike of alarm. "I need my magic. You cannot have it."

I'm not leaving, it said again, stubbornly.

"I'll find a way to remove you," Stephen promised.

—— —— ——

Another two weeks passed. It was nearing the end of their second month quarantined in the Mirror Dimension and they were still at an impasse. The symbiote was in no way going to break through Stephen's mental defenses, and Stephen was having a hell of a time getting the creature either out of him or dead.

And the news that came with Wong's morning drop that day made Stephen realize just how permanent his situation might be.

The Cloak could immediately feel his resignation as he read the letter and tapped at his arm to ask why his mood changed. "Wong says that the Masters need to look into a new Master for the New York Sanctum if this is not resolved soon." Stephen clenched his teeth; he gave an oath to protect the world, and if this was the only way to do it…

Cloak has an idea, said the symbiote unexpectedly, breaking a three day silence.

That caught him off guard. "Beg your pardon?"

Cloak's volunteering to contribute part of its own magic. It has a significant amount.

Stephen blinked as a number of questions were raised by that statement. The first that was vocalized was, "The Cloak talks to you?"

Not exactly, the symbiote said. It is what you call inorganic. I am of the same kind. But what you call free will is powered by other forces that you have no word for, and in that way I can understand its intentions and it, mine. It was very annoying at the beginning, it ended with a light grumble.

Stephen lifted a hand to one of the gold clasps of the Cloak to indicate it to detach itself. While communication was limited, the cloak could do quite a bit with gestures and touches. "Is what it says true? That you can communicate with it?" he asked as the Cloak came to face him.

The Cloak bowed its collar in confirmation and Stephen pursed his lips. "And you are offering to give part of your magic in order for me to survive and leave here?" Another nod in confirmation. Stephen hesitated. "I don't want to see you harmed."

It won't hurt it, the symbiote said as the Cloak shook its collar and reached out for Stephen's hand in reassurance. Its magic is much older than yours. It is better than yours to sustain me.

Stephen frowned. "I cannot let myself out of here if this symbiote's words do not match his intentions. Can you see its intentions, and does it speak the truth?"

The Cloak nodded twice as the symbiote said, Magic tastes interesting. It is an acceptable substitute for blood, and tastes well with your adrenaline.

He thought about it for a moment. This may be an acceptable solution, as he trusted the Cloak with his life and knew it would not lie. "I do not know what magic would accomplish this."

You don't need to do anything, said the symbiote. It's between Cloak and me. So we'll do it, then we can get out of here.

"Wait," he said before they could start anything. "I will need approval from my peers. If they think it too dangerous, I am obligated to stay here."

He felt annoyance from the symbiote. Fine, it grumbled. It at least knew how futile arguing about this would be.

Stephen wrote a note in response and set it back at the drop point, then waited until the evening to leave his body and travel across the astral plane to meet Wong there. He got there just as Wong stepped through, and as he began to read the note, Stephen broke through the barriers of reality to speak with him.

Wong gave him a look. "You think it's safe?"

"I trust the Cloak."

Wong nodded towards the portal as he went towards it. "Still, you'll need to convince the others."

—— —— ——

Let no one say that Stephen Strange was anything but a very, very good debater. The meeting took two hours as they went through everything that could go wrong and Stephen's answers to why that wouldn't happen, or what they could easily do to prevent catastrophe. Part of him was partially convinced that he won them over through sheer stubbornness.

(It probably helped that they really didn't have any great candidates to take over the New York Sanctum, too. They were still spread too thin and no one really wanted to lose him to a threat that he seemed to have now under control.)

When Wong let him back into the Mirror Dimension, he floated his way back to his body and settled within it.

Well? the symbiote asked.

Stephen frowned as he noticed something off. "... did you try to move me while I was gone?"

... possibly. It must have felt Stephen's irritation and continued, I couldn't really do anything. You've blocked your mind even when outside your body. And Cloak got in the way.

He huffed his annoyance. "Well, if we're going to live with each other, that can't happen anymore."

So they agreed?

"They did," Stephen said. "Now promise me you won't try moving my body while I'm elsewhere."

He felt the pang of disappointment. Fine.

He pressed his lips together. "Right. Well, if the Cloak is still in agreement, you two do what you need to do."

The Cloak shifted. It reached forward on the left side so that it was fully covering his heart, and the right side lifted to cover his head, wrapping his face within the folds of the fabric. He blinked in surprise, but otherwise didn't move.

A short moment later, Stephen could feel the threads of magic about him and entering his skin. This magic was an old magic, a very ancient magic that weaved the very fabric of reality, the inherent magic of Earth that helped create a universe that could support the other magics borrowed from other dimensions that they used in various spellwork. He understood that the Cloak was ancient, but he truly did not realize until that moment the sort of power that was interwoven within each of its threads.

The power was breathtaking and exhilarating.

When the process stopped, Stephen had to remind himself to breathe. Slowly he exhaled, and the Cloak lifted itself off him completely to face him.

It had changed in physical appearance. Its checkered interior lining, formerly a faded red and grey, was now streaked with jagged black lines that spilled like ink from the collar downward. On the exterior, the darker solid red checkers were now pitch black, and the embroidered details upon the lining, the collar, and down part of the back were now made of black thread rather than the lighter red.

"How do you feel?" Stephen asked the Cloak. It spun around once in able movement, then settled down upon his shoulders as if to comfort him.

Cloak's fine, said the symbiote. This feels quite interesting. Tastes good with your adrenaline. Give me more.

"Say please," he muttered, even as his heart, already beating fast from the transformation process, kept its steady, fast beat as he created a portal back into the world. "We'll have some more ground rules to establish if you'll be staying for an extended period within my watch."

I look forward to it, the symbiote purred as Stephen stepped through the gateway and to his new chapter in life.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Ranking Brotherhood of Evil Mutant members (including all interations) from your, most to least favorite and please expound why. I do like asking for opinions.

Hmmm....there have been several iterations of the Brotherhood, and I’m not very familiar with some of the later versions, so I’m just gonna go with the earlier versions that I know.  Bear in mind, this is entirely subjective, and I like most of these characters, so a character being lower down doesn’t mean I hate them.  Going from favorite to least favorite:  

Pyro:

Anyone following this blog has probably noticed I love this dude.  I’m not exactly subtle about it.  I think he’s interesting and fun, as villains go.  He’s snarky and cocky, and actually rather friendly when he’s not trying to kill you - very Affable Evil.  He’s not necessarily a very good person - he’s self-interested, and can be rather vicious, but he’s a character that I thought could potentially come over to the good side.  He seemed, at times, to get into the whole “Freedom Force” thing, and clearly enjoyed saving people alongside Longshot.  He seems to bond a great deal with his team-mates - Mystique, Avalanche, even Stonewall (although he was a dick to him and Commando when they first joined).  He even pals around with Blob, even though he also snarks at him sometimes.  In AOA, Pyro was the only one helping and being protective of Phantazia.  And now in Marauders he refers to them as his “friends,” and is perfectly happy traveling around with people that used to kick his ass, even appearing impressed with them (especially Storm), and being a surprisingly good team player.  I don’t think Pyro would necessarily become a good guy for altruistic purposes, but I think he enjoys having “adventures” and getting attention and hanging out with his team-mates.  I think if Pyro was on an X-Team, and was made to feel welcome, he’d probably be content to fight alongside them and follow the rules (which is basically what he’s doing right now with the Marauders), and maybe some of his team-mates’ virtues would rub off on him a bit.  (There was apparently a version of X-Factor pitched to Marvel years ago that included Pyro on the team, and I’m disappointed that never happened, although I loved the X-Factor that we got.)  And of course, there was also Pyro’s somewhat redemptive death, where he came to regret his past actions with the Brotherhood and wound up sacrificing his life to save Senator Kelly (fat lot of good it did, since Kelly got assassinated shortly after, but hey, he tried!) 

Along with all of that, I am also really intrigued by Pyro’s back story of being a romance author and journalist.  There’s the whole dichotomy of a guy who callously burns people to death and also writes gothic romance novels in his spare time.  And honestly, it sounds like he’s lived a really interesting life before the Brotherhood - traveling all around South East Asia, working as a journalist covering Indonesia and Vietnam (I’d assume he speaks at least a little bit of Indonesian and Vietnamese to be able to live there and cover news).  His motives for joining the Brotherhood have never been established, and I’m dying to know more about how he met Mystique, and why he decided to leave what was apparently a successful career and probably fairly comfortable life to go be an international terrorist.  Was it money?  A promise of adventure?  Did he really believe in Magneto’s cause?  Was he already getting into criminal activity before he joined the Brotherhood?  There’s a lot of potential for development there, but unfortunately most writers (except Claremont) tend to completely ignore all of Pyro’s backstory.  I’m still hoping that Duggan at least makes some reference to it, even just a throwaway comment about how Pyro used to write novels.

TL,DR: I like Pyro because he’s fun and clever, he makes friends with his team-mates, and he’s a writer. 

Toad:

Toad is a really intriguing character, but mostly I like him because he’s actually got a lot of potential, but he’s had a shit life and can never seem to catch a break.  In the earliest issues, he was just Magneto’s abused lackey, and appeared quite sniveling and pathetic, but later on it was revealed that he’s actually quite intelligent (and good with machines), he just appeared “stupid” due to all the abuse he suffered during childhood.  Toad also has a lot of interesting powers - writers seem to give him a new one every other appearance.  His stamina, agility, and super-strong legs could actually make him a pretty good fighter if he got proper training.  Plus he’s got the prehensile tongue, pheromone secretion, acidic saliva, secretion of a paralytic resin, mind control over frogs - his Marvel bio is a long, long list of secondary powers.  Toad could be quite formidable if he actually got his shit together, and there are AU’s (like House of M and Age of Apocalypse) where we see a much more stable, competent, intelligent Toad who is living up to his potential.  But 616 Toad remains a joke,  He’s either a low-level bad guy (they tried to level him up in the 90′s by making him the leader of the Brotherhood, but it didn’t last) or a pathetic sad-sack used for humor, or both.  His attempt to “join” the X-Men led to him being the janitor and basically getting treated like shit (he literally had no bed?) then getting kicked out when he follow Husk to the Hellfire Academy, even though he did that largely out of concern for Husk, and actually helped her and Quentin escape.

Basically, Toad has been subjected to horrible abuse pretty much his entire life, he has a mutation that makes him appear “ugly”, and everyone treats him with, at best, pity, and at worst, hatred and disgust.  I’ll admit, he’s had a few chances to better his life that have fallen through because of his own bad choices (and he’s done some horrible things, especially when he was leading the Brotherhood in the 90′s), but most of the time he’s just getting continuously kicked while he’s down.  To a certain extent, it’s really a matter of comic writers not being willing to take Toad seriously - he’s considered a joke villain, and therefore gets written that way, because he’s there as an accessory in someone else’s story.  At least the Toad/Husk storyline seemed to focus some on Toad himself as a character, even if it ended badly for him.  Sometimes, I kinda think Toad is written as evil or pathetic so that writers can justify other characters being shitty towards him.  Like, Magneto’s early treatment of Toad was absolutely, inexcusably horrible.  Magneto treated everyone in the Brotherhood badly, including his own children, but it seemed like Toad caught the worst of it.  Pietro and Wanda were also disgusted by Toad, although they had good reason, since his affection towards Wanda was pretty creepy.  Later on, Magneto was revamped into more of a noble, morally grey character, and his past abuse of Toad was mostly forgotten.  I don’t think the writers are necessarily doing this on purpose, but it kind feels like Toad remaining a pathetic bad guy was partially a way to excuse Magneto’s poor treatment of him, since Magneto was being reinvented as a more likable character.  And not just Magneto, but just about everyone who finds Toad disgusting or cracks jokes about how gross he is – it’s okay, Toad is awful so it’s totally fine to have the physically attractive good guys mock him and treat him like garbage.  (Hell, the artists can’t even decide what Toad’s physical appearance should be.  Is he skinny?  Fat?  Does he have green skin?  Is his nose ridiculously long or closer to normal?  Who knows what we’ll get in each issue.  And God forbid he be drawn without his tongue lolling out of his mouth.)

