#does anyone believe me when i say bedtime is not my favorite

[champ--bear]

i got a bedtime bear shelf 🌜💤

[huntinglove]

Undertale Headcanons!!

Shout out to @magical-batt for letting me go wild in our DMs so I could come up with all of these, ily bestie 🫂💙💙💙

Let me start off with my fave, of course!

Napstablook:

• Listens to everything, and I mean everything. Their playlist is incredibly random so they usually skip a bunch of songs until the right one pops up. They usually prefer music with mostly instrumental sections or calming melodies, it helps them feel less tense when they're by themselves

• Maladaptive daydreamer. When they need a break from their thoughts, they put on their headphones, choose a couple songs they like and let their mind go wherever it wants. It usually helps them revisit memories with a different view, as well as think of new music and life scenarios. It does, however, take up most of their days and usually ends up making them isolated from everyone else

• They don't necessarily need anything revolving around physical health, but it makes them feel more alive, so they actively choose to do it. Eating, drinking, sleeping, getting out of the house from time to time, and even allowing themselves to touch things and be touched by other people/monsters, they can feel and experience everything just fine

• Being raised by and around their cousins, they always believe that they're as loud as the other Blooks which, in turn, makes their voice extra quiet whenever they speak. They also space out their words so that they don't speak too fast, to make it easier for others to understand what they say

• Time and time again they try to find an empty spot to relax in, but they either get interrupted or someone's already at their usual spot. They like to stay in places where they can connect with their physical self a bit more, places with a lot of textures or different temperatures, it gets them out of their comfort zone by edging them into reality

• Their UnderNet profile has been flagged as a bot account by the moderators, because they haven't chosen a profile picture, banner or made any posts since their introduction to the site. It causes the application to automatically reject their friend requests towards other users, they are unaware of this and just believe that people are rejecting their requests on purpose

Toriel:

• Can concentrate better while eating snacks! She'd come up with responses to citizens' letters while eating some snails

• Always has some leftover flour on her clothes and fur, some monsters are intimidated by that because they assume it's dust

• Prefers to come up with bedtime stories instead of reading them! That way Chara and Asriel could relate to the characters on a personal level

• Greatly dislikes any type of shoes and socks, due to sensory issues

• Keeps her nails/claws trimmed and rounded so that she won't accidentally hurt anyone

Asgore:

• Has very sensitive horns so he has to wear a small crown, that won't accidentally touch or brush against them

• Pockets are always full of junk. Flower petals, candies (and wrappers), toy rings, bandaids, you name it!

• Needs glasses to read but absolutely refuses to wear them. Usually asks Undyne to help him read citizen letters because of it, she's not very good at it...

• Avoids being in the throne room unless necessary, he feels lonely in there. The echo whenever he hums or talks while in there makes him feel a deep sadness

• Nightmares. So many nightmares. It's what made him learn how to make tea in the first place, to help him out with anxiety and insomnia. He knows what he's done and he's never forgiven himself for it

Asriel:

• Gently headbutts people when he's upset as a way to say "stop that" or "can we go somewhere else" instead of using his words. He got the habit while he was very young and never really grew out of it

• Indecisive to the extreme, he loves a lot of things in a very intense way, it's impossible to make him pick a single one. Favorite color? He'll name as many as he can. Trying to order food? Hops through most of the menu...

• Struggles to grow fur below the neck, so he's always cold. Toriel has knit him many sweaters because of it, but he usually wears whichever ones match with Frisk or Chara

• Prefers to play pretend instead of using toys, he's imaginative and creative and way too scared to break expensive things that were gifted to him

• His ears are his comfort. If he's scared of something, he'll use them to cover his eyes. If he's upset, he'll pet and stroke them to sooth himself. If he's nervous he'll tug on them and have to physically make himself stop before it starts to hurt

Chara:

• Biter. They bite anything, anyone and everything they can, including themselves! They can't grow their nails or cuticles because of it, which makes their fingers be constantly wrapped in bandages. Their toys and pens' only difference to Asriel's are the bite marks and chewed up plastic

• Had a large human family and was pretty much neglected because most of their siblings were young and needed their parents' full attention. Plays a bit rough with Asriel but never actually means to hurt him and feels horrible if it happens

• Insanely curious and adventurous, if it were up to them they'd have check under every rock, over each of the cave's walls and all over the Underground for anything new to see and learn about.

• Picky eater and hypermobile! They had a hard time getting used to monster food and would usually request meals that Toriel hadn't even heard about. Allergic to cinnamon and would end up sneezing for hours because of it. Loves to show Asriel cool tricks by bending their body in ways that most people can't, he'd either find it super cool or super scary

• Was mentally ill at a young age. They were overly suspicious of the Dremurrs for a long time, made up the name Chara when Asriel introduced himself, but got attached to it as they felt more at home within the Underground. They've dealt with depression for as long as they could remember and didn't feel like they deserved their new home

Flowey:

(yes he's Asriel but he wasn't acting like himself)

• Incredibly uncomfortable with his own body and how limited it feels most of the time, still maintaining some of his own characteristics, he's always cold and can't soothe himself with his fluffy ears

• He was potted and brought home by Toriel one time. He was very snappy and ended up hurting Toriel during an argument, he ran away and Toriel hasn't tried to bring him back ever since. He has never forgiven himself for making his mom cry

• Visits Waterfall quite often, specifically because of the echo flowers, in the hopes that one of his previous conversations with Chara or his parents will still be there, somehow. He met Papyrus there and he genuinely saw him as a friend, but his bitterness and guilt drove them apart

• Oscillates between extreme guilt and pure resentment very quickly. It's hard for him to tell where his blame begins and ends, which makes him mad at everyone AND himself a lot of the time. He doesn't need sunlight to feed himself but it's the most isolated part of the Underground, so he always stays at the entrance of the mountain

• He has a hard time entertaining himself or falling asleep, so he usually stalks random monsters to distract himself. He's read through all the journals at the Book Acres, heard every gossip there is and spent hours on end watching the Ice Wolf at Snowdin

Napstabot:

• They didn't really understand the appeal of a body until they actively began craving someone's touch. They were very nervous to ask Alphys and Mettaton for help, out of fear of judgement, but the two were absolutely ecstatic about it

• They made a folder with reference images of what they'd like their robot body to look like and Alphys checked in with them with each design decision until everything was perfect for them, they were very happy about how the final product turned out

• It took them a while to learn how to walk and how to adjust their voice speakers, but but other than that they were incredibly comfortable with their body, even if they were a bit more conscious about being perceived by others because of it

• Mettaton took them shopping for clothes and shoes to match their new style and they found out that they're a huge fan of hoodies and sneakers. If they're feeling fancy they'll wear pants and shirts as well! Jeans are more stylish but they prefer black sweatpants

• Out of all physical experiences they've had, their favorites so far have been: cheek rubs, hair playing, hand holding, kisses and hugging. When they feel too tired to be physical, they'll have their ghost form exit the robotic shell and just relax while it's on charge

Mettaton:

• Having a physical form makes him euphoric in of itself, so he doesn't care about wearing dresses, skirts, or anything that may be considered "feminine" or "girly" by others. He's comfort in his own skin AND he looks good in all the outfits he wears and he absolutely knows it

• Loud and proud about his transition and identity, he wants anyone else in the Underground who may feel the way he felt to know there's hope and time! He gifted one of his fans the dress he wore during a play because he resonated with her but didn't want to tell her she was a trans woman bluntly

• Writes all his own movies and songs but usually has Alphys direct things if other actors are involved, both because he trusts her and because he doesn't want to lose his temper and mess up the MTT brand name. He always includes an inside joke in his movies, for his family and for his friends who are keeping an eye on the screen!

