#depressed peter but like it’s normal in a way and everyone’s concerned but also this is a weekly occurrence

[spidergrotto]

peter post breakdown wearing oversized pajamas dark bags under his eyes hair ALMOST matted wandering around the tower (everyone’s shocked because they didn’t know he was even?? here??) grabbing literally everything in the kitchen before hiding in his room again.

he’s watching movies mindlessly eating really sour grapes, chocolate toast, chips, and yogurt. thor is the only person who has the ability to drag him out of his cave and get him excited to do ANYTHING.

“wanna go work in the lab? or i’ve got tickets..”

“i’m good mr.stark, thanks.”

“MAN OF SPIDERS, LETS GO GET SOME ICE CREAM AND—-”

“OF COURSE GIVE ME FIVE MINUTES”

[novemberthecatadmirer]

Thoughts about “The Wind in the Willows”(I HATE IT) as a Person with ADHD 

So I finished listening to the Audiobook of the Wind in the Willows

(And figured out a difficult illustration composition while listening to it, GOOD!)

AHHHHHHHH I have THOUGHTS

I love everything around the Mole and the Rat.

I hate, I HATE everything the narrative writes about Toad.

SERIOUSLY I AM FUCKING MAD

As a person growing up with ADHD I hate the way Toad was written, I HATE IT SO MUCH

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Having quick, intense obsession over one thing following another, having SO MANY hobbies then getting bored and dropping them one by one

Your strong obsessions hurt you, hurt your health and hurt your life and hurt your reputation

You mean well, you try so hard, you want to have everything IN CONTROL because you have so little control over your crazy obsessions

AND PEOPLE SAY YOU ARE IMPATIENT AND WANT YOU TO BE NORMAL AND RESPECTABLE LIKE EVERYONE ELSE

And you know there is something wrong with you, but you do not know what is exactly wrong, you just know there is something wrong with you because why it is so hard for you to just be like everyone else

And you believed, you believed these well-meaning people older than you, who know better and love you and are concerned about you, that you are impatient and ungrateful and you just need to try harder to be GOOD and NORMAL

You want to believe them because then that means there is nothing wrong with you you just need to try HARDER

But you do not really believe them. Because you tried and you are trying and you have been trying all your damned life and IT JUST DID NOT WORK and you are exhausted and you do not want to try anymore

Because no matter how HARD you try you cannot be “good and normal”, you just cannot. These people are supposed to love you, and you love them, and they looked at you and see someone impatient and not trying enough. FOREVER.

They want to fix you and then they can love you but you know you cannot be fixed so they will never love you the real way they just love the potential fixed version of you but that fixed version of you is an illusion and no one will love you the way you currently are

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In my teenage and early 20s that nearly drove me mad. I got into crippling depression and anxiety. It still drives me mad, the condescendence from a parent figure that just want you to be fixed and be normal and blame you for not trying hard enough.

I did not actually yote myself over some metaphorical cliff. Mostly thanks to school counsellors, extremely supportive friends, and accidentally stumbling into a reddit post about ADHD (I never knew the term before, growing up in a social environment extremely blind to mental illness). However it was a kind of close call, before I realized oh it is really not something wrong with me, it is just something different.

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Then I searched the author Kenneth Grahame and I was like WHAT

He based Mr. Toad on his SON

Alastair Grahame. Who was born disabled. An only child. Committed suicide 5 days before reaching 20 in 1920

His demise was recorded as an accidental death out of respect for his father. - Wikipedia, Kenneth Grahame

LIKE WHAT. WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK

According to Cardiff University Professor Emeritus Peter Hunt, Grahame shared a house in London with a set designer, W. Graham Robertson, while Grahame's wife and son lived in Berkshire. - Wikipedia, Kenneth Grahame

So yeah.

I think he was figuring out things about himself. But he was also a distant father. He had his own troubles to figure out. But I think he sucked at being a father.

The way he wrote Mr. Toad. The way he wrote Toad’s obsession as something BAD and PATHETIC and FUNNY.

The way he initially created the whole story to entertain his son. Created something with LOVE. Tried to connect with this son he just could not understand with metaphorical stories. 

But the metaphors were BAD. The story is biased and condescending and the story JUDGES.

He tried to teach his son maturity and respectability by creating a character and mocking the character.

His son, Alastair Grahame, who was a child with disability and was sent away to boarding school, tried so hard to have his father love him. His son called and called for helps in letters and letters. But this respectable author turned away because he saw troubles in his son and he could not understand and he probably had his own bucket of troubles to deal with and it was all too overwhelming. So he turned away. 

And he escaped into his stories where everything can be FIXED and Toad would learn his lessons and be A GOOD TOAD.

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I cannot stop thinking about it.

There is something extremely, extremely cruel and UGLY with the kind of fact that your father does not understand you and he mocked (unintentionally) you in his story. Then his story got popular and everyone loves his story and LAUGHS at the character that basically (unintentionally) mocks at something in you that you cannot fix.

I don’t know. I think that is the kind of thing that can drive someone over some edge.

(And the fact that Alastair Grahame’s suicide was treated as a shame. Brushed over as an accident.)

(Okay maybe I am being emotional because I got personal experience. There was this elementary teacher who wrote me in a self-promo article as some crazy troubled child that learned to be normal because of her loving help. She got the promotion and left to teach at another school probably with higher salary. And 9-year-old me got bullied by classmates because she gifted each and every parents of kids in my class that damned book contained her article. They went back home and told their children to stay away from the crazy kid. That damned experience fucked me up extremely hard. It literally took me YEARS to realize I do not have to be extremely careful with everything I do to not be viewed as a lunatic. Also my first experience with “sometimes the bad guy wins.”)

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I respect Kenneth Grahame the way I respect dead artist. His story is wonderful and nice. I really, really love the Mole and the Rat.

It just hurts a little to read Mr. Toad. And hurts a lot after learning that the Toad was an unintentional mockery based over the author’s own child with disability and likely depression who was emotionally neglected and abused by the author (probably unintentionally but abuse is abuse.)

And the book was written in this time period that the idea of Mental Illness and Disorder and Neurodiversity was NOT A THING. Like Damn it in early 20th century people barely understood psychology and had ALL THE RIDICULOUS IDEAS. Therapy? Go to talk someone in the church. Ask help from the God out there.

It is also extremely clear that Kenneth Grahame had his own struggles that he did not understand and needed help himself. Like, he probably needed so, so many therapies. How do you blame a parent who was far from mentally well themselves for not being able to meet their children’s mental needs? They are parent but they are also just another fallible human being. Yet emotional abuse is still abuse it still happened even when no one wanted it to happen.

To me it is just another “LOVE is good and powerful but LOVE does not fix your problems and LOVE itself is not enough and never enough.” Nah we need respect and listening and trust. Like trusting someone’s experience and struggle to be real even when we are not able to experience the world the same way they experience the world.

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I think it is really good that people know about ADHD now. (Still not enough) (Still not enough in my country) (My relatives still deny it despite apparently having it themselves) And there are medicines and methods to deal with it or make it easier. Even without medicines and helpful methods, merely recognizing it itself is a great help. For me it HELPS to know that this is not something wrong in me.

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The thing is, I don’t think it’s entirely miserable to have ADHD. (I don’t like to picture it as superpower though, it is just being different like being left-handed.) It is miserable because the society is designed for people without ADHD, or rather, the society demands efficient workers for labor, and ADHD is against that type of cold efficiency. So someone will look at you and see you as a misfit malfunctioning gear of a larger machine. And your parents fear for you because they worry you will have no space in this larger machine and be tossed out into trash. But the gear feels and the gear is not a gear and it should never be about some larger machine.

Some people say the ADHD obsession is bad. I agree to some extent. The obsession sessions is occasionally bad especially when I was not able to recognize that I was deep down in the pit of some weird obsession. But I could learn about it and recognize it and work with it. I cannot say that same obsession does not allow me to fully invest in things and bring me intense joy. The obsession comes and goes but the experience and the joy is real and I learned so much because the obsession makes me research everything madly.

(Also as illustrator I never run out of ideas despite having trouble finishing drawings. That’s like the two sides of it, the good part and the bad part.)

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Yeah this whole damned writing happened because my ADHD brain yelled at me “Yeah go write about your rant over some children’s story from early 20th century in public domain at midnight before writing that ridiculous witch story that may actually bring you job”

No remorse

[felixthefish]

after replaying aaf for the thousand time, ive finally decided to write this down cause on god this game makes me rethink everything everytime i replay it. i really wish we could have something similar to higurashis or uminekos 'answer arcs' or just answers to some crucial questions that we still don't have an answer to. and im talking about questions which are actually important to helping us discover the full picture. the cutscene we see at the end which reveals which characters are which just isn't enough, i mean everyone can put two and two together and find out which souls inhabit which character because of the clues we get within the gameplay. i mean we're literally getting introduced to a whole new set of characters in chapter 2 without even knowing the base info about our main cast.

honestly there are so many to the point i dont know where to start, like first of all what were the relationships between the characters like before they got inhabited by the eastwood souls. did they also act the same way they do now with andy before and if they did what is the reason for that? and now that they have been inhabited by the souls will they still act the same with each other? or would it impact their relationships? and most importantly how would it impact their mental health? and since we're on the topic of mental health, how is andy doing now after everything he's seen (peter, the entity, the glitches, louis's body etc,,). what about the eastwoods? after everything that's happened they must be traumatized and even depressed, especially louis since he's been in the game the longest. also in the halloween special melody accidentally calls margaret 'mom'. does that imply that isabella is directly controlling melody? and if so is isabella aware of the other souls inhabiting the characters. or did melody and margaret have a mother-daughter relationship before they got inhabited? and IF the eastwoods are directly controlling the characters, why don't they just talk with each other like they normally would? after all there's no need for any of them to keep up the video game character facade if the others know who is truly inhabiting the character. and my most important question

what was peter's role in the story BEFORE he got controlled by the entity? would his role be similar to a father figure to the main cast? considering he looks older than them (appearance wise he looks older for example the eyebags he has + his voice is way deeper). also what is his relationship with andy as of now considering everything he's done to him? alright i want to cut this short so here are last few question, is everyone else aware of the glitches or can only andy see them? if they can see them why don't they react to them? are they the ones causing them or is the entity causing them? and if the entity IS the one causing them, why aren't they concerned about them?

wow this is long,,, hope you enjoyed me rambling.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

No, It's Definitely Funny

Prompt: Can I request a second part to "Let's Call It Funny" where Bucky, Sam, Steve, and Peter unite forces to confuse and concern all the other avengers (with at least one instance where two or all of them respond to something by pretending to jump off a building?) Love you! -Auggie

Does it count as being back on my bullshit if I never left?

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none, unless you need a warning for gen z humor

Pairings: it's still found family hours

Word Count: 2259

Peter’s gonna be honest, he may or may not have some competition for the funniest person in the Tower right now.

Because let’s look at the list here:

Traumatized? Everybody and their private jet’s worth of vintage and designer baggage needs therapy.

Queer? If you think Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, or Sam Wilson is straight, you need to tell them everything they’ve ever done to make you think they’re straight so they can stop doing it immediately.

Superhero? Yeah, okay, shush, now you’re being stupid.

Neurodivergent? Have you seen the way these men behave? Definitely the model of Perfectly Normal Person™, what on earth are you talking about, absolutely 100% Normal™.

The only things he’s still got going for him that the others don’t are high-schooler and trans. That’s not a lot when it comes to the fact that hey, two of them are from the Great Depression—let’s be honest, they’re the OGs when it comes to fatalistic humor—and they’ve all got years of practice.

Sure, Peter’s got some trauma-given raw talent, but it’s not refined by years and years of throwing yourself off of buildings and out of planes to avoid having conversations about your emotions.

The day Aunt Nat dropped all of SHIELD’s files on the Internet and Peter found out that Steve yeeted himself out of a plane—without a parachute!—to avoid Nat’s prodding about getting a date was the best day of his fucking life.

“Don’t you go stealing my moves there, kid,” Steve had scolded playfully, winking over the rim of his mug.

“Try and stop me, I dare you.”

“And this is why,” Tony had sighed, looking every bit his 79 years—“Hey!”—as he watches this interaction go down, “you have a parachute built into your suit.”

“I’ll just wear my old one, don’t worry about it.”

“That heinous thing that’s just a cut-up old hoodie and goggles? Peter, no, that thing is being held together with safety pins and hope!”

“I mean, me too, so it’s fine.”

“Peter!”

“Also, like, it’s the one I almost got crushed to death in, so it’s got the emotional trauma seasoning already.”

“Wait—“ Bucky had sat up— “you almost got crushed to death by a building? Sheesh, kid, you’re really flirting with the reaper, huh.”

“It wasn’t so bad, I had training from the years and years of carrying the weight of my sins crawling on my back.”

“At least ask Death for his number next time, he’s not returning my calls.”

“Sergeant, I swear to God—“

“Actually, Death uses they/them pronouns, I asked when I met them last weekend.”

“What the fuck did you do last weekend?”

“Really? Oh cool, well, can you get their number for me? We had a date back in ’45 that they missed.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.”

“Tony, why are you screaming? Not keeping dates is a very serious matter.”

“Trust me, I speak from experience, Tony, it’s not a good habit to get into.”

“You should respect your elders and not scream while we’re talking to you, mister.”

“All of you shut the fuck up.”

See? On one hand, it’s great to have more partners in this venture of making Tony’s hair turn grey—he’s that age, it’s bound to happen any time soon now— “One more crack about my age, kid, I swear.” — but on the other hand, Peter is seriously losing his massive lead on funniest person in the Tower.

The other thing he’s worried about is Sam’s ability to make it so the others can’t actually worry about him.

Because—listen, Sam Wilson is a fucking national treasure and all you fuckers better acknowledge that. It’s no secret that the Captains take turns going out with the shield, all of them answer to ‘Captain America’ because that’s what they are, but no one—and Peter will never say this under threat of death because he does not need any more of the Steve Rogers’ Puppy Dog Eyes™, thank you very much—no one does it better than Sam.

And that means that Sam fucking Wilson can turn a fatalistic, self-deprecating joke into a motivational speech that doesn’t feel disingenuous or cliché at all and everyone is too busy processing the philosophical revelations they’re having to scold him for his, frankly, outstanding sense of humor.

It’s not fair and Peter can’t do it.

He tried. Once.

Didn’t go very well.

No, he’s not gonna talk about it, let’s just move on.

Sam has offered to catch him a couple of times when he gets himself a little too deep into the Mamma Spider™ or Iron Dad™ trap of feeeelings, and he gratefully scoots out of the way when Sam sits down next to him and just makes another joke.

Sam is also a fantastic role model for the brand of ‘I’m going to the store and only have twenty bucks, stop asking for your will to live back’ jokes.

“Hey, Pete!”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go, bodega run.”

“Can we pick up some hopes and dreams, too, all of those got scribbled out in fat red Sharpie yesterday.”

“I said bodega run, not Court of Miracles run.”

“But Sam~”

“Listen, kid, if you manage to find your hopes and dreams in this bodega, keep an eye out for your childhood innocence, that might be on the next shelf over.”

“Deal.”

“Do you two need some more therapy appointments?”

“Only got fifteen bucks, man.”

“I’m literally a billionaire!”

Peter eagerly studies under this pinnacle of humor and keeps his worries to himself.

Because if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and Peter’s sense of humor is wonderful, but he is a tad intimidated by the amount of variety the others have got going for them.

“You’re a fucking terror, Spider-ling, that’s what you are.”

“Not true! I was ‘a pleasure to have in class.’”

“Oh, is that why you’re taking ‘Little Shit’ lessons from Barnes and Rogers?”

“And Sam! Don’t forget Captain Wilson, he is an invaluable part of this team. I’m surprised at your ignorance.”

“Pete—no, that’s not—“

“I’m ashamed for you, Mr. Stark.”

“Listen here you little shit—“

Anyway…

Steve and Bucky have a habit of telling these like, really awful jokes that have Peter in stitches for half an hour. It’s not fair and he doesn’t get why they’re so funny because they aren’t, and yet here he is, laughing anyway.

It’s probably some combination of Steve’s perfected innocent face that he wears when he has to do interviews and Bucky’s habit of not giving a single solitary fuck. But they’re able to make the worst jokes with completely serious expressions and it’s not fair.

“Hey, can you guys come help me with something?”

“Sure, Peter,” Steve says instantly, bounding over with his 95-year-old Golden Retriever energy as Bucky trails behind him like a cat that’s sitting in your lap because he wants to, not because he likes you or anything, “what’s up?”

“I have a history project on WWII due tomorrow and I haven’t started it yet.”

Bucky snorts, taking a swig of coffee and sitting down on the floor. Which, same. “You got your eulogy planned?”

“Drafted, sighed, notarized, but Aunt May said no so I gotta do this.”

“Well, if Aunt May says no then I guess that’s that.”

Tony, from far away in another part of the Tower, has a sickening feeling that May Parker has once again proven that she is the most powerful parent and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“I, um,” Peter mumbles, fidgeting with his pen, “I want to be respectful of your boundaries, and if you don’t want to talk about anything then—“

Because it’s one thing for someone to make jokes about their trauma and another for someone else to go poking and prodding at it.

“Hey,” Steve interrupts softly, nudging him with his knee, “first off, thank you for saying that and we appreciate your respect, but we got you. You worry about enough, sweetheart, let us take care of ourselves.”

Peter gives him a look.

“When it comes to this,” Steve amends, having the decency to look a little sheepish, “we’ll take care of ourselves.”

Bucky scoffs. “Uh-huh.”

“We will, Buck.”

“My therapist will be real happy to hear that.” He looks up at Peter and winks. “Besides, what good is our trauma if we don’t pin it up and display it for good grades?”

Peter huffs, the joke undercut a little by the way Bucky knocks his foot against Peter’s and Steve’s arm stretches over the couch behind him.

Peter has to resist the urge to lean his head onto Steve’s shoulder, because then Steve’s hand will come up and ruffle his hair and Peter’s eyes will droop slowly closed as he loses himself in the warmth and safety of Steve’s embrace and then Steve will lean down to press a kiss to his temple and—

Right. Homework.

“What’s it on specifically,” Bucky asks, clearly spotting the temptation on Peter’s end, “home front? Overseas? Time period?”

“Uh, it’s an analysis of total war.”

“Like, how much of the country was devoted to the war effort?”

“Yeah, basically. It’s talking about how the Nazi War Machine made their war total and how that extends to a lot of other countries, but also about the reasons why the war was fought—“

They delve into a conversation about total war, Peter pointing out how Italy’s motivation for territory keeps it from being a total war on their part, Bucky speaking to how the different dynamics worked in various countries and the fallout, Steve bringing up how much of the home front was devoted to bringing attention to the war being fought overseas. Then, of course, as is inevitable, they devolve into storytelling.

Peter’s notebook—with notes! He did his job!—is set aside as he gives in to the need to let Steve cuddle him on the couch. Come on, the man is warm and big and gives good hugs, how is he supposed to not? Bucky sprawls out on the floor, leaning back on his hands as he smiles fondly.

“You know,” he remarks casually, “I fought a Nazi in my pajamas once.”

Peter blinks sleepily. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, though how he got in my pajamas, I have no idea.”

Peter snorts. Then he giggles. Then he’s collapsing into Steve’s side, positively sobbing with laughter.

It’s not funny.

It’s really not that funny.

But here he is, fucking dying, and he doesn’t even have the wherewithal to welcome the sweet embrace of oblivion.

“Okay, note to self,” Bucky murmurs when he’s calmed down a little, wiping away tears, “sleepy spider likes corny jokes.”

“Just don’t break our baby spider, Buck, Momma Spider would kill you in cold blood.”

“Listen, if Natasha Romanoff kills me, don’t prosecute. That’s on me.”

Peter can’t do corny jokes. He really can’t. He just sounds like he’s a recording so old it’s unintelligible and it’s bad. He has a reputation to maintain here!

However, there is one sense of humor that Peter is very eager to learn and adopt, and hey, it might actually be Iron Dad™ Approved!

It’s a rookie mistake, asking Bucky Barnes for a hand, but in his defense, Peter was left unsupervised and was distracted.

“Hey, Bucky, can you give me a hand?”

“Sure thing, Peter.”

Something nudges his arm and he looks down. It’s Bucky’s metal arm, bumping up against his elbow.

It’s a cheap joke. It’s bad. It does not deserve Peter’s laughter.

He snorts anyway.

“That’s on me,” he says after a second, “you know what, that’s my fault.”

“What, is this not what you meant?”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Peter scruffs a hand through his hair. He looks down at the prosthetic again. “Well, that’s disarming.”

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to snort. “You gotta hand it to me, though, it’s a good joke.”

Oh, it’s on.

“No, no, of course, I understand. You really can’t let an opportunity like that slip through your fingers.”

Steve chokes on his next sip of coffee. “Stop making the kid shoulder the burden of making puns with you.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Don’t palm this off on someone else, Steve, you’re as bad as he is.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.” Peter shrugs. “You just gotta knuckle-down and find the right one.”

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to reach for puns?” Bucky hefts his arm.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say a lot.”

“Jeez, Pete, good one.”

“What, are you not finding them humerus?”

Sam’s gone, Steve shortly after. Bucky just grins proudly at him.

Then there’s a massive thunk from behind them. Peter turns around to see Tony slamming his forehead into the counter.

“You are all going to kill me,” he mutters, glaring up at them, “all three of you.”

“Oh, come on, Mr. Stark, Captain Barnes would never hurt you.”