Also, I think that a lot of Toad’s worst personality flaws are at least partially due to the abuse he suffered.  To be clear, I’m not justifying the things that Toad has done. He set up death traps for people who wronged him, murdered Sauron’s girlfriend, and stalked and attacked Wanda multiple times.  That’s pretty shitty of him!  But I also think the abuse had a huge effect on Toad and how he interacts with people. Like, his tendency to obsessively latch onto people, and act like a sniveling lackey – the dude has had pretty much no love his entire life, and he’s always been treated like garbage.  Of course he has no self-esteem, of course he’ll fawn over anyone that shows him affection.  He’s been raised to believe that he is garbage.  Even his tendency to gloat over others being punished, and his whole “I’ll tell Magneto, and you’ll get in trouble!” thing is an understandable survival mechanism – other people getting in trouble means that he’s not the target, for once.  Obviously I can’t condone Toad trying to murder people that wronged him, but his anger and resentment is also understandable after the poor treatment he’s suffered.  In fact, I think it’s actually healthier for him to be angry than to think that he deserves it.  And a lot of the shitty things he did as Brotherhood leader also felt like him desperately wanting to be taken seriously, to be respected – also not a bad thing to want, even if his actions were terrible.  Basically, Toad has a lot of personality flaws, and he’s also had a lot of experiences that created or exacerbated those personality flaws.  The guy needs serious, long-term therapy, and I think he could become a better (or at least more competent) person if he got the help that he so obviously needs.

TL, DR: Basically, Toad deserves better.

Avalanche:

I have to admit, a lot of my love for Avalanche is all about his relationship with Pyro, be it friendship or something more.  (It’s something more in my headcanons, I will forever ship them.)  But he’s also a character that we don’t know much about, in part because he tends to talk a lot less than a certain chatty Australian.  He seems, more than anything, to be a practical-minded punch-clock villain, who is mostly in it for the money.  He doesn’t seem to enjoy putting on a show and reveling in his powers like Pyro, and he doesn’t seem to have the same mean streak that can be seen in Blob (and Pyro, to be fair).  I’m sure there are probably instances of Avalanche being dickish and cruel, but in a lot of his appearances that I’ve read, he seems very practical.  Do the job, get paid.  He also seems fairly content to be a follower or a lackey – happy to take orders from Mystique, or even follow Pyro’s lead when Mystique isn’t around.  That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his own ideas or opinions, but he doesn’t particularly feel the need to be a leader.  Like Pyro, we also don’t know much about his past before the Brotherhood, except that he was married at some point.  Where’s his wife now?  Why didn’t it work out?  Was it because of him being a mutant, or was it his activities with the Brotherhood that drove them apart?  Does he still love her?  Why did he join the Brotherhood in the first place?  

Avalanche also seems to care somewhat about his team-mates, although he’s not as openly friendly as Pyro.  During Freedom Force’s disastrous last mission, he made the difficult call to abandon Pyro and Blob to save Commando, something that he was clearly broken up about.  And of course, he was willing to go on a mission in the Savage Land with Pyro to get a Legacy Virus cure (that unfortunately didn’t actual exist).  Avalanche is selective about who he cares about, but he still shows that he cares through his actions.  I don’t want to make this all about Pyro, but I really love their relationship.  The stoic, quiet guy/chatty energetic guy dynamic is great.  They just love being bros and committing crimes together, and they are quick to work together and back each other up, even in their earliest appearances.  I would totally read a min-series focusing on the early days of Mystique’s brotherhood, especially if it gave us some good Avalanche, Pyro and Blob development, and didn’t just center around Rogue and Mystique (both fantastic characters, but they’ve both got a lot of attention directed at them already.)

Also, Avalanche likes to garden, which is nice. And at one point he just got fed-up with everything and tried to retire and become a bartender, which is very relatable.  Unfortunately Red Skull murdered him after that.  Sorry, Avalanche.  I hope you are resurrected on Krakoa, living your best life.

Blob:

Another character who is often not taken seriously. Blob is mean-spirited, crass, and often self-interested, much like the rest of the Brotherhood members.  He also was extremely close to Unus, and clearly devastated when Unus’s powers went out of control and killed him.  Blob is one of those characters where I think his physical appearance has led to him being designated as a bad guy by the writers – he’s big and gross, so, just like Toad, he’ll be portrayed as a bad person in order to justify the good guys being terrible to him.  (Yes, I know there are “ugly” good guys, but let’s face it, they are rare.  Most of the good guys look like models.)  Blob also, like Toad, gets a lot of crap for his physical appearance, something that is literally part of his mutation.  I think some of Blob’s nastiness is definitely a defense mechanism, lashing out at others because he is used to being attacked.  It also seems like Blob is really lacking in close friendships, like what Mystique and Destiny or Pyro and Avalanche have (“friendship”).  He was really the odd man out in Mystique’s brotherhood.  He’s willing to pal around with various Brotherhood members, including Avalanche and Pyro when they’re not picking fights with each other, but he doesn’t seem to have a best buddy after Unus’s death.  I kind of admire Blob’s toughness.  It would be easy for him to completely lose his self-esteem, like Toad, but he stands up for himself and never grovels to others.  He is frequently insulted for his mutation, but he also seems comfortable in his own skin, which is good.  He shouldn’t have to feel bad about his own body.    

There was an AU story that showed a softer, more thoughtful Blob who wound up in a relationship with Psylocke, so we know he’s capable of showing a better side of himself.  To some extent, I like Blob’s crass, take-no-shit personatliy, but I’d also like to see writers give him more depth.  I’d especially like to see him reunite with Unus on Krakoa, and the two of them hanging out enjoying each other’s company.  I’m also enjoying the cameos we get of bartender Blob on Krakoa, I hope he is also living his best life.  

Phantazia:

Honestly, I mostly just want to know more about her. All we really know is that she has a PhD (in some kind of scientific field, I think….she is reading a book on astrophysics in one comic), and she was willing to join Toad’s Brotherhood (and she was also the only Brotherhood member that received an invitation from Exodus to Asteroid M). Why?  What was her life before that?  Who knows? Most of the time, she seems rather cold, and a bit distant from her team-mates (but I can’t entirely blame her, the Brotherhood is a rough crowd.  It’s hard to be the new team-mate, and probably especially hard to be the only woman.)  She did seem concerned about Pyro when he was suffering from the Legacy Virus, but she kind of dropped out of sight when the Brotherhood disbanded.   She seems like she was mostly in it for personal gain, especially since Toad’s Brotherhood was more about petty crime than mutant rights.  Apparently she was deeply affected by Wanda’s reality alterations, which took a toll on her mental health, and was last seen in a SHIELD holding cell.  I hope she pops up again on Krakoa.  

Rogue:

The only reason Rogue is so low on the list is that I sometimes forget she was ever a Brotherhood member, and because I like to focus more on lesser known characters.  But I really like Rogue!  She’s tough but sweet, and an incredible badass.  Leaving the Brotherhood for the X-Men meant walking away from her team and foster-mother(s), but she still did it, and became one of the X-Men’s most dependable and valued members.  I love Rogue’s past, her relationship with Mystique, her relationship with Gambit.  I love how she doesn’t take shit, but she also doesn’t go around acting like a jerk, like some of the “tough” characters.  (Wolverine, basically.)  I like the complexity of her struggles with her powers, and her knowing that her strongest abilities, like strength and flight, were basically “stolen” from someone else. I feel like I should say more, but Rogue is very popular and has had loads written about her already.  Rogue is cool, and she deserves the best!  

Mystique:

A truly fascinating character.  She’s also lower on the list because she is fairly well-known and popular, and also because she can absolutely be a manipulative piece of shit, willing to throw everyone except Destiny under the bus.  Yet, at the same time, we see her appear to genuinely care about people, like Rogue, Nightcrawler (after the unfortunate “toss baby off a cliff” incident), Destiny, even Pyro occasionally (she has a nice moment with him on Muir Island, and also calls him “friend” in X-Factor).  She’s a character who can never be entirely trusted, which is a large part of what makes her interesting.  I think she truly does care about a few, select people.  Hell, there’s an early issue in which Mystique fights a bunch of robots programmed to look and act like the X-Men (courtesy of Arcade), and she completely breaks down after having to “kill” the Rogue robot, then hesitates to attack the Nightcrawler bot.  I think Mystique can also be extremely callous, cold and manipulative, but I don’t think she is completely evil, just very self-interested, like a lot of villains. Also, she’s probably seen and experienced a lot of shit over her long life that contributed to that callousness (I figure if I’m gonna cut Toad and Blob some slack, I should do the same for Mystique.)  I do wish she would stop committing rape by deception in stories (meaning sleeping with someone while disguised as someone else).  It’s something that gets glossed over, even though fandom generally despises rapist male villains (and rightfully so), but Mystique pretending to be Blink and sleeping with Mimic is barely a story blip.  

Mystique is also interesting just because she’s such a badass.  She’s cunning, a good leader, a good strategist, excellent spy, good at hand-to-hand combat (she only loses to Arcade’s X-Men robots because she hesitates). She is damn formidable!  She’s also lived a varied and interesting life. There’s a reason she’s gotten so much exposure in comics.  I can also understand her being short-tempered while leading the Brotherhood, as she has to deal with the three stooges of Pyro, Avalanche and Blob.  Then things get even more complicated during the Freedom Force days.  Mystique has a lot of shit to deal with keeping those idiots in line.  Her relationship with Destiny is probably my favorite thing about Mystique, they are beautiful wives, and I hope she gets Destiny resurrected so the two of them can live happily together on Krakoa.  (Unlikely.)  

Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch:

I don’t have much to say about these two, even though I like them. I’m starting to run out of steam in terms of character analysis, and I tend to think of them more as Avengers than Brotherhood members.  They both deserve better.  Also, they are mutants and Magneto is their dad. Retcon?  What retcon?

Destiny:

I don’t have much to say about Destiny because she is very mysterious – always working according to some plan that only she knows. So it’s hard to really know her as a character.  She seems like a very intelligent and calm woman.  She’s always chilling while the Brotherhood guys are freaking out or picking fights with each other.  She also faced her own death bravely and willingly.  She seems to have a good sense of humor.  One of my favorite stories is Mystique disposing of Destiny’s ashes after her death.  She is throwing them off a boat at a specific time and place, according to Destiny’s instructions – and the wind blows them back into her face.  Obviously Destiny planned it as a last prank, and I have to like a character who sets that up.  Also, one time she let a rock wall collapse on Avalanche and Spiral because she knew they wouldn’t be seriously hurt, and she hated Spiral and wanted to enjoy her humiliation.  That’s some impressive pettiness.  Destiny is cool, and I hope she comes back.

Sauron:

I don’t really care about him at all.  