• Loves his EX body the most but usually sticks with box mode when he needs more heavy duty presentations or work, he knows Alphys wouldn't mind (or charge him for) fixing him up, but he doesn't like taking up too much of her time, especially considering that they're quite close and hang out quite a bit as it is

• During the design process for his EX design, him and Alphys binged A LOT of animes and basically scrapped up a bunch of characteristics he liked about multiple of the characters to build him the perfect appearance. He cried for a long time when he first got into his EX body, he finally felt and looked like himself, just like he had always dreamed of

Mad Mew Mew:

• Short temper and extremely protective of her family and friends, but when thanked for looking out for them she'll act pouty and scoff, pretending to not know what they're talking about. She cares, but raging is her main priority

• LOVES everything pink, shiny, frilly and doll-like, it brings her euphoria and comfort. Battling also gives her euphoria, being able to experience touch, hits and even slashes in her own skin reminds her of her physical existence in a fairly positive (and dangerous) light

• Has a bunch of chew necklaces for when she feels pent up but doesn't actually want to fight or hurt anyone, most of them match with her outfits and are super sturdy to the touch! She has also trained herself out of cursing via echolalia, using "mew~" instead!

• Can and will hide weapons within the layers of her skirt, not in a way to be sexual, but as a way to be tactical and to surprise her opponents. She has also stocked up on knives since her encounter with Frisk, just in case

• Loves spending time with her cousins but acts like a tsundere when they're near. They absolutely know it's all an act and enjoy her company regardless of her sassy attitude. She gives hugs strong enough to crack ribs and bend metal, which usually worry Mettaton a bit...

Sans:

• Very in tune with his magical abilities, in and out of combat. He's mastered teleportation and time manipulation, which makes him extremely intimidating to those aware of his capabilities, which is why he's only demonstrated it to Frisk. They may be his friend, but the fact that they're a human will always be his priority

• Him and Papyrus are twins, and Sans is older by just a few minutes. When he feels like making Papyrus slightly grumpy he playfully calls him "little bro" but he'd never do it to actually upset him. He doesn't remember much from before moving into Snowdin, nor does he care to reconnect with his past

• Even though he's not religious, he feels a special and divine connection with dogs, for some reason. He also doesn't mind how fluffy and warm they are, so he always welcomes them to his home and work stations, much to Papyrus' demise

• He has a lot of junk in his room, usually he mixes a bunch of it up for some random inventions, or to make some harmless prank material by himself, since he's not found a lot of stores who still do tabs, knowing his infamous habits of never paying said tabs...

• Magically strong, physically weak. Sans rarely has the energy to take proper care of himself, let alone do chores or keep up with Papyrus' energy. Life in the Underground is comfortable enough for him and he's not desperate for a change in scenery or for a new flame of hope, he's happy to sit back and settle with what he's got

Papyrus:

• Can't sit still for the life of him. He always needs to fidget with something, especially his clothes, he needs to make sure he looks presentable so crinkles and smudges are a no-go! If he's just sitting down, hell usually be tapping his feet or bouncing one of his legs, he doesn't notice himself doing it

• His scarf was originally a cape that he had made for his costume, but he kept on tripping over it and getting it caught on things while trying to set up his puzzles so he decided to just cut out a chunk of it. He uses said chunk as a dish rag now

• He's read every book in Snowdin's library and knows a lot about humans (from a monster's perspective) and he genuinely believes that there are no bad humans, just bad capturers. Also finds humans incredibly cute, like one would a pet

• It's incredibly hard to get him to be genuinely upset, but a nice way to do it would be to hurt Sans. He has no idea about his brother's capabilities so he assumes he's weak and lazy, so depending on what someone did to his brother they'd either get a scolding, or some terrifying attacks that no one knew he could conjure

• He likes to do multiple things at the same time, so he'll usually be working on crosswords, word finders and so on while MTT TV is on. Sometimes the storyline gets interesting enough for him to drop whatever else he's doing and focus on the show instead, he's especially fond of soap operas and quizzes!

Undyne:

• Loves doing tricks with her spears! She can spin them, juggle them and balance them on her tongue! She's gotten hit in the face with them quite a few times, while practicing said tricks, the only monster who knows about it is the dummy in front of her house, but they don't judge her

• Her job essentially forced her to lose her sleep schedule entirely. She always has to be prepared in case the king calls her into duty, especially if it's about the appearance of a human. Because of that she is a very light sleeper and usually wakes up with a nasty temper

• She's always looking for ways to increase her resistance and even tried to train in the Hotlands a couple of times, but she never made it past the bridge until her chase with Frisk. She has gotten herself sick multiple times by training with Papyrus at Snowdin without wearing armor, for resilience's sake

• She's lost her parents to one of the previous humans who came to the Underground, because of that she sees Asgore as a father figure! They've both spent countless nights talking to one another and learning about thselves while on look-out. He trained her into a powerful warrior and loved her into the (fish)woman she is

• She loves anime, especially the ones that have to do with magical girls! She enjoys shonen but doesn't understand why most of it centers around guys and makes girls out to be weak or cowardly, so magical girls have a soft spot in her heart. She knows it would be terribly impractical but she'd really love to have a suit of armor that resembled the ones in Fisher Sun!

Alphys:

• She has lots of comfort foods stocked away at her home and laboratory, all of which are fairly quick easy to make! She can cook full and proper meals, but she doesn't usually have enough time for it because of her job. She misses baking and cooking for herself and potential friends/guests

• She has given up most of her hobbies for her work life and only got into anime after becomg the royal scientist! It's a hobbie that works with her profession and that allows her mind to wander off to better places when she has to deal with questionable procedures...

• She feels awful about the amalgamations, even if the experimentations were consented to. She feels too much guilt to be able to contact their families about what happened, leaving their letters unopened. Sometimes she spends the night at the lab to keep them company, finding herself comfortably tucked into one of the medical beds when she wakes up in the morning

• Her tail is semi-prehensible and she sometimes uses it to stop herself from knocking something over while turning too quickly. The spikes on it can poke out further if she feels threatened or angry. It also expresses her emotions, wagging if she's happy, excited or enamored!!

• Mettaton has given her a few tips on how to gain some confidence and helped her choose outfits and glasses that value her body and face shape properly, it makes her feel pretty but she still struggles with her self esteem and confidence a lot of the time

Muffet:

• A wonderful boss, all of her spiderling employees are very well paid and have many benefits to working under her wing! It also explains why her baked goods are so expensive, considering the amount of workers she's taking care of

• Her pet was a result of one of Alphys' experimentations, it escaped the laboratory when it was still very small and ended up growing exponentially as it was fed and taken care of by Muffet. It's a grumpy creature to anyone who isn't an arachnid, constantly pampered and spoiled rotten by it's owner

• All of her merchandise is home made, which means that some of her first few batches were highly poisonous and dangerous to ingest. It took her a few tries to get the recipes just right, bringing immediate relief and delight to her customers and venomous employees

• She really cares about her appearance and can take hours on end to style her hair and paint her claws, especially considering the extra pairs of arms! She doesn't enjoy lipstick, mainly because it doesn't frame her lips properly, because of her fangs and overbite

• The rest of her family consists of Mafia members, which she's completely clueless about! She genuinely believes that their shops, storages and laundromats are legitimate companies and aspires to make her bakery as profitable as their "establishments"

[ronnie-quinn]

Sleepy Baby

CG!Husk, CG!Fat Nuggets, and Regressor!Angel

Plot: Angel is a sleepy baby. Alastor notices this and gets Husk since he sucks at caring for kids.