Tony raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“After all,” Peter grins, gesturing to Bucky who is doing a very good innocent face—he must’ve been taking notes from Steve— “look at him, he’s completely armless.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker—“

Okay, so maybe it’s not Iron Dad™ Approved.

Oh, well.

[heliads]

Of Sorcerers and Spiderwebs Chapter Four: Hopeless

Y/N L/N is a Master of the Mystic Arts, trained by Doctor Strange himself. When she first meets Peter Parker as they fight side by side against Thanos, she isn’t expecting for their brief partnership to blossom into a love that could last a lifetime.

previous / series masterlist / next

After realizing that you’re in love with Peter Parker, it feels even harder to drag yourself out of bed to head to school the next morning. Even the sight of him walking towards you from across the crowded hallways of Midtown hurts- you know that no matter how close the two of you become, he’ll never see you as anything more than a friend.

In fact, just the simple act of seeing him confirms that you truly love him. You’re not sure how you didn’t realize it before, but it’s glaringly obvious now. When the two of you are paired together for some partner activity in class, you’re able to laugh and smile with him as if you’ve known him your entire life. 

That’s the easiest thing about Peter- with him, you’re able to just live and be whoever you want to be. There aren’t any expectations with him- no rules or assumptions or anything. He doesn’t presume you to be anything more than yourself. You’re not sure anyone’s made you feel like that in a long time.

However, things aren’t exactly perfect. Now that you’re actually paying attention to how you feel about Peter, you’re also noticing how Peter feels about other people. Specifically, how he feels about one of his closest friends, MJ. Case in point: whatever’s going on with them during this exact lunch one sunny afternoon at Midtown.

Although technically there are four of you at the lunch table, Peter’s clearly centered around MJ and MJ alone. He’s sitting next to her, leaning over to face her in a way that shuts out everything else around him. They’re engaged in some deep conversation about the ethics of neuroscience, something that you happen to know a lot about thanks to Stephen and that you could easily debate along with them. However, you already tried to enter the conversation and were talked over more than a few times, so you’ve given that up.

You can’t exactly blame Peter for being wrapped up in MJ. She’s practically perfect for him- she supports him being Spider-Man, she knows enough about his favorite topics to have discussions like the one they’re having now, and they both have the perfect blend of shy and talkative that makes them equals. The only problem is that she’s not you.

The worst part is that Peter is clearly in love with her. Here’s the thing- nobody looks at a girl the way Peter is looking at MJ right now, with that stupid soft smile on his face as she talks and that unnameable expression his eyes, without being in love. You suppose that’s why it hurts you so much to see him. It shouldn’t, of course, Peter’s known MJ for far longer than he’s known you and you just arrived at Midtown a few months ago. Yet your heart still feels a painful twinge every time you glance their way.

“You good, Y/N?”

You’re broken out of your trance when Ned speaks to you. Blinking once to clear your head, you turn to him. “Yeah, I’m just, uh, considering my plans for the future. I’ve heard about this really cool opportunity within the different international Sanctums to go out in search of people who could potentially become Masters of the Mystic Arts to monitor them and offer aid if they need it.”

What you’re talking about isn’t a lie- you have heard about this program, and it’s been simmering away in the back of your mind for quite some time. You had assumed that you weren’t going to act on it, as your life was going very well over in New York, but for once you might be convinced to move away as a nomad for the sorcerers.

Ned looks impressed. “That does sound cool. So you’d basically get to vacation around the world in the name of the Sanctums?” You incline your head, confirming his words. “That’s the thing- it sounds amazing. The only thing is, I’d have to apply and I don’t know if they’ll let me in or not. And, even if they do let me in, I’m just wondering if I would be able to leave all of this behind. It feels like I just got here.”

Ned nods. “I mean, I don’t really know what to tell you. Wizards-I mean, sorcerers, kind of have a priority of coolness over everything else. I guess you just have to ask yourself what you’d be giving up by leaving, and if you think the pros of the trip would outweigh the cons.”

You look at him, somewhat surprised. “That’s actually really good advice. Thanks, Ned.” The boy smiles. “Hey, if I can’t be a superhero I can at least give out super-good talks.” The two of you dissolve in laughter, but your smile fades slightly when you realize Peter hasn’t even heard you at all. Would he care if you left?

The next day, you slump down into your seat at the lunch table with a glower that could rival the stormy weather outside. Ned raises his eyebrows at the sight of you. “Well, I didn’t think you could look even more depressed than yesterday, but I guess I was wrong. What, did Sorcerers Worldwide not let you into their program?”

You point a finger at him in agreement. “I showed up and asked if I could go through with their program. I showed them everything I could do, which is more than the average adult at the Sanctum. Even with that, they still won’t let me go. They kept saying something about how I should be finishing school before I go traipsing around the globe. That doesn’t even make sense- they pulled me out of my freshman and sophomore years so they could train me at Kamar-Taj, why is it not okay now?”

Across the table from you, Peter looks stunned. “Wait, what do you mean? You were going to leave Midtown for some errand of the sorcerers?” You nod, staring up at the ceiling bleakly. “It was going to be so cool, too. But no, I have to wait until I’m out of high school or college or whenever they run out of excuses.”

Peter leans forward, and you realize for the first time that he actually seems cross, almost hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you liked it here.” You can’t help but feel defensive at his questioning. “I did. Yesterday, at lunch. I talked about it right here. I guess you weren't paying attention. Besides, I do like Midtown, but are you telling me you’d rather go to high school than travel the world?”

Peter scoffs. “Yeah, it would be fun to leave for a vacation or a weekend trip. You just got here, do you really not care about all of us enough to leave it all behind for some jaunt around the world?” You raise your eyebrows. “Why are you so upset? I just said that I wouldn’t be going anyway. And besides, I do care about everyone here, which is why I talked about the possibility of me going on this trip yesterday to all of you. I suppose you just weren’t listening.”

Peter’s opening his mouth, presumably to deliver a no doubt intense remark, but Ned places his hands in between the two of you, interrupting him. “You know what, I think what Peter means is that we’d all be sad to see you go, Y/N. We’re sorry that you didn’t get into your program, but at least you still have us, right?”

You tilt your head towards Ned, pointedly ignoring Peter. “Thank you, Ned. I absolutely agree. Midtown is, and will always be, an amazing school with amazing people and I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.” You and Ned continue to have a conversation in the same forced calm voices, and eventually Peter joins in. MJ arrives later, and joins in the chatter as well, although she does raise her eyebrows at the tension clearly brewing between you and Peter.

When lunch ends, the four of you are heading back to your classroom when you suddenly stop moving. Your friends stop as well, looking back at you in confusion. “Everything alright, Y/N?” MJ asks, but you just shake your head fervently. “Everything is very much not alright. It’s like I can sense something strange in the school. I don’t know what it is, but it isn’t human and it isn’t going away.”

Your friends walk back up to you. “Can you tell us anything else about it?” Ned questions. You try and latch onto the sudden feeling, but you can’t sense anything else. “I think I’m going to have to use my astral form to check it out. Can you make sure nobody notices what I’m doing?” Your friends nod their assent, and huddle up around you to hide you from view. If anyone happens to walk by, they’ll just see a group of students clustered around a locker.

You fling your shoulders back, closing your eyes and opening them once more to find yourself in your astral form, glowing and weightless just like normal. As you head off down the hallway in search of whatever malevolent entity is creeping around the school, you glance once over your shoulder and can’t help but feel slightly better when you notice that Peter is the first one to reach out and catch you, despite everything that just happened.

Brushing away thoughts of Peter and the concern clearly written across his face at the thought of you heading into danger, you continue on down the hallways. You quickly check classrooms and halls of lockers, and you notice that the strange feeling of darkness is emanating from a room down a few flights of stairs. The basement. 

Of course it had to be the basement, the darkest, coldest, most formidable place in the whole school. Why couldn’t creepy things just hide in plain sight for once? Why the basement? You shudder briefly, then force yourself down through the floor until you’re standing just outside the basement door. You step forward, walking through the door, and suppress a silent scream when you see what’s inside.

When you suddenly jerk back to life in Peter’s arms, your friends look at you with startled eyes. “What is it? What did you see?” All you can do is clasp on to Peter, who’s still holding you tight. “Something is coming. Something bad.”

tag list: @dude-were-getting-the-band-back​ @xroselights​ @idiotic--punk​

[regrettablewritings]

Peter B. Parker Pre-Relationship Headcanons

A/N: Why? Because it’s my blog, I love Peter B. Parker, and not enough people are still writing for him.

How did they first meet?: Normally, people in apartments prefer to keep to themselves. New Yorkers are especially not an exception. But it’s a little hard to avoid meeting someone whose crying you can hear going on through the thin walls of your cheap apartment -- no matter how much you may want to. Maybe the delivery person was tired and misread the address, but they wound up delivering an extra-large pizza to your door instead of the one to the right of your place -- the one where at any given moment, you could be hearing crying, a phone alarm clock going off for way too long, or an animal documentary playing. Pettiness told you to just keep the pie for yourself as revenge for him being such a weirdass, whoever he was. But the decent person you really were reminded you that doing that wouldn’t really accomplish anything. Besides: If the dude is already crying so often, why make it even worse by stealing his pizza? Sighing heavily, you shuffled over to your mysteriously somber neighbor to try to do the right thing . . .

What was their first impression of each other?: To be perfectly frank, not good. Peter had made his first impression to you before you’d even met him -- and you thought he was a weirdass! That, or really depressed. Given the apartment building you both lived in, it could very easily have been both. But when he opened that door, revealing himself to be a very tired-looking 30-something, you knew it was probably more the latter. And even though it was technically your third impression of him, the sour expression he wore with the equally unpleasant curtness over how you weren’t the delivery kid left a bitter taste in your mouth. The aftertaste stuck with you, tainting your thoughts of him for weeks on after. So it really shocked you when he reappeared after going silent for about a week, having seemingly done a complete 180. No, not seemingly -- had! As it turned out, his time in Miles’ dimension had caused Peter to become more introspective. Both on his life, and how he wound up treating others in it. Including you. He felt pretty bad for how things had started off. In hindsight, he was coming from a pretty dark and arguably even selfish place. Heck, the first thoughts he had of you (annoying, a nuisance) weren’t even based in reality: Rather, they had been muddled by his own cynicism and depression. And he really did regret that it never transformed properly beyond that, even during the scattered few times you would see one another as you left or returned to your respective apartments. When he tried to start over, being kinder, his impression of you was someone who was guarded -- as you had every right to be. It would take some time and a lot more mellowing before he learned that you were more of a shy, concerned person at the heart of things.

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?: Peter honestly didn’t know how much he should let the others know about when it came to you. Was it really appropriate to use the cross-dimensional communication system to reveal that he not only was no longer involved with MJ on a romantic level, but also was potentially eyeing somebody new? No, but the disturbingly insightful Noir caught on and demanded that Peter come clean after using some detective mumbo-jumbo about how his pupil dilation indicated the presence of another woman in his life. Everyone to both Peter’s relief and embarrassment is supportive of this new chapter in his life, gently jabbing at how incredible it was for such an “old-timer” to put himself back out there. Even though the usage of “leap of faith” made his cheeks burn (how dare his own protégé once again use the phrase against him), part of Peter couldn’t help but wonder where such a leap might take him. Or if this was a leap he should even take. You, on the other hand, try to keep your budding attraction to your neighbor a secret from your loved ones. Yes, you’re a grown-ass woman, but that doesn’t make it any easier that you’re crushing a little higher than you normally do, age-wise. But eventually, the strain of bottling it up (coupled with your friends’ pestering) let to you coming clean. Of course, there were a lot of initial taunts on the matter but once that had calmed down, they were surprisingly supportive. “It’s New York,” they reasoned. “We’ve got some weirdo in a red suit swinging around and shooting webs -- you getting with your older neighbor is one of the most normal things that could ever happen in this city.” A fair point. But still, you had some concerns . . .

Who felt romantic feelings first?: You did, and the realization of it made you convinced you must have Daddy Issues floating around somewhere, though it was debatable to you if Peter could even qualify as a Daddy. You don’t even know where or when it started! (And frankly, you’re not sure if you want to because the chances that it happened when he was horking down on something is just too big a risk to take.) And even though you knew stranger things have happened, this was something you never would have guessed when you once humored the idea of meeting your “one true love” in New York City.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?: You both did, and both had a laundry list of excuses reasons as to why you did. Yours started with the age gap, continued with things such as being worried he saw you as immature, and didn’t so much end as it did thud to a conclusion at your inner conviction that his heart still belonged to his ex-wife. And Peter didn’t even know where to begin with his. Most would probably suggest the fact that he was Spider-Man, but he would beg to differ. Yeah, it was a big deal, but so was (at least to him) the idea of an age gap and coming across as a creepy old guy. And even beyond those was the fact that being a depressed 30-something living in a shoddy apartment with a newspaper job despite having a degree in physics. (So basically, he’s peak Millennial.) To him, it just wasn’t a good look. Besides, was it right of him to go after someone new? Was it fair to him or you? Or was that just intrusive thoughts doing the talking? Whatever it was, the poor fellow couldn’t help but feel he was at a bit beside himself. And at the end of it, the two of you were just overthinking things to the point of nearly exploding. 

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?: Do you know how many strange things random people walking around New York have told the both of you? You’ve learned not to invest a whole lot of thought into it. Not gonna lie, the idea would petrify Peter on so many levels that it’s not even funny. For one, he’d spent all this time convinced that MJ was his one true love. And now the universe is telling him that there isn’t a one singular true love!? Besides, what if he messes this one up? He talked a big game about a leap of faith, but that was with familiar territory: He knew MJ and how to approach her and be with her. But you? You’re something else. Not a bad something else, but . . . not quite one he knows exactly how to approach, especially this far into the game that is his life. To be perfectly honest, he might actually try to keep some distance and hope that you aren’t aware of how the two of you are connected. He doesn’t mean to hurt you, but he doesn’t mean to hurt you, if that makes sense. Peter knows his alter ego can cause a lot of pain and strife, and it was hard enough just going through that with MJ; he doesn’t want to drag another person into that, not if he isn’t sure if they’d be ready for it. But he will keep a close eye on you. Not only because you’re a citizen of the city he swore he would protect, but now he knows you’re meant to be particularly special to him. If he can’t love you up close, then the least he can do is at least make sure you stay safe. Maybe even fed, as he sometimes knocks on your door, claiming that he ordered too much food and would like to give you some. Perhaps he leaves a bag on your doorknob full of spices you may have wanted or coupons for things he thinks you might need, knowing that you’re probably scrimping and saving just as much as he is. Just little things to assure that you’re fine, seeing as he surely couldn’t do so as yours. . . . Right? See, the funny thing about soulmates is that while it comes down to the individuals what they can try to do about it, the bond between them will always been inevitable, given the right circumstances. So it was always inevitable that the distance would be worn away by the man who put them there. It was always inevitable that Peter would enjoy your company, and you his. What wasn’t inevitable was the fact that Peter would be standing in the middle of a bodega, reaching for a pack of candy he thought you might like, pause, and then silently curse himself. Whether he knew it or not, he took a leap of faith. And now he was in far too deep to get out.

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist 

Part 25 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 

A/N: So, if you haven’t noticed, I’m gonna do one every other day with this so I don’t get burned out again. Hope that’s constant enough for you! Sorry about my little hiatus but I should be good now! 

Warnings: Talk of murder, PTSD Flashbacks, the usual stuff.  

Also, Feedback is really appreciated :)

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner, @egg-boy03, @helena-way07, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @serendipity-imagines, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @thatsonezesty13 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of reality - Edgar Allen Poe 

Unfortunately for you, serial killers didn't know how to wait. So not two days after Spencer had finally been able to be home with you were they called on a case. Their first one without you since you were hired. 

It left you with a slight dull feeling in your heart as you sat curled up on the couch reading the same page over and over as you kept losing focus. Morgan had stayed, as Spencer had promised. But he was currently asleep in Spencer's bed. Something about it being softer than his own with Savannah. Whatever that meant. 

You grumbled and closed the book after your fifth attempt at distracting yourself from how lonely you felt. And how the nagging feeling of thinking you're being watched didn't go away, even with Morgan’s less than helpful presence.  

You sighed and put the book down on the coffee table and picked up the remote instead. You flipped through a few channels until you find the news channel was having a 'Breaking News' segment. When the title appeared on the screen you almost screamed. 

19 year old Arthur Grant goes missing from his family's estate, reward not yet posted. 

You widen your eyes, your hands beginning to shake. Why? Why you? Why must you be overloaded with so much grief and trauma? Did some bereavement mailman decide to ditch his route and dump all of the bad stuff on your doorstep? 

You didn't even have tears that came to be shed. You'd cried so much the past week that you had run the banks dry and squeezed more than at least 5 headaches out of you. And each of them having lasted at least 4-5 hours. Sometimes more. 

Instead of your normal first step of denial, or depression in the stages of grief you unfortunately knew too well, you found anger boiling up through your feet, making your toes curl and your fists clench. You were pissed. Everyone around you was suffering because of Peter's self-absorbed, narcissistic, and sociopathic God-Complex. And you were sick of it. 

You didn't care who heard, who came running to see if you were okay. You just couldn't hold back your frustration anymore: you screamed. 

You threw the remote against the couch, still having half the mind to keep from destroying it. It was still Spencer's property. You didn't exactly have the 20-40 bucks to give to replace it. So, precautionary aggression was the best course of action. 

Your hands found your hair and gripped tightly, letting out a frustrated and loud grumble. You could still see his cocky smirk, his evil eyes as they stared at you like you were nothing but a good fuck to him. You could hear his sickening laughter in your ear, and you could hear the rumble of the gravel underneath the tires of his stupid truck. You were almost there, same feelings, same feeling of paranoid, survival instinct came rushing into your decision making controls and overrided them.

You were engulfed in the flashback, seeing him, feeling the cold metal of the cuffs around your wrists as they dug into your skin, the shiver of having your clothes ripped off of you like you were some prize he had won, it was too much. 

You were panting and holding your head, trying to make sense of everything and trying to get a grip on your own reality. You ended up backing up into the dining table and sending things to the floor. This only amped up your paranoid reaction, causing you to be on guard, but thankfully the flashback was able to end. 

Then, some poor soul decided to knock on the door. Your eyes snapped towards the mahogany door and you let out an instinctive growl. You then began stalking towards the door, sneering and baring your teeth. 

As you made your way towards the door, a pair of protective arms wrapped around you, preventing you from opening the door or causing anymore ruckus from your rampage. 

"Woah there feisty, what was all that for? I thought you were seriously in trouble." 

Morgan’s calm but worried voice was like a fire extinguisher to your anger and your guard, calming you down in a matter of minutes. The fire quelled inside of you, being replaced with a lake of sadness and pain. And unfortunately, that meant that instead of anger, well, you had to deal with tears. Which you had recently come to find were annoying as hell. 

"Morgan…" you breathed, letting yourself become almost limp in his arms. You felt the tears building, almost climbing inside your eyes. You couldn't do this. You couldn't face him again. Face these memories. But you were fucking stuck with them. You had no way of forgetting them. Ever. Thanks to your stupid memory. You didn't want it. You wished you had a normal memory, or at the very least an eidetic memory like Spencer's. At least then you could forget some things. But you? No. No the only things you couldn't remember were whether or not your parents ever really nursed you or even held you when you were an infant. Even the things you did remember weren't pleasant. No warm glow, no blanket colors. Just the cold, monotone voice of your father introducing you to your 'future staff'. 

Morgan held you, not asking you any questions. He just let you begin to cry and let out your frustration on him. Your balled up fist gently hit his chest a few times as you wailed and inaudibly tried to explain what you thought had happened. He didn't stop you, just tried to sooth you as the knocking sounded again. 

You froze in Derek's arms, the knocking now being persistent and fear-inducing now that you had your overly cautious mind back. 

"D-derek…" you whispered. Derek shook his head. 

"I'll get it, alright? You stay right here." He says, gesturing for you to stay. He didn't have to tell you twice, you were still hiccuping from your sobs. 

Derek slowly approached the door, looking through the peephole before opening it slowly. "Hey… you should've called first. We might've been able to answer quicker." 

All of your fears and concerns and panic all ceased at the sight of the man, well more of a boy, that stood in the doorway. 

You stood there in disbelief as you called to him, hoping you weren't seeing things. 

"Arthur?" 

○●♡●○ 

Spencer sighed as he was put in charge of the geographical profile yet again. He had a newfound routine in having you help him with it so much so that he found it harder to do his job. 

Not to mention his mind was filled with worry about how you were at home. How your well-being was, if Morgan would be enough company for you when you had the nightmares he knew you had after everything. He'd been the one to comfort you after each and every one in the hospital. He just hoped that Morgan could still comfort you while he was away. 

Not only that, but a certain Real Estate Broker had his mind doing flips and his eyes seeing red whenever he thought of him and what vile thing he could be planning next. Spencer hated being away from you. Especially when everyone knew by now that Peter was a snake and was easily able to slither away. And to sneakily find you as he had done before. Spencer was thankful now that he had asked you to stay with him in his apartment rather than your own. If you were staying in yours, the chances of Peter finding you were 90-100%. And he hated those odds. 

So safe to say, Spencer's mind was at odds with itself. And to top it all off all he could think about was what it would be like to squeeze the trigger and kill Peter himself. For you. That's all he wanted was revenge for you. He'd have to make sure he didn't instigate anything, so that it would be seen as self defense. But he would love to feel the backlash of gunfire if it meant that Peter would be dead. And you would be safe. 