Mastermind:

Seems like a real creep, especially with his manipulation of Jean Grey/Phoenix in the Dark Phoenix saga.  At least he apologized to her at his death.  Also, he’s got three daughters, the dude gets around. Regan, Martinique, and Pixie (WTF?! I just read that in his bio.)  I am really confused by there being two Mastermind daughters with the same powers, but apparently it was actually a mix-up between two writers.  Oops!  

That’s all.  I know there have been later Brotherhood iterations with other members, including one or both Lady Masterminds, but that was during a time when I wasn’t reading much X-Men, so I’m not familiar with most of those characters. I might have more to say if I eventually read some of the later Brotherhood stories.  

[rabidfirefoxfan]

When you responded, I started thinking back to when I first got into Loki. I am ashamed to say, that yes it was from gagnarok. but because I love the truth, I went out seeking it (so my love for gagnarok only lasted a few months) anyways, I do remember loving how great it was after watching it and spreading the word about it; ready to take down any YouTuber with a negative response towards the movie, even though I REALLY didn't want to see it twice. It just stayed in my brain for some reason. I still don't fully understand why, but I think you def hit the nail on the coffin 💜

You enjoyed something, you wanted to Keep enjoying that thing. There is nothing inherently wrong with this. You Subjective reaction to the Movie can be “I though it was a good film” and the Objective reality “This films has MAJOR Problems with it” are two different things.

For example, Michael Bay’s Transformers is objectively a Bad Film: Bad characterization, bad plot, dumb action, over-sexualization, really terrible main character. However, many people Subjective reaction to the Movie is “It was a pretty good movie.” The action scenes were entertaining enough to keep you interested and the character work well enough for ONE watch through.  Ragnorak is Similar, your first subjective reaction to the movie was to say it was good.

Your reaction to the movie is also, in some ways, artificial. After all, with big releases like Marvel Movies are is a lot of Fanfare trying to hype you up to go to the Movie. Trailers like to “Your going to have a great time watching this film. It has all the stuff you want.” And then there is the Disney Press Tour trying to encourage media outlets to say the same thing. Finally, when you are all excited to watch the movie, you watch the movie and before you can really process what you watch, you talk with your friends. Now, you had a fairly happy experience, so when you asked your friends they will say “Yeah that was a good Movie,” re-enforcing the Idea that it actualy was a good movie.

Without realizing it, there are 3 forces trying to convince you that watch you actually watched was Good, and not Crap in any meaningful way. Reason 1: You don’t want to have wasted you time and money, so what you spent you time and money on MUST be Good. Reason 2: Your Friends want to feed off you energy and have the same Reason1 working on them. These direct friends will again tell you that the movie is Good. Reason 3: Disney has a strong incentive to want you to think the movie is good, so they promote articles and Social Media pieces that say that the Movie is Good so they continue to Make MONEY off of it for as long as it’s in the Box Office. (Let’s not forget, Ragnorak made just as much as The Justice league did)

Because of all of these Factors, when you are going to talk about the movie a week after you watch, you are STRONGLY encouraged to say how awesome it was. And the People who said it sucked, well, they must just be no-good haters who want to ruin your happiness, RIGHT? There is no way the thing that you watched ONCE can be bad, it must be something else. There is no way I was wrong, that what I liked is bad, that my reasoning can be flawed. It must be those Haters.

And this Line of thinking Works .... for a little bit. The thing is, movie last forever (at least with the internet) and the internet LOVES to over-analysis everything. Piece by Piece, more and more voices start to voice some little things they didn’t like, and than those little things start to pile up, and more and more little things pile up, and OMG This Movie is horrible how did I ever like it in the first place.

You want to see this in Action. Watch Mauler’s A Critique of Star Wars: The Force Awakens - Introduction. Mauler has a whole playlist talking about the Sequel Star Wars movies, and it’s like 24 hours long when you include all 3 movies and like 5 parts of it (Each on like 2 hours long). You don’t have to watch the whole thing, just Watch the first 5 minutes of this specific video. You’ll see this EXACT thing happening to Everyone when it came to The Force Awakens.

One other Problem with the Thor IP that should be address though. IMO, the biggest problem with Thor, is honestly Thor. I don’t think Chris Hemsworth every capture that spirit of Thor, as Least in comparison to the other 3 major character for Avengers (2012). So, arguably the 4 most important characters of the Avengers was Iron Man, Thor, Captain America and Loki. Iron Man was the character to get the MCU kicked off, but Thor and Captain America Movies were there to build up momentum and build up to the Avengers. Chris Evans did a great job capturing Cap down-to-earth persona and how he really does want to be a good leader, a good man. RDJ did a FANTASTIC Job capture both the Light and Dark elements of Tony Stark. I don’t think I need explain with Hiddleston did a good Job capturing the spirit of Loki. So, that Leaves Thor.

In the Comics, the basic Idea of Thor is that Thor is an Arrogant Superman. Like Superman, Thor is really strong, nearly invincible, and just Loves Humans and the Earth while not actually begin Human (his mom is the Earth Though). Unlike Superman Though, Thor often thinks too Highly of Himself and can act like a Total Dick at times. In most versions of the Humbling of Thor, Thor often does a really Dick move that causes his banishment. However, even with his arrogant Nature, Thor still loves cute things and still wants to protect stuff.

Hemsworth, although doing a Great Job bringing the Body of Thor (look at those muscles), IMO never did an excellent job bring the warmth of Thor. Or, at least wasn’t as Good at doing Thor as Hiddleston was at doing Loki. Hiddleston, through just trying to do a Good job on his character, ultimately brought all the focus away from Thor and onto Loki. This ended up with the reaction, Thor was bad, but Loki was Good. Because the Main focus, Thor, wasn’t done well, both Thor and TDW suffered. Add to that that Marvel really never knew what to do with the Thor IP and you have a general atmosphere of “The Thor Movies sucked, but I like the Loki scenes,” a sentiment that I honestly agree with.

Hiddleston NAILS every scenes he’s in with Both Movies, but everyone else ... eh? Both Odin and Jane’s actors are phone it in, it’s not their worst performances, but it’s hardly their best. Humbling of Thor is Interesting, but Loki’s side of the story is Far more interesting. I mean, Thor gets banished and immediately gets a girlfriend and a nice life. If Loki didn’t go Mad and attack the Town, it’s likely Thor would have gotten married to Jane, been an amazing Trophy Husband and had 3 kids while Loki would have been miserable on the Throne. That’s not an interesting story for Thor.

TDW suffered from production problems. A director for the movie pulled out last minute and the movie was crap, then they noticed that Loki was popular and they did some Last minute re-shoots with Joss Whedon and Tom Hiddleston. Now it’s a crap movie with sprinkles of Great scenes. Honestly, cut out a lot of the Earth stuff, bring the Focus onto to Loki and I swear there is a great movie in the TDW, I just know it.

So, with the First two Thor movies having ?Eh? Thor content, fans wished for a new better thing and they wanted Ragnorak to be that new better movie. These Fans also ignored anything that said otherwise.

However, because of Taika’s habit of attacking Fans, it’s likely that it’s going to be hard for him to keep his fanbase. Bad movies can work for a time, but eventually People will move on to better thing. Transformers was able to make 3-4 somewhat successful movies but the 5 bombed. The same thing will happen to Taika if he’s not careful. If his next movie doesn’t scratch the same itch that the First movie does, people will re-examine Ragnorak with a critical lens and then it will be popular to bash on his movie.

There is a reason why Tom Hiddleston’s Loki Fans have endured for so Long. It’s because Loki in Thor and TDW really resonated with us, far more than most other Marvel Properties. Because of it, Loki’s personality, his strength and his stories are far more relatable and resonate and any other Marvel Characters. It on Marvel to make us products we are willing to support, not attack us when we don’t want to buy their crap.

For me, I have don’t like how Marvel (and Disney in general) is treating their characters and their fans. Until their general atmosphere improves (or they die in hell) I am going to read Through Loki Comic until I find those few Great one (I have fund like 5-10 out of 60 that are worth anything), continue to read fanfics from authors who give a crap and continue to promote and make Fan-based stuff that encourages Loki stuff I do like.

Um.... Thanks for reading my long answer. Thanks for sending asks.

PS: Do you have any good Loki work to recommend?

[melyaliz]

Canary 17

Canary Masterlist  

Fandom:  Marvel 

Summary: Sometimes all you can do is sleep away a broken heart. 

Pairing: Loki x Reader 

Notes: Thank you to everyone for being so patient with me! Honestly, I don’t deserve you lovely people and all the wonderful comments, reblogs, and likes. I know this chapter is a bit angsty but I promise the next one will be better.  

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive​

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

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The first time I realized I had powers it was like the most exciting yet natural thing that had ever happened to me. As if I had held on to them all along. It was like taking your first steps. Wobbly at first but soon you are running as fast as you can toward nowhere. 

My powers are like another extension of who I am. They come to be as easy as my sight. Seeing sounds around me, the way they float and sink. How some are sharp and some are gentle. 

It is strange how something so unnatural to everyone else is just so natural to me. 

Not like love. 

Love is hard. 

Love makes no sense. 

Love is confusing. 

And as I watched the only man I think I may have truly loved leave me I didn’t know how to react. He had come into my life so quickly and left in the same manner. 

Loud, brash, silent, and mischevious. 

It was like he could see me when no one else. Like he could hear me. He knew things no one else did without anyone telling me. He just seemed to know them.

It was as if our souls just looked at each other and knew they would have an impact on each other. Even before we did. 

The whole ordeal was exhausting. 

And thinking about it made me sick. 

So walking back into my bedroom I curled up in my bed trying to ignore the fact that my sheets smelled like him. Surrounded by a million memories that were so bittersweet I could taste them on my tongue. I could feel them all around me, deep in my bones. 

I slept and slept. Every time I woke I just didn’t have the will to pull myself up. So I laid there. Watching the sun’s rays cast a million different hues through my room. Bright warm noon sun turning into soft orange rays casting deep shadows across my room. Pitching it into the darkness like the deep black that seemed to fill my brain. And then the sun rose again, spilling warm light pooling into my room reminding me of a new world out there. 

A world I wasn’t really interested in at the moment.

After all, I did just vanquish an Ogre king and break up with a God. 

I deserved to stay here.

New world be damned. 

After all, I was safe here in my warm sheets. My pillows held me, took me in their warm embrace. They understood.

They would never leave me. 

I was about to drift off back into sleep when a soft knock caressed my door. 

“Yeah?” 

“Hey Y/N can I come in? ?” 

Steve’s voice was just as soft as his knock as he slowly creaked the door open. His words floating across the room to my cocoon of fluff I had made for myself. My fortress away from the heartache of the world. 

“I’m not feeling like training today.” 

“I mean I didn’t expect it after yesterday but…” his steps were heavy as he crossed the room, the bed dipping slightly as he sat at the edge of it. “I wanted to see if you were ok?” 

I glanced up my gaze meeting his. Arms folded in his lap as he studied me. Those soft blue eyes probably seeing more than I would like. Damn him and his daddy steve leader whatever bullshit magic those eyes held.

“Yeah. Just want to be lazy”

“Are you sure you’re lazy day doesn't have anything to do with a certain… Asgardian?” 

“I’m fine…” My words sharp, harsher than I had meant for them to be. No filter. Steve raised an eyebrow clearly not buying it. “Ok, so maybe I’m a little… hurt. Rejected. But he said he was a god and I’m a mortal so if he wants to think of me that way then why should I bother?”

“You are better than he is.” Steve said, “You are better than most of us.”