Request by @Ahumancalledpossum on AO3

Alastor was heading to his radio tower to do his daily radio broadcast when his shadow heard something going on in Angel's room. The shadow placed his ear over the spider's door when he heard what appeared to be a child-friendly show playing, along with someone babbling. Alastor walked over to the door and listened in to what was going on. He noticed that the infantile sounds belonged to... Angel? No, it really couldn't be, could it? The radio demon knocked on Angel's door, then opened it. What he saw next was surprising - Angel was sitting inside of a sensory swing, suckling on a pacifier while cuddling Fat Nuggets and watching some type of children's program on his phone. The spider was dozing off, and Fat Nuggets was trying to keep him awake. Alastor quietly shut the door before Angel and Fat Nuggets could notice him.

The radio demon really didn't know what was going on. He wasn't sure what to do either. Was he going to judge Angel for his odd coping mechanism? Of course not. He was way too mature to do such a thing. He decided to head downstairs to the bar and talk to Husk since Angel always hung out with him every day.

"Husker, I know you're busy with your job, but may I speak with you privately?" Alastor requested as he sat down on one of the bar stools.

"Uh, sure, boss," Husk said after he finished serving a hotel resident of some margarita and began cleaning an empty wine glass.

"I believe Angel needs you right away."

"Why's that? Does he want to show me some more of his latest outfits he got for Fat Nuggets?"

"Oh, it's not that. I was on my way to my tower when I heard what I thought was Angel babbling. I opened the door and saw that he had a pacifier in his mouth and was watching a cartoon on his cellular device."

Husk stopped what he was doing and turned over to Alastor.

"Did Angel regress?" Husk questioned.

"Well, who's to say? I don't personally know about this regression, but it's not my place to judge as long as Angel isn't hurting anyone or himself. In fact, he's safe in his room and looked as if he was falling asleep."

"Angel usually gets tired during this time of day when he's little. I'll go check on him. Thanks for telling me, and thanks for being cool about this."

"It's no problem at all," Alastor nodded as he disappeared into the shadows to do his broadcast.

The winged cat closed the bar and went upstairs to check on Angel. He knocked on the door softly and received some cooing and yawning from the spider in return.

Husk opened the door and spotted Angel in his sensory swing, who was fighting sleep and rubbing his eyes.

"Hey, little ragno. I think it's time for someone's nap," Husk cooed as he walked over to Angel and scooped him up from his swing.

Angel didn't complain. He loved it when Husk put him down for his afternoon nap or for bedtime whenever he regressed. The spider yawned as Husk carried him to his bed and changed him into a Pull-Up and his favorite Olivia (the pig) pajamas.

When Husk started carrying Angel to his room, the little sleepily babbled to his caregiver, saying that he was watching Baby Einstein and learning about the ocean on his phone with Fat Nuggets.

"Really? That must have been interesting, huh? But now, it's time for us to rest for a while."

Fat Nuggets followed the duo with Angel's baby blanket and two favorite stuffies - Rainbow Puppy and Twinkle - in his mouth.

Once in Husk's room, the winged cat sat down in his rocking chair and placed Angel on his lap. Fat Nuggets handed Husk the comfort items.

"Thank you, Fat Nuggets. You're a really big help, you know that?" Husk thanked as he handed the blanket and stuffies to a nearly-asleep Angel.

Fat Nuggets climbed into Angel's arms, and Husk began rocking the chair back and forth. The spider cuddled into his caregiver's embrace as he was kissed on the forehead.

The next ten to fifteen minutes were spent with Husk rocking Angel to sleep and singing lullabies to him.

When Angel fell asleep, Husk carefully stood up and carried the baby to his bedside crib next to his bed. The winged cat placed Angel inside and tucked him and Fat Nuggets in. While Husk prepared Angel's musical crib attachment toy, he could hear him humming in his sleep.

Husk chuckled as he climbed into his bed. He smiled heartily at the sleeping duo next to him before falling asleep himself.

Meanwhile, the hotel was treated with a calming ambiance of vintage music - all thanks to Alastor. He figured that everyone should take time to rest and slow things down, no matter if they were big or small.

[hirofall]

Little Peter Parker hc’s!!

General:

•He either regresses to 0-3 or 4-6

•His caregivers are Tony,Ned and aunt May

•But he also has other people that take care of him a lot when he’s small,like Mj,Happy,Steve & Wanda

•Pretty much all of the avengers will not hesitate to take care of him tho

•His favorite stuffie is a monkey and he carries it with him absolutely everywhere

•The only people that know about him being a regressor are in his closer inner circle.It’s something he likes to keep private

•Before he told anyone about him being little,he used to absolutely neglect his sleep for it.At night he’d already be outside spidey-ing,and instead of napping in the afternoon he’d use it as his little time and watch cartoons and play

•But he told people and they helped him get a healthy schedule for it

When he’s 0-3:

•Absolutely obsessed with dinosaurs.

•The Land Before Time is his absolute favorite movie

•He’s fussy with food a lot.He drinks up bottles and eats food he’s familiar with without making much of a mess and behaving really good,but the second someone tries to feed him something he doesn’t know,he will be a mess.He closes his mouth shut,cries,and if he keeps being pressured he’ll throw a whole tantrum.It could even be food he already knows just in a different shape,nope,nuh-uh,he’s not eating that (in the end he’ll think it’s yummy and eat even more off his cg’s plate)

•Sometimes sleeping is very difficult for him.He needs lots of reassurance,kisses,cuddles,a warm bottle,a nightlight,a bedtime story or lullaby and his stuffie

•He also gets lots of bad dreams,so often less than half the night is spent in his own bed and the most of it in his cg’s

•He’s a curious baby,whenever something happens he’s gotta be there and see

•Sometimes walking can be a little hard for him,but he crawls absolutely everywhere (luckily he doesn’t know how to use his spidey powers when he’s that young…)

•He loves the ocean sooo much,so aquarium trips are a must!!

•Playground trips are always great too,that boy could play in the sand for hours in pouring rain and he’d still be all smiles

•Wherever he goes,his stuffie Monkey has to come with.It’s not a want,it’s a need.If it doesn’t come,he doesn’t either

•Loves Bluey!!His favorite episodes are “Bumpy and the Wise Old Wolfhound” and “Sleepytime” (Seriously tho,Sleepytime is the best episode)

When he’s 4-6:

•He’s a very creative kid,give him some legos and he’ll build an entire castle

•He likes to color!!Especially with crayons

•Still obsessed with dinosaurs.Although with this age range,he prefers to watch the jurassic park/world movies over the land before time

•Loves loves loves superheroes so much!He has an iron man Halloween costume that he wears like every day

•He’s a good kid,he doesn’t break rules…but he does like to push them a bit (a lot)

•Will randomly drop fun facts all the time,like “Did you know that Australia is wider than the moon?”