"Hey, any progress on that profile yet?" 

Spencer looked up and saw JJ standing in front of where he stood next to the map, having found himself lost in thought with his fist clenched around the little box of pins in his hand. 

 "Oh, uh… no, not yet. I was just… distracted is all." He admitted, pulling out the box from his hand and pinning the last two locations for the dump sites. 

"From what I can see just from first glance is that the dump sites seem to be within 6 or 7 miles between each other, give-or-take." Spencer expressed, trying to flip on his work brain to no avail. He soon found himself thinking of you before he finished his statement. 

JJ looked at him with a sad smile. "You're worried about her, huh?" 

Spencer was caught off guard by JJ's question, causing him to turn towards her a few seconds later. "Huh? Who?" He asked. 

JJ gave him a slightly teasing look. "You know who. Garcia told us and the rest of the team about your little crush on her. Apparently she overheard you talking to your mom a few weeks ago. Said you loved her." JJ reveals, a gentle and motherly smile on her face. 

Spencer felt a warmth rise to his cheeks, suddenly feeling much warmer in his cardigan than usual. "S-she did?' 

JJ nodded. "Mhm. It's okay, Spence. Besides, I kind of figured after how you carried her back to the ambulance. She was snuggled up on you. And you refused to let her go until you knew for certain that the lead medic had an actual medical license." JJ teased gently. 

Spencer sighed and rubbed his neck, closing the box of pins so as to not spill them all over the carpet. "Is… is it that obvious?" 

JJ nodded again, a slight giggle on her lips. "Am I or am I not a liaison for the BAU?" She asked, obviously giving him a half hard time. "But seriously, I know you're worried about her. We all are. But she's gonna be alright. Morgan’s with her. Even with a busted knee he can wrestle any man to the ground." 

Spencer sighed. JJ was right. The only reason Morgan had been taken by Peter was because he caught him off guard and was shot before he could shoot first. He was more than capable of protecting you. So why did he feel so badly? 

Spencer rubbed his face and put the box down on the map's marker holder. "I know, JJ. I just… I can't help but worry about her. What if she has a nightmare and I'm not able to be there to comfort her? Wh-what if she has a panic attack and I can't get to her cause I'm all the way out here in South Dakota?" He asked, his worries getting the best of him. 

JJ lifted her non-full hand and laid it on Spencer’s shoulder, no matter how much taller he was than her. "Spence. She's going to be okay. We have people watching over your apartment building on Strauss's orders. They're doing it on their overtime. I think she's safe. Even then, you're just a phone call away, right?"

Spencer sighed again, now noticing that JJ carried with her a coffee in her hand that wasn't on his shoulder. JJ laughed. "I'd be wary of the day you don't smell coffee when it's available. You're lucky it's for you." JJ teased, handing the warm cup to him. 

Spencer took it and took a quick sip of the liquid. "Thank you, JJ. Really. I… I really needed this." He says. JJ nods. 

"I figured you did. Now I gotta go address the press. They're gathering like vultures out there. So I gotta be their food source." She jokes. Spencer laughed and nodded. 

"Yeah… actually, most vultures tend to go for larger prey than the usual roadkill, as that is more sustenance for them-" Spencer began to ramble. JJ laughs as he caught himself. 

"Yeah, just like every animal it seems." She answers before he leaves the room, opening the door wider as Garcia bursts into the room with her laptop. 

"Reid! Reid I think I might've gotten word about Peter!" 

○●♡●○ 

"Arthur?" 

Your brother chuckles slightly and rubs the back of his neck. "Surprise? Please don't tell me you've watched the news. You know how dramatic mother is. I told her I was going to come visit you and-" 

He didn't get to finish his sentence  as you very quickly engulfed him in a hug. You felt short, as he had grown much taller than you. But you didn't care. He was still your little brother. And you loved him. 

"Y-you're okay… you...you've grown so much…" you begin, looking up at him as you pull away. Arthur's arms had very quickly reciprocated your hug, enjoying the first bit of contact he has had with you since you left. 

"Yeah, apparently somewhere in my genes there's supposed to be another inch or two. But I think I'm done." He laughs, laying a hand on your head. You smile at him, your panic completely gone at this point. 

Derek raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms from where he stood. "(Y/N), you wanna tell me who this is?" He asks. 

You look over at Morgan and laugh softly, Arthur having given Morgan his most awkward expression. He really hadn't changed much. 

"Derek, this is my younger brother, Arthur Grant." You introduced. Then you turned to Arthur. "Artie, this is SSA Derek Morgan. He… He was the agent P-Peter captured alongside me." 

Arthur widened his eyes and held out his hand to Derek as he gulped. "N-nice to meet you. T-thank you for protecting her. She's really all I've got." He says, rubbing his neck. 

Derek smiled and gave Arthur a firm handshake in return. "It was my honor, Arthur. I'm glad she's got some real family left. Not that her work family isn't good." He jokes, nudging your arm. You rolled your eyes and smiled to yourself. 

"Hey, as a wise man on Supernatural once said, 'Family don't end in blood'. And I think that qualifies here." You giggle softly, happy to have found even a small bit of happiness and willingness to be able to express it freely. 

Arthur shook Morgan’s hand gladly and smiled his signature smile, looking back towards you. "Hey, uh… sis? Can we… can we talk? I haven't seen you for… what is it… five years now? I just wanna catch up." He expresses, his eyebrows turning up genuinely. 

You sigh, but nod. "Morgan, can you go into the other room while we talk? Just for a half hour?" You ask. Morgan shrugs and nods. 

"'Course kid. He's the only member of your damn family I'll trust. Just don't be gossiping without me." He teases as he leaves the room. You giggle softly as you watch him leave. 

"So… how have you been? O-other than-" Arthur began, his awkwardness taking over. You sigh and hold up a hand and look at him sadly. 

"Artie… please, let's just… not talk about that. I'm dealing with it. That's all that you need to know right now. You might be taller than me, but that doesn't mean that you're gonna know all of my secrets like an older brother." You tease, guiding Arthur towards the couch. 

Arthur playfully rolled his eyes and followed you, mocking offense. "Oh come on, height has to factor in there somewhere Sis." 

You shake your head and take a seat beside him on Spencer’s couch, sighing gently. "Nope, sorry little bro." You insist. 

Arthur smiles at you and leans back on the couch, sighing as he looks at you. "(Y/N/N)... you… You have no idea how much I've missed you. I pushed myself to graduate with all honors because of you. I got a scholarship too. In business. Because you always pushed me to do better. To do my best. I… I want to do something for you in return. Please. Name it. I can start making it up to you." 

You give Arthur a joking look and shook your head. "No need, Arthur. Besides, that was all you. You just needed the extra push. I'm so proud of you." You say, laying a hand on Arthur's arm. He smiled at you and took a sigh, signaling to you that the conversation was about to take a turn. 

Arthur's hands intertwined with each other and he leaned over for a moment, his elbows digging into his thighs. "(Y/N)... Look I… I know you said you were okay but…" he sighed again. "Mom she… she forbade me from seeing you in the hospital, I promise that's the only reason I wasn't there. After I promised to testify against her for you she banned me from leaving home." 

You widen your eyes, your mouth gaping a bit. "Arthur… y-you're testifying?" 

He looked up at you and nodded. "Yeah. She assaulted you at work and literally sold you, sis. If I can put her away, along with him, I'm gonna do it. For you. I want you to be safe. I may not be your older brother, but I want you safe too. I'm gonna try and protect you like a brother should. I couldn't do much as a scrawny 13 year old you know." He chuckled. You laughed briefly, a smile teasing at your lips. 

"Yeah… not really." You giggled. He shook his head and laughed back. 

"Ha ha. Very funny. But really… it's good to see you sis. I… I'm sorry I didn't do enough for you back then." He exhaled, his expression solemn and regretful. You take his hands in yours and give him a reassuring look. 

"Hey, just as you said. You were a scrawny 13 year old. What much could you do?" You point out. Arthur sighed. 

"I could've protected you. At least told Peter to scram at least once." He grumbled. You shake your head and smile at him. 

"I think I did that enough for the both of us." 

Arthur smiled softly and looked down, showing you his vulnerability when it came to you. You squeezed his hands gently, assuring him it was okay. 

And you both sat there in each other's company for a few more moments of silence. It wasn't an awkward one, so there were no awkward feelings.  

Arthur spoke up a few minutes later, having come up with an idea. "Can… can I at least pay for your therapy? I can pay for it with the money dad gives me. You… you need to see someone. I saw someone, you pushed me to go see Dr. Francesca and now I see her every two weeks. Please… let me do this for you." 

You sighed as Arthur began to try and persuade you. Damn him and his puppy eyes. He still had the gift. 

"Tell you what, how about we call Derek back in here and we watch some procedural cop show that we can all laugh at and I'll tell you what I decide later?" You narrowly avoid. Arthur thankfully notices this and drops the question. 

"Only if the show is dumb enough for a citizen like me to laugh at it." He settles. 

You giggle and nod. "Deal!"

[thealphabetmurders]

Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends

2.9k words | AO3 Link | warnings: hurt/comfort, alcohol, drink spiking (nothing bad, Remus wants to spike the punch at Prom), implied/referenced underage drinking, crying, self hatred, self-esteem issues, mentions of surgery.

Roman went to his senior prom by himself, depressed and lonely. Janus shows up and Roman is certainly is not going to leave alone.

(Roman wants people to love him, Janus comforts him and helps him realize there is only one person who he needs love from)

***

Roman tugged off his bowtie, hastily shoving it in his pocket and collapsed on the pavement next to his car, hitting his head against the metal as he fought back hot tears, still very aware that he was in public. He felt stupid, so incredibly stupid. Roman should have known that going to prom was a bad idea. Well, more like, going to Prom alone was a bad idea. 

Roman went as a 7th wheel with a group of theater kids he didn’t know too well, it becoming increasingly more obvious that they wanted him there mainly to take pictures (partially out of pity too, he’s sure). He felt happy for his friends during pictures, he was okay with paying for himself for dinner, he had to get his own punch and cake but that’s okay, but when the slow songs started playing and people paired off, Roman just couldn’t do it. Watching idly by as the music slowed and the couples looked at each other with love in their eyes… God it sucks. 

Clicking open his phone, wincing slightly at the bright screen, Roman estimated he had at least 15 minutes before he was found out and a member of his Prom group would attempt to come find him outside- outside alone. 

He was a pretty good actor, he would simply act like nothing was wrong, and just went out to his car to put his suit jacket in the backseat because it was getting hot. Despite the venue in question being freezing, it is not as though anyone would question him. Why would they care? Roman came to Prom alone, and he expects anyone to care about his well being? This is supposed to be the best and most romantic night of his high school career. Roman should be happy for his friends that they are happy!... And yet, here he was. 

The red jacket was tugged off and haphazardly thrown in the back seat of his car. He rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt, Roman was getting a bit warm in the spring weather. He sighed deeply, stretching his back and shoulders when he felt it: He touched his chest and saw 2 small black buttons had popped off of his shirt. Now, even if he wanted to put on his tie again, he couldn’t, and he didn’t have a sewing kit to put the buttons back on. 

Roman looked on the ground near his shoe and saw the offending piece of plastic, picking it up with shaky hands. He looked at the object, ghosts of strings around the 4 holes and he felt the dam break. 

Clutching the button so hard it hurt, he threw it across the parking lot, before collapsing on the trunk of his car, sobbing to himself. The warm metal felt nice against his bare forearms, though it was something he barely noticed, the tightness in his chest and throat being the only sensations he could focus on at the moment. 

Roman’s headache from the dehydration and the string of evil thoughts only grew plaguing his mind. Horrible thoughts swirled his consciousness, whispers to himself about how he would never find love and everyone around him was simply pretending to like him. He would never be good enough for anyone. Not a romantic partner, not his family, not his friends, and certainly not himself. 

After a good, long few minutes, the tears and sobs began to peter out. Though the corners of his eyes still felt moisture, no actual tears would fall. He stood up straight, rubbing his eyes and taking a couple calming breaths, hoping to turn his erratic breath back to normal. 

Roman felt himself calm down, that was until a voice appeared behind him. 

“I am guessing this is yours?” Roman nearly jumped out of his own skin, yelping, when he realised that there was someone standing behind him. 

The older man was standing there, definitely not dressed for Senior Prom, holding a small black object between his fingers. Janus smiled and tossed the button over to an unprepared Roman, who barely caught the offending piece of plastic. 

“H-how long have you been standing there?” Roman swallowed thickly. 

Janus’s face shifted into something Roman could not decipher, his gaze shifting away, “What answer do you want me to give you?” 

Roman inhaled deeply, biting his lip and feeling that tightness in his throat again, but refused to give in this time. “What are you doing here?” Opting to switch topics entirely rather than answer. 

Janus sighed, reaching for the bag that was casually slung over his shoulder, “Your brother texted me, saying he wanted me to bring vodka,”

Roman frowned, “Remus? Remus told me he didn’t want to come,”

“That is what he told me he told you as well, yes, but in the last hour or so he changed his mind. He said he only wanted to go so he could spike the punch,” He lifted the alcohol so Roman could barely see it, “I was happy to take him up on that. I also brought some bubbly for myself,” Janus peeked out another bottle, this one a corked one of champagne. 

Rolling his eyes, Roman gave Janus a pointed look, “Why exactly are you indulging Remus’ ideas?” 

Janus shrugged, “It happened at my Prom,” 

“By you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Janus smirked, chuckling slightly “I told my whole class that if they nominated me for Prom King that I would spike the punch. Guess who won and got wasted on Prom night?” 

Roman shook his head, smiling slightly, “I am sure the transphobes loved that,” 

Janus bit his lip, stifling a laugh that a part of Roman longed to hear, “Standing up on stage as the Prom King is almost on the same level as my top surgery in terms of absolute gender euphoria,” 

Roman nodded, his mouth smiling but his chest and head still ached, the corner of his eyes still burning, “Well, you should go meet Remus, I am sure he is most likely waiting for you by now,” 

Janus’ expression shifted from playful to concern and Roman cursed internally, “Roman, you are a fool if you believe I am just going to leave you out here alone,” Janus strode up to him and leaned against the car with him, arms and shoulders pressed up against one another, “You thinking I am going to simply ignore the fact that you were in hysterics not two minutes ago, makes me worry that you think I am an actual villain,” 

Roman didn’t say anything, he just looked down at his shoes, then glancing again at his shirt with the two buttons missing. He pulled at the strings left behind, littering them onto the pavement.

“Look, you do not have to talk about it. But, I do believe it would be beneficial to air out your problems,” Janus spoke cooly, looking up at the stars in the night sky. Roman looked at him from the corner of his eyes. His eyes trailed over his black curls, passing his eyebrow scar, and down to his long legs, one kicked up against the car, “Again, say something or don’t, but this is the last time I am going to bring it up,” 

Roman knew that if he simply said ‘Janus, I do not want to talk about this’, then the older man would drop it in an instant. However, he somehow couldn’t bring himself to lie in front of him, because he wanted nothing more than to spill his heart out to him. He never had anymore who seemed to care before. There was Remus, of course, but Roman always felt as though he had to protect his twin from himself, so he was the sounding board- he was the listener. Roman couldn’t have his own problems with Remus was already dealing with so much. Roman doesn’t have any friends he trusts to listen to his insecurities, even if he did, why would they care? He’s a bit lonely and doesn’t like the way he looks, so what? In the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t matter. When it comes to Roman, nothing matters. 

“Okay, so you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, but-” 

“I don’t think I am good enough,” Roman interrupted. 

When Janus realised there was no follow up, he nodded, “Good enough at what?” 

Roman chuckled weakly, “Where to start? I am not that good of a student, there are far superior singers than I, I don’t have the picture perfect blue eyed blonde hair appearance that everyone so classically loves, I do not exactly have any skills that no one can do better, and I also am loud and eccentric and awful. That is never going to change. No matter what I do, or who I pretend to be, everyone is always going to hate me and they are absolutely right to,”

Roman sniffled, and Janus noticed the way his voice got more choked up as he continued his tirade. There was only silence for a while, before Janus sighed, finally looking over at him. Roman made eye contact, feeling slightly dizzy and nervous looking into Janus’ deep brown eyes. 

Janus looked down, a redness that was only noticeable thanks to the street lights covered his cheeks. He stayed silent for a few moments before speaking, “I am not going to stand here and tell you all the things that I like about you, and why everything you just said is untrue. I am sure that you would just think I am lying to you anyway,” Roman winced at the words and looked down, the rhythms of his breathing starting to eradicate, “Hey, stay with me,” Janus pleaded, grabbing Roman wrist, and he looked up again, “I am not going to pretend to know what everyone thinks of you. I am sure there are plenty of people who do hate, more than you think,” 

Roman frowned, “Uh, than-” 

“Do please continue to interrupt me Roman, I will definitely reach my point faster that way,” Janus shook his head, and continued, “I am sure there are plenty of people who dislike you. There are plenty of people who dislike me too. I have hurt and lied and manipulated people. I am better now, but it doesn’t change the fact that those people will never like me. Knowing that, let me ask you this: does having many people hate me make me any less worthy of the life I am living?” 

Roman swallowed, “Well, no-” 

“Does me making mistakes in my past negate any progress I make in the future?” 

“No,” 

“Do I deserve to die, or experience pain because there are people who exist that dislike me?” 

“Obviously not, Janus, what-” 

Janus cut him off once again, “So, tell me Roman, why are you the exception? What exactly makes you so special that you think you are the only one who deserves the pain they are getting because, what, idiots in your Tech Theater class don’t like you?” 

Roman sighed, removing Janus’ grip of his wrist and running a hand through his hair, “I don’t think I deserve to get hurt or die because of that, it’s not that bad, I just…” Roman growled, frustrated, and hit the door of his car with the palm of his hand, “I have nothing to offer anyone!” He shouted, heartbroken, “Nothing to give. Anything I can do, I can think of 5 other people who could do it better. It’s not that I don’t deserve to live, it is just that I am unneeded and unwanted,” 

Clawing at his face, Roman felt the tears creep up again and wanted to shout and wanted to run away. He was so angry at himself and at his friends at and stupid kind and beautiful Janus. 

Roman turned away, still fighting off the tears, but Janus harshly grabbed his shoulder, turning him around, before using the collar of his shirt to pull him into a firm, comforting hug. Roman opened his mouth to speak, but Janus beat him to it, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to hide. I am here for you. I will stay out here as long as I have to. I am here for you,” He threaded his fingers through Roman’s hair, “I promise,” 

Roman’s will broke as he gripped the back of Janus’ flannel, sobbing into his shoulder once again, holding onto Janus so tightly he was afraid he would break the other man. Janus said nothing, simply letting Roman cry, rubbing his thumb on his back with one hand and running his hands through the locks of the younger’s hair with the other. 

“I apologise if what I said made things worse, that was not my intention in any way,” Janus said, guilt present in his voice. 

Roman shook his head sniffling, his voice hoarse and broken, “I know, don’t apologise. What you said was right. I just wish I had a little more, y’know, worth to people,”

There was a beat, and Janus spoke up after a while, “Can I ask you something, Roman?” 

The sobs had become less frequent, being replaced with silent tears and sniffles, “Okay,” He responded. 

Janus pulled back from their embrace, but still holding onto Roman, arms around his waist, “Why do you feel the need to judge your self worth based upon your output to others?” 

Frowning, Roman looked at Janus, “You sound like school, I don’t understand what you are saying,” 

“You seem to judge yourself based upon what you can do for other people,” Janus said, stepping closer to Roman. Roman arms went around Janus’ shoulders, their chests almost flushed against one another, “You keep saying that ‘people can do things better than me’ and ‘no one needs me’ and that you’re unattractive, all untrue statements, for the record, what about the things you do for yourself?” 

Roman swayed slightly, Janus following his movements, “I do not do anything for myself, I do not like myself enough to do so,” 

Janus chuckled, now moving his feet to lead the two around, ever so slightly, “Oh? Well, I certainly believe you,” 

“I don’t,” 

Janus gave Roman a pointed look, “You don’t dress yourself the way you do for yourself? You don’t style your hair or use the nice smelling shampoo or body wash for yourself? The music that you listen to while you exercise or in the car alone, who is that for other than you?” Roman stayed silent, letting Janus lead him in their dance and conversation, “You eat the food you want for yourself. You watch the movies and shows you want for yourself. You picked a red suit for Prom because red is your favorite color, you did it all for you. You live so much of your life simply for you, so why do you believe that you need to perform for others to have self worth?” 

Roman parted his lips slightly, looking at Janus. Janus let go of his waist, and then grabbed Roman’s hand to twirl him around, pulling him closer into his arms after the fact. The other man looked into Roman’s honey brown eyes, feeling very exposed, but also never more cared for, “You are going to spend your whole life with one person: yourself. In the end, it matters less what you can do for others, and more about what you should do for yourself. Roman, you need to fall in love with who you are, because there is so much about you to love,” Janus gently cupped his cheek, and Roman felt as though he could barely breathe. 

A few minutes of silence went by, Roman resting his head on Janus’ shoulder as they slow danced in the parking lot. No people around to impress. No music to follow the beat. This is just for them. Janus spoke up after a while.  “How are you feeling?” 

Biting his lip, Roman sighed, and he couldn’t fight the small smile that was on his face, “You, uh, you’re really good at this Janus,” 

Janus smiled softly, “It is unfortunately from experience, but I am getting better,” The older man took one of Roman’s hands and kissed his knuckles. Using that same hand, Janus pulled Roman in and softly kissed him on the cheek, the other almost melting under his touch. 