“Coming from you that means a lot,” I muttered feeling my heart heavy in your chest. It felt like a sponge, wet and heavy. Part of me just wanted to squeeze out all this sadness. Make it light again. Make you dry. “And I know I should but… I just want to be sad for a little bit.” 

“You are allowed to feel things Y/N” Steve said, my name dancing gracefully across the room as he patting the bottom of the bed where my feet were, frowning he pulled his hand up, a small necklace between his fingers. It’s delicate stone caught the light glistening 

“Here, when are want to come back to us, wash up put on a nice dress and some jewelry and we can all go dancing.” 

I took the necklace confused where had he been hiding that? Had he really gotten me a breakup gift, “I… thank you, Steve.”

“Any time.”

“And… how did you know Saphire’s were my favorite?” 

“Huh?”

His expression matched mine as I held up the necklace, “this stone,” I said.

“That was just at the end of your bed.”

“Oh… well, unthank you then... For the necklace. Thank you for the offer to go dancing. I’ll take you up on that.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” 

As he left I twisted the necklace around in my fingers the silver strands shone in the morning light. While very delicate it felt strong, almost unbreakable. The beautiful sapphire stone was a dark blue that looked like the night sky after the sun had set. Brilliant and blue with a deepness that seemed so vast it could swallow you up.  

Where had this come from?

Then it hit me Loki’s space mistress had said something about a necklace. 

Loki

Letting out a grow I threw it across the room before pulling the blankets over my head. If this really was that necklace I hope it catches fire and burns. I don’t think I would EVER understand that man. 

God

Whatever. 

-----  

“My Son,” Frigga said taking his hands in her own. Loki glanced up at his mother from his seat in the middle of the courtyard where he was sitting. A book in his lap as he lounged on a large couch. A small girl braiding flowers into his long black hair. 

“My Mother” Loki muttered rather dejectedly. The small child looked up at Frigga smiling up at the queen.

“My Lady, he was sad so I’m making him pretty.”

“I’m NOT sad!” Loki snapped trying to pull his head away from the small girl only to have her pull him back into place with slightly unearthly strength. Letting out a sigh Loki resigned himself to his plight opening his book again. This child had just come upon him and forced her services. Normally he would have brushed her aside but lately… he just didn’t have the energy. 

Although normally small children didn’t just come up to him and offer to make him flower crowns. 

His reputation had been ruined. 

Gently the queen mother pushed down the book from her son’s face. Her smile said it all. Soft and caring as if she knew. Of course, she knew. She was Frigga. No matter what Loki tried to do he could not hide anything from her. 

“Have you once again ruined something beautiful? Thor has his hammer and brashness but you are a destruction that is so swift you don’t even see it coming until the wounds have healed into scars.”

Loki rolled his eyes trying to fight back the flood of emotions even the memories of his “swift destruction” had caused. “Mother she was nothing but a mortal.”

Frigga looked over the small girl who was just adding the final touches to her masterpiece in Loki’s dark hair. This hadn’t been the first of their people to reach out toward the moody prince. Many servants and subjects alike had seemed much more comfortable around the brooding prince. He accepted them with his same bark but showed much less teeth until slowly he had let them in. Her son was a different man. Everyone saw it yet no one but the queen herself knew why. 

“If she has made my son the man he is now she must be a goddess.”

-GET TAGGED!- 

Forever tag: @royslittleharper​​​  @the-shadow-of-atlantis​​​ @coffee-randomness​​​ @0hmydeku​ @xx3fsxx​ @daisyboobear​​​ @  @jason-redhood​​ @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr​ @ocelysium​ @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep  @cdwmtjb8​

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[golddaggers]

come here, lover boy

pairings: thor x reader, steve x reader (tho its friendship only)

warnings: hmm, cursing and mentions of sex. but not reaaaally explict.

a/n: i wrote this after i watched dirty dancing. what? its one of my comfort movies. either way, it’s just a short, quick thing that i hope y’all enjoy (?). well. lemme know.

word count: 1,5k+

If there was anything that could tear apart his soldier focus, it was definitely the rhythmic sway of your hips, going low as they wiggled to the late seventies song. It was sexy, hypnotising even. Thor just couldn't keep his eyes away, wishing he could go up there and wrap his arms around your waist, feeling the gentle rub of your ass against his own hips as you two danced together.

Sighing, he sat back on the couch and took a sip of his bear in hopes that it would help soothe the discomfort growing within his trousers. It was taking all of his strength to not drop your mutual agreement to keep your relationship a secret from the rest of the Avengers, because all he wanted to do that very second was to feel your skin, your arms around him. And pretty honestly, your wet pussy under his fingers. He wanted to show you off.

"You should talk to her, you know," Bucky said, sitting beside him and giving a friendly pat on Thor's shoulder. "She doesn't bite."

"Oh, but she does." The thunder god mumbles under his breath, smirking upon remembering the events from the night before.

"What?"

"Nothing. You're right, I should talk to her." There's a heaviness in his words, suddenly doubting why you should keep your love a secret. There were good points when you talked about it, though he could only really focus on the tight bra pushing up your breasts in a way that it was not fair. "Is she with someone, though?"

"Hmm, I mean, I don't know." He shrugs. "Maybe she's got a little thing going on with Steve, but he wouldn't tell me no matter what I did, so I can’t tell."

"Oh really?" A pang of jealousy hits him hard, gazing up to find you still dancing excitedly, the cute, tiny dress going up and down tauntingly. "What makes you think so?"

An answer wasn't necessary as a loud squeal brought the men's attention to the centre of the room, you jumping happily to the track that had just begun.

Since it was a seventies night party, all it had been playing was some old tunes you apparently love, Thor presumed. This one, however, he knew you liked quite a lot because very often he'd find you dancing to it.

"Steve!" Your voice got Thor's eyes sewed to you. "Come on, dance with me. You know this one!"

"I'm not sure, Sweetkins." The nickname makes a smile creep up in your lips, a thunder cracking in the clear sky as soon as you do so. You have learnt to ignore when that happens, every minimum disturbance on Thor's emotions can cause such things. "I can't really dance."

"Oh shut it, Stevie."

The "Love is Strange" lyrics are still playing in the background when you engulf Steve into your arms, guiding his hands dangerously low on your hips, then resting yours on his shoulders. You had on the highest heels in your wardrobe, possibly why you were able to dance nicely with him, your bodies grinding together to the sexy tune.

It was mean of you to tease him like that, to bring out the jealousy from the depths of your thunder god. In your defence, you had told him countless times Steve was just a friend you liked hanging out with, that he was nice and sweet. Plus he had his eyes on somebody else, which was exactly why you were dancing with him like that. You wanted to urge jealousy from her so she’d finally speak up about her feelings towards Steve.

“Thor is going to kill me.” He mumbles into your ear, your body being thrown back lightly only to be jerked back up. “Have you seen the way he’s looking at us?”

“Shhh.” You giggle, placing two fingers against his lips. “Only you know, Steve, plus I told him nothing is going between us. He trusts me.”

“I don’t think he trusts me, though.”

Hiding your face on the crook of his neck, you laugh again, another thunder roaring outside. You remark yourself to have a really serious conversation with him about that. The song was nearly over when you were startled by the sound of a door being slammed, so strongly you feared it'd go off of the hinges. A sigh escaped as you unwrapped your arms from your friend, whispering that you'd take care of that situation.

As you made your way into the balcony, your mind swirled around the fact if your friends suspected of your involvement with the mighty Thor, they were now sure something was going on. Not that you were embarrassed by him or anything. God, no. You wanted to rub him on each person who ever diminished you and made you feel hard to love.

Thor loved you easily, that's why you wanted to keep him as your little secret.

"Thor…" Carefully placing your hand on his middle back, you feel him tense up. "Why'd you leave like that?"

"Why do you care?"

"Oi!" It comes off louder than you expected it to be. "Don't treat me like that, mister."

"Fine. Then tell me something." Thor suddenly turns to you, eyes in a dark shade of blue, filled with resentment. "You work so hard to keep us a secret, you say that it could be dangerous for both of us, but I don't see you holding back with the Captain."

"Because everybody knows he's just my friend." A low grunt rumbles on his chest, you inch closer to him. "Are you jealous, my love?"

Dropping his shoulders in defeat, Thor gives his back to you, gazing up at the dark sky, greyish clouds gathering together once he does so. It looks like it's going to rain soon. You realise that this little stunt of yours got to him more than it should have. You hate that you made him feel insecure about your relationship, it was never really the point.

If Thor wants a dance, he’ll get a dance.

"Come here, lover boy." You mumble, mimicking the song you were dancing with Steve just a few minutes ago. He doesn't answer, he doesn't even flinch. "Oh, lover boy…"

There’s a slight change of weight between his long legs, although he’s still not looking at you. Smacking your lips, you move closer to him again, wounding your arms around his waist, your hands dipping under the loose t-shirt he was wearing, crawling up to his chest, brushing the sizzling skin. Only then you notice him relax a little, his guard still very much up.

“Baby...” Tracing up to the toned muscles on his back with your nose, you take in his inebriating smell,  clinging to the feeling of him shuddering under the palms of your hands. “My sweet baby…”

In a swift movement, so fast you can’t even tell what’s happening, Thor has you pressed against the wall, the chill temperature and the fact he’s so close to you makes it hard to breathe. Your breasts bump into his abdomen lightly, arms wrapping around his neck while he lifts you up by holding the back of your thighs, hands so large gripping the tender flesh.

A quiet moan leaves your lips, fuelling him to move his hips against yours even further.

“You’re the one.” You finish. “The only one for me, my love.”

“I cannot stay mad at you, can I, my queen?” Thor’s voice is raspy, so deep that if your core could scream, it would be doing so at full lung capacity. “Do want to leave his party?”

“I have the feeling that if we don’t, you’re just going to take me right here.” A chuckle trembles on the crook of your neck, the prickling of his beard lighting a fire within you. “And I’m really not in the mood to put up with Tony’s witty remarks about my sex life.”

“So you are no longer concerned about them knowing about us?” It shoots off mixed sensations, a wave of guilt washing over you again.

“No. I don’t care anymore.” You answer softly, cupping his cheeks. “I love you. You have no idea how much.”

“So do I, Sól mín.”

The sound of his voice when speaking in his first language send chills down your spine, so you hug him like you’re afraid to let him go or move away from you. Every moment with him is like that, an abrasive will to forever be by his side, to eat him whole and be eaten by him. It was crazy how much she needed him.

“What does that mean?”

“My sun.” He says, helping you down so you can finally leave. “That’s what you are to me.”

“The sun is actually a pretty small star.”

“Hmm, you are a pretty small star too, my queen.” Thor mocks, patting the top of your head. “But I love you nonetheless.”

“Come, otherwise we will have to put up with Tony’s jokes because I most certainly will rip your clothes off and make love to you right here.”

He laughs, guiding you out through the people and towards the exit of the building. The eyes of all of your friends never leave the two of you, but, at that moment, you’re happy and nothing else matters.

tags!

marvel: @frenfics

thor: @lancsnerd @odinson-barnes

[susspirria]

Perfect Wife - Chapter One

Fandom: Outlast Whistleblower

Pairing: Eddie Gluskin/Waylon Park (Weddie / Eddway)

Tags/Warnings: Kidnapping,Captivity,Bondage,Restraints,Dom/sub,Stockholm Syndrome,Forced Orgasm,Forced Relationship,Forced Feminization,Forced Eye Contact,Face Slapping,Misogyny,Derogatory Language,Rape/Non-con Elements,Non-Consensual Drug Use,Non-Consensual Touching,Non-Consensual Kissing,Oral Sex,Anal Sex,Anal Fingering,Anal Plug,Fisting,Spanking, Unreliable Narrator (Its Eddie)

Summary: When Waylon Park walks into Gluskin's Tailoring, Eddie Gluskin finds the perfect new bride. His darling is beautiful. She's slim and tall, soft spoken and polite. He was desperate to have her and make her his.