• And how could I forget,he is OBSESSED with Star Wars (Me too,Petey,me too)

•Has multiple lightsabers (thanks to Tony,these things are so expensive),his room is full of Star Wars posters,he has a massive R2-D2 pillow,and on Halloween he likes to dress up as Chewbacca

•Will also reference Star Wars at any chance he gets.Does anyone (but Ned) get it?No.Will he still continue?Absolutely

•Also,MOVIE NIGHTS.Like,every movie night it’s a decision between dinosaur movies and Star Wars,and believe me when I say that is a very hard decision.Sometimes he’ll just sit in front of two dvds for half an hour just to decide which one to watch

•Discovered that he can stick to things.Luckily he doesn’t know about the webs,but every now and then his cg will just hear giggling above them and when they look up he’ll just be chilling on the ceiling

I have so many more oh my god

[vickyvicarious]

some of my favorite things about The Haunting of Hill House, in no particular order (under cut for spoilers):

Unreliable narrator my beloved! Obviously this reaches incredible levels later on but I love how early it shows up. Like. Not even starting with the stories Eleanor tells herself on her journey to Hill House becoming the home she describes to Theo, but from the very start she doesn't quite let us in on just how miserable her life at home is. She says she hates her sister and I did get the idea that she lived with them. But I thought she had a room of her own. I thought she had pooled money she earned for the car, along with her sister. I mean, maybe it's just me not realizing, but I thought that she had a job now, she had at least a little bit of control over her life. But no, apparently she lives in her niece's room without even a bed of her own, the car was inheritance money. She hinted at things being bad but wasn't open about the extent of it even in the very start.

I really do love the "cup of stars." The bravery to insist upon her own choice. But also, in Eleanor's daydream life, at least as she depicts it to others, seems to involve independence and confidence, but in reality she's obviously lonely and longing for connection. She daydreams about being guarded by poisonous oleanders, about being protected and loved, and that's not really about independence or making choices at all. All she does is show up, and the narrative calls her a princess, rearranges itself as she pleases, coddles her. It's exactly what the house gives her, in the end (she thinks).

Why does Eleanor not remember the stones falling? Did she make them fall?

Every time Theo repeats Eleanor's thoughts or answers a question she didn't ask out loud. I kept wondering how much of Eleanor's hateful thoughts she heard, and how much of that led to her being spiteful at times. Or actually, how much of that was actually spite at all, and how much was things like Theo wanting to protect Eleanor's feelings from 'playboy' Luke, since she's obviously pretty naive.

Luke is introduced as a liar, and later on Eleanor is super scornful of his 'secret' about his mother but it kind of read as him being genuine to me. There's stuff going on with his home life, nothing as messed up as Eleanor but it's still obviously not super happy. Seems like he was reaching out for friendship and neither woman really believed him.

The general theme of fucked up families. Luke's aunt. Dr. Montague's wife, who he seems to love but when she's there she is overbearing and insulting. Not to mention he obviously wants children but hasn't been able to have any. Theo's only outside connection is a friend she lives with. Eleanor hates her sister, and obviously hated and resented her mother, who 'stole' her life and whose death she blames herself for. The original dad and sisters who lived in Hill House, from the eventual hatred all the way back to him supposedly loving them but leaving them alone, and that super creepy book he made for them. There's no straightforward kindness or love for anyone's family, it seems. Something's always missing or twisted.

So they arrange themselves in this loose imitation of a family, with the doctor offering to read bedtime stories, and Theo and Eleanor playing as sisters/cousins. Luke vacillates between older brother and flirty neighbor kid, in a way.

QUEERNESS. Theo's unspecified roommate 'friend', the sister's 'companion', Eleanor's deep deep love for/resentment of Theo even has a vibe, though it's twisted up in a bunch of other stuff too. Still, she wants Luke to fall in love with her but when they come even slightly close she gets mad at him and it's obviously more a vague ideal about the prince coming for the princess than anything to do with him specifically. She thinks journeys end in lovers meeting when she sees him but the first companion she meets and loves upon reaching the house is Theo. She pays a lot of attention to Theo/Luke but it's unclear how much they're actually genuinely flirting and in any case Eleanor's resentment/attention is all focused on Theo. Luke makes a daring rescue of her upon the stairs, but the thing that really brings her out of her haze is seeing/listening to Theo - who she didn't recognize at first, automatically putting her in a place of more importance than either man who Eleanor knew and didn't care about in the moment. Theo's targeted in a way that simultaneously punishes her/ruins her belongings that Eleanor envies, but also forces her into close contact with Eleanor as they share a bed/clothes. Something that Eleanor resents but also maybe wants? Maybe she wants to be Theo, to exchange places, not to see Theo as a 'better' version of herself? Definitely Theo is the biggest threat to the house keeping Eleanor, and the way that plays out is very interesting. Eleanor trying to escape by depending on her at the end, despite knowing it's all a fantasy. Just a lot of gay stuff.

Eleanor "not being allowed" to go in the library??? All the early hints that she's more sensitive to whatever is here.

When she succumbs to the house, she reenacts the hauntings that so frightened her earlier. Further questions on how much the house is doing things and how much Eleanor is, even from early on.

That it's obviously THE HOUSE and Eleanor. There's creepy stories and strange voices/noises, a sense of presence... but no ghosts. Nothing about the haunting that seems linked specifically to the women who lived here before. The cold spot is the center of the house, not the site of a murder, etc.

'ELEANOR NELLIE NELL'. Something about nicknames and seeming younger and childhood, Eleanor conflating the house with her mother, Eleanor seeming to desire to be taken care of more than she ever wants to grow up and go out into the world on her own, despite obviously wanting that too...

How much did the others notice what was going on with her? There was early suspicion, but then it gets quiet on that front and I'm not sure how much is just Eleanor herself not noticing their concern anymore. Obviously they have been talking about her behind her back at the end, so...?

The way the narration gets super vague and loopy and episodic near the end. There's no sense of time. I was deeply surprised to learn how short a time they've been staying there.

Eleanor becoming a part of the house, hearing and seeing things from every part of it! And yet she doesn't know they called her sister. Didn't know they were concerned about her. All the stuff she sees and hears seem to suit her own narrative, and it's unclear whether this is deliberate on the part of the house, her own subconscious, if she's imagining all of it, if she did hear that stuff but blocked it out because she didn't want to hear it...

The scene when she lets the house in.

The ending is SO GOOD. The mirroring of what happened before, the doctor and everyone's fear for her, and best of all that tiny moment when she realizes what she's doing and wonders why. It's still "why don't they stop me?" which still relies upon other people at the very end. Her feeling of rejection from all of them, and maybe it's just her wanted them to rescue her and take her to live with Theo, etc., and not really fully snapping out of it. But at the same time it's a splash of cold water over all her giddy joy or possessive thoughts of Hill House just moments earlier. So in the end, how much exactly was it the house, and how much was it Eleanor? Did they really become one and the same at the end? Or was something in the house preying upon Eleanor, and she merely its victim?

the first and last sentence of the book are almost exactly the same. I can't decide how significant those few tiny differences are, but there's a theme for SURE with it always remaining the same, Eleanor's life on hold, this odd odd status quo and everything going back on the shelves at certain times, the doors always shutting, the concentric layout like protecting something in the center...