“What do you say, my prince? Shall we go inside? Perhaps have a proper dance?” Janus smirked, but not letting go Roman hand. 

“Are you even allowed inside? You graduated,” 

Janus shrugged, “Probably not, I am also most likely not supposed to give your brother vodka so he can spike the punch, so,” 

Roman couldn’t fight the smile and playful giggles that were now escaping his lips, “Self love is illegally sneaking in the former Prom King to your dance and spiking the punch for your awful classmate,” 

Janus kissed Roman’s cheek once more, “Now you are getting it, my prince,” 

The two walked hand and hand to meet up with Remus outside, his twin (also not dressed for Prom) wiggled his eyebrows and smirked, to which Roman put him in a headlock and tickled him till he couldn’t breathe. 

Roman distracted the supervisor as they snuck in the alcohol and spiked the punch, giggling and laughing the whole time. He didn’t look for the group he came with, they didn’t seem too concerned about his whereabouts anyway. That’s fine, he liked hanging out with Remus and Janus better anyway, comforted with the knowledge that they love him for him. And when his favorite song played while the two were in the bathroom, well, he danced wildly in the middle of the stage by himself, not needing to impress anyone, and having fun on that night for no one else but himself. 

[ourloveisforthelovely]

The way you are. Part 3

Harry Potter Marauder Era 

Link to Part 2 

Pairings: Sirius Black x Reader 

Rating: T

_______

“Should we wake them up?”

“Mate, they have been asleep since yesterday afternoon. We need to make sure that they aren’t dead.”

Remus and James’ voices pulled you from your deep slumber. You didn’t open your eyes immediately but instead pressed your face further against Sirius’ chest. Sirius didn’t move but instead muttered something that sounded like “shove off.”

“Come on you two. Time to wake up and rejoin the rest of society.”

Remus said, a little more loudly. Sirius wrapped his arm around your body tighter.

“Go away!”

He snapped as your eye, that could look around, finally opened. Both James and Remus stood beside your side of the bed looking amused. James shook his head.

“Sorry Pads, the two of you have been asleep since yesterday afternoon. Our friends are starting to ask questions.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

You muttered. Sirius chuckled.

“That’s good sound advice. Now leave us alone.”

Remus sighed.

“The two of you need to eat. As adorable as you both look right now, this isn’t healthy. Now Sirius let go of Y/n or I will pull her out of bed. We both know that you won’t like that.”

Sirius took the pillow that was underneath his head and threw it where the sound of Remus’ voice was coming from. The pillow stopped right at Remus’ feet; making the other boy sigh.

“Okay, I’m coming to get her.”

James half expected Sirius to curl around you like a giant cat and hiss at Remus. Finally, Sirius poked his head up at the threat.

“Okay, we’re getting up!”

You had thrown your leg around his hips in some vain attempt to keep Sirius as close to you as possible.

“Come on, love, we better get up before James throws water on us.” “We’ll give you both a minute.”

James said with a smile before motioning Remus out.

Once the two were gone, Sirius looked down at you with a smile. You hadn’t moved from the little cocoon that the two of you had made.

“You really surprised me yesterday.”

Sirius said, softly. Your green eyes rolled up to his grey ones.

“I wanted you to know that I love you and I won’t give up on us.”

Sirius sighed. He felt even more guilty about how he had done you over the past few months.

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had to be with me.”

You sat up and quickly crawled onto Sirius’ lap. His arms went around your waist to keep you from moving an inch away.

“If it's about what you are...Sirius, I don’t care. That doesn’t matter to me. You're still the same person that I fell in love with. Furry monthly problem or not...it doesn’t matter.”

You were relieved when he smiled.

“You’re an amazing person.”

“I just know what I want.”

You said with a smirk. Sirius raised an eyebrow before throwing you back onto the bed and took his place between your legs. You quickly pulled him down into a long kiss.

“Oh gross! Now they are about to do it!”

Neither of you had noticed Peter come in until he squealed and ran out. Sirius looked over his shoulder before getting up with a smile.

“We can continue this later.”

He quickly yanked his crumpled dress shirt over his head. You didn’t move for a minute as you quietly looked over his chest. There were a few scars that had formed over the skin of his chest. So far, his perfect face didn’t have the scarring or scratching like Remus.

Sirius looked down at his body with a sigh. “I’m covering these up with tattoos later.”

“That would look nice.”

You said, softly. The last thing that you wanted was to ruin whatever self-esteem that your lover had. You had been so used to Sirius’ arrogant cocky side. Now seeing him almost vulnerable was heart-wrenching.

“Yeah?”

He questioned, looking up at you. When you smiled, Sirius felt better. He had been secretly worried that you would want to drop him as a boyfriend. You already had a werewolf brother to take care of. Adding a boyfriend would be a lot of work.

“It would fit your personality. It would also be sexy too.”

Sirius chuckled before going in search of a clean shirt.

“Better go get changed, love. I’ll meet you in the common room in a bit.”

20 minutes later, you were feeling someone more like a normal human. All of the sleeping that you had just done made you feel much better. Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene had already left for breakfast when you came into change.

After brushing your hair, you went to find Sirius. Walking down the steps, you stopped hearing the conversation that Sirius, Remus, and James were having.

“So did you do it?”

James questioned.

“Do what?”

Sirius asked back. From your place on the steps, you could see Sirius sitting on the couch tying his shoe. He looked up at James with a confused expression. James put a hand over his face.

“Claim Y/n.”

Sirius shook his head.

“James, we were sleeping...dead to the world sleeping.”

Remus was standing by the doorway with his arms over his chest.

“Are you going to?”

Sirius frowned.

“I am having a hard enough time not doing it without you two cheering me on.”

Remus sighed.

“I’m not cheering you on. In fact, I am asking you not to do it. What if you grow apart or…”

“Not going to happen.”

Sirius snapped.

“How do you know?”

Remus questioned. He wasn't about to let the subject drop.

“How can you be positive? I don’t want Y/n running around with your claim marks on her next and not be able to move on...the same goes for you.”

Sirius ran a hand through his messy hair attempting to fix it.

“Think about what you just said, Moony. Neither one of us will be able to move on. You know that I love Y/n. Hell, I still want to go rip Dorcas’ brother’s guts out. Little creep better not run into me in some dark corridor. He might accidentally fall down the stairs. I’m having a hard enough time when Y/n is around me not wanting to...you know. Can you two cut me some slack or something?”

James nodded.

“Sorry. I just care about both of you.”

Sirius smiled at his best friend. If there were two people that Sirius could count on actually caring about him; it was James and Remus.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. The brother just comes out in me.”

Remus added.

You remained on the step for a few moments longer. The conversation was no secret one to you. It was no shock that Sirius was your soulmate. Your relationship with Sirius had always been more intimate than any other relationship that you had previously. Now hearing the confirmation come from his mouth; you didn’t doubt it any longer.

When Sirius and James’ conversation turned to a prank that they had pulled on Snape; you decided to come all the way down.

“There you are.”

Remus said with a smile as you walked to Sirius’ side.

“Sorry, I got occupied.”

Walking into the Great Hall, you smiled seeing Lily light up the moment that she realized just where you had been.

“Get ready for the squealing.”

Sirius said as Lily jumped up and wrapped her arms around you.

“I am so happy to see the two of you together! We have all been worried. You both have been psycho depressive.”

Marlene nodded.

“No more breaking up.”

Sirius pulled you down beside him.

“Not a chance.”

He muttered before pulling you into a kiss. Your friends looked at each other and wondered if this was going to be like when the two of you got together originally. Everyone had ringside seats to the snogging fest of the century. The moment that Sirius and yourself realized that you were both attractive members of the opposite sex; you were always all over each other.

James laughed under his breath until Sirius’ elbow almost knocked over the pumpkin juice that he had just started drinking.

“Mate, if you can’t keep your limbs in order, don’t be doing that.”

Sirius gave him a little “I’m sorry” wave and went back to his task at hand. James smirked at the expression on Remus’ face.l It was still a weird subject for him to watch his twin and best friend be attached like some nuclear experiment gone bad.

“Connor looks a bit put out.”

Remus said quietly. He and James turned to the Ravenclaw table where the other boy sat watching Sirius and yourself furiously.

James winced.

“Yeah, he does.”

“He’s really upset.”

Dorcas commented as she eyes Sirius and yourself with a displeased “mother hen” like expression. She sighed.

“It would help if the two of you weren’t acting like one of you were going off to war or something.”

Sirius slowly pulled away enough to scowl at Dorcas.

“I have 5 months worth of making out to do. Tell your brother that there are lots of other girls here.”

Dorcas shook her head.

“He likes Y/n.”

“Tough shit.”

Sirius snapped. Dorcas seemed a little surprised by the tone in Sirius’ voice. Clearly, she didn’t know what was going on in his life at the moment. As far as Sirius was concerned, he had only told the people that he wanted. That was James, Remus, Peter, Lily, and yourself. Dorcas and Marlene were just lucky to be in his “circle.”

“Sirius, you are a dick this year.”

“I saw her first.”

Sirius muttered as you slowly pulled away from him. You immediately went to smooth things over before Sirius lost what control he had over his short fuse.

“That’s enough, you two.”

Dorcas however, didn’t back down.

“It's like you're obsessed with her.”

You put a hand over your face and could hear James mutter to Remus “lady you have no idea.” Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“You know, Dorcas, if you don’t like it then you are welcome to go fuck off.”

“Well, I just might!”

She snapped before getting up and storming off. Marlene waited a moment before getting up and going after her friend.

When the two had gone off, Lily was the first to speak. She looked at Sirius with a careful wary expression before handing him a glass of juice.

“Drink this and calm down.”

Sirius pushed the drink away.

“Sorry, I’m not feeling so great.”

You slipped a hand on his thigh. From the time that you had gotten up, you could see how pale both Sirius and Remus were. Without looking at the calendar, you knew it was close to the full moon. Had it not been, Sirius probably wouldn't have been so short with Dorcas.

“You need to eat something small.”

You said, softly. Lily nodded as she looked between Remus and Sirius.

“Y/n is right.”

“Yes, mum.”

Sirius muttered with a smirk before nibbling on the toast that you had shoved in his direction. The last thing that he wanted was to have both Lily and yourself on his ass.

Lily put her drink down.

“Y/n, come to the lavatory with me.”

You nodded and slowly stood up.

“I’ll be back,”

You said in Sirius’ direction.

Once the two of you were gone, Sirius put down the toast. He turned his attention back to Remus.

“Does food ever taste good again?”

Before Remus could reply, Connor Meadowes appeared out of nowhere.

“I bet that you think you are incredibly clever.”

He snapped. Sirius sighed.

“What do you want, kid?”

Connor scowled angrily at Sirius. He was ready to go after the boy in front of him. Sure, it was stupid to go up against Sirius Black and expect to walk away but Connor was furious. The more that the thought about Sirius and yourself as a couple, the angrier that he became. When the two of you were making out like the world was about to end, Connor was pushed over the edge of sanity.

“You know what I am talking about! Y/n, you prat. You couldn't stand the fact that Y/n was moving on and had to go steal her !”

Sirius didn’t feel like knocking the boy’s face in but it was becoming harder to control his patience.

“First off, you little twat, Y/n was my girlfriend first. Second, just take your shrimpy ass back over to the Ravenclaw table before I throw you.”

James smirked.

“He is bigger than you, Connor. It won’t work out in your favor.”

“I’m not scared of him!”

Connor snapped as Sirius stood up. It took Connor all of two seconds to start swinging wildly at Sirius.

“For being a Ravenclaw, your awful stupid.”

Sirius said as he reached out and put his hand on Connor’s forehead; stopping the boy from getting close. Connor swung wildly at the open-air between his and Sirius’ body. He didn’t care that he was making a fool out of himself.

“And you're a girl stealing git!”

Connor snapped.

“Alright, you had your fun.”

Sirius snapped before punching Connor so hard that the boy flew backward and landed against the Slytherin table. Regulus, meanwhile, looked up from his drink. The boy hadn't even been watching the scene unfolding. Regulus simply assumed with all of the noise, Sirius was involved. He met his older brother’s wild eyes then looked down at Connor.

“Idiot.”

“Mr. Black and Mr. Meadows, detention!”

Both Sirius and Connor (who had used what was left of his pride to stand up) turned to face a very angry Professor McGonagall.

“Come on, Minnie, it was just in good fun.”

Sirius said with a smirk. Professor McGonagall had turned her attention back to you. You had come back into the Great Hall after Peter met you in the hallway laughing about Connor starting shit with Sirius.

“Ms. Lupin, get him out of here.”

Had it been anyone else, you had a feeling that McGonagall would have acted differently. She knew about what was going on with Sirius and possibly had a bit more sympathetic toward him.

“Yes, professor.”

You said before wrapping your hand around Sirius’ wrist and yanking him with you.

______

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@authoressskr

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@hankypranky

@summer-novak

@emiwrites3reads

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

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@marichromatic

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@knight-of-gleefulness

@mycuddlycorner

[literatehiss]

Trust Fall - Blood & Family

cw: Physical Violence & Injury The Lukas’s are upset with Peter over the failure of his ritual, Simon and Elias are displeased with their reaction. Read on AO3 here That fucking Archivist.

Peter coughed, wincing at the pain in his ribs and the blood that bubbled up between his lips.

Damn Eye bastards could never leave well enough alone could they? His ritual could have worked, it should have worked. All it took was one bitter old woman to ruin it.

It had cost so much money.

It was by no means enough to really disrupt the families finances, but it was enough for them to notice, to be irritated. If he bothered to do the maths it would have only really been a few years worth of his allowance. It didn’t matter. He had wasted all that money and they were angry.

He was always a disappointment, they had hoped he would be a good choice for the head of the family when he was young, the powers of their patron had come so naturally to him, but he just wasn’t quite good enough. A few scattered friendships, his relationship with James or Elias as he was now calling himself, a too cheery disposition. It all weighed on him as proof that he was useless, just like his uncle had said, over and over again as the men he had hired took their time making sure he was ‘properly regretful’ for what had happened.

Peter was lucky really. They didn’t really care. He had received his punishment and everyone would be back to ignoring him as per usual by the end of the week. If he lasted that long. Well, ok, now he knew he was being morbid, he had survived worse after all.

He was aware that he was leaving smears of blood on the walls of the apartment hallway as he stumbled and dragged himself to the flat he sometimes shared with Elias. His on-again off-again husband wouldn’t be at home, it was the middle of the work day after all and Peter had dragged the fog of the Lonely around himself like a thick blanket, enough to keep himself from Elias’s ever present gaze. His fingers were numb with cold and blood loss as he fumbled with his keys.

The apartment was cold, sterile. It wasn’t due to any real aesthetic reason, they were both simply not at home enough to both making any personal touches. A spark of hot pain lanced up his side and he fell into the wall, his teeth gritting as he dragged himself pitifully to the large black sofa that sat in the living room.

He had never been so glad Elias had convinced him not to go with the white sofa, they would never have got the blood stains out of it.

He slumped onto the leather with a huff as the impact winded him. Peter closed his eyes to block out the sunlight streaming in through the huge windows that took up the entirety of the eastern wall of the apartment. Exhaustion hit him quickly after that and he drifted off to sleep, arm still clutched around his chest protectively, unaware of the being stood at the window.

Half-way across London, Elias Bouchard received a phone call.

“Why is Peter lying half dead in your apartment Elias?” He couldn’t be sure whether it was the words or the fact that Simon Fairchild sounded so serious, that made his blood chill.

“What?!”

“Oh so it wasn’t you. Thank goodness, I was thinking of having to do something quite unfortunate.” The phone clicked off abruptly.

“Wait. What?”

Simon really wished he had bothered to get a key for Peter’s new flat, he had always had one for all his other places, just made it easier, and these weren’t the sort of windows you could just keep cracked open ‘just in case’. But Elias ‘liked his privacy’ which was the funniest joke the other man had ever made as far as Simon was concerned. Multiple lifetimes with varying interests had lead him to have at least a passing knowledge of how to break open locks but it still took him far to long to get the door open. He could barely see Peter through the fog the other man had summoned around himself, but he could see the blood pooling on the couch and dripping slowly onto the floor. The bright red a shock against the monochrome of the apartment.

Simon waded through the mist, placing a nervous pair of fingers to Peter's pulse. Alive, if weak. His presence probably wasn't helping matters, the Forsaken could heal Peter far faster than any vague attempt on his part to give him medical attention could ever provide. He couldn't just leave him though. Couldn’t just abandon the young man he had seen grow from a scared little child to a depressed and irritable teenager to a proud and confident adult that had enough power to be able to attempt his own ritual, even if it had been disrupted and failed so spectacularly.

Simon had always been so very proud of him.

He levered Peter up to slip his coat off him, throwing it in the sink with water and salt, might as well try and stop the blood staining the thing, god knows how fond Peter was of that coat. Blood had clotted and dried into his shirt and jumper and Simon ended up rummaging through the practically unused kitchen for scissors to cut them off him. Peter winced and shifted as he tried to gently pull the fabric away from his wounds.

Wiping away the blood proved to be a trial all of its own, immediately flowing again each time he managed to wash it away. A palm to his lad’s forehead proved him to be burning up, by which he was starting to reach the same warmth as someone who hadn’t accepted the Forsaken into their heart, which was a startling difference in temperature. He kept the floor to ceiling windows open and made a stiff breeze flow into the room. Far too cold for the average person but it should keep Peter at just the right level of corpse-like cold. He felt the skin under his fingers suddenly shift as Peter’s ribs snapped back into place. A disconcerting sensation but one that Simon was thankful for, knowing it meant that Peter was healing. The fog was starting to fade, the most life-threatening of the injuries having fixed themselves.

He knew the Lukas’s would be upset with Peter but this was a bit much surely? He had never wished so fervently that he had tried to persuade Peter over to the beautiful Vast when he was younger, before it became too late. He couldn’t imagine hurting any of his own protege’s, not like this, not even if they had truly disappointed him. He was just about to consider dragging Peter into a cold bath when the front door of the apartment violently slammed open, crashing against the wall with an almighty bang. A panting and sweating Elias stood in the doorway, suit jacket hung over his arm, eyes wide in alarm.

“What happened?”

Elias was panicking. He really wasn’t expecting to get a call from Simon on a Wednesday afternoon accusing him of attacking Peter. Apart from the mild hilarity of the thought of him being able to take down a man double his size and weight, he was also alarmed that he hadn’t noticed anything. He rushed out of his office, flying down the steps towards the lobby of the Institute. A body slammed into his own, the form of his Archivist standing in front of him, faux concern and sharp interest glittering in her eyes as she stopped him.

“Elias you seem to be in quite the hurry. Is there a problem?”

He pushed forward and grabbed her shirt

“Gertrude if I find this was you I will kill you myself. I didn’t do anything about you destroying his ritual but this is just unnecessary.” She frowned and he immediately was shown that she wasn’t the cause of Peter’s injuries. He pushed her to the side, her own surprise the only reason he was capable of doing such a thing. Elias stormed past, ignoring the calls of Gertrude and Rosie behind him.

London was a miserable place to travel through if you were trying to get anywhere in a hurry. He had a car but the thought of using it to get home in any sort of reasonable time at this hour was laughable in this traffic so he pushed his way to the nearest tube station, something he normally only did when his car broke down or he was particularly hungry. There was nothing like being packed in with so many people for sucking up all their trauma.

Right now all the people were getting on his very last nerve.

His jacket got caught on the door of the tube as he ran out and rather than stop he just pulled and pulled until the fabric ripped. Slinging it over his arm, he ran towards his rarely used flat, finding the door already unlocked he slammed it open.

Fog curled around his feet, emanating from the figuring lying on the couch and staining it with his blood. Simon was sat next to him, a handful of fabric pressed against a wound on Peter’s side.

“How is he? What happened?”

“I have no idea to be honest Elias. I thought it might be Gertrude but we both know he wouldn’t be alive if it was her”

“No it wasn’t her. I think it was the Lukas’s, probably Nathaniel organised it.”

“Oh dear. Yes I thought as much.” Simon said with an exasperated sigh that said a lot for how long he had been allied with the Lukas’s.

Elias reached for the Eye to tell him how Peter was doing but it just pushed back against him, angry of him using his powers to help someone rather than just watching, observing.

It took two days for Peter to wake up. the Forsaken protesting against their intrusive presence. Elias took time off work for the first time in a decade to watch over him. When his cold blue eyes eventually pried themselves open, it was to see Simon sat on the floor next to him, playing with something on his phone while he could hear Elias complaining down a phone to some poor employee.

“S’mon?” he mumbled, the fog of the Lonely already trying to whisk him away, misty tendrils wrapping around him.

“I’m here lad, don’t worry.”

“Hurts”

“I bet. Nathaniel? Conrad?” A shrug.

“Th’ watched. All of ‘em. Hired people.”

“Didn’t even have the balls to it themselves I see.” This was spat angrily from over his shoulder by Elias. A familiar ringed hand came over the back of the sofa and stroked fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and rested in the company of his two favourite people. Not that he would ever tell Elias that, the man’s ego didn’t need the boost, he would get simply unbearable. He listened to their hushed talking before slipping back to sleep.