'Til Death Due Them Part.

Read here on Ao3 or below the cut!

Eddie Gluskin let out an impatient sigh as he looked upon the wedding dress that he had been attempting to stitch together for the past few weeks. It wasn’t coming out the way that he wanted it too, no matter what he did. The stitching kept puckering. The lace kept bunching up. The tulle looked unkempt and cheap. It drove him mad when things didn’t work out the way that they were supposed to. It felt to him like the fabric, silk and lace were being difficult and obstinate with him just to cause him pain and suffering. His eyes flashed towards the design that he had for it.

The design had come to him in a dream – it would be floor length, the skirt made of tulle and silk. The chest would be modest and sweet, with just a small dip to leave something to the imagination. The sleeves would be off of the shoulder. And last but not least, it would have embroidered roses in a pink champagne color would dot the entire length of the chest and the sleeves. Once it was finished, he was sure that it would look perfect, on his bride. When he found his bride, he would sweep her off her feet and walk her down the aisle. She would wear this dress and she would look beautiful in it.

But first, he would have to make it right. Then Eddie heard the bell ringing out, breaking him out from his thoughts. A ting-ting-ting that rang out clearly in the back room of his shop. Eddie sighed and put away the fabric and scissors. The dress could wait, he supposed, he had all the time in the world to make it perfect. “Hello?” He heard a soft, tentative voice call out. “Are you guys open?”

Eddie walked out, expecting to see a mother or a husband. Maybe one of his regulars had come in for a fitting or wanted something taken in or let out. But instead of any of that, standing in the middle of his shop was someone he had never seen before.

He couldn’t help but marvel at her. She was beautiful. She was tall and slim, with soft looking freckled skin. She wasn’t very curvy, her hips were slim and she had no breasts to speak of, but that didn’t detract from her beauty a bit. Her hair was a lovely strawberry blonde. Though, he thought it was a little too short but hair grew back, he reminded himself.

And they would have all the time in the world, for him to see it grow out to a lovely and feminine length – none of these choppy, uneven layers, no sir. It was unfit for a woman to be so unkempt. He tutted at her briefly before he greeted her hello.

“Hi.” She replied with an awkward wave of her hand. Eddie walked towards her, noting small tells of her discomfort. He told himself that it was because she was just shy. Poor thing. He moved close to her and offered her his hand out to her. She took it, after a moment of deliberation and shook his hand.

“Would you please tell me your name?” Eddie spoke softly, politely so as not to startle her. The weaker sex tended to shock easily, their hearts were so weak and their minds so fragile. One should be gentle with them when they needed it, and quick with discipline when they needed it. “I’m Eddie. Eddie Gluskin.” He added, as a quick offer of explanation on his behalf.

“Er, Waylon.” She replied, speaking in such a nervous tone. Eddie wanted nothing more than to hold her and tell her that everything would be okay. That he would be there to take care of her and love her in ways that she hadn’t been loved before.

Eddie grinned at her quick obedience. “Waylon, Waylon, Waylon…” He repeated a few times, enjoying the way that her name felt on the tip of his tongue. “That’s a lovely name.” He complimented in a genuine manner. “Waylon.” He said, one more time, just for good measure.

She let out a small scoff, “Um, thanks I guess?” Waylon replied in a tone that sounded a little confused, and he couldn’t help but smile at her with sympathy. She must not be used to being complimented so honestly, poor thing. Eddie would have to rectify that in the future, though he did quite like her shyness. It came off as sweet and demure, just how a woman as lovely as she was should be.

“Would you like to tell me what you’re looking for, Darling?” Eddie continued on, in that gentle tone of voice. He kept himself patient and calm for the time being, but he didn’t know how long he could keep it up.

Waylon pulled a confused expression. “Darling?” She muttered to herself and shook her head minutely. Eddie ignored that, pointedly. “Oh um, alright, well…” She replied, like she was so flustered that she had forgotten what she even came into his shop for. That was when Eddie knew that she must have felt it too. They were meant to be. She was meant to belong to him. “Yeah, I just needed something for a job interview. Something erm, professional and not too formal.” Waylon scratched the back of her neck and looked around the shop. “I don’t really- do you have anything like that?” She asked, tone hopeful.

Eddie nodded at her, “Yes, I think I can find you something.” He replied, “Just sit tight, Waylon… I’ll be back with something lovely for you to wear to that…” His lip curled a bit in distaste at the thought of her toiling away at some nine to five. “Interview.”

Waylon blinked a few times. “Lovely?” She muttered to herself, as if that was a strange thing to say. Eddie didn’t see why she would think like that, so he disregarded it with the rationalization that women were strange sometimes. Flirty, flighty creatures with no sense in their heads. It was best not to put too much weight in their fancies, he reminded himself. After a second the questioning air in her tone disappeared, proving to him that he was right, that she was just a flighty little thing.

“Okay.” She hummed back to him, unconsciously moving to get comfortable as she waited for him to get everything ready for her. “I’ve got some time, so I guess I can wait for a bit.” She added, speaking in a hesitant sort of way. He disregarded this as well. Of course she would wait. That’s what he told her to do, wasn’t it? And she was a good girl, he could see that. She would wait.

Nevertheless, he wasn’t gone from the shop for very long. They were fated to be together, he could see this, but one must not tempt fate. The walk back to his quarters was a short one, just up a flight of stairs and down a small hallway. It had been a long time, too long in his opinion, since he had last fallen in love, and he hadn’t needed his supplies in a while. But still, they were right here in his closet in a small box next to his shoes, waiting for him to come back to them like a long lost lover or, even better, an old friend. The thought of that made him feel incredibly warm and content inside.

Woman came and went, good girls could turn into filthy sluts with a bat of his eye – but this length of rope, these thick leather gloves, this bottle of chloroform and this rag would always be there to care for him. No matter what. They would always be there for him. He sighed and decided to get to work.

He dabbed a bit of chloroform onto the length of cotton. It would be useful to get her calm and ready for the reception. When he walked back into the main shop, his darling wasn’t paying attention to anything, her head was stuck in the clouds. She was sitting on the chair where he’d left her, with headphones in her ears, listening to music or some kind of podcast.

He walked behind her. She didn’t notice him moving closer to her and he smiled with pleasure at that. He couldn’t help but think about what a sweet, naive little thing she was. She needed a good man to protect her and take care of her. Eddie would be that man for her, he would keep her safe throughout the rest of their days.

Waylon didn’t notice him walking up to her until he had forced her to her feet and pressed the cloth tight to her face. She struggled a little bit, squirmed and lashed her arms and legs out at him, but there was no use. In a matter of moments, she was slumped over in his arms.

Eddie pet down at her hair, “It’s alright, my love…” He purred to her, before hoisting her up over his shoulder with ease. She was light as a sack of potatoes to him and she didn’t squirm a bit. That was good, he’d need to prepare her for the wedding and he didn’t need her acting out or getting uppity with him. “You won’t need to worry about a thing ever again, I’ll take care of you from now on… forever”

The first thing that Eddie decided to do with his darling, once he had her safe in his arms, was take her for a bath. She had let herself go a bit, there was scruffy hair all over her legs and arms – there was even a bit of scruff on her chin and jaw! That was just shameful. She needed to be shaved and moisturized as soon as possible. He stripped her out of her clothes, with little care or practice to it.

The rags that she was wearing would have to be done away with, he wouldn’t stand to see his woman looking so badly cared for. His heart clenched with sympathy, he was sure that she must have been abused at home. He shook his head at the thought. Well, no matter, she would make sure to take care of herself from here on out. He would help her grow and blossom into a beautiful young woman.

He sat her down a comfortable chair as he prepared a bath for her. It didn’t take him long to get it ready and soon he was lowering her into the warm water and pampering her with soaps and shaving creams and his gentle touch. At some point, in the middle of washing her body, Waylon began to stir. She made a few moaning sounds, whining soft and tight in her throat. Eddie just shushed her gently, petting at her hair in a soothing manner. “It’s okay, Darling.” He cooed, “I’m here to take care of you, don’t worry about a thing. Just relax. Just relax…” He added, speaking as gentle and calmly as one would with a very small child on the verge of a tantrum. She slurred a little bit, but ultimately she quieted down.

This happened more than once. He would start washing her hair and she would stir, then he’d have to start shushing her and soothing her that everything was okay again. She nearly became entirely awake and cognizant when he shaved her, thank god she didn’t.

By the time that he was done, she looked like a whole new woman. Her hair looked fluffy and soft, though it was till far too short for his tastes. Her skin was smooth and she was hairless from the chin down. And she smelled delightful! Like roses, honey and lilac. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent before he finally pulled her out of the bathtub.

He patted her body down with a soft, fluffy towel until she was dry and then he pulled a delicate slip, made of satin in a soft pink color, onto her. When it was on, it barely went down to her mid-thigh. The sight of it was almost provocative. Eddie couldn’t help but think that she was doing this to him on purpose. What a naughty little minx, he thought as he picked her up and carried her into the small room that she would be living in until he was sure that he had made a good, honest woman out of her.

There wasn’t much to speak of in the room, just a small bed with chains attached to the head board and foot board, but that was kind of the point. Eddie had no problem with being kind, generous and magnanimous towards his little wife – but she would have to earn it first. Until she had proven herself as the good wife that he knew she would be, she would have to go without pretty things and luxury.

A woman needed both kindness and gentility, as well as a firm hand willing to punish whenever they needed it. Even a sweet, fragile and perfect girl like his Darling needed to be kept in her place, or she would start acting unruly and spoiled. The last thing that he wanted was for her to become some selfish, rotten whore – he didn’t want her to start acting like the rest of them.

Eddie chained each of her wrists to the headboard, and then each of her ankles. She was chained in such a way that she would be forced to lay on her back, with her arms above her head and her legs straight. She wouldn’t always be tied up like this, but he knew that she would be surprised when she woke up – chaining her up was for her own good.

Once he fastened all of her chains, all that was left to do was admire his work. Admire her. Eddie smiled, his fingers sliding down the silk smooth line of her cheek and her jaw. She looked so beautiful, especially restrained like this. His hands wandered down her shoulders and over her chest, smoothing and squeezing adoringly at her hips and thighs.

It took a lot of mental and spiritual energy to stop himself from unchaining her and having at her right then and there. No, they needed to have the wedding first. It wouldn’t be fair of him, not to make an honest woman out of her first. She wasn’t like the rest of those whores, she was a good woman. She deserved to be his wife.

Eddie covered her up with a small, thin blanket – so that she wouldn’t be too cool down here. He dared to kiss her one more time, just a slight peck to her temple – it was a nearly familial gesture, tender and soft. Then he got up and walked back down the stairs to his shop. He would be back in a few hours, he knew that his darling would be bound to wake sooner or later. And then they could have the wedding underway. She would look so beautiful in her dress. They would be so beautiful together.