The whole house being built a little wonky. I love that.

[bistevethor]

Steve Rogers Fanfiction Recommendations

Happy birthday, Steve!

I know that there are some (a lot?) of steve fans who sometimes struggle to find fics focused on him, so I am here now putting a list of Steve fics. I was going to fics that I haven't seen recommended a lot and most of the ones on this post have less than 200 kudos only, but I end up putting everything (it's probably easier to put my bookmarks as public but well...). It's a massive list (over 100 fics?), so it's will be separated into several posts/reblogs.

Not all of them are from Steve's POV or even have him as the main 'main' character, but rest assured he played an important role and is featured heavily. Lots of these are friendship-focused but I categorized them. The shippy ones are mostly samsteve, thundershield, and some rare pairings because I don't venture to other ships a lot and when I did it's to the rare ones instead lol. Hopefully, any of you can find some gems from this list and these are as enjoyable or as good as I remembered. I'll continue to update it, hopefully, every time I find new ones.

Fics are under read more.

General

The Rocket's Red Glare

Steve was born on the Fourth of July (no joke), so a party is in order! Unfortunately, PTSD decides to rear its ugly head. Fortunately, Steve's got an entire team at his back to help him through it. And screaming goats.

an entry in the scrapbook of absurdity

In which Steve turns into a baby and bites people.

Baby Steve Adventures

Captain America gets hit by a spell during a battle. The rest of the Avengers look after him.

Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't)

"Dragr," Thor called them. "Demons" Clint had said. "Thieves" is what Steve labels them as. AKA, the one where Steve is captured by creatures that feed off of happy memories, and the team is left to pick up the pieces. Post-Avengers.

In Search of (Bucky, Family, Home)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson

A week following the events of CATWS, Steve recruits Natasha and Sam to help find Bucky.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Do we need to recap again? You were shot three times, beaten near to death by an enhanced super soldier with a metal arm and then almost drowned. Yeah, your ass is going to need a few more days of healing time.”

The Truth When Captains Meet

Steve Rogers wakes up on an alien’s space ship being carried bridal style by Carol Danvers. As far as first meetings go, it’s memorable.

Irish Coffee

Pairings: Jessica Jones & Steve Rogers

Jessica runs into an incognito Cap at a cafe. They form an unlikely friendship of sorts.

The Lifetimes of Steve Rogers (Series)

What happens when Steve Rogers steps onto the quantum platform to return the Stones? Where does he go? What challenges does he find? Who does he meet? How many lifetimes can one man have?

Fifty-Two Pickup

Less than a week after the fall of the Triskelion, Steve Rogers is released from the hospital. Although his physical wounds are almost fully healed, other injuries need a bit more time, and some help from friends.

little kids get big so fast

Steve ends up having to take care of the deaged Defenders.

Grampa Steve's Bedtime Stories

If Mommy was away for work, then Morgan’s Grampa Steve came over to stay with her. He’d tuck her in, let her give Mommy a kiss on video chat, then hand her the picture of Daddy for his kiss. Once Daddy’s picture was back on the bookshelf, Grampa Steve would turn off the bedside lamp so that Miss Friday could cover the ceiling with stars, and ask Morgan what story she wanted to hear.

“Captain Steve, Grampa! Tell me Captain Steve!”

Grampa Steve sometimes read to her from books and other times watched a movie with her, but her favorite by far was when he told her Captain Steve’s Adventures Through the Multiverse.

On Camping Trips

Sam is more Hermione than Natasha is, and Steve doesn't want to be Harry.

Powerful

Steve loses the advantages of the super-soldier serum. This is not a tragedy.

His Dream

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

As if on cue, Steve cut him off with a loud sneeze.

"Yeah. Like that." Sam nodded. "And please sneeze into your elbow next time, dude. You could've just started an epidemic."

"Sorry. Allergies." Steve excused, and Sam raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know it's allergies?" Sam asked, and Steve sighed, putting the ingredients together and solving the mystery of what the gas had actually done.

The answer wasn't ideal. "It feels like the seasonal allergies I had before. Before the serum- and I haven't had them since the serum."

Realization clicked in Sam's head.

"The gas de-serumed you."

Steve swallowed and nodded reluctantly.

OR: Steve gets temporarily de-serumed, with his height and stature staying the same but his immune system being as bad as it was before, and has to stay in the hospital to prevent a severe allergic reaction or illness. Sam stays with him the whole time, making sure he's not alone.

A Strange Encounter

Things have gone awry and Strange is injured. With no other options, he's called for assistance from Captain America and his team.

even if we're apart, i'll always be with you

Steve finds a dirty toy bear at an abandoned gas station, on the way back from a school trip. He brings him home.

As Long as You’re Not Tired Yet of Talking

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

When Steve Rogers tells her, “Don’t be a stranger,” as they’re all going their own ways after New York, it makes her want to laugh.

Draw/Breath

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Natasha like knowing what makes people tick. She likes knowing things, about her teammates and her coworkers and herself. Oddly enough, sometimes other people like knowing her too.

AKA: Natasha wants to know why Steve isn’t drawing anymore, and takes the long way round to get her answer. Because why not.

With Magic We Do Fly

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers

In Civil War we see Wanda fling Steve into the air with her magic. They must have practiced that, right?

Que Wanda throwing Steve against a wall. Many times.

Just Like We Practiced

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers

Steve had said, in the movie when he asked Wanda to lift him into the building, "Just like we practiced." But just how did they come up with the idea of her lifting people with her powers, and putting them up somewhere like an escalator? Perhaps it was because Wanda accidentally sent a certain tall, blond Avenger face-first into the floor once and he decided he would help her learn to utilize this as a confidence building exercise. Natasha keeps an eye, Thor and Sam help build the training grounds, and Wanda has found her new home. Takes place between AGE OF ULTRON and CIVIL WAR.

Black and White but Red and Blue

They're watching black and white film reels, but Steve sees them in colour.

"My shield may be black and white but it was red and blue. Just like the blue sky under which red blood was spilled. Like Bucky's blue eyes and Peggy's red lips..."

The Road Warriors

Characters: Sam Wilson (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff

It wasn't pretty, but somehow the four of them managed to make it through two years on the run.

We'll Fix It

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Steve has a hard time after his battle with The Winter Soldier and isn't sure what to do with himself. After not seeing him for a week, Natasha finally shows up to his apartment unannounced to figure out how they can get back to work. There is some crying involved.

From Here On Out

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

The Accords, the search for Bucky, the fight at the airport ... In a world where nothing will ever be the same, sometimes the road to rebuilding trust and friendship is a little rockier than it should be.

AKA, the story of Steve & Natasha and how they got to where they are.

Set post-Civil War but pre-Infinity War.

I have this breath and I hold it tight

Parings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Vision

Steve finally goes to Wanda’s tiny room and taps on the doorframe, although it’s hardly necessary, with the slightly warped floorboards creaking under his feet. “Hey,” he says. “Got a minute?”

Wanda's been a little withdrawn since Steve broke everyone out of the Raft. She's had a lot to think about.

to you.

Pairings: Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff & Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Tony Stark

It's Wanda's birthday today. She's not sure how to feel.