The Lukas’s never knew that anyone found out what they did to Peter. They never linked the sinking of so many of their ships or the dropping of so many of their investments to that day. When a cousin that was brought before Court suddenly found a rush of evidence against him, well he should have been more careful. It wasn’t as if their longest allies would turn on them like that. They weren’t the type to keep in contact so if the hired men they had used went missing? Well that was none of their business. What happened to those men? Well Elias and Simon would never say, but the only one who was ever found was curled up crying at the top of Everest with his eyes clawed out. Peter stood at the stern of the Tundra, smiling as he watched one of the Fairchild’s ships pass his own as he pressed a kiss to his newest wedding ring.

[monkey-network]

The Fiasco Finale of Future [1/2]

So in the penultimate episode of Steven Universe 2, the climax of both the season and series as a whole... is a group hug. As I expected, plenty were not too pleased with this turnout. Some felt it was anti-climatic, some felt it was resonating, and others tried to own the critics by digging deep into the scene like they always do sucking this show’s co- Coming from nearly a month later, I’m... split. One hand, I didn’t mind the climax. On the other hand, it was pathetic compared to plenty of other finales I’ve seen in media. It’s like this show as a whole, I enjoy it, but I also enjoy smacking it upside the head cuz it made some Karen-esque, All Lives Matter type stupid shit that I just cannot get behind. So you know what, Perry the Platypus, let’s mix it up. I wanna express the good and bad of this climactic end to the show and see where we can go from there. You ready?

What’s Good:

You truly wanna know what makes that final hug a great scene? A real showstopper? I have the truth, the best truth behind this, you won’t believe me but here goes. The climax worked because A Hug Is Nice. That’s it, there’s nothing else to it beyond a hug being nice. “But Monkey, you incel troll, there’s should’ve been more to that. The episode shouldn’t have taken that long to get to that point.” Well, in typical fashion, let me put it this way by talking about Spider-Man 2 (better than Spiderverse, don’t @ me). The whole movie is centered around Peter’s life getting shat on. He’s getting fired left and right, his people are abandoning him, he even loses his powers, he’s just at his utter lowest. But at his apartment, while contemplating, in comes his landlord’s daughter, Ursula, who offers him some chocolate cake and a glass of milk.

We can say the scene comes out of nowhere and that this is all that happens, feeling pointless, but I say this is an important scene because after everything that happens to him before, this one gesture from somebody out of nowhere to be honest was one of the nicest things he’s received in a while. It’s the seedling of a scene that keeps Parker going before Doc Ock comes to make him truly spring back into action. Above everything, it was nice. Like a hug.

I don’t need to be philosophically deep with SU2′s meta to tell you that a hug can be a worthwhile thing to get more than anything. It doesn’t resolve all the baggage Steven has in his mind, but a group hug from the people closest to you (and the Diamonds) can be a gesture so nice, it can numb you out, if only for a moment. Only other times where Steven got a hug was when he felt everything could be okay. With Lars, Peridot, and Connie after her “rejection”, and it’s after that “rejection” where he slowly loses it in his attempts to shake off that harsh feeling of abandonment and that everything can be okay. It is something where he can turn to the others for help but the concern of their response makes him reasonably suffer in silence. That last part is a little dumb, but I’ll get to that later. He can’t really hug himself because it doesn’t work like that. The point being that Steven, at his lowest, just needed something nice to consider. And a hug from everyone who loves him (and the Diamonds) can be that piece of chocolate cake he needed to be at ease, again, if only for a moment.

Like let me tell ya, as a deliriously depressed man that constantly wishes for death, a hug shouldn’t be spat on. Whether it be from your friends or mommy, a good hug can, at the very least, keep you sane and going. It isn’t medication, let’s not get it twisted, but a healthy remedy nonetheless, especially if you’ve ever felt touch-starved like I have before. It’s an affectionate gesture that for what it’s worth, should never be taken for granted. And while Steven could’ve well gotten this big type hug at almost any time he desired, I can at least appreciate the show for saving that at the right time. Whew. But, while the moment itself is nice, it’s predictably almost everything around it that unfortunately puts the moment in a vacuum and me with a bad taste in my mouth.

What’s Bad: 

Let’s get this out the way, because I’m such a literal bastard... *inhale*

Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis.

MUSHROOM! MUSHROOM!

Congrats on those with the corrupted!steven theories who no doubt had it hard on when this horned trunk ascended, hung its head high, and beat its meaty chest with blind rage, the crewniverse certainly had the balls to go with this design and a long discussion of utilizing Monster Steven’s full potential. And if you think I’m nasty about this, hoo boy, be glad that words are all you’re seeing right now because artists no doubt had a field day potentially ruining this design for you even more. I’m surprised Tumblr’s flagging system hasn’t taken down whole posts with this. HEHEHEHAAAAAAAA!

As you can probably tell, I’m not a fan of this Diamond Dinodildo’s design (say that 5x times fast). I mean Rebecca could be as horny as she pleased with this show, but this is next level, I tell you. But seriously, it honestly sucked that this is what they came up with when it served no purpose to Steven thematically other than him being a literal peen of a monster. Said this before, but what does becoming a corrupted looking amalgamation mean to him beyond “he’s a monster”? Corrupted gems weren’t the worst things in his world, they were products of a even worse thing. Turning into a diamond like figure would���ve said something about the cycle of abuse making you not feel like yourself, but a reflection of who you not only resent more than anyone, but were the indirect causes of your newfound issues. That would’ve took his struggle in the Diamonds Days arc to its next logical extreme, and brought most of Future’s episodes centered around Steven’s issues to a sensible turning point. Being a warped Diamond version of himself would’ve meant finally embracing inhumanity, and that would’ve conveyed the peak of Steven harshly feeling less like a human over the course of the season, especially when we had several episodes and new powers centering around him being inhuman. And a previous episode had him try to shatter a Pink version of White Diamond, two beings generally responsible for everything that’s happened to him. And it isn’t the design that made this a turn off.

What was Steven even gonna do as a monster? He does nothing to the town, he never even makes it pass the cliffside. He doesn’t even try to attack anybody, the only times he does is when he’s provoked by either the Cluster, the Diamonds, or any of the gems. Spinel raised more hell than Steven. So on the look back it’s insultingly sad they hyped up this big dick energy only to do... genuinely nothing. He already didn’t deserve turning into Pinky the Phallisaurus, but having him not even do anything as a monster left far more to be desired. Mob Psycho 100 did this nearly identical, but better. You can’t deny that it would’ve worked better with 22 minutes, actually give him something to do beyond screech and stomp like he’s Scrat from Ice Age. As much as I don’t like Change Your Mind, 45 minutes worked to its favor to do everything it did. Oh wait, this episode did make good use of time... with a fucking pity party.

They wasted my baby

This is. The WORST scene in the entire series and I’ll stand by that 100%. It’s one thing to show something offensive, but it’s another to have something be completely pointless. Yes, Connie talked some sense into them, but we didn’t need to waste time having White Diamond and the others bitch about something everyone who isn’t a toesucking simp should’ve figured out at that point. Not like it mattered, the Diamonds and Spinel never show up after this episode anyways, so good job making them count for something, I guess. This as well as minorly acknowledge the fact that the gems had a lot to do with Steven’s mental trauma because hey, we don’t have to hold these gems too accountable for child neglect. Speaking of which, where was Jasp- This plays well into my previous point, we aren’t shown what Steven was gonna do as a monster, so what else is the episode to do beyond holding him back in time to just make the characters go “All is lost” for one second before getting back up like this is Marvel’s Captain Driftwood?

Friendship is Magic had this type of moment in its penultimate finale but in that, more time was given to show the villains getting the upper hand, Twilight at her low point, her turnaround with her friends, and the lead in charge to defeat the villains. While some moments felt convenient and downright insulting, they made the most of their limit. The same can’t be said for this and it makes no sense. Speaking of things that make no sense:

Was this shapeshifting or corruption? Rushing or dragging? This personally bothers me because people are saying he shapeshifted even when they were also on board with him corrupting. But what was the point where monster Steven cums cries into the ocean turning it pink?

Now if Steven got himself corrupted, this would make sense since the three Diamonds are there with so fully turning him back to normal wouldn’t be an issue. Questions would arise about how corruption can happen to a human, then again this is Steven Universe, fans never really wanted you to ask questions. But if this was shapeshifting, then why have this permanent monster form? It would’ve made a little more sense of Steven changing his shape depending on his emotions, like what we’ve seen before. Additionally, Steven should have been capable of talking normally instead of roaring and growling like he switched brains with an actual animal. Just because he kinned Godzilla’s joystick doesn’t mean he was unable to speak to anybody, that is if he shapeshifted. Lastly, and this is more implicit than my previous points:

This season shouldn’t have tried tacking mental issues and trauma onto this dickslap of a climax. I’m on the side where we should’ve seen more from monster Steven, but what does this tell me for the topic of mental health? Nearly killing people on three separate occasions didn’t help, but having him transform into a near mindless beast is a backhanded way to convey post traumatic stress. Let me put it this way, if we didn’t get that episode where we learn Steven had held up trauma and stress from Doctor Priyanka, everything surrounding it afterward wouldn’t feel as fucked up as it did. Yes, understanding a root of a character’s problems is good, beneficial even, but having your character nearly, sporadically, commit MURDER THREE TIMES only to then have him become a wildin’ creature does nothing, if not disgust. It's disgusting when you talk about PTS one minute and have your main character be socially dangerous the next. You’d feel sorry for him, sure, but I gotta say nearly killing people is not something we should just hand wave. That is not a good or realistic depiction of depression and post traumatic stress; especially when you trying to discuss this with children. And don’t try to justify it by saying it was necessary for his downward spiral. Having to think and see death before my own eyes in real life, there should’ve been a better way to make Steven hit rock bottom without putting other’s lives on the line. It wasn’t compelling or resonating to see him become a witless creature after saying he could get away with anything, it felt jarringly hallow and teeth gritting sadistic to think this was acceptable. It took him turning into a literal creature to finally go to therapy or a throwaway line about therapy in this show’s case? Are you kidding me?

The hug is a nice moment on its own, but it took far too many kneecaps to get to this point and think it’s believably or justly earned. I can make fun of the monster design all I want, but what they put Steven through to get to this point is the most insulting writing I ever have to think about. Because you know what that hug told me, personally? It’s that you can commit near irrefutable atrocities, you can behave like a blithering rampaging beast all you wish, but that won’t matter. Because you’re valid and your people will love you. That is not only asinine, but it kinda pissed on what I went through growing up. Like, as idealistic as that felt, it didn’t add up because it made the mentally unstable come off as more unstable than they mostly are. You can disagree all you want with this, it won’t change the baffling fact that I came to this conclusion in the first place when I didn’t want to. “But the crew said in an interv-” NO, just nope. If the message the show gives is this polarizing for those that invested or were concerned with it, maybe the message wasn’t clear enough, who knows? I can believe Mr. Rogers never fucked this up when he made his show. I tried thinking of this differently, but I can’t excuse what they did and how they did it. Bojack Horseman never pulled this with its main lead and when it truly did, that was given more time to sort out; not an 11 minute epilogue in its final moments. The hug was nice, but this episode was trash.

Speaking of which, next time...

We Finally Look to the Future

Here’s Part 2, if you’re up.

[artsandpoppy]

Get to know POPPY PINK who’s THIRTY years old and works as the OWNER OF OUT OF THE BOX CRAFT STORE in town. She is from FLORIDA and is often times mistaken for ANNA KENDRICK while others say she reminds them of POPPY from TROLLS.

about:

death cw, cannibalism cw, depression cw, pregnancy cw, miscarriage cw

when poppy was still only just a few months old her mother was killed by a serial killer cannibal on a night out with her friends. the killer was caught a few towns over three weeks later and has been in jail ever since. because of this she was raised by a single father - peter “peppy” pink, the longstanding mayor of their small town trollsville, florida.

even though she grew up with only one parent poppy never felt unloved or neglected. the entire town practically pitched in to help raise her - she was always bouncing around from “aunties” and “uncles” places while her father was busy with work.

peppy pink is the absolute greatest man as far as poppy is concerned. she loves her father to death and always dreamed of one day becoming just like him. which is why she planned for the longest time to follow in his footsteps and become a politician. when college rolled around she majored in political science and double minored in business and arts - figuring that was a good balance of things she loved to do as well as practical studies.

in high school as well as college she was a bit of a party animal, out almost every night with friends - even for just small get togethers - and disappearing from home completely on the weekends, unless mayor peppy had an event he needed poppy to attend. in high school she was fairly calm in comparison to a bunch of her friends and fellow party-goers, usually only drinking maybe one or two drinks per party. but once college rolled around she started drinking more and occasionally doing drugs on special nights, like big concerts or raves, etc.

her junior year of college was when she met creek and her entire life changed. she’d had past relationships before, but none of them compared to how quickly and hard she fell for him. within just a few months of dating she knew he was the one. 

and for a long time things were great, after graduating they got engaged but decided to wait to be officially married until his yoga studio was stable and her own political career had started to take off. she was working with her father and learning the ropes of being a small town mayor while her father still technically held the title. but even though they had decided to wait a few years, poppy still dreamed about the wedding everyday. she had scrapbooks planned and after a year of being engaged stumbled upon her dream dress and bought it without any hesitation.

about 2 years after graduation is when poppy found herself pregnant for the first time. it was the best news she’d ever received in her life and she and creek were over the moon (or like with everything else with creek - that’s at least what she thought) only for her to miscarry a few weeks after finding out.

that was hard on her and the first time poppy experienced one of her bad depressive episodes. throughout high school and college she’d had times were she’d get down and struggle for a day or two - but nothing as serious as what happened this time around. she was in bed for two weeks and struggled to even leave her room, much less the house. thankfully since she worked primarily with her father and other people she considered to be family, they all understood and she faced no repressions or setbacks at work.

there were a few pregnancy “scares” over the next year but nothing more than just a late period. each time it upset poppy, but nothing that lasted more than a day or two.

until it finally stuck and she found herself pregnant again. this time she made it through the whole first trimester and a month into the second, even found out it was going to be a girl and it was just when she and creek started thinking about names that she miscarried again. it was even harder than the last time, a surprise considering she had been told she was likely in the clear since most miscarriages are more common to happen during the first trimester. 

this was absolutely one of the lowest points of her life. she took a complete leave of absence from work and didn’t leave the house for a month. none of her friends could find ways to cheer her up and she pretty much shut them out anyway. only wanting to be by herself or with creek.

after about a month she started to slowly recover, gained her energy and her appetite back. it was during this time that she completely re-evaluated her life and realized she wasn’t as truly happy as she thought. sure, she had her crafts, her friends, and creek... but was being the future mayor really what she wanted? or was it just her following along in what was always expected of her? with these doubts she decided to wait a bit before going back to work - choosing to focus on music instead

she became a local musician, playing at coffee shops and such whenever she could. the yoga studio was doing good plus she always had the trust fund her mother left her to fall back on, so poppy wasn’t worried financially. 

it was great for her mental health and after a few months she decided it was what she wanted to do full time. a choice that she really had thought would make her life better, but instead brought it crumbling to the ground. because apparently that wasn’t what creek had signed up for. he had planned on marrying the future mayor, wanting to be the elite of the town himself, and when poppy gave that up it changed things for him - changed it so much in fact that he dumped her. called off the engagement and ended the relationship entirely.

the breakup was messy. real messy. the fact that he had cheated on her multiple times over the year was revealed, they both said horrible things to each other, and poppy went so far as one night destroying his yoga studio in a drunken rage with a baseball bat. it was the one time she actually got in trouble with the law, spending a night in jail but having the charges eventually dropped 

to this day poppy still isn’t sure if he ever even loved her at all. it’s fucked her mentally a lot when it comes to relationships. she’s constantly doubting the other person’s feeling despite how hard she tries not to. it’s the reason why most of her relationships post-creek have ended. with her getting stuck in her head and overwhelmed and ending things out of fear and insecurities. even if she still loves the person, which she always does.

when poppy falls in love, she’s in love for good. even with creek, as much as she hates and despises him for what he did and how badly he hurt her, there’s still a part of her that will always love him. when you picture your forever with someone that isn’t something that just goes away.

speaking of falling in love - poppy falls super fucking easily. she has a small crush on almost everyone she meets. she’s at any given time harboring active feelings for at least one or two people.

but anyway - after the break up with creek, poppy started going out even more than before. partying or clubbing every night. it was during this time that she got closer to her high school rival barb - a girl she’d always secretly had feelings for but never acted on because of the rivalry that was between them. this party phase lasted about a year before she got a little tired of it. around that same time was when corona opened and she decided to make the move.

her childhood best friend, branch, who has been there by her side through every up and down of her life was against the idea of her leaving at first. but once poppy sets her mind to something there’s no turning it back, so he gave in and decided to move along with her. the two got a townhouse together on the island and each opened their own business - for branch it was a sports and camping goods store and she started up an arts and crafts one.

the arts and craft store has a whole area in the back with a few comfy chairs and two tables for people to work on anything they want! she also has a little stand with a “mini business” run by bubbles (it’s a pet psychic stand)

moving to corona is the best thing she’s ever done. it’s helped her so much, she’s met so many amazing people - some of the best people she’s known her whole life. 

she still struggles with her depression at times, but she’s getting a better hold on it. she still also hella overworks herself, but that’s just in her nature and is likely something that will never change. about once every other month she has a crash day or two, where she does nothing but sleep and lay in bed - it’s a mixture of the exhaustion and sometimes the depression playing in, but most people close enough to her to know about her mental health struggles are aware that this is sort of her normal routine now

she has a girl band with barb and also occasionally performs at open mic nights solo - a part of her stubbornly refusing to give up performing out of spite against creek

a big stress baker as well as just a big baker in general - at least once every few month goes around to all the local businesses and gives the owners little treats because she likes to stay in touch with all of them

scrapbooking and kitting are her favorite crafty past-times, but she also paints and draws and does all sorts of artsy stuff

favorite colors are pink and purple. tho she loves a good blue too

pop is her top genre of music, but over the time of meeting people like barb and hickory she’s come to enjoy all types. but pop will always be her favorite.

she has the power of glowing. a guide to which can be found HERE

she has a bunch of minimalist tattoos which can be found HERE

[elisaphoenix13]

Cyan Scales

Tony walks into his room to grab his tablet off the nightstand and he pauses when he hears splashing in the connecting bathroom. Was Stephen taking a bath? He only took those when he had a long day, and it would make sense since Tony and Peter hadn't seen him come home. The sorcerer probably portaled directly to the bathroom.

At least it wasn't the shower. Last time Stephen portaled into the shower, he had been slimed and although the many rounds of sex that followed were amazing, Tony just wasn't down for that right now. He had a long day himself and it wasn't even over.

"Babe? You in a fish mood?" Tony asks as he walks over to the closed bathroom door and raises a brow when he hears frantic splashing.

"Don't come in!" 

"...why?" Tony asks carefully.

"I'm...not decent." Stephen responds lamely, and with the tone that he even knew that sounded lame.

Tony chuckles. "It's a bit late for that Stephanie." The engineer says as he opens the door. "I've seen every inch of--"

Tony freezes when he enters the bathroom. There, sitting in their rather large tub, was Stephen...but he had a tail. A fish tail. A cyan colored fish tail. The doctor blushes hotly as his husband continues to stare and he sighs heavily.

"Not a word Tony."

Stephen's voice broke the other man's trance and he bursts into laughter, resulting in getting splashed by the annoyed doctor. "Peter!" Tony shouts. "Mama Bear took fish mood to a whole new level!"

"I'm not coming in there! I'm already scarred for life!" The teen shouts from downstairs and Stephen sighs with relief.

"Nothing scarring here Underoos! Just get your butt up here! You'll love it!"

Stephen glares at Tony when they hear Peter groan loudly, and the sorcerer prepares himself for the teens guaranteed laughter when he arrives. Peter shuffles into the bathroom skeptically and carefully looks over Tony's shoulder, and his snickers quickly turn into full blown laughter that renews Tony's own. Stephen glowers at them for a full two minutes as they finally calm down, and they wipe their eyes free of mirthful tears.

"Mom...when we called it fish mood--"

"Do not finish that sentence." Stephen grumbles. "A spell went wrong and turned me into this, but Wong kicked me out. He didn't want me to get the books wet, so now I'm stuck here while he finds a spell to fix this."

"Honey, that can't be comfortable. There's a pool down on the training floor if--"

Tony blinks when Stephen opens another portal before diving through it and he and Peter look at each other when it closes. They trip over each other as they rush down to the elevator and take it down to the training floor, and quickly find Stephen "stretching out" by swimming around. Tony approaches the edge of the pool and crouches down just as the doctor swims up to him, and grins.

"How does that chlorine taste?"

"It was awful until I used my magic to purify the water." Stephen responds and flicks some water up at Tony.

"Better though?" Peter asks and the sorcerer nods.

"I'll be much happier when I have legs again." He notices the growing twinkle in Peter's eyes and he points at the teen. "Cub, I swear to the Vishanti, if you make me watch The Little Mermaid on an endless loop, I will put you in a timeout portal!"

"Whatttt?! Psh! I wasn't going to--" Peter stops when both Stephen and Tony give him a look. "Okay, yeah. I was totally going to do that."

Unfortunately, Tony couldn't stay any longer. He was already late as it was to his next meeting, and this new development with Stephen had made him even later. So he gave his wife a kiss and ruffled Peter's hair, earning an annoyed groan from the teen, and left for the rest of his day. Then Peter had decathlon practice to get to even though it was a Saturday because Nationals was around the corner, and had to leave not ten minutes later, leaving Stephen alone.