The next time that Waylon woke up, he was laying on a small bed that he immediately assumed was his – because, really, who elses bed would it be? He wasn’t exactly the type to run off and sleep with strangers. His back ached and his neck was incredibly stiff. When he tried to move, get up off the bed and stretch his limbs out, he realized that he couldn’t move his legs or his arms. Waylon tried not to panic. He took a deep breath, though it was much more shaky than he would have liked it to be and then tried to look around the space that he was in. Then Waylon heard singing, from a masculine voice that was so loud and bombastic that it carried from outside the room. “When I was a boy, my mother often said to me… get married, boy and see…how happy you will be! I have looked all over, but no girlie can I find… who seems to be just like the girl I have in mind…” With every word that he spoke, the singing got louder and louder, until Waylon could swear he was right outside the room.

Then the door burst open and a large, broad and well kept looking man walked through the threshold. Waylon’s chains began to clatter and clank as he squirmed, trying to run even with the restraints as tight and oppressive as they were. His captor didn’t notice his discomfort and fear, thankfully. He just smiled down at Waylon in a way that came across as both predatory and gentle at the same time. “Ah… Darling, you’re finally awake.” The man said, speaking in a pleased tone of voice.

“You’re the guy from the…” Waylon trailed off as he started to remember everything. It took a few moments for Waylon to put everything together. He immediately started to panic, terror seizing up his all of his faculties and pushing him into overdrive. Gluskin’s Tailor shop. The tailor who kept smiling at him and flirting, even though it was clear that Waylon was not interested. Waylon couldn’t stop himself from babbling in his anxiousness, “The tailor shop. Oh my god, you kidnapped me you sick fuck-” He was forced to stop speaking when Eddie slapped him hard across the face.

He cried out in pain, but didn’t say another word. He felt fear, deep in his bones. Whatever this situation was, that he had landed himself in, he needed to be careful and watch himself. “Ah, tut-tut.” Eddie snapped at him, putting a finger to his lips. “Watch your language, my dear Waylon. A woman that is as beautiful as you are shouldn’t say such filthy words.” His tone teetered between gentle and mocking, loving and condescending. “It’s vulgar.” He added, lip curled in distaste.

“Woman?” Waylon parroted back with confusion heavy in his tone. He wasn’t a woman, that was obvious, nor was he a particularly feminine man. He supposed that he was a bit thin and a little shorter than he should have been, but that didn’t make him a woman. Just the thought of it was ridiculous. Still, he didn’t say anything more than just that one word.

He had no idea what was specifically wrong with this mad man that had kidnapped him, or what would set him off and he didn’t want to put himself in a situation that was even more vulnerable than the one that he was already in. Instead of panicking, like his instincts kept on raging at him to, he took a deep breath and tried to collect himself. He needed to play this cool. Play it cool. “Right,” He said, trying not to sound as bitter and frightened as he felt. He wasn’t that successful at it. “So, w-what am I doing here then, Eddie?” He asked, making his tone as gentle and coquettish as he could.

“You don’t remember?” Eddie pressed. Waylon shook his head minutely, but didn’t say a word as fear started to paralyze him. “You don’t remember my proposal? The wedding that we’ve been planning for months? Oh, darling, I’m hurt!” He grabbed Waylons hands and squeezed them momentarily before he started to explain the situation. Eddie believed them to be fated together, they would be wed because he thought that Waylon was the perfect girl for him.

“Oh.” This was worse than he thought. What was this man going to do, once they married? Mutilate him? Abuse him? Molest him? The odds weren’t in his favor, no matter what the case was. “Could you unchain me?” He asked, his tone nearly child-like with hopefulness that his captor would fall for the saccharine sweet way that he spoke to him. “I want to marry you as soon as possible. You should… you should make an honest woman out of me.” He added hopefully.

Eddie smiled at that, pleased as punch that Waylon was being so acquiescent to his whims. Once he was unlocked and free, Waylon took his chance at escape immediately. He kicked at Eddie’s shins, momentarily winding the larger man – who had not expected Waylon to do much but smile and sit there, looking pretty while Eddie prepped him for their, “union”.

Then he ran as quickly as possible out of the small room. He sprinted down a hallway, trying to burst through door after door – half of which were locked. He had no idea where he was going, he was running blind around the space that he was in. “Darling!” He heard Eddie scream in warning, “Get back here right now! You’ll only make things worse for yourself!” And maybe that was true, but Waylon wouldn’t let himself care.

Waylon screamed in panic and ran for the door. His only thought was that he had to get out of here as soon as possible. He didn’t get very far before Eddie caught up with him. Eddie grabbed Waylon by the waist, pulling him back from the threshold. He threw Waylon over his shoulder with a frightening ease. It occurred to him now, just how large his captor was. He could snap him in two – like he was nothing.

Eddie carried him back into the room, fuming with rage. He shut the door and dropped Waylon, who couldn’t move he was so scared. The next thing that he knew, he was being picked up and lain down on his stomach over Eddie’s knees. He had no idea why, until he felt Eddie striking his ass with his bare hand. Waylon screwed his eyes shut, tears bursting out of him from the humiliation and pain of being spanked over his captor’s knee like a child. Eddie’s hands were large and rough and he hit Waylon hard. “I’ve.” Slap! “Tried” Slap! “To be…” Slap! Slap! “Gentle.” Slap! “With you, Darling.” Eddie sneered down at him. “But, no…” Slap! Slap! “You just had to be-” Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! “Difficult!”

Waylon took the punishment passively, just waiting for it to be over. He tried his best to ignore how his heart seized up, beating so rapidly and so harshly that it was like it was a hummingbird trapped in his rib cage. When Eddie stopped spanking him he, foolishly, thought that that meant the punishment waso over. It wasn’t. The next thing that Waylon knew, he was being dropped down on the ground again. The impact hurt a bit, but nothing more than what he had already endured. Nevertheless, he let out a whine and curled up in on himself, trying to protect himself from even more damage.

It was done in vain. “I thought that you were a good girl-” He seethed with disgust for his ‘Darling’. She needed to be punished more, he decided, he needed to do something that would make sure that she understood how things could work here, if she wasn’t well behaved. “But you’re not.”

Waylon thrashed and cried out from the pain of being thrown down onto the floor. He crawled away, pathetically. “I am! I’m a good girl! I am, I promise!” He pleaded, not caring about how ridiculous he sounded or how humiliating and debasing it felt to acquiesce to each and every one of this psychopaths delusions about him. He just wanted to not be hurt anymore.

It didn’t go the way that he had hoped it would. He was disappointed and terrified, but not completely surprised. “No, no, no!” Eddie screamed, “You aren’t.” His tone turned cruel and venomous, “I know what you are…” He said cruelly, “You are a whore. You’re no better than the rest of them.” He spit the words out like they were acid on his tongue, “I know how to deal with shameful sluts such as you, my dear Waylon.” Every word that he spoke got angrier and angrier, until it was like he was hissing at Waylon – spitting venom in his face. It was terrifying.

Waylon started to back up in terror. He knew where this was going to go, though he hated it. “No, no please.” He begged, his voice barely louder than an impertinent squeak. “Please don’t do this! I know there must be good in you, somewhere! You don’t have to do this. Please… please…” Then he started to cry, ugly heaving sobs that broke up his voice and tore at his throat.

Any other man, any other person, would have felt sympathy for him. Any other man would have stopped what he was doing, but not Eddie. He didn’t care for Waylon’s tears. He didn’t care for the way he kept trying to get out of his punishment. He didn’t care. Period. Waylon had no idea that what he was doing was only making things worse for himself. How could he know?

Eddie looked at him with distaste and disgust as he forced Waylon down onto his hands and knees, lifting the slip up until it was halfway up his back, “This is for your own good, darling. I want to be kind to you! It’s all I want!” His voice lowered down from the scream to a hiss, so low in volume that Waylon had to strain to hear what he was saying. “But if you insist on acting like a worthless whore, then fine! I’ll treat you like one.”

Waylon didn’t bother with begging or screaming anymore. Maybe it was because he was already feeling hopeless, maybe it was because he was just tired out, maybe it was because he was too scared to act out anymore, he didn’t really know which one it was. No matter what it was, he lay there passively as Eddie pushed down in between his shoulder blades, forcing his face down in the carpet and his ass high in the air. Distantly, he thought that he probably looked like a mare built for fucking right then.

Waylon squeezed his eyes shut as Eddie’s fingers groped at his cheeks. Pulling, squeezing and prodding at the supple flesh in a way that could be barely counted a pleasurable. There was no doubt in Waylon’s mind that he would be left with bruising all over his flank and carpet burn over his knees by the time that Eddie was done with him.

The next thing he felt was a blunt intrusion – fingers, two of them he hoped. Waylon took a breath, forced himself to relax as Eddie briskly stretched him open. He was thankful, secretly, that he bothered with at least a little bit of prep before he took him. Eddie didn’t waste anymore time than he needed to, he just stretched him enough – barely – so he didn’t tear.

Then he felt something larger, nudging against his hole. Eddie didn’t bother pushing into him slowly, all his patience had run thin by this point. Waylon dug his fingers into the carpet as he was pulled flush against Eddie, while the larger man fucked him like he was an animal. His mouth opened up, trying for a scream, but nothing came out. His throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls.

He closed his eyes and let himself be lulled into something nearing peacefulness as he focused on the thump thump thump of his head rutting against the carpet over and over again with each thrust. Then with little warning to it, Eddie pulled out of him abruptly and flipped him over, forcing him to kneel in front of the larger and more intimidating man. Waylon cried out as his jaw was forced open and Eddie jammed his cock halfway down his throat.

Eddie was a large man, he was tall and imposing. Waylon supposed that it made sense that his dick was just as formidable as the rest of him. His mouth was full with Eddie. It burned his throat. His jaw ached and tensed, nearly spasming from sheer the girth of it. He could barely breath through his nose, the effort he concentrated to breathe through his nose made his nostrils burn. Eddie’s rough fingers buried in his hair, controlling the positioning of his head and forcing Waylon to take him in even deeper.

Waylon tried to keep up with the motions, but it wasn’t long until drool was dripping down his chin and his eyes were rolling in the back of his head. He kept fucking his throat like that for a while, and it wasn’t until Waylon was weak and dizzy – until his vision was spotting and he was on the verge of unconsciousness – that Eddie pulled off of him.

By that point, the feeling of being able to breathe deeply was almost foreign to him. His breath came out in short, puffy gasps. He hoped that it was over, all he wanted was for it to be over. He felt sick and uneasy. Eddie grabbed him by the hair again and positioned his cock right in front of Waylon’s face as he came. By the time that he was finally let go and there was no more tugging pressure on his scalp, he was out of tears – he had no more voice to cry out and scream. He was just blank and passive to whatever abuses that his captor might decide to inflict on him after this.

Eddie just smiled at him, his expression damn near passive. The change in his mood was so sudden that it nearly gave Waylon whiplash. “Have you learned your lesson now, darling?” He asked, leaning in close. His tone was saccharine sweet. It made Waylon feel a little sick, but he was learning how things worked with his captor.

Waylon turned to Eddie and smiled at his captor, through his tears, “Yes, I learned my lesson.” He said, trying to be as submissive as possible. Eddie didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t strike Waylon or start screaming at him – so that had to be a good sign. Or, at least, it couldn’t be a bad one.

“I’m happy to hear that, Darling, I hate to see you cry.” Eddie said, not sounding like he was very broken up about hurting him. He pulled Waylon into his arms and started to absentmindedly pet his hair and caress his naked body. “And you’re sorry?” Eddie pressed on, further. For a moment Waylon just looked at him.