New Love

Pairings: Diana (Wonder Woman) & Steve Rogers

Near the end of World War II, Diana Prince finds herself attempting to reconnect to her long-gone, beloved Steve Trevor. However, she comes across Steve Rogers instead.

Sharing Life (And Canned Green Beans)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

It’s Thanksgiving, and Steve is hiding in the second living room on the 8th floor of the penthouse apartments with a can of green beans.

I'm Fine

Steve slowly began to realize that the problem with being a national icon, a hero, and a role model, is that somehow, he became more than human. He become a symbol, not a person. So when he becomes increasingly unhappy, deeply depressed, and utterly adrift in a world where he doesn't belong, the loneliness and isolation are unbearable. How could anyone believe that an iconic hero like himself was really just an ordinary kid from Brooklyn, dying inside because everything he'd gained still wasn't enough to replace everything he'd lost? How could he possibly bring himself to bleed on the ones he loves? So he tells himself the same lie over and over, hoping one day, he'll believe it.

dogpile

"My dog ate my mission report" An injured Steve remembers something he has to do. Unabashed Steve and dogs fluff. "Didn't peg you for a pet guy." "Allergies."

Alone In This World (Together)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson

“We’re fugitives,” Steve said finally. “It might never get better.”

“The world’s always going to need saving," Sam replied. "We’re still Avengers. No one can take that away from us.” Then, like they hadn't been having an entire conversation before, “So when do we leave?”

“Once night falls.”

Do we have any idea where she is?”

“No.” Steve took a sip of his coffee. “But I know where she’ll be.”

it gets the worst at night

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Here's how it goes: Natasha sometimes shares a bed with Steve. It's not what it sounds like.

(In which there are Colombian drug lords, awkward boners, cuddly super-soldiers and the Avengers are all giant dorks.)

Shelter

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

Sam and Steve, right after the fall of SHIELD.

Princely Bickering

Pairings: Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Jane Foster, Steve Rogers & Thor

Steve allows Sam to lean up and inspect his head for bruises and blood. He then checks out Steve’s eyes. ‘Do you know where you are?’ Steve rolls his eyes. ‘Don’t be an ass, Cap, apparently you can break.’ ‘London, England, chasing apparently useless Hydra intel despite having about five hundred international arrest warrants out for us because we’re just that stupid,’ says Steve. Sam pats him - gently - on the shoulder. Life on the run isn't easy, especially not after an injury. Fortunately Steve still has a few allies left.

And The Seconds Tick Down

AU of Civil War. How the world ended in twenty steps when Steve died.

"Grant" and "Francis" Go Shopping

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

Steve and Clint both have holiday shopping to do for their family of choice, so they make a day trip to an outlet mall, have a few heart to hearts, use some coupons, buy a bunch of presents, and eventually get through their shopping lists.

A Tune Without Words

Pairings: Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers & Thor, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

As he and Sam prepare to begin searching for Bucky, Steve gets various offers of help—some more unexpected than others.

Purpose

Tony Stark wins the fight in Siberia completely by accident.

Steve Rogers does not resist his arrest as he is taken to the Raft.

Sam Wilson, T'Challa, and Pepper Potts pick up the pieces.

Full of Wounds and Still Standing on my Feet

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Wanda Maximoff

The five times Steve looked out for Wanda, and one time Wanda decided someone needed to look out for Steve.

Three Awakenings

The first three times that Steve Rogers woke up during his first twenty-four hours in the twenty-first century.

Making Your Own Future

Characters: Steve Rogers, Diana Prince, Steve Trevor Five times -- plus one -- that Diana Prince and Steve Rogers encountered one another.

Better Living Through Pizza

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

Steve takes some time off from soldiering and Avengering to get his head on straight, and Clint is assigned to keep an eye on him, because apparently SHIELD believes in the blind leading the blind. Steve really needs a hobby, since modern television shows baffle him, but Clint keeps bringing him DVDs and pizza.

Five Times Clint Barton Spoke with Steve Rogers about Growing Old and the One Time He Didn't.

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

When Steve Rogers reappeared from the past as an old man, there was a lot of catching up to do. Clint Barton made sure nobody got left behind.

Hammer's Totally Heavy-Handed and Incompetent Revenge

"So, at the end of IM2, Justin Hammer swears revenge on Pepper. He waits until Tony and Rhodey are halfway across the world to launch his attack.

Unfortunately for him, thanks to SHIELD, Iron Man and War Machine aren't the only superheroes in Pepper's rolladex. Steve thinks Pepper's just swell and doesn't take too kindly to somebody trying to hurt her."

Cue badass!Steve and competent!Pepper

Fan Mail

Steve starts getting his fan mail and receives an invitation to the prom. Written for a prompt at the Avengers kink meme. It was a great prompt, and so much fun to write and get feedback for!

Prom. Steve 'Grandpa Iceberg' Rogers at a 21st-century high school prom. "This isn't happening. This whole conversation is just an elaborate practical joke. Bruce really just has orders for widgets or something."

Bruce waved the printouts at him. "Fraid not. I don't really do practical jokes. Messing with other people's moods just seems. I don't know. Karmically unwise."

Mascot

Steve runs. People see Steve run. Steve gets adopted by the neighbourhood he runs through every week day morning. He finds this confusing. Tony finds it amusing.

Locks Not Replaced

Tony angsts back at Avengers' HQ, Ross is a bully and Steve makes sure he doesn't get away with it. In other words, there is much regret, a bit on the philosophy of locks, adventure and far too many Robin Hood metaphors.

woof

For a prompt on the avengers kinkmeme: "...something different happens when Steve gets Dr Erskine's serum plus the Vita ray treatment... Steve does get taller and stronger, but when the first full moon hits, he turns into a big friendly looking dog. Yes, he's a weredog, not a werewolf."

Mission: Baby

Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

The Asset finds himself in charge of the care of a small baby, but somehow he knows—he has to protect the baby from all harm, whatever the cost.

14 Tracks

Pairings: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Avengers Team 14 tracks from Steve's iPod and how they got on there.

Life Will Rattle Your Bones

Pairings: Erik Lehnsherr & Steve Rogers

Captain America and the Howling Commandos find Schmidt sooner than they thought... wait, what do you mean this is a *different* Schmidt?

In war-torn Germany, the paths of Steve Rogers and Erik Lehnsherr cross, part, and cross again.

come build me up

Pairings: Sharon Carter & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

“Do you ever feel like -- like you joined up because you wanted to do good. You wanted to do the right thing but somewhere along the way, you just lost the whole fucking plot.”

“All of the time.”

Or: the one where Captain America and Agent 13 give long distance friendship a whirl.

Down in the Worn Out Place Again

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Wanda Maximoff

“You don't look a day over 85, Captain,” Wanda says.

Natasha smiles, just barely, and nudges Steve with her elbow. “She makes jokes now.”

(Post AoU, stories about friendship.)

Satellites

Characters: Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Nick Fury Pairings: Natasha Romanov & Steve Rogers, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov

In the immediate aftermath of SHIELD's collapse and Steve's plunge into the Potomac, Natasha considers her place in the world. Also the fact that Steve is depressing.

Timeless Classics

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Avengers Team Five An undetermined number of times (six, apparently) Steve unexpectedly got the reference (sort of), and one time everyone discovered something new together.

you just wait and see

Pairings: Rocket Raccoon & Steve Rogers

“Thor said you’re the captain.” Rogers says, his voice distant, sad smile growing into a sadder grin. “Tough job.”