He got bored and lonely fast. The loneliness being the stronger feeling because he was stuck in this damn pool. He couldn't even portal to a lake or the ocean or anything because the water would be too cold for his hands, even as he was now. He was stuck waiting in the pool with no one to talk to. Once upon a time, he would have reveled in the quiet but not anymore. The quiet would have been more bearable if he had soemthing to occupy himself with but he didn't. All he could do was swim...and that lost its appeal within the first ten minutes.

So he was left to his thoughts without anything to do and that was never a good thing. He somehow managed to keep himself from depressing thoughts, and he also realized that Tony always gave him something to do or distracted him with endless chatter if he ever caught Stephen staring off at nothing. Crossword puzzles, reviewing contracts and paperwork to make sure Tony didn't miss anything, rambles about new suit upgrades, and even poked him with sharp objects. Of course the last one always got Stephen glaring at his husband and threatening to send him free-falling, but he never noticed until now that Tony had been distracting him. Even if it meant he would sleep on the couch that night, he always kept Stephen out of his head in whatever way he could.

Stephen maybe loved him a little more now.

Peter did it too but he stuck with rambling about anything and everything, or cuddles.

The Sorcerer Supreme was stuck with his tail longer than expected and had to spend the night in the pool, and that had made him feel even more lonely. He missed the feeling of Tony's body heat against his back, the engineer's strong hold, the breath on the back of his neck...he even missed the times when Tony would lightly snore. Sometimes into his ear which drove Stephen bonkers at times.

He didn't sleep that night. He felt too cold after the reminder of what he didn't have. Stephen took to lazily swimming around the pool instead, and trying not to think about how empty and alone he felt. He wanted company. Anyone would do, even Tibbs or Levi would be a step up at this point.

He got Sam. The man had come down to the training room for his morning routine and didn't bother hiding his look of surprise when he saw Stephen in the pool.

"Hey Mama Bear. Couldn't sleep?" 

"Among other things." Stephen grumbles and watches warily as Sam approaches the pool. The darker male quickly notices his fish tail, but instead of laughing, he just gave the doctor a weird look.

"Is that what everyone means by you being in a fish mood?"

"No. This was an accident."

Sam throws his hands up in the hair. "Then what the hell does fish mood mean?!" Stephen smirks in response and Sam rolls his eyes. "Screw you man."

"Tony has that covered quite well actually."

"Ugh."

The Falcon goes over to the farther corner of the floor to work through his routine, and the noise he made helped Stephen's loneliness. Steve and Bucky were the next to arrive on the training floor, and his conversation with them was similar to Sam's, except they were more accepting of the situation. They were used to weird at this point and just shrugged before joining Sam. The rest of the morning passed by with arriving and exiting team members, and Stephen was happy when Peter came down in his swim trunks to spend time with the sorcerer.

The teen's cannonball, however, left Stephen a little less impressed.

"Was that necessary?"

Peter grins when the doctor asks him that after he surfaces. "It's a rule Mom."

"Right...where's your father?"

"I think he's asleep still. Yes, he actually went to bed last night." The teen's says to his mother's skeptical look.

"That makes one of us." Stephen mutters under his breath, and splashes Peter with water when his son looks at him with concern. "How was practice yesterday?"

His question was distraction enough. Peter had gone off about how hard MJ was working them recently, but it wasn't so bad since they had gone out for pizza. The teen only had a few slices to put on a show of being a normal teenager, but he did buy a couple more boxes for himself when he left. The talk of food had Stephen's stomach growling loudly, and he was pretty sure it echoed throughout the room because the remaining team members had burst into laughter.

"Do we need to find some kelp or plankton for you to eat Mama Bear?" Clint teases. 

"What do...merpeople...even eat?" Scott asks.

Stephen sighs heavily and resists the urge to smack his head against the ground by the pool. Stone wasn't a friend to anybody's forehead. "I can eat normal food you know."

Even Natasha had put in her two cents. "We can't give him fish guys."

"Fish are friends--" Peter starts with a grin and the rest of the team (sans Stephen) finish.

"...Not food."

The teen brushes away a fake tear. "I'm so proud of you guys."

Stephen groans. "Another Disney reference? Really?" He looks up from where he had earlier laid his head on his arms when a portal forms and the doctor finds Wong with a book. "Please tell me you can fix this. I've already suffered through the threat of having to watch a Disney movie on an endless loop and the children just quoted one..." A collective 'hey!' resounds through the room at the children term and Wong raises a brow.

"Maybe I should leave you like this for a little while longer."

"Please don't."

Wong smirks but opens the book. "Might want to grab your swimsuit or something."

Stephen's eyes widen slightly in understanding and he opens a small portal to grab his swim trunks. "Peter, close your eyes."

Peter didn't need to be told twice. He swam a little ways away and turned with his eyes closed, and the darker skinned sorcerer conjures the reversal spell. In the blink of an eye, Stephen had his legs back and he hurriedly pulls on his swim shorts before giving Peter the okay. The others went back to their training while Stephen was turned back to normal, and he was thankful for that because when he got put of the pool and tried to stand, he had faltered. Swimming with his legs back was one thing, but standing was entirely another. In the short time he had the tail, he had grown used to it but adjusting back to his normal form would only take a few moments. Peter, to his credit, had bit his lip to keep himself from making Little Mermaid references, and helped Stephen up to the penthouse. Wong had portaled away after being kind enough to cast one more spell to instantly dry both Peter and Stephen, and they had made their way to the elevator.

"Food first. I'm starving." The doctor admits.

Peter looks up at him sheepishly as he helps him to the table. "Now that I think about it, we forgot to feed you didn't we?"

Stephen gives him a deadpan look. "Did you really just compare me to a pet goldfish?"

"Nah. You're tail was too pretty. Maybe a beta."

"...you're grounded."

[authoressskr]

Write Into My Arms [2]

Characters: f!Reader, James “Bucky” Barnes, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Peter Parker, Hope Van Dyne, Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Okoye, T’Challa, Shuri, Clint Barton, Happy Hogan, Dr. Strange, Wong, Bruce Banner, Amelina Rodrigez (OFC), with mentions of Thor, Carol Danvers, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Peter Quill, Gamora, Nebula, Mantis and Drax.

Warnings: Language, Angst (mostly in last two chapters), Action (in last chapter) and no Beta (just me and Grammerly up in here)  ::  Word Count: 9491   ::  Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

This was written for @jewelofwinter’s Writing Challenge!! I also incorporated a prompt for @jaamesbbarnes + @sgtjbuccky’s D&S’ Milestone Celebration!!

Prompt: “Tin Man lost Y/N.” (@jewelofwinter’s prompt) + “Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit.” (D&S’ prompt) Bolded in text below. Prompt #1 will appear in the third part while Prompt #2 appears in the second part. The next parts will be posted by the end of this week. All three will be linked.

Summary: You’re a small time blog writer who is invited to interview the Avengers. ALL the Avengers.

*Note for this chapter: Endgame happened - kind of. Steve didn’t go back to the 40s. Tony didn’t die. Natasha got brought back with the Bruce Snap. Bruce is not the Hulk mashup they had going on. Everything else happened. This takes place 3 years after defeating Thanos.*

[PART 1]

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

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Natasha’s interview is probably the most paced, filled with shocking details about the Red Room, where she was trained to be the Black Widow and her various roles in SHIELD, Stark Industries, and the Avengers - all while she throws knives at a target in the gun range. Intimidating.

She then takes you up to the gym, showing you how to throw someone twice your size over your shoulder and then you retreat to her room where lets you try out her fancy electric bracelet/glove thingies. Natasha talks about her relationship with Clint as she settles against her forest green velvet headboard - how he was the one to pull her out of that life...to give her a new start to help clear “the red in her ledger”. 

“What changed? For you to take his help?”

“I was obedient. A perfect student. But I didn’t like what I did. I did it for the results they sought. I always accomplished my goal. I was broken. Broken and remade, broken and remade until I was what they desired.” She gives a harsh bark of laughter. “But Clint showed me there was another way. I have a skill set, he wasn’t asking me to live a lie - to go live a “normal” life. He was giving me a chance to save people instead of being a slave to ones who would never be concerned with me. The ones who had others to take my place should I ever fail.”

“So, you aren’t the only Black Widow Russia had?” You try to suppress a shudder at the horrible train of thought that brings forth merciless Black Widows and unstoppable Winter Soldiers.

“Oh no,” Natasha’s smile sends a chill down your spine and the terror, you realize, lies in the fact that everything she’s known before is death, pain, and the intricate ways in which to bring out about both. “I am the only Black Widow.” You nod jerkily before her smile softens and she reaches out to squeeze your hand reassuringly.

The sudden change in her demeanor is what causes your own to shift so rapidly. It sets forth a stunning revelation for you - she’s always wearing a mask. And that hurts.

It’s not like Tony, who has Pepper - who has known childhood and just feels things too deeply - so he wears a mask to protect himself...gives himself over to the persona he’s carefully crafted of lofty indifference.

It’s not Bucky, who had a regular childhood - as normal as one can have during the Depression, you suppose - who didn’t want to fight but went to war anyway. Who was torn and broken and wiped to be a weapon and now wears a mask to protect himself from everyone who sees him as the villain. But even he can always fall back on his normal upbringing for the first twenty-something years of his life.

Natasha had none of that. Absolutely none.

The sudden sadness comes from somewhere unknown but you feel it settle in your chest, a tightness that grabs hold of your lungs and heart, nearly stealing your breath away. What sort of people could do that to a child? Who could damage a person in so many ways for their own gain? Making them a weapon with the threat of always being offed if you failed. Everything feels heavy now and so you do the only thing you can; you turn your palm up and squeeze back in reassurance.

Natasha is amazingly open after that, suggesting a walk in the zen garden for you to finish up your fluff questions.

“I’m gonna take December. Santa Baby references all the way.”

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Depends on the day. Some days I need a venti caramel latte with three extra shots. Sometimes you just need a strong black coffee with a little room for some cream and sugar. Some days call for tea,” She shrugs as she finishes. “Just depends.”

Natasha is doing a rundown of the things in Russian she’d taught while you pack up your things from the cushioned bench, patience leaking from her very pores at your continued mix-ups. When she suggests testing them out on Bucky, you just shake your head - any nearly drop the recorder before shuffling your laptop from one arm to the other.

“I think Sergeant Barnes is a tough nut to crack. A solemn, mostly silent, tough nut.”

“Clint is a nut. Tony, an armor encrusted nut. Steve, a nut with the inability to long-term date. Bucky is not a nut. He is mostly silent, but that’s just part of who he is. A little solemn-seeming around new people. But Sam and him? Goofballs with a penchant for insulting and pranking each other. Give him some time.”

“That’s great, by the time I leave he’ll actually warm up to me.” A sigh escapes you, shifting your closed laptop from one arm to the other once again as Natasha and yourself make your way back to the living room from the very tranquil zen garden. You’ll need some more pictures of there for sure.

“Barnes is a softie at heart.”

“Is that so?” You jump at his voice, although Natasha doesn’t, which doesn’t surprise you with what you know about her. You’re sure little surprises her.

“Yep. See you later, Y/N.”

“Yes. Thank you, Natasha.” You stand awkwardly in front of Bucky, wondering why you get nervous every time he looks at you - not a bad nervous, but a strong tingle in your belly and chest that seemed to put you off-center.

“Ready?” You ask, plastering on a big smile.

“Come on,” He gestures with a tilt of his head, waiting for you to join him. You close the few feet and he begins down the hall.

“Where are we going?”

“The woods.” He pauses when he reaches the patio, “Will the woods have too much noise?”

“I wouldn’t think so,” You step off the patio and onto the grass. “You coming?” Bucky rewards you with a smile, a wide one that showed off his teeth with little lines crinkling by the corners of his storm blue eyes.

Once you reach the tree line, Bucky takes the lead, leading you to a little clearing and you smile when you see more sunflowers growing on the other side of the space. There is a couple of wrought iron chairs with plush black cushions and a little upside-down wooden milk crate sitting beside one of them. The chairs are set to the side in the shade and you take a moment to appreciate the serenity.

“It’s beautiful, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Bucky,” He corrects, shuffling from one foot to the other before gesturing you forward. Settling down in the chair beside the milk crate you set your laptop flat on your thighs, sitting the recorder on top of it.

“So, just to go over how it’ll work - I’ll ask you questions, you answer however you like. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. If you don’t like something I’ve asked, please don’t hesitate to let me know you don’t like it. Is there anything you don’t want to talk about, Bucky?”

“You can ask me whatever you like.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way.”

“Every other news agency, pretty much, has already written the ugliest and vile lies and truths about who I was, about what I’ve done...From what I read in your articles, from what I’ve seen from the others you’ve already talked to, I know you won’t do that. Ask me whatever you like.” After taking a deep breath, you give a reassuring smile and click the recorder on.

“Are you an animal lover?”

“Yeah. Steve and me keep trying to convince Tony to get a dog.”

“He won’t let you?”

“He just asked who was gonna take care of it when we’re on a mission for weeks on end, ya know? He had a point.”

“But you aren’t all on a mission at the same time, right? Someone here could take care of it.”

“Good counterpoint. We told him that too. He said he’d think about it. Still thinking apparently. Maybe just got lost in all those thoughts he has.” You hold out the recorder, wiggling it until he held out his flesh hand. You place it gently in his outstretched hand, reaching into your pocket for your little notebook and pen. You can feel his gaze as you scribble ‘Bucky/Steve need a dog. Mention to Stark. Repeatedly if necessary.’ A chuckle escapes his lips as he had leaned forward to see what you wrote, leaning back in the chair like before.

“Favorite guilty pleasure?” You set the notebook and pen on the milk crate as you smile brightly.

“Junk food. The serum speeds up metabolism, so we can’t get drunk unless we have some of that Asgardian stuff, so I can lay on the couch and eat all I want and then a couple of hours later do it all over again.”

“And that also bothers Sam, I venture to guess?”

“Yeah,” He’s smiling wide again, looking at the grass at his feet. “Mostly cause it’s his.”

“You steal his junk food?”

“He hides it bad!” Bucky defends with a laugh.

“Favorite weather?”

“Spring or Fall. I don’t care too much for the extra cold days we get in the winter here, but I like the familiarity of Brooklyn and New York, even if they aren’t my Brooklyn or New York. What about you?”

“I got heatstroke when I was in high school, so I’m wary of being in the sun for too long now. Otherwise, I’m good with just about anything. But I gotta admit I don’t care for the extra cold days either. And the ice! I hate ice.”

“Taken a fall, I gather?”

“Oh yeah. Definitely wasn’t pretty. Bruise all up my thigh and butt from how hard I fell and slipped a foot or so down the patch of ice. Limped back through the snow with my butt soaking wet and a nice wind blowing to add to the chill.” He’s trying hard not to laugh, flesh hand pressed hard against his knee while those little crinkles showed themselves again. “Go ahead and laugh. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Oh, I believe it.” Bucky laughs out finally, nodding in agreement while you admire the carefree laughter he’s engaging in.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“I usually just get it black after our morning runs...the menus just look so complicated now.”

“They really aren’t, you just gotta know your baseline.”

“Like?”

“Well, like lattes, iced coffee and most specialty drinks all start the same way - espresso. Espresso, plus whatever milk you want then you just add the flavorings you like. Experiment until you refine what you like and voila! Done.”

“And all that isn’t complicated?” Doubt is heavy in his voice, a smile still plastered on his too-handsome face.

“I’ve had years to perfect this narrowing down strategy, good sir. Coffee became a big thing right before I got into high school, so that’s the system I’ve been working with. When I was a barista in college, we would experiment with flavorings and shots and milk types, so that helped too. Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes,” It’s almost a groan like you’d just brought out a decadent looking dessert.

“Does Stark have an espresso machine here?”

“Yeah. Big shiny silver thing on a counter next to Clint’s giant ass coffee cup.”

“Okay, when we get done here, I’ll make you what I like and we’ll see how you like that.” That seems to get his attention, his large frame leaning forward, the silver recorder looking small balanced in his palm.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Humm, well if I want it hot, then I can go a couple of ways - white chocolate mocha with a pump of milk chocolate and a pump of caramel or I just get a mocha with hazelnut, vanilla, and caramel. Iced? It depends on the mood I’m in. Sometimes I just order tea. Sometimes I don’t want coffee, so I do a frappuccino or something like that with flavoring but no coffee. Depends on the day.”

“All of that sounded like a cavity.”

“Makes you want it all the more, huh?” You tease as he lets out a little groan.

“Yeah, it does.” You smirk, self-satisfaction written all over your face at his admission.

“Do you have a hobby?” He rubs his vibranium knuckles along his very sharp jawline before giving a little sigh.

“No. My therapist says I should get one but I haven’t found one I like yet.”

“Does it bother you when people call you the Winter Soldier?” It’s like he senses the change in questioning before you even open your mouth, his eyes falling back to the yellowing grass of the clearing.

“Sometimes. I know I was him. I know I was a tool. But now I know I’ll always be Bucky first, so it doesn’t bother me as much. The Winter Soldier is a part of me - a part resigned to the darkest shadows of my mind, locked away where he won’t see the light of day again - but he’s always there. I know they made me do all those things. And I remember doing them…” Your hand falls naturally over his, giving the metal hand a little squeeze and a soft smile. His eyes go from your face to where your hand rests on his vibranium one, a perplexed look before his shoulders drop a little and relax at the gesture.

“Anyone who knows what they did, can’t honestly blame you for what they made you do. And I’m sorry some people are uninformed assholes.” You take back your hand as he thanks you softly. “Do you think the Raft could hold him?”

“Maybe. Ross designed it to hold the Hulk but I’m sure given enough time he could.”

“This whole facility is full of geniuses,” You laugh out as he shakes his head.

“I’m not a genius.”

“Didn’t the Soldier shoot through a wall, several walls, to get to Nick Fury? That takes some serious calculations to be able to do that.”

“I was a sniper before…”

“Snipers have a clear line of sight. He didn’t have that. Now, that may have been him, but I don’t think so. You can’t brainwash someone over and over and over again and have them retain difficult mathematics in order to shoot through things with no clear sightlines. You’re a whole lot smarter than you give yourself credit for.” A pink creeps onto his cheeks before he looks across the clearing. After a few seconds, his intense blue gaze returns to you, nodding his head ever so slightly to the right. You follow where he’d tilted towards, taking in the sight of two big bucks easing into the clearing. You’re cursing the fact you’ve left your camera...wait, where did you leave it?

“There is a camera under the milk crate,” His voice is so soft you barely catch it, slowly nodding before sitting your laptop on the ground against your leg and drop the notebook and pen beside it, leaning over to lift the milk crate extra slowly. Withdrawing the bag, you ease the zipper open and withdraw a very expensive looking camera. You click it on and raise it, snapping a few shots of the deer eating before they both look up at the pair of you. Seemingly unafraid they come a little closer, Bucky rises, handing the recorder back to you before he takes slow and measured steps towards them. The bucks aren’t disturbed by him and allow him to come close, his flesh hand slipping into his pocket before offering whatever it was to the male with the darker coat, repeating the same thing with the lighter coat buck. You snap the pictures greedily, nearly laughing as you realize there are actually three bucks in the clearing. He must have heard you soft breathy laugh since he turns towards you and cocks an eyebrow. You point to the deer, then him and hold up three fingers.

The eye crinkles return as he shakes his head with a grin. The deer both decide he doesn’t have anything more to give and return to their grazing on the edge of the clearing, and you snap a picture of Bucky walking towards you and when he realizes it, he scowls at you which just makes you click the button yet again with a big grin on your face.

“What was in your pocket?”

“Sugar cubes.”

“Ahh, buttering them up for a while I see.”

“You know it, doll.”

“Wanna continue, Mr. Disney Princess?”

“I’m not singing if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“Damn,” You sigh out the curse before pursing your lips. “Okay, fine. I guess we go back to questions.” Waiting for him to settle back in his seat, you carefully zip the camera back up and are about to tuck it back in under the milk crate when he speaks.

“I’ll take that.” You’re about to hand it over when you pull it back.

“Promise you won’t delete the pictures I took of you.” His storm blue eyes stare at you intently, looking for something before he gives a little huff.

“Fine.”

“Any of the pictures of you, Mr. Barnes.”

Another huff. “Fine.” Handing over the camera bag, you hold the recorder aloft as you try to remember the line of questioning you had planned for Bucky.

“Do you miss the 40s? Did you want a normal life after the war was over?”

Bucky shrugs, sitting the camera bag beside his leg. “I miss my family. I missed getting to come home to them. I...I don’t know what would’ve happened when I came home from the war. I know I was different from it - even before Zola’s experiments. I wasn’t the guy who had a different girl on my arm every week anymore...and honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be that anymore either. I was different. Steve was different. The world was gonna be different when it all ended. I don’t know what would have happened...I guess I would have dated, found a woman I liked and had a kid or two...but I don’t know, maybe I would’ve decided to go off to be alone for a long while after the war.”

“Is Wakanda as beautiful as they say?”

“Even more. Maybe I’m just partial ‘cause I got left alone for big swaths of time, so I could sit by a little lake and just watch. Sunrise is beautiful, but the sunset...wow.”

“If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go - and you can’t say Wakanda.”

Bucky chuckles as you blurt out the Wakanda bit before running his flesh hand through his hair. “I guess I’d like to go to some little island with all the amenities but no one else.”

“No one? Not even Steve? What about Sam? How will you get your junk food if not from Sam?”

“Definitely not Sam, but I’ll be sure to make a list of the food I want beforehand. Maybe Steve, but he’ll have to sit downwind since he’ll have to be smothered with sunblock. I can think of a few people I might let on my private island, but they gotta bring something to offer me.”