He nearly asked what he had to be sorry for, but he knew better than to act on that impulse. “…Yes, I-” Waylon sighed, swallowed down a bit of the bile that threatened to spill out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I’ll…” He couldn’t look the man in the eye as he spoke, he hoped that that didn’t warrant him anymore punishment. Eddie grabbed his jaw and forced it upwards, forcing Waylon to look Eddie in the eye as he spoke. He didn’t say a word, not an order or an insult, but Waylon got the message. He forced himself to keep looking at his captor. “I’m s-so sorry, Eddie, I’ll do better. I promise.”

I’ll do anything, everything that you want! Just… please stop hurting me.

Eddie looked at Waylon, pleased as punch. “I’m happy to hear that.” He crooned, “You’re a sweet girl, Waylon. Did you know that?” He didn’t wait for Waylon’s response, “I don’t want to have to punish you, don’t make me.” He added, his tone suddenly icy in warning. “Now be a good girl and tell me that you love me.”

Waylon’s expression screwed up at that. “What?” Was all he managed to say, before Eddie’s grip was on his throat, tightening around his neck until he could barely breath. “I love you!” He managed to say, before he lost his voice. It took nearly all of his mental strength not to start cursing at the man.

Eddie smiled again, his mood gentle and loving again. He stroked Waylon’s cheek, a cruel facsimile of what a lover would do, “I love you too, Darling. I love you more than anything in this world.” Then he kissed Waylon, just a soft, barely noticeable brush of their lips.

Waylon didn’t respond to the affection, just took it passively – eyes wide open and lips slightly parted, his affect was not unlike a dead fish and he was just as cold. Eddie didn’t mind though, he had gotten more than enough reaction out of Waylon that day. “I suppose you’re more than due for some rest. Women tire out so easily, it’s a wonder they can manage the heavy burdens that they carry.” Waylon had no idea what he meant by ‘heavy burdens’ but he thought it best not to ask. “Tomorrow, I’ll make an honest woman out of you.” He promised. “You’ll look so beautiful, when I finally walk you down the aisle. I’ve got a dress all made out for you… not the one I wanted, but it would be unfair to delay the reception. I suppose that we all make do. don’t we?” He chuckled and shook his head, like he was not speaking to Waylon at all, “Yes, we all make do…”

Eddie finally let him be then, humiliated and in pain. Waylon crumbled into a heap on the floor, the dress that he was in ruined and with sweat and cum all over his face face and chest. He held his face in his hands as his sobs racked his chest. Once he started crying, he couldn’t get himself to stop, it was like a dam had broken behind his eyes, letting free all the tears that he had been holding in in the short time since this nightmare had began. And he had a sickening feeling, deep in his gut that made his stomach feel heavy and pained, that the nightmare was just beginning for him.

[until-theend-oftheline]

Ignite

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: Explosion(s), Poor Sam   

Square Filled: Trapped in a burning building (marvel fandom) for @badthingshappenbingo and Clothes Sharing for @star-spangled-bingo

Word Count: 1500ish

A/N: This is written for @imhereforbucky cap2 writing challenge. I am so sorry I am late!

Betaed by: @blacktithe7 thank you, sweetie!

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Being Captain America was hard work. It came with a cool costume sure, but Sam was more than aware of the shoes he had to fill. Steve was not only his best friend but also a man he had grown up admiring. He had never once thought he would be carrying the shield and mantel of Captain America himself. 

The title and legacy he was carrying on were stressful enough in of its own, but that wasn’t the only weight Sam had to carry. He was also in charge of turning the remaining Avengers into a team. A lot of people were lost; Tony, Nat, and Vision. Steve, even though he still had a hard time keeping completely away from the facility and probably still could beat down most of the regular soldiers with one hand tight behind his back, was retired. Strange had gone off to some other reality for God knows what reason. Thor had taken off with the Guardians. Bruce, even if capable of fighting, had grown tired of it and mainly remained in Tony’s old labs helping develop new tech as best as he could. Carol had other planets to protect. T'challa, Okoye, and Shuri had a country to lead, and Clint was focusing on his family and training a new girl on his own. 

Sam had been left in charge of the New York compound with Bucky as his second in command. Bucky was a soldier and a great asset to the team, but he wasn’t used to following orders, and on the best day as reckless as Steve had ever been. 

Scott Lang had fought for the Avengers before, but he was excitable. Honestly, his sizing up and down still freaked Sam out a bit. He was never sure when he was gonna nearly fly face-first in an all of a sudden 3 stories tall teammate.

Wanda was as impressive as always, and Sam was grateful for the number of training accidents her powers had been able to keep in check. Then there was you. Another enhanced. New to the team and the world of Avenging, truthfully also kinda new to your powers which were most often the cause of the training accidents, when it wasn’t Scott knocking over half the building sizing something back into its normal size ahead of time. 

You were fire. In more ways than one. You were energetic and eager to learn. You were a great asset to the team, and Sam wouldn’t want you anywhere else. He enjoyed your company more than he cared to admit to himself, especially with Bucky smirking at him every time Sam was training you or spending time alone with you in the company. 

“I’m just trying to help her feel at home,” Sam protested, only for Bucky to roll his eyes at him. 

“Whatever you say, man,” Bucky smirked, tapping the shield on Sam’s back lightly. “Just be careful that thing is not turning you into being as dense as Steve used to be.”

The quiet night sky all of a sudden light up in orange, and Sam was knocked out of his thoughts as the blast and heatwave from the explosion sent him sideways midair. He quickly regained his bearings and took off towards the warehouse where he knew his team had been training while he had been off surveilling a possible HYDRA base. His solo mission had turned out to be a bust but not as bad as his teams training exercise apparently had been.

“Barnes!” Sam called over his comms as he approached the burning building. 

“We’re alive!” Bucky’s voice scattered over the comms, and the Captain breathed a sigh of relief before cursing under his breath. 

“We’re trapped though. Wanda is keeping back the flames,” Bucky explained before continuing. “Y/N had a minor accident.”  

“Accident? You told me to do it,” you snapped back at Bucky in an instant, and Sam sighed heavily as he circled the burning building from above, trying to find a way in or out. 

“I didn’t tell you to blow up the armory! I told you to gently get the door open,”  Bucky grumbled, and Sam couldn’t help but smile as you hissed at his friend again. 

“Gently? When have you ever done anything gently or asked me too? You’re a bull in a China shop Buck!”

“Excuse me, but who set off the explosion, doll,” Bucky’s voice was more teasing than angry, but that didn’t prevent Wanda from releasing an exasperated sigh. 

“Sam!” Wanda’s voice sounded strained, “I can’t hold this forever. Do you have a plan?”

The sound of Wanda’s voice wiped the smile off of Sam’s face as he hadn’t yet found a way out of the building. The fire surrounded his team, and the only way was to push the fire out. 

“Wanda, can you push it out?” Sam asked, looking around the facility already knowing her answer. 

“Yes. But I don’t know where I am throwing it. I could burn the entire compound down,” Wanda warned him just as Sam spotted what he was looking for. 

“Don’t worry about that. Just pushed it out when I tell you, and Tic Tac?” Sam called over the comms.

“Yes. Wait, why am I always responding to you calling me that?” Scott groaned, making Sam smile a little again. 

“Get out here. I need your shrinking thing,” Sam ordered, paying no attention to the grumbles from Scott as he shrank down and headed out of the building towards Sam. 

“What’s the plan?” Scott asked as he returned to his normal size right next to Sam, who had just landed. Sam made a small jump in surprise, much to Scott’s amusement, causing the Captain to shoot him a glare before pointing towards the water truck. 

“Remember Germany? That one is actually water,” Sam explained and Scott grinned, instantly understanding. 

“On it,” he answered, sprinting across the tarmac, only to returned with the now toy seized truck and handing it to Sam. “How’s your arm, Cap?”

“You’re about to find out,” Sam answered before calling out to Wanda. “On the count of three, push the fire out the roof.” Sam grabbed the shrinking device from Scott who made a sound of protest but before he could say anything Sam had taken off hovering directly above the warehouse he started counting ignoring Scott yelling at him. 

“Sam! Have you lost your mind?! She’s gonna hit you!”

“3,” Sam dropped the device and within a millisecond he tossed the truck through it, “2” he spun around grabbing his guns, shooting the back end of the tuck just as it collided with the roof, making the water pour out over the building like a sprinkler system, “1. Wanda NOW!” Sam ordered, and without a second’s hesitation she obeyed his command, and the fire was completely swallowed by the water, leaving his three teammates looking like drowned mice below. 

“That was your only plan huh, Bird?” Bucky grumbled, pushing his hair back and out of his face as Sam landed next to him with a grin. 

“What? You’d prefer to have been roasted instead, Tinman?” Sam teased, and Wanda shook her head, taking off, airlifting you with her out of the building, leaving Sam to give the sulking super soldier a lift. 

“Are you all okay?” Sam asked looking around before his eyes landed on you. You instantly looked down to your feet, mumbling. 

“I didn’t think it would explode.”

“Hey, it’s okay. That’s why we train,” Sam assured you, pulling his jacket from the truck he had parked near the warehouse earlier in the day. He wrapped it around your shoulders and smiled when you looked up at him with a surprised look in your eyes. 

“It’s just a lesson in never doing as Bucky says again,” Sam sassed, and you felt your face heat up as Bucky pointed out the obvious.

“Whatever you say, Cap. Where are our dry clothes, or are they just for your girl?” Bucky grinned as Sam shot him a glare, and Wanda giggled as she began pushing Scott and Bucky backward towards the compound. 

“Let’s give them a minute. And we need to dry off too,” she ordered Bucky and tapped Scott over the hand as he reached for his belt, no doubt hoping to linger around to spy for a bit. 

Sam mouthed a thank you to Wanda before turning back to face you, now smiling softly up at him. 

“Why do we need a moment alone Sam?” you asked, and Sam’s smile widened as he looked to your lips and back into your eyes. 

“Cause I have been putting something off for way too long now,” he replied, leaning down slowly, giving you time to step back if this wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t, instead, you wrapped your arms around Sam’s neck, standing on your toes helping him close the gap before your lips met in your first kiss of the rest of your lives. 

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[oh-theatre]

Sycamore High: Shatter (Chapter 11)

A/N: I am so sorry about what you are about to read, please forgive me AND PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!! Also, I love Henry he's my precious

summary: Henry has an unexpected morning, and Ted falls victim to an awful scene cause in the cafeteria

words: 2,648

warnings: FORCED COMING OUT, crying, negative thoughts, sickness, homophobia, suicidal thought 

Ao3 link

In Henry's defense, he wasn't a Musical Theatre teacher. Yes, ok, he doubled majored in Theatre and Science but that does not mean he had any intention of teaching it. He enjoyed the steady pace of biology, the thrill of surgery or even just talking about. He can't remember a single day where he doesn't boast to his students about his surgeon years, going over and studying with the class his multiple operations. The thrill he got knowing that every student that walked into class that day would leave utterly in love with him. He liked the attention, what can he say? But something he liked, even more, was his husband. And god, would that be the death of him.

“Henry..” A soft voice pleaded from the main bedroom, Henry sighed and turned away from the vanity where he was getting ready for the day. He peeked his head out of the connecting bathroom. He was met with loving eyes the sweet face of his husband. He bit the inside of his mouth, damnit here come the puppy eyes, He thought. The figure rolled in bed bothered, Henry studied him for a moment, His usually pristine face was red and puffy, his eyes were a never-ending source of watery tears. His voice was higher and stuffier than usual. The figure was weak, this set off alarm bells. Henry's husband was many things but he wasn't weak. He took years of dance, and gymnastics, his body was...well strong. Henry felt his cheeks flush a lovely shade of crimson thinking about this. He cleared his throat and finished examining his sad husband.