The Small Hours

Pairings: Steve Rogers & T'Challa, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

"I'm not getting him back, am I." The words were flatly delivered – not a question so much as fatigued resignation. "We will do everything we can to help him," T'Challa quietly replied, but he wouldn't lie, not about this. Not to a fellow warrior he respected on and off the field of battle. "The possibility does exist, however, that the triggers are permanent."

The Man We All Remember From the Newsreels

Still getting used to the twenty-first century, Steve comforts himself with memories of long-gone friends. But Howard Stark, the man Steve remembers, is nothing like the man he sees in the newsreels.

we're all choir boys at best

Characters: Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm

You are totally getting laid tonight. "Please stop talking." You hijacked my brain first, this is totally not my fault.

Epistaxis

Steve doesn't worry the first time he gets a bloody nose that won't quit. But when it happens a second, third, fourth... He, and his teammates, start to get concerned.

You Close Your Eyes and the Glory Fades

His body isn’t his own, he knows that, knew before the procedure that everything would change. That was the easiest thing to wrap his head around, actually, the physical changes. He’s used to his body betraying him, so this is just another thing to learn his way around. But the colors of everything, even the sliver of blue sky he could see, craning his head at the tiny window, look different.

Looking For Answers (From The Great Beyond)

After the Battle of New York is over, and Loki and the tesseract are returned to Asgard, Steve takes a road trip across the country, and tries to figure out what he wants to do next.

Mourning the Future

Steve's ties to the past and the future are pretty tenuous, and the serum ensures he lives in an eternal present state of ever-youthful vigour. When an old war buddy gets handed his last marching orders, Steve has to wonder if everyone will eventually leave.

Riviera Life

Sam and Steve have been traversing Europe looking for Bucky. Not everyone is convinced it isn’t an open invitation road trip.

Voluntary Bros.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm

"Dude, you could be twins, they tested you before they defrosted you to see if you were a clone or something, or if he was a clone," Clint said.

"I want to talk to him, I think. I mean, a girl threw her latte at me last week for not calling her back and this dude felt me up at an art gallery yesterday," Steve said.

Two Brooklynites and One Big Apple

Pairings: Miles Morales & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

“You did good out there today,” Captain America said, brushing a layer of detritus from his unfathomably broad shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”

“Not if I see you first,” replied Miles, fingergunning with one hand as he sent a web rope fwipping off into the distance with the other, catapulting himself away at tremendous speed.

... in which two superheroes battle with bad guys, embark on community art lessons, and a friendship forms along the way.

Battle Fatigue

Steve thought he was doing okay. Things weren't going great, but they were fine, manageable even, and then suddenly they weren't.

We Become New Yorkers (or: Five Times Steve Rogers Looked For Home, and One Time Home Found Him)

New York is a million cities at the same time. This is how Steve found his.

A beautiful day in the neighborhood

In which Steve and Peter learn that the best way to get through a bad situation is together. And to avoid collapsing buildings. And that concussions are terrible, terrible things.

Leviticus 25

"You want to save Bucky Barnes? You are going to have to put your own house in order first because he is going to need a rock to cling to. You are not ready to be that rock for him. You owe it to him -- and more importantly, you owe it to yourself -- to figure things out, figure out how you can be happy in this time and place, whether or not Barnes is with you."

Strike

Sometimes the road to recovery involves bowling. Conveniently, so does the one to the Grand Canyon.

Conversation in Wakanda

“I have been told that you had the privilege to share a training session with some of our Dora Milaje,” T’Challa says. “May I ask how it went?”

“Well,” the Captain huffs. “There’s no polite way to say it: I had my ass handed to me. Repeatedly.”

He sounds and looks utterly delighted.

Contact Light

Everyone thought computers would be the thing that really blew Steve's mind about the 21st century. They were wrong. When he finds out that he missed the moon landing, it's the start of an ongoing obsession with space that maybe involves Neil deGrasse Tyson, Twitter, and Star Trek marathons.

Twenty-Two

“This is Lucky,” Clint said when a dog got between him and Natasha. Lucky’s vest was bright, like desert mornings and night explosions.

“Does he help?” Natasha asked.

Clint pressed his hands flat on the counter behind him. “He saved my life.”

Natasha looked at Steve, her expression fierce. Steve resisted the urge to yank down his sleeves. Instead, he dug his nails into the puckered skin on his forearms.

AKA An AU in which Steve is a veteran just trying to survive (or not).

Gray

Peter doesn't expect Steve to show up at his house one night when he gets home from school. He also doesn't expect to have a long conversation with him, and choose to be on his side instead.

We're Happy, Free, Confused, and Lonely at the Same Time.

"Tony isn't sure, but he *thinks* Steve Rogers is going to try and argue with him about not being a kid, while wrapped up in a fluffy blanket and plaid pyjama pants watching a Disney movie. Tony really hopes that is the case. The Captain America voice looses all affect when wrapped up in that blanket and Tony can't wait to inform him as such." - The one where Tony realises that Captain America and Steve Rogers are not the same person, and Steve is so much younger then he thought.

This Isn't A Love Song, This Isn't A Fable

Steve's not OK with people's perception of Captain America, no matter what he says or how much he pretends otherwise. It's like no one in this time period realizes that there's more to him than a spangly outfit. And yes, he's including the Avengers in that. ... or, the one where everything's all right, until it's not.

it's safe here in our new world

Post TWS. In which Natasha and Steve go shopping, have Thursday night movie nights, and learn that Natasha loves to platonically kiss Steve. Which is good, because Steve loves being platonically kissed by Natasha.

Shadowboxing

Pairings: Matt Murdock & Steve Rogers

It doesn’t matter how many times you fall – what matters most is how many times you get back up. Steve Rogers knew this lesson far too well and it was one Matt Murdock had endured all his life. With both men at their lowest, could a chance friendship bring each of them to their feet again?

Everybody Eats When They Come to My House

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

“You’ll ruin your dinner,” Sam says, gesturing with Steve with his spatula.

i fear for the calendar; its days are numbered

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

Before she goes off the grid, Natasha gives Steve her phone number. He’s honored that he’s the only one to be trusted with it, but quickly learns that she spends most of her free time texting him Dad jokes.

Status Quo Ante

Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

A tale in which Sam suspects he should be used to this by now, for values of 'this' that involve certain folks he hangs out with and situations he finds himself in, Team Cap becomes Team Ex-Cap becomes TBD, and nobody but Clint really wants to know what happened to Scott Lang's GI Joes. (Sam Wilson from the final scene to the mid-credits scene.)

The Glass Parade

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov

Steve thinks that he’s seen Natasha be at least three different people in the short time he’s known her, and he isn’t sure which one is real.

In which the most confusing part of the future is how much Steve has in common with Natasha, and the fact that she seems dead-set on being his friend.

Still Life

Steve Rogers and a very modern form of art therapy. (The one where Steve draws himself out of despair and into some notoriety when his cartoons hit the internet, but he's still not allowed to look at Tumblr without an okay from Pepper.)

Selective Service

The serum's given Steve a lot, but it hasn't taken anything away from him. Not even the things he never wanted in the first place.