“Like payment?” A good-natured smile is on your lips as you shake your head.

“Yes. Silence and beautiful scenery come at a cost.”

“And what exactly would one need to bring you to gain access to this island paradise?”

“What would you like to bring me?” There’s a glint in his eyes, something flirting on his lips as he waits for your reaction.

“Coffee. And you’d have to take it however I decided to make it that day.”

“Deal. You’ll be allowed on my island,” He gives a nod as he grants his permission, making you press a hand to your chest with a mildly shocked expression which doesn’t last long as you giggle.

“Soooo kind of you!”

“You’re welcome.”

“If Stark does a superhero calendar, which month do you want and what are you wearing for it?”

“Why would he do a calendar? Wear for it?” You withdraw your phone from your pocket and do the same thing you’d done for Steve; You show him the Australian firefighter calendar with each one holding or posing with baby animals for reference. “Oh.” Pink suddenly graces his cheeks and his throat as you smile at him, enjoying his obvious flustered state.

“As another example: Sam’s wearing the tightest red shirt he owns and jeans but could be ‘persuaded’ to dress in a nice suit and tie. He chose August. Steve chose -”

“Steve?” Bucky snorts out his best friend’s name. “Okay. Lemme hear it.”

“Steve chose May with a nice suit and tie with flowers in the pocket instead of a pocket square. But I convinced him to change it to him in just a tee-shirt and jeans, sitting sideways and painting a field of flowers in front of him. He liked that better.” Bucky’s shaking of his shaggy brown hair makes you think it wasn’t the oddest thing he’d heard about his friend.

“Always an artist, I guess.” Bucky bites his bottom lip, gazing off to where the deer had been. “October.” He says after a long pause. “What would you suggest I wear?”

You know it’s an innocent question, but your heart kicks up a little when he asks it. Especially after all the banter you’ve been through with him.

“What would you be comfortable in?”

“A hoodie and jeans probably.”

“I’d have you go out of your comfort zone then...maybe a gray velvet blazer with black jeans and a black shirt...maybe pull your hair back like when you were in the gym yesterday morning, maybe a blue silver shirt to bring out your eyes...no, the black. It’s October. Maybe tuck a Halloween handkerchief into your jacket pocket.” His gaze is intense and it’s your turn to look away. “Just a thought.”

“I like it. If you were to do the calendar thing, what month would you choose and what would you be wearing?”

“Oh, um...Probably October. I love the fall. I think I’d either want to wear a black skater skirt with black striped stockings and a mauve shirt with a cute Halloween saying on it while I’m surrounded by leaves and pumpkins or I’d dress like Velma from Scooby-Doo.”

“Scooby-Doo is the one with the great dane who talks, right? Velma is the one in the purple?”

“No! Velma is the one in the orange and burgundy with the glasses! Educate yourself, Bucky!” He holds his hands up at your hostile tone.

“Sorry. Sorry!”

“Now, back to the hard questions...what is some 40s slang you’d like to see come back into use?” He shakes his head again, flashing those pearly white teeth as those too cute crinkles show themselves again.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You hadn’t realized you had spent so much time with Bucky...not until Clint had come to get the both of you for lunch.

Bucky had mumbled an apology to which you brush off.

“I enjoyed it! And it helps me to build the picture I wanna paint for you guys. No biggie at all! I’m pretty glad you felt comfortable enough with me to talk that long.” He had walked beside you the whole way back, listening to you rattle off about work and how you wanted to set up the release of each interview with patience and a very kind smile that showed in those handsome blue eyes.

After lunch, you were handed over to the Wakandans who take you to a formal room that looked like it was only used for taking pictures with expensive friends and foreign dignitaries.

Holy shit. Down the fancy rabbit hole again...

T’Challa begins the interview with the opening of Wakanda to the world.

“Wakandan technology is far above the rest of the world,” He nods seriously at your beginning statement. “And you’ve made examples of people who have tried to steal your vibranium in the past - does this mean that you won’t be integrating even the most basics of Wakandan tech to the outside world? Or do you think we’re still too greedy to be trusted with that?”

“It can be seen that way. Wakanda has thrived because even though our tribes are different, we work together. Vibranium is ours. We, however, would help anyone who requested it. Shuri and the technology department have already helped a great deal with Nakia acting as an ambassador. We will continue to do so.”

“The suit you currently wear as the Black Panther absorbs energy, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“So could you absorb Thor’s lightning and redirect it? And the same with Carol Danver’s abilities?”

“Yes, theoretically.”

“So the shield that Cap has, could also - in theory, do the same?”

“No,” Shuri interrupts. “Because his shield was not made the same way as the Black Panther suit, thus could not hold the energy long enough to redistribute it in any way.”

“Howard didn’t have your imagination. Or the abilities Wakandans have to spin it into fabric. Does it take a long time?”

“No, we have refined the technique for so long it is very easy.” T’Challa takes back over, Shuri giving a little huff at her brother.

“I’ve heard that Wakandan sunsets are the most beautiful in the world. Mr. Barnes seems to agree. You three would be biased, but I’m going to ask anyway. Is it the most beautiful sunset in the world?”

“Yes,” All three say at the same time, each one has this shining look in their eyes, seeing it in their minds like it’s happening right before them.

“The way you all said it - the way you all look right now, it must be truly magical.” You wiggle a little in the chair as all three exchange glances, pen trailing down the notebook to see your next question.

“Sergeant Barnes was taken to Wakanda after the Sokovia Accords bullshit,” T’Challa’s eyebrow raises but he says nothing as you continue. “Why did you allow this? If anyone learned you were harboring the most wanted fugitive in the world at the time, there could have been serious repercussions for you all.”

“What could they do to a poor, third-world country that most people didn’t know even existed?” Okoye cross-questioned, her eyes so sharp you know why she was chosen to be a leader. She’s got a scary strength in her.

“Excellent observation. No one would look there. Is that why you let Steve in also?”

“I think by then we figured, we have one broken white boy, why not add another?” Shuri pipes up with a big smug grin. “But Steve didn’t get half the treatment that Bucky did. Bucky had to have family dinners with us. My mother insisted that if he was to remain safe once he got better, he would need some help.”

“What kind of help?”

“We, for all purposes, adopted him into the royal family,” T’Challa confirms and honestly, if you had a drink, you’re about 90% sure you would have spewed it all over your notebook and yourself.

“I’m sorry, wh-what??”

“He was given titles so that he has all the same immunities that we share as royalty and as the Dora Milaje receives as bodyguards to the royal family. That way General Ross could not have him arrested for any of his past crimes nor any new ones he could dream up to put on the White Wolf.” T’Challa smiles at you. “I guess he did not tell you that.”

“No. I honestly didn’t have a clue about that.”

“He probably wanted it that way. He said they are just words on his passport and papers. Bucky is very thankful for them and for all he has received, yet he has asked me to remove them when we feel that it’s safer to do so...He thinks he is undeserving. He has had to die many times for his country, for the world, so I feel the least I can do is give him those words.” Okoye nods at her king’s words as you try to fight back the watering your eyes seem to want to do.

“May I ask why do you call him that?”

“The children who lived nearby began calling him that - said his hair was shaggy like a wolf, eyes sharp like a wolf. Thus that was what they called him.” Okoye answers as Shuri taps at her phone while nodding absentmindedly along with Okoye’s words.

“So, I want to ask, should I break all these women’s hearts who are going to read this by telling them you’re off the market, T’Challa?” He chuckles, eyes downcast but mirth evident in them as he rubs a hand over his beard.

“I am. Nakia will be my queen one day.”

“Gonna woo her like a regular guy? Breakfast in bed? Flowers? Or do you have like Wakandan rituals you have to do before you can get engaged? Similar to the British? Like she’ll need to meet the Queen and get her approval and adhere to the royal duties and ceremonies...like that? Or does she already know about that since her father is the head of another tribe in Wakanda? Does she want to deal with Shuri all the time?”

“Oooh - fighting words!” Shuri grins out at you before sticking out her tongue, which you return with childish glee.

“He freezes half the time he sees her.”

“Aww, really Okoye? That’s adorable T’Challa! You must really adore her for your brain to sort of blank like that. I think that’s wonderful. Everybody deserves someone to sort of freeze up and just stare at them like they’re that important.”

“Thank you. I wish that for you as well, Y/N.” He must take in your startled expression since his smile kicks up a few notches before his phone rings. “Excuse me.”

“Of course, your highness.” T’Challa scowls at you before leaving to answer the call.

“I need to go,” Shuri whispers, eyes darting at the door her brother just exited through.

You can see the cogs turning in her mind. You honestly hope it doesn’t involve more deer. “Book it!” You whisper back, watching her dart out the door. You turn to Okoye. “So, how do those bead things work?”

Okoye begins going over the basics when Shuri walks back in, dragging her feet before looking at you with the biggest grin while T’Challa comes in right after her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Mother is not happy you managed to prank M’Baku from this distance.”

“She should be concerned, our future is in both of your hands,” Okoye sniffs before shooting you a smile, the smile disappearing into what you’ve been referring to in your head as her “business face”.

Shuri retakes her seat, before ignoring both of the adults and tapping on her bracelet. “You asked how these works?” An enthusiastic nod is all it takes for her to show you how their bracelets work before she overtakes the interview, showing you just as many memes as Peter did, and even leading the discussion on the school system differences between Wakanda and everywhere else. She talks about her lab, T’Challa putting on a show of yawning as she goes on, and you ask her about how she developed the Black Panther suit to store, and then use, the energy wielded against them.

“What about potentially dating? Would they need to be as smart as you? Would they need to be Wakandan?”

“If I had to wait for someone as smart as me, I would die of old age. That’s not important to me right now, nor, I think, anytime in the immediate future. T’Challa is King and when he gets married, he can make all the heirs and I can be in my lab showing them all the embarrassing photos and videos I have of him.” T’Challa and Okoye both look on with matching expressions of relief/humor. And honestly, you can’t blame them. If she’s pranking someone from halfway across the world is any indication, they all have every right to be worried.

Okoye has said little the whole interview, but each word is as measured and weighed as the words you submit for the blog. She knows her value and you have to sort of stare in awe of her for that. A fearsome general who would die to protect her king, her country and the world. She explains her tattoos, briefly, and what she doesn’t add - Shuri is more than happy to fill in while T’Challa corrects her.

“And that’s how her husband got imprisoned…” Shuri adds as if this is the least important bit about the closed-off Okoye.

“You’re married?”

“My husband asked me to choose between him and Wakanda. It was not a difficult choice.”

The epitome of He Wasn’t Man Enough for Me.

“You went straight up Olenna Tyrell on him, didn’t you?”

“If a man ever asks you a similar question, think of myself and Olenna.”

“That’s life advice if I’ve ever heard it, Okoye.” You agree immediately with the general. “We should have t-shirts made!”

Shuri is typing furiously on her phone. “They’ll be ready in two hours.” Your mouth is open. Wide. 

Again.

The power of a genius teenager with seemingly unlimited funds…

“You must be careful what you say to her…” T’Challa voices as he rises from his chair. “And for the record, I would not do Tony’s fake calendar.”

“He would. He would like to be February.”

“Shuri!”

“It makes it all the more real, you know - moments like this… What do you think he’ll wear?”

“Probably traditional Wakandan clothes. But if you had Nakia on your side, you could get him to wear just about anything…” Okoye shares a devious smile with you as she stands from her seat, brushing an invisible (to you) piece of lint from her skirt.

“Have a good rest of your evening. We will see you at dinner, Miss Y/N,” T’Challa gives you a brief hug, his spicy scent reassuring in a way you didn’t understand and didn’t care to think too much about since it was comforting. Okoye giving a bright smile before trailing after her king, heeled boots clicking from the room with authority.

It’s the most dynamic interview so far since there are three strong people who all love their country with very strong ideals.

“You and the White Wolf seem to be getting along better…” She has a sly smile painted on her lips, making you give her a little side-eye as you finish gathering your things, closing the door firmly behind you before heading with her down the hallway back to the hub of the house.

“I would assume so. Bucky is a lot…,” You search for the right word. “Softer than he lets on.”

“Oooh, its Bucky now, is it?” She gasps dramatically, a smile stretched like a Cheshire cat.

“Princess, I have something to tell you -” You turn toward her with the most serious expression you have mustered since you set foot in the compound. “I don’t think you are ready to do spy or fieldwork. Your subtlety needs some work. Like, a lot of work.” Okoye snorts ahead of you, standing by the entryway, making your own smile widen as Shuri scowls at you.

“Got time for me tonight?” Tony calls out from farther down the hall headed towards the kitchen.

“Sure do!”

“Perfect! Right after dinner, then?”

“Sounds good to me,” You shout back, watching him give a thumbs up before disappearing back down the hall.

“So, what did you and Bucky talk about? Did he tell you about his goats?”

“He did. Also mentioned a nosy princess who helped him too.” You walk past where they stop in the living room, headed to the patio where Sam, Steve, and Peter are all standing, T'Challa heading towards the men as they watch Shuri stick her tongue out at you as you go to your room to start downloading the interviews and adding to your notes.

“Just a few days and she already has your number, sister.” T’Challa chortles, Sam’s laughter echoing alongside.

“Shut up, brother.”

It’s the last thing you hear as you hurry to your room with a big smile stretched on your face.

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“Interviewing Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man and the face of Stark Industries. Now, Tony, would you like to start with the fluff questions or get straight down to it?”

“Let’s save the fluff for the end, huh?” You swallow hard at his words, a tight smile dancing across his lips before disappearing. Settling a bit more into the dark brown leather chair of his office, you nod before glancing down at your list of questions.

“What was your ultimate reason behind pushing for the Accords?”

“I know we needed to be checked...held accountable if things went bad. I felt we could always go in and amend it later, but I saw what Ultron did, first hand and without Fury and SHIELD...who was gonna be able to hold us accountable?”

“But what led to the Accords was Sokovia, but the catalyst was Zemo posing as Bucky for the bombing, correct?”

“Essentially, yes. But even SHIELD answered to a higher authority.”

“And look what happened to SHIELD,” You counter, eyes just as sharp as Tony’s in the well-lit office. He sighs and you can see him working out where this is going, what question is next. “I don’t think that people who hide their faces should be trusted with the security of the world’s fate. But I don’t think you were wrong when you said you see a shield of iron protecting the world, but I think you need to see that the Avengers, the Guardians of the Galaxy...these are that suit of armor you wanted. People who have power but have never had to work for it -- sacrifice for it -- see others die because of it -- they honestly have no right to tell you if you’re in the wrong. You guys are the only ones who can.” Tony drags his fingers along his desktop before reaching for his amber drink. “I’ve seen your building acquirement. I know you spearhead the cleanups. I know you have bought buildings that have been damaged by not just the Avengers, but by HYDRA, the mafia, insurgents in the Middle East, and Yakuza. I’ve read other interviews with you - before and after your kidnapping. What happened to you in that cave and what happened to you when you pushed that nuke through that hole in the sky, they changed you, Tony. For the better, I believe.”

“You sound so...convinced.”

“And you aren’t? I’m as convinced you are a truly wonderful person, superhero, husband and father as you are convinced that Spider-Man is going to be the very best version of the Avengers you know he can be.”

“That’s a lot,” You can hear the emotion in Tony’s voice and you give him a watery smile in return.

“Do you think people should know about the existence of the Raft?”

“Look, that-it-it all boils down to secrecy. It boils down to some Area 51-esque shit. Should the nice lady working the night shift at the diner know? What would it change for her? Not a lot. It would just give people another reason to argue - give politicians another crusade to go after that will never have to produce actual fucking results and keeps everyone from going after the real problems we’re facing.” The frown he’s sporting makes you think you should have skipped that question, but the quickness with which he’s answering makes you think he isn’t exactly the Raft’s biggest fan either. “So, I’ll have to simply say that: Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit. But right now, the chickenshit is needed. Especially after the Snap, the Blip, whatever the fuck they call it...normalcy is what everyone is craving and it’s what they should have right now.”

“What sort of jelly do you use on yours and Morgan’s pb and js?”

“Strawberry preserves usually.” The tenseness seems to seep away a little, but you see you need to coax his mind to slow down a little more.

“Bowling or mini-golf?”

“Mini-golf.”

“Bubble bath or shower?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a bubble bath to relax. Showers are for getting clean.”

“So what do you do to relax?”

“Not a whole damn lot to be honest. I-I can’t seem to shut it off most days.” His fingers dance around the rim of his almost empty tumbler. “Mostly I push things aside to deal with them later so I can be in the moment as much as possible with Morgan and Pepper.”

“Craziest thing she’d done so far?”

“Pep and I went out for a date night. Left her at the Tower with Steve, Natasha, Sam, Clint, Bucky, and Peter. Come home and a) she’s still awake and b) she’s hanging from the damn ceiling with Peter while Bucky shoots Nerf darts at the both of them while Steve cleans up all the scattered toys and was shouting that she needs to get to bed not be more riled up when we get home.” The softest smile is dancing on his lips, his eyes full of love and you know it’s not just for Morgan. “Morgan was squealing with joy, so I couldn’t really get angry. Especially when I saw Peter had layered his web fluid so if they fell or slipped, there was webbing about every two feet as a precaution. Plus they had the mats from the gym on the living room floor and Clint was sitting on the countertop, using those eagle-eyed peepers.”

“Craziest thing before that?”

“Last Christmas when Steve took her sledding down one of the hills in the compound, which turned into sled racing when Rocket and Thor got involved. Pep didn’t care for that. We built some bumps to be like a brake system the next morning. She still didn’t like it too much.”

You learn Morgan also likes it when Thor makes her hair stand on end and Groot gives her flowers.

“She’s with Pep’s mom and dad in California for a couple of weeks since they just got back from a cruise and haven’t seen her in a while. I miss her. Facetiming every day just doesn’t cut it.”

“Starting to get a little itchy - ready for her to get home. I get that. I adore my cousin’s children. Been around them nearly every day of their lives the first year. Then she moved to Idaho for a job and I didn’t get to see them again until they were almost two. She visits more often now, I’ve seen them every two weeks for the last four months. It’s hectic - but I love it when there are toys, crayons, and blankets scattered everywhere in my living room. When they leave, man, I swear I sleep for a whole day then just sort of sit around looking at the cleanliness with a little bit of disdain.”

“Luckily I have you lot to make a mess, so it doesn’t seem so bad right now.”

“Well,” you laugh, “That’s certainly one way to look at it. Okay, ready for more of the fluff?”

“Bring it.”

“How do you handle a bad hair day?”

“I’ve never had one in my life. Next question.”

“Okay, if you were to do a superhero calendar, which month would you be and what would you be wearing for it?” Tony shakes a finger at you, grinning.

“See, Rhodey told me about this question, so I’ve had some time to think about it...I’d say I would like to be June or July, what did Cap choose?”

“May.”

“July then. AC/DC shirt with a jacket and jeans, holding on of the older Iron Man masks under one arm. Fireworks in the background, maybe holding the shield. Really sell it, ya know.”

“If it was just you, no showing off...just something nice for Pepper.”

“September. It’s when we got married. What about you?”

“October.”

“Costume or regular clothes?”

“Depends on the photographer and how I’m feeling, I guess. Ideally, both. The favorite as the big picture and the other in the bottom corner or something.”

“You’ve had time to figure out your answer too, huh?”

“Sixteen interviews.”

“Sixteen? That doesn’t seem right.”

“Sam, Clint, Wanda, Bruce, Hope, Scott, Steve, Vision, Peter, and Rhodey. Natasha, Bucky, Shuri, T’Challa, Okoye, and you. Sixteen.”

“In four days. Like speed dating for a writer.”

“That’s what I told Sam!”

Tony walks you back to your room, discussing his favorite snacks, telling you what Monte Carlo is actually like before suggesting you go there on vacation with the dirtiest smirk you have ever witnessed first-hand. He then offers to let you try out a suit when Steve goes for his run tomorrow morning, which you feel a flutter of hope that you actually do get to do something like that.

He gives you a tender pat on your forearm when he says goodnight, leaving while whistling what you’re sure is ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ by Billie Holiday.

You stay up for a few hours over what you should, furiously typing up your interview with Tony when Amelina finally texts you the gif of Kermit on the typewriter with the words “GO TO SLEEP!” immediately under it. You sigh, rubbing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, but you do as she bids, texting her first that she needs to get her ass to bed too. You finish it up with “Stalker” with the eyeball emoji. Shuffling into your pajamas and letting the plush bedding swallow and comfort you, mind still thinking of all the things you need to add to the interview piece.

And that’s how you drift off, thinking of a shield of Iron Man armor drifting around the Earth.

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Someone is in your room far too early for your liking, poking you awake then ordering you into the bathroom. You sleepily realize it’s Tony before stumbling to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and managing to hop/change into a pair of black leggings with constellations all over and a dark gray t-shirt before returning to the bedroom.

“Don’t give me the glare pout. I brought coffee.” Tony has socks and shoes laid out for you and when you raise an eyebrow at him, he just shrugs then taps his wrist where a watch would be. Slipping into the shoes and socks as quickly as possible, he hands you a tall ceramic mug, bidding you to follow him quickly and quietly down the hallway towards his workshop.

When you get in, you see one of the earlier suits standing in the middle of the room and the butterflies in your stomach turn to little stones that sink and pile up when realizing what you’re about to do. The sweet coffee doesn’t help now that reality settles in. Are you really gonna do this?!