“You're sick, aren't you?” He questioned.

“Always the doctor aren't you Henry?” His husband teased, Henry remained unimpressed. He knew exactly where this illness came from and he had previously warned against.

“There is one basic rule all theatre people know” Henry explained, his husband sat up weakly. He faced Henry, eyes growing wide with fake interest. “You don't share water bottles Chad” Henry said simply, Chad groaned happily. “You of all people should know this, now look at you”

“I know” Chad whined “But I was parched and had already used up my own hydration-” He paused giving his husband an adoring look “You would share your water with me wouldn't you?” Chad cooed. Henry let out a boisterous laugh before staring his husband dead in the eye.

“Over my dead body” He retorted returning to his vanity, continuing his routine. He heard Chad let out a small amused moan before plopping back against the pillow. Henry finished and made his way into the main bedroom. He carefully slipped his brown blazer over his turtleneck and went over to his husband's side of the bed. He kneeled next to the bed and began stroking Chads forehead lovingly. Chad lets out a small noise of pleasure and Henry can't help but smile. I love this idiot, don't I?

“I presume in this condition you won't be able to make it to work?” He said finally still caressing his husbands face. Chad thought for a moment, no doubt examining his condition.

“I'll be fine” Chad says weakly, he sits up immediately becoming paler. Henry adjusts himself and sits next to him on the bed. “I have one class today, I'll go to the morning one and return after” Chad compromised, as much as he knew he would regret this Henry simply couldn't let Chad leave home today.

“I will take your morning class-” Before his husband could argue he continued “I don't have a morning class, I will take your lesson plans and you will stay here, watch a lot of bad tv and get better, understood?” Chad furrowed his brows, Henry sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, I can't believe you're making me pull this card “Doctors orders” Henry added, he wasn't asking anymore. Chad let out a loud groan before falling back against the comfortable mattress.

“I hate you, you know that right?” He said Henry smiled un-convinced. He planted a soft kiss upon Chad's warm forehead before getting up again.

“You love me, and you know it” He said slipping out of the room, not allowing Chad a chance at a response. Henry gathered his things for class, and Chads before preparing some breakfast and Tea for his sick husband. Once delivered, with the thank you of many sick kisses, Henry grabbed a nutrition bar and made his way to school. He hadn't expected the nervous feeling in his stomach to arise as he pulled into his parking space at school. He fumbled for his things watching children laugh and sulk in the early morning. He took a deep breath, you're a teacher, this is what you do every day. After reassuring himself he made his way into the teacher's lounge, setting his things into his designated locker. And went over Chad's lesson plan, what could go wrong?

~~~

“Everything! Everything could go wrong!” Ted hollered once the children had been dismissed into their theatre groups. Bill quickly shushed him as other students eyed him cautiously. Murmuring quietly before deciding it wasn't worth their time. Ted mumbled a quiet apology and continued “Literally everything could go wrong” He said in a more hushed tone towards his two friends. Paul, still in a very drowsy state, simply rolled his eyes.

“You think too much” He said, suddenly erupting into a fit of giggles “Or maybe you don't think enough, or maybe no one can think-” His eyes grew wide with excitement “What if, this entire thing is a simulation and all of our thoughts are pre-determined and nothing we think or do is of our own control” he finished flashing an insane smile towards Ted. Bill let out an annoyed groan, with a hint of panic.

“Wh...what the hell is wrong with you?” Ted asked looking at his friend, who sounded like they just escaped Gotham Asylum. “What did he drink” Ted quietly whispered to Bill who waved him off.

“He got a very little amount of sleep last night, and the previous night” Bill explained turning his attention to his script. Ted nodded with sudden realization.

“Looks like Stage 3 Paul is joining us today huh?” Ted teased, Paul did nothing but smile and nod eagerly. Stage 3 Paul was Ted's favorite. Stage 1 was annoyingly grumpy and mean, Stage 2 was overly emotional and much too worrisome, Stage 4 was weirdly smart, and did nothing but correct people but Stage 3? Oh, Stage 3 was an amazing blissfully unaware gift sent from the heavens. Stage 3 Paul was the best Paul. Ted let his worries about Tommy and his father slip away, as he dutifully ignored his current assignment and turned all his focus on having fun with Stage 3 Paul. Today couldn't get any better, Ted thought.

But it could get worse, so much worse

~~~~

“It was not that bad!” Charlotte exclaimed delightfully as she unwrapped a pastry from her mother's bakery and took a mouth-watering bite out of it. The group murmured sounds of agreement and disagreement. “He was sweet! So he was a little nervous, can you blame him? A biology teacher teaching Musical Theatre-”

“Talk about out of your element” Emma chimed in, Charlotte nodded giggling. Emma smiled at her friend before unwrapping her own lunch, 2 pieces of bread, a bag of chips, homebrewed coffee, and honey and as always a handwritten note from her mother.

Have a wonderful day Honey! I hope your bread and honey will bee satisfactory. Also, enjoy the coffee, hopefully, it gives you the buzz you need to get going.

Love you forever and always

Mama

Emma groaned at the forced honey puns but couldn't help but smile at the sweet note. It has always been like this, ever since she was little. Her mom insisted on making her kids lunch, and every day since her first day of kindergarten there was a hand-written note filled with love, puns and more. Emma never dared complain about it, she feared it would stop if she did and honestly? She loved it, she always had. Her sister… She shook her head stuffing the note back into the lunch box and removing her lunch and setting it up. She smiled gratefully knowing no matter what, she would always have her mom… and lunch.

Ted, on the other hand, sat next to Bill empty-handed. This isn't unusual, he rarely had time to make lunch, not that there was any food at home. He was also flat broke so buying wasn't an option, all he could do was sit watching the others eat and trying not to drool over their food. He tried to distract himself by joining the conversation but… other things occupied his mind. He rolled his eyes as the girls playfully teased Paul for all he was worth. Ted had grown bored of Stage 3 Paul, having milked him for everything he could think of. Bill was sitting reading and pleasantly enjoying his food, so not an option. He huffed annoyed and examined the cafeteria, he found himself looking for a certain wide-eyed, glasses-wearing boy. He felt his heart flutter at the sight of Tommy sitting at a table not far from his own. He was sitting alone which sent a pang of guilt down Ted's chest. He was hunched over, reading a book much like Bill. Ted couldn't help but grin at the pleasant comparisons.

One more reason to love him

Like him!

Help me…

He shook his head and looked further, Tommy sat sipping his trademark hot chocolate and munching on a tasty treat. Ted gave his table one more look and decided to make his way over to Tommy finding his company much more exciting. He danced through the crowded room and slid himself into the bench across from Tommy, he cleared his throat to which Tommy’s head shot straight up. At the sight of Ted, Tommy had plastered a giant smile across his face. He bookmarked his page and turned his full attention to the taller boy.

“Heya Ted!” He looked around “What brings you to my corner of the cafeteria” Tommy inquired, Ted marveled at his voice. The sound of constant excitement rushing through him, the eagerness to listen, never faltering loving look he showed. Oh, I have got it bad, Ted thought. He quickly realized he had been gazing and adjusted his position.

“Nothing much just wanted to…” Ted paused, why was he here? He mentally cursed himself for approaching with no plan. Luckily something caught the pair's attention and god how Ted had wished it had not.

“Attention everyone!” A loud voice boomed across the cafeteria. Ted spun around on the bench quickly, he found himself staring at Billy. Billy was standing on the middle cafeteria table and held a speaker in his hand. He was surrounded by his goons who were murmuring excitedly and snickering.”I have a very important announcement to make-” He declared pausing, right cause anything you say is important, Ted thought. “About Ted Porker”

Ted felt his face fall and his stomach knot. Me? Oh god… why me? What could he- Ted felt his entire face go red. The hallways this morning, the conversation, Tommy. He turned to his bespeckled friend who shared the same face of fear that Ted did, except his was riddled with concern. Tommy quickly placed a comforting hand on Ted's arm, who gasped and pulled away. He wanted to stay, he wanted Tommy to comfort him.

HELP

PLEASE

His eyes pleaded but his actions were closed off, he turned back to Billy who shot him a disgusting smirk. Ted felt ill, he couldn't look at him. Frantically, he looked around the cafeteria, eyes were moving between him and Billy. He couldn't hear the confused murmurs of the groups around him. Finally, his eyes landed on his table, his four friends staring back at him. Charlotte's face was riddled with concern and fear, Ted tried to make out what she was mouthing to him but his eyesight dulled. Emma's face was scrunched with anger, not at Ted, at Billy. She shot him apologetic eyes before glaring at Billy. Next to her was Paul, oh Paul. Paul had clearly gained enough consciousness to understand the situation. He was standing now, balled fists slammed on the table sharing the same angry look that Emma had. Ted might have been across the room but he could feel the fury directed at Billy. And then there was Bill, Bill’s eyes were filled with concern but his face stayed calm. After a moment of silent communication between Ted and Bill, his small friend stood and made his way over to Ted. Ignoring all the looks and conversations, he sat next to his taller friend.

“Are you ok?” He whispered softly into Ted's ear, Ted pulled himself away from his gaze of the table and turned to Bill. He ignored the fact that Billy was still talking, and people were still paying attention.

“Whats… what's he saying?” Was all Ted could manage, his mind was silent. But so was everything else, he hated it.

“Ted…” Bill said softly, Ted pleaded once more “He’s… he's describing an encounter with you this morning” That was it, that was all Ted needed to hear. He shut his eyes tight to stop the hot tears from flooding. He balled his fists, he could feel Bill wrap him in a supportive hug. And then… it happened.

“Ted Porker likes boys” The room went silent, not just Teds mind everyone. Everyone froze in shock, Ted felt Bill hug him harder.

Pressure

Breathe

What would your father think?

Pressure

Failure, that's what you are

Breathe

But he couldn't, he couldn't breathe. He heard the room erupt into confusion and excited talking. Seriously? Ted thought Vultures, the lot of them. He pulled away from Bill, failing to stop the tears, he choked back a sob and stood embarrassed, mortified, ashamed. Bill stood next to him, soon joined by Tommy on his other side.

“NO!” He shouted Ted gasped, clasping a hand over his mouth. He frantically spits out apologies before backing away covered in tears and feeling hotter than ever he ran. He ran out of the cafeteria, ignoring Bill and Tommys concerned shouting after him, ignoring Paul who tried to grab him, ignoring the commanding voice of the principal telling everyone lunch was over and to get to their next class. He ran, he didn't know where he was going but it wasn't here. He wasn't staying here.

THUD

Ted shivered as he felt himself hit the floor. He swallowed so scared looking up to realize he had collided with another person. He quickly shot up, terror-filled him, what was he going to do? What was wrong with him? Why was he like this? Panic flooded his thoughts, everything he had tried to keep at bay EVERYTHING was now washing over him and he collapsed in front of the unknown person too scared to look them in the eyes. He collapsed feeling alone, useless, and feeling like he wanted to end it all. So he collapsed sobbing as two warm arms wrapped around him, rubbing comforting circles on his back.

~~~

Henry caught the boy just in time before he seriously hurt himself, immediately engulfed the terrified child into a warm embrace and rubbed his back ever so carefully. Everything about him was soft and caring but his eyes? Oh, Henry's eyes were burning with fiery rage, he knew he couldn't but he really wanted to punch that kid.

‘You can't punch a kid’ Chad would say

He shook his head, he would deal with that cretin later. Right now, he looked down at shivering boy, who had nestled his head into Henry's neck, right now this boy needs me.