I'm a Hustler, Baby

Steve Rogers has a talent for pool--and for making others believe he's terrible at it.

The Healing Properties of Felt-Tip Pens

Rapid healing has worked wonders on Steve Rogers' body, but occasionally it really screws with his head. In the aftermath of torture, Bruce Banner helps Steve to reconcile mind and body.

If I Die Before I Wake

It's his job, as their leader, to endure the sadistic focus of their captor, and that is the one thought that carries Steve through.

Even Gods Do

Captain America doesn't have a good relationship with sleep anymore. Also, he's not a toy.

Under My Skin

Written for a prompt on avengerkink: I want to see something where, for whatever reason, Steve's accelerated healing turns out to be a bad thing. Something where the faster healing is making things worse. I would prefer something other than the standard, super-healing allows for more torture without death. “He's lucky – to have the serum, to have you all.” Tony wasn't sure about that first part. When one faced death and destruction every day on the job, there were many advantages to having a healing factor...and a great many disadvantages as well.

A Glossary of the 21st Century

Pairings: pre-Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Steve's sick of not understanding what's going on, and the team are not all that helpful, so he starts keeping an illustrated notebook for further research. With the help of wiki, google and Logan he starts to settle in and find his place in the twenty-first century.

Blanket Gift Policy

“You didn’t,” Bucky said, with no real hope of being contradicted. Clint shrugged helplessly and passed him the large, soft bundle wrapped in shiny purple foil.

“Sorry.” Tony covered his eyes with one hand.

“I’m getting a migraine.”

“So,” Bruce said wearily, “counting Clint, me, Bucky, Tony, and Sam, that brings it up to five.”

“Excuse you, mine’s not a blanket,” Sam said. “Mine’s a slanket. Big difference.”

Bucky resisted the urge to throw the whole heap of parcels at Sam’s head. “Because it has sleeves? It’s still a blanket, Wilson. They’re all blankets. Even Thor’s direct-from-Asgard raven gift delivery was a cloak, which just means it’s a blanket with a strap. We all got Steve a goddamn blanket.”

One Tin Soldier

Written for a prompt at avengerkink: Because really, under any other circumstances, why would they follow him when he's some guy who's younger than the rest of them (time as a Capsicle aside), who goes around wearing that spangly outfit, who's not even used to the modern world? Why Steve Rogers, rather than a Norse god or the CEO of Stark Industries or anyone else?

“Love is for children,” she'd said, but respect knew no such bounds. The five times the Avengers accepted Steve as their leader, and the one time they followed without question.

and if there's life we'll see it

Steve is instantly taken with this idea of having the picture of the person calling you flash on your screen when they ring your cell.

Secure Your Own Oxygen Mask (Before Assisting Others)

Steve keeps going, because they need him. Being Captain America - having the serum - is a responsibility and a privilege he takes seriously, and he won't waste it by sitting around resting in the middle of a crisis. But then the work is over, and the original victims of the crisis aren't the only ones needing looking after.

Way of the Eagle

Clint introduces Steve to kung-fu movies. Things escalate quickly.

Walking Wounded

In the aftermath of the battle against the Chitauri, Steve's doing just fine. Until he's not. Fortunately, Thor is a perfect mother-hen, Tony makes decent back-up, JARVIS is a genius, and Soap Operas are life-changing. (Or, Post-Shawarma Feels.)

[tenkoscumslut]

Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks headcannons

So um this is about Shigaraki, Dabi and Hawks reaction to their S/O with thick thighs 

Does contain 18+ stuff so ur warned.

And thanks to everyone, I’ve only had this app for 3 days and I have 3 followers, I mean that does not sound like a lot but it is to me.  ThANKS Guys ilysm

Shigaraki

- Shigaraki is a thigh boy, as well as boob guy.  

- Before you dated he jacked off to thick thighs.

- When you came along he didn’t really notice your thighs because he is either sleeping, playing video games or planning stuff for the League

- One day you wore his shirt which went down to your mid thigh

- Then he noticed them. 

- He was practically drooling over them

- “Shiggy whats wrong?”

- “N-Nothing”.

(Senario):

Y/N yawned and stretched her arms far above her head, it was currently 3 a.m, and she was exhausted, “Shiggy, can we go to sleep?”, she mumbled tiredly, he grunted out a response, he was for to mesmerized with his game to really even pay attention to what she was saying.

“Shiggy?”, she repeated his name, “What?”, he asked.  “I’m tired!”, she whined and sat next to him, “Then go to sleep”, he replied nonchalantly, “You haven’t slept in days, can we please go to bed?”, she asked again.

“Fine”, he huffed and turned off his monitor.  A small smile formed on Y/N face, she waddled over to the bed and collapsed in it.  Shigaraki stood there, staring at her sleepy figure intensely, she was wearing his shirt.

“Shiggy what’s wrong?”, Y/N mumbled tiredly, “N-Nothing”, he stuttered, a huge blush was forming on his face.  Her thighs.  He was in love with them, he literally wanted to sink his teeth into the soft flesh, play with them, burry his head between them.

He wanted you to crush his head with your thighs, the thought of that made his big boy stick begin to grow.  “I-I like your thighs”, he mumbled and practically jumped on the bed and nuzzled his face into your chest.

“W-What”, Y/N was confused. Very confused.  She just wants to slep.

Dabi

- He isn’t really into thighs

- But seeing you in that skirt

- He needed to have you

- To bad you had a boyfriend/girlfriend

- Nah he’s gonna make you his

- Your not gonna walk for a week :P

(Senario):

Y/N walked into the bar wearing a school girl outfit, somewhat similar to Togas, but instead the skirt was a bit shorter, and she wore a blue hoodie.  Y/N didn’t have much confidence when it came to her fashion style, so she wore plain colors, nothing to crazy.

Today she decided to add a little spice to her clothing choice, so she chose a white tennis skirt with a blue crew hoodie her boyfriend/girlfriend gave her.  Y/N was exhausted after today’s school day and work.

Toga came bouncing up, wearing her signature outfit and hairstyle, “Y/N!”, she squealed, “Oh My God You Wont Believe What Happen!”, she started to babble on about Izuku licking ice cream at her favorite ice cream store.

“That’s great Toga”, I said with a soft smile and moved my gaze to the bar.  Nobody other than Kurogiri and Dabi were there, Dabi was beyond focused with his phone, typing away stuff on it while Kurogiri was cleaning a glass.

“Heyo!”, I greeted them both with a wave, “Hello Ms. L/N”, Kurogiri greeted back, Dabi spared one glance and then looked away, then looked back, then looked away.

“Oi, I said hello”, I huffed and walked over to Dabi.  He coughed into his arm awkwardly, “You good?”, I asked and tapped his shoulder, “Y-Yeah”, he stuttered.

He kept looking down at my lap through the entire night. 

And now it was beddy bedtime.

You drank your appy juice and then brushed your temfs.

Then you let your hair fall down

And you practically fell down on your bed.

You heard a knock at the door, “Come in”, you called.

You were surprised to see Dabi.

He shut the door followed with a click.

“Something wrong?”, you asked.

“Yeah”, he growled.

You were confuzled.

“Well whats wrong?”, you chuckled awkwardly.

“You. Fucking thinking you can prance around wearing that”, he growled.

“u-Um, what?”, you coughed awkwardly.  He stalked towards you.

“Were you