“Scared?” You can’t even manage words right now, so you just nod. “Good. Healthy. Smart, even.” He touches it, the suit open beneath his fingertips like a mechanical flower. “Come on,” He eggs. “FRIDAY and I are here to keep you safe.” You nod again, nerves or not eating breakfast - you aren’t sure which it is - is making you feel the first tendrils of nausea. “You don’t have to.” Tony offers the out, studying you carefully.

“No, I want to.” He helps you into the suit and just as it closes you hear him ask if you’re claustrophobic. 

“Maybe you should have led with that Tony!” Thankfully, though, you aren’t - well not with this you don’t seem to be. It is close around your body, but it’s not a crushing, tight sort of feeling you would associate with claustrophobia.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes. Did you just hear me yell at you?”

“Yes, but I ignored it.” You can see him move to stand directly before you. “Perfect. Wanna try walking first. Careful steps first so you don’t damage my floors.”

“If I eat shit in this suit?”

“Just gently push yourself up and get up like normal.” You do pretty well and Tony is smiling, watching like a proud parent. “Okay, let’s try hovering.”

“Hovering?!”

“Yeah. FRIDAY give her a little lift.”

“Yes, Boss.” Sounds in your ears softly before you hear a soft hum and feel the suit lift you from the ground.

“Holy shit,” You murmur, leaning forward and then backward to test the feeling of floating.

And just about that time when Steve comes in with Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey all in tow.

“Tony, do you know where -” He pauses, seeing Tony on the ground and the suit hovering a handful of feet off the ground. “Tell me she isn’t in there.”

“Okay. She isn’t in there.”

“Tony!”

“Steve!”

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Do they always argue like an old married couple?”

“Yes, Miss, they do.”

“Get her out of that thing!”

“She’s hovering off the ground Steve! Not being sent out to tackle an arms dealer!”

“Can you set me down, FRIDAY? I can see the vein in Cap’s forehead throbbing.” The boosters die down, FRIDAY setting you down gently before the helmet flips up. “Let me out please, FRIDAY.” The rest of the suit opens and Tony offers an outstretched hand with his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Listen, I don’t want to be the person to give Captain America an aneurysm, so we’re all going to the kitchen to have breakfast.” You start past Tony and when you get to Steve you reach out, patting his chest twice. “And pull the stick out a little, Cap.” Bucky snorts before following, Sam shaking his head with a big smile before following.

“You know, every day I like her more.” Rhodey chuckles out. “Come on you two, you heard the lady. Breakfast. Bucky’s probably volunteering to cook as we speak.” Both Avengers give each other a look before mumbling out half-assed apologies and all three men then headed for the kitchen and the sound of multiple peels of laughter.

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Bucky and Wanda make omelets as big as the freaking plates while Sam makes bacon and sausage, all of it is delicious - not to mention highly entertaining as Scott did a few magic tricks, making Dr. Strange arch an eyebrow when he pulled cards from his mouth. Dr. Strange and Wong lead you to the zen garden afterwards, Wong leading in a small meditation set before you begin the interview.

Wong is nearly as closed off as Okoye, giving you just shy of not much, so you chalk it up to the fact that secrets seem to go hand-in-hand with mysticism. He does tell you about Tibet and how Stephen got him to listen to Beyonce. He is also a devotee of Adele and Boston.

“Like to keep that one name thing alive, huh, Wong?” He just chortles, taking a sip of his strawberry hibiscus tea.

Dr. Strange goes over his life before the accident and about not returning to medicine.

“I thought that was important, being the asshole surgeon who was the best at everything, the smartest at everything. The accident took everything from me and I was willing to do whatever to get that back. To return to being me. The Ancient One showed me that there was so much more than me to see.”

Twenty minutes later and you and Wong are fighting back laughter. “He thought Dr. Strange was my ‘made-up name’ and not my actual given name.”

“To be fair, the doctor part was an add on. And he’s sort of fair in assuming that’s a made-up name...I mean he’s already met Captain America, Iron Man, War Machine, Falcon, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Black Panther, Scarlet Witch, and Ant-Man. Dr. Strange isn’t that much of a leap after that.” But honestly, you can see Peter doing that, and that’s why you’re still fighting back the giggles.

After a couple of hours with the magic-wielding pair, you have FRIDAY lead you to Pepper. She’s in her office, a white-walled space with homey pictures scattered on them while several vases of flowers adorn the top of a small antique-looking half-table painted in a dark blue. She’s in a soft pink button-up blouse with a pair of charcoal lounge pants, her hair up in a messy ponytail as she looks up from her laptop.

Pepper is the most comfortable with the questions by far, both serious and fluff, and navigates them both with wonderful tact and subtle humor. 

She talks about Stark Industries, about the Avengers, about her suit - Rescue. But you enjoy it most when she talks about Tony and Morgan. Her whole demeanor changes; her body seems to relax, her voice softens and her bright eyes get all the brighter.

“It seems like that’s the only time Tony is really, truly happy. And after I got him back...living our lives, being with each other and having a family - the simpler life...that’s all that mattered. I know Tony and I know he has a hard time shutting his brain off, but those five years while everyone else was struggling,” Pepper sighs, looking guilty. “I was having a life I dreamed about. It wasn’t complete - we had so many taken from us but we had each other. He was alive. That’s all I could have asked for. And then Morgan came along and I thought, maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe Tony won’t feel so guilty anymore. Maybe he’ll get some rest,” She smiles ruefully. “When people tell you about kids, they say you won’t be getting much sleep. But I was hoping she’d wear him out enough to sleep.”

She nearly brings you to tears when she talks about the fight with Thanos - how she almost lost Tony again - before she clutched onto his shoulder, Rhodey’s armored hand clinging to her’s, Clint’s hand gripping onto Rhodey’s shoulder and Carol holding onto his. Steve is on Tony’s other shoulder with Thor’s hand heavy on Steve’s shoulder while Sam and Bucky are holding onto each other’s hands while Peter grips Thor’s free shoulder hard and Natasha squeezes Peter’s hand reassuringly. All of the Avengers forming around Tony in the gauntlet, shouldering the sheer force of the stones so they all walk away together this time.

“And it worked,” Pepper’s voice breaks a little, the emotion, even three years later is high. “I got to keep Tony, Morgan got to keep her dad...the world got to keep it’s Iron Man. Natasha was brought back, everyone from the Snap was back - it was more than we could have hoped for. Tony, Bruce, and Shuri rebuilt Vision a little while after we rebuilt the compound. I - I just couldn’t have asked for more.”

The words seem to break you the second time around, sitting in your room, sobbing on the floor as the interview stops playing through your headphones.

You don’t hear the soft knock at the door. You don’t hear Bucky and Peter enter but you feel Peter pull you into a hug while Bucky strokes your hair, making you cry all the harder. When you’re all cried out, Peter lifts you from the plush carpet as Bucky saves and closes your laptop, setting it carefully on the desk as Peter tucks you into bed.

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’re all here. We’re all okay.” You’re nodding against your pillow, not knowing how he knew what you were sobbing over, these five days finally hitting you.

“I got her, kid. Go grab some water and some aspirin for her from the kitchen. Get an apple or banana too, she’ll need something on her stomach when she gets up.” Peter nods eagerly before squeezing your hand twice and disappearing from the room. “Want me to stay?” You manage a nod as he kicks off his boots and settles against the headboard. You turn to face him, reaching out for his metal hand, watching a sad smile flit across his face. “Get some rest, doll. I’m gonna stay right here.” He brings your hand to his lips, gentle and soft on the back of your hand. “Not going anywhere.”

An hour later, when Steve and Shuri are looking for Bucky, they find him sleeping slouched to one side but still mostly upright, with your hand wrapped firmly around his vibranium one.

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[PART 3]

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Tagging: @jewelofwinter @sgtjbuccky @jaamesbbarnes @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr @rowdyhooliganism @everythingisoverrated @iloveyouthreethousand-o6 @puddinsqueen @emotionallysalty @maraudingmarauder

A/N: Found the pic online and edited it, props to Google and all rights/privileges/ownership goes to who took the photo and to Marvel who made up all these characters.

[dailyaudiobible]

11/28/2020 DAB Transcript

Daniel 5:1-31, 2 Peter 2:1-22, Psalms 119:113-128, Proverbs 28:19-20

Today is the 28th day of November welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is great to be here with you today as we bring another one of our weeks together to a close and then make the final push through the end of this month and into the next month, which is the last month of the year. But we’re here and we’re here now and our next step forward will lead us back into the book of Daniel. We’re reading from the New International Version this week. Daniel chapter 5.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word and once again we find ourselves closing down a week and looking forward. And once again in that practice, looking back, looking forward and being right here where we are, we get a glimpse of this thread of redemption that has always been a part of our story. You have always been here, and You are at work in our lives. Sometimes we want You to be at work in our lives and want some sort of instantaneous thing to happen when Your work in our lives is the work of transformation, of remaking us, of sanctifying us. And this is a process that takes place over time. And, so, we find ourselves at little places that mark time, like the end of a week or the beginning of a week and we take the time to acknowledge this, that things are happening. When we look back to the beginning of the year and we zoom forward until this present moment things are happening, You are at work in our lives. This is how it works. And, so, we open our hearts and say continue the work. Continue the good work that You have begun in us. Transform us so that our will, aligns with Your will, so that our desires are things that You desire. And, so, often when we say things like that it's about big things that we’re fighting, maybe lust, or greed, or envy, or whatever we’re fighting, but to have our desires be aligned with Your desires is that we look through the eyes of love at everyone that we encounter. Come Holy Spirit, help us to be Your image bearers on this earth we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it is the website, it’s where you find out what's going on around here.

And it's…I guess its officially Christmas time around here, the holiday shopping season, all of the stuff that goes into…into the season itself is upon us. And, so, it's the same here. I mentioned yesterday the Daily Audio Bible Shop is definitely full of items for the journey that we are on and there’s wonderful items there to give away and there’s wonderful items there to hold onto for yourself. And normally we have a Christmas box but with Covid and everything this year we decided it's better that we don't try to do that because it wasn't clear we could do it excellently. But we have the Daily Audio Bible ornament, the Christmas ornament that we make each year with the words of the year on in the year that it represents, and we’ve been doing that for a bunch years now and we didn’t want to not have that. So, we do. And it's just, make your own Christmas box this year. If you spend $40 or more in the Daily Audio Bible Shop, we will send you the 2020 Christmas ornament along with your order. So, check that out. That is going on right now while supplies last.

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And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Good morning everyone from Budapest this is John, John in Budapest and the many of the longtime listeners will know me as Paul in Barcelona. I know we all have our fun nick names and mine is rather boring, but Paul in Barcelona has moved to Budapest and taken his middle name of John as his nickname. So, I’m John and Budapest now. Okay? And doing quite well with my Hungarian by the way. So, you know, also if anyone wants to follow me on Facebook look for John Ransom in Budapest. So, John Ransom. So anyway, that’s not the cause of this message, the cause of this message is to just ask for special prayer for both Brian and Jill but also the entire staff during these very frenetic holiday season days. And I also want to kinda do a shout out for someone many of the new listeners will not know – SJ, SarahJane in Colorado in the DAB warehouse. And they’re gonna be going through just craziness starting from now. And, so, I just want us all to lift them up in prayer, you know, that they would have all the resources they need. They’re shipping out all those goodies to all of us and…but they’re…it’s not just what they do, it’s who they are. And they’re just pillars of the DAB from the very beginning. SJ has, you know, was in the UK, formerly organized some of the first European meetings. I could go on and on. So, we just pray for you. I also want to give a shout out to Victoria Soldier. Victoria I was praying for you this morning as I had breakfast with Abba and I just love your sweet spirit and your powerful prayers. Blind Tony and so so many others I send you much love and it’s a pleasure to be on the pod waves again with you. God bless.

Hey this is the Prodigal calling in. Just listened to the pain and the heartbreak of Terry the trucker. He’s back out in his truck again because of this plague and I just beg God to let the devil take his foot off…off Terry’s neck and give him some peace, he and his wife. They’ve been together 32 years, a lot longer than me and mine. And he needs some comfort. And only you Holy Spirit and the Lord Jesus Christ can give him that comfort. So, please God I beg that You…sorry I just worked out…You give him some peace, some release, some grace. Shine Your light on him. Let him rise up and get back in with his wife and with all the losses and everything lead as normal life as possible. We’re all challenged, we’re all plagued. It’s part of the human condition these days and it doesn’t look like it’s gonna get better for a while. So, please just…I beg You’d help everybody who calls in with cancer and MS and divorces and loneliness and depression. Unfortunately, I’ve had all those simultaneously and it sucks. So, Terry I know how you feel brother and it broke my heart dude. So, I’m praying for you. Always love to hear your calls. And you keep on drivin’ keep on truckin’ brother and God’s there with you. He’s riddin’ with you in the truck. He’ll heal ya. He’ll help ya. He’ll lift you up. Praying. And only …

This is I am Blessed from Canada and I don’t call in very often, but God is prompting me so often to call in and I don’t know why I don’t. So, in the midst of doing my dishes right now listening to the prayers I thought, “here it comes again. God’s prompting.” And I’m not gonna ignore this time. I just want to let God’s Yellow Flower know that you are in my heart, my thoughts, my prayers. Praying for Keith. Love you and can only imagine how difficult this is. You bring a smile to my face. The talk about the pounding of the concrete. I wonder whether that’s on Cordon Avenue or Pembina Highway or I don’t know I’ve driven by so much construction lately and I think of my other fellow Winnipeggers like Nave. Where you these days? And I’m just so thankful that there is community out there. And I think so often as I drive down, “I wonder if anyone out here is a DABber?” And it’s just such a big part of my life and I just thank you Brian for that. And I thank You Lord for everything for You have done and that You’ve called Brian to do and his faithfulness and for the faithfulness of others that call in. It’s just so valuable. Thank you, Jesus for these people.

Hey there Daily Audio Bible family this is John from Bethlehem Pennsylvania I hope you are doing awesome. I wanted to say first of all happy Thanksgiving to everybody it is Tuesday the 24th November, hard to believe. But happy Thanksgiving. Happy Thanksgiving week. There’s so much to be thankful for. Family if you would be so kind as to keep a couple people in mind for me. We’ve got a good friend her name’s Jill and she’s on our worship team for our church in Easton Pennsylvania and she’s having some complications after having surgery…and…with some infection. If you can keep Jill in mind, that God’s amazing power and healing and mighty touch would be on her for healing and wholeness and health and peace and comfort and bring her through that, I…I’d greatly appreciate it. And then, if you could keep Pastor Randy and Maribel Landis in mind as well, they…they tragically lost…they’re the senior pastors for our church, Life Church here in the Lehigh Valley in Pennsylvania…and they tragically lost their son Randall who’s in his 30s last week. Pastor Randy and Randal, his son were doing mission work in the Dominican and his son got a mosquito bite and tragically died two days later of dengue. So, it’s a tragic time as it is for so, so many. I love you guys and covet your prayers over all these folks in Jesus’ name. Thank you.

Hello, my dear Daily Audio Bible family. How are you? I am so thankful for you for the Hardin family, thankful for technology that we can go through the Bible together in community during this pandemic in this crazy year. I am so thankful for all of you who prayed for our coworker Barb. The surgery to remove the tumor that was behind her ear in her skull was a complete success. They didn’t think that they would get all of the tumor, but they did, 100%. Not only that, her nerves in her face all the things that she was concerned about were totally protected and she has complete use, function of her nerves. Thank you, Lord we are so grateful. Today Brian read the passage about spouses with…well…with Christians with unbelieving spouses. I want to pray for some of those people. Lord, I want to lift up Radiant Rachel to You and Joe and all of the people in our Daily Audio  Bible community who love You and seek You, who worship You and whose spouses are not walking with You. Father, I just pray that You would do mighty work through these brothers and sisters of ours, that You would help them to be Jesus to their spouses and that You would be convicting the hearts of their unbelieving spouses so that they would see Your love and their sin and their need to…need to bend the knee before Your Father. Also, for our friends who are in that same boat Lord, please just touch the hearts of the spouses. Happy Thanksgiving Daily Audio Bible. Talk to you later. We love you.

[too-attached-to-fiction]

Hurt | Steve Rogers

Hurt | Steve x Female!Reader

Masterlist here.

Warnings: self harm, mentions of suicide, angst, depression, endgame spoilers

Word Count: ~1110

Set: In the five years between infinity and endgame

A/N: before I start I’d like to clarify that I have experienced depression, self harm and suicidal thoughts and do not want to glorify any of them in any way. If you are struggling with either of those things on your own, please call 1-800-273-8255 or another suicide hotline.

Five weeks.

Five weeks since everyone disappeared, into oblivion.

Five weeks since you became one of the lucky few to live.

Five weeks since you’d watched the friends, family surrounding you, fade away to dust in Wakanda.

Your anger fueled you as you punched the bag in front of you, jabbing and kicking until cracks began to appear in the leather. They only made you want to fight more.

The training room was yours for the night. During this time you made sure to lock the doors, keep everyone out. You didn’t want to see their heartbroken faces. You didn’t want to think about the tears they all spilled when they were alone. You didn’t want to think about the fact that half of your family was presumed dead.

You didn’t want to think about the scars on your arms, or the fact that you could have killed him. But you didn’t. The voice in your head taunted, and you screamed in frustration, punching harder.

Your fault. Your fault. It was starting to become a mantra now, and god, you hated it.

Wanda. Vision. Tony. Peter. T’Challa. Shuri. Okoye. Bucky. There were more names that haunted you, but you were too tired to remember. So many had disappeared before your eyes…

Who knew who would next?

You had Steve, at least. He tried to be strong. He was the leader, for god’s sake. But you’d also witnessed the quiet moments, where his shoulders shook with sadness. You couldn’t do anything about it. You were grieving too.

And even though he was right there, still alive… you felt like you had lost a part of him that day, too. Bright had been replaced with dull. New York City felt empty.

Eventually, you tired yourself out enough that you headed back to your room, running the shower for your aching muscles. You focused on the water hitting your back, the way it felt. Your mind had kicked into overdrive the minute you left the gym, going through your usual routine.

You couldn’t stay in the shower for forever. Eventually you stepped out, wrapped yourself in a towel and looked at yourself in the mirror.

Your hair was everywhere, little bald patches strewn from when you’d pulled it out in frustration. Your eyes were dull, missing the light that had once sparkled behind them. And your arms…

Your scars were healing from the damage you’d endured during the battle, but you couldn’t let them rest. You picked at them at every chance you got, and for the skin that was normal, you damaged it anyways.

You reached into one of the cabinet drawers, fumbling around for the blade that would relieve some of the pain, at least until tomorrow. You made five careful slices on each arm, making sure the blood drawn didn’t drip onto the white mat below your feet.

It stung, enough to make you feel something. You cleaned the blade, humming as you returned it to its home and ran cold water over your arms. It was a stark contrast from the warm water you had just washed yourself with, but it numbed you, just a little bit.

You grabbed a roll of bandages, wrapped up your arms, and headed to the kitchen, to find.. Steve.

Normally your arms were covered, but during nightly trips to the kitchen, you wore a t-shirt and your bandages. You were about to walk away but he spotted you, a ghost of a smile on his face.

“How’re you healing?” He asked, taking your bandaged forearms in his hands. “Still wearing bandages?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, eyes flickering down to your arms.

“But they shouldn’t be. I mean, it’s been five weeks.” He reminded you. “Can I take a look?”

You flinched, stepping back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He looked at you carefully.

“(Y/N), show me your arms.” He wasn’t asking anymore. He stepped forward, closer.

Too tired to fight him, you let him place you on the counter of the kitchen and unravel the freshly applied bandages. Quiet tears rolled down your face as he examined the damage you’d done to yourself within the past month. 35 days of cuts littered your arms, and his eyes widened in concern.

“Oh, doll.” He eyed the fresh ones that had barely dried. “What did you do to yourself?” He stepped in between your legs, tugging you close to him as you started to sob.

“My fault… I could have..it was my fault… half of the universe..” You said in between sobs, gasping for air. “I killed… innocent people…” You felt small tears cascade down your back. Steve was crying too.

How could he have not seen this? How did he not notice the bandages? The way you covered your arms when it was so close to summer?

Why didn’t you tell him?

“I tried.. The night we got back I tried to… kill myself.” You stuttered out. “But… but I… I couldn’t.” Another wave of sobs crashed over you, making you collapse. “My… fault. I should… I wanted to… tell you.”

The two of you stayed quiet for a minute, before Steve spoke again. “I don’t know what I’d do if you had gone too.” He whispered. “I’m glad you’re still alive. I can’t believe you can’t see that you’re enough… That we all tried so hard. But we can’t win every time…”

Your sobs quieted at the sound of his voice. “Doll, you’re enough. No matter what happened. You’re enough. I love you.” He kissed the top of your head, noticing the bald patches. You’d talk about that later, he decided.

“Come on, let’s take you to bed.” He whispered, lifting you up with ease, and bringing you into his room.

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed, and you scanned the room to find Steve in one of the corners, sketching. You rustled the blankets a little and he looked up.

He was already dressed, shoes and all, and yet he still climbed back into bed, kneeling in front of you.

“Doll… why didn’t you tell me?” he asked gently, and you sighed, crawling into his embrace.

“You had enough on your plate.” You mumbled.

“I talked to Bruce this morning. He said he’d look into finding psychologists for you to talk to. Is that… will you do that for me?” Steve asked, threading his fingers through your hair. “Will you get help? I can do my best, but we both know I can’t save you completely.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I will.” You shifted in his embrace and lifted your chin, giving him a sweet kiss. “I will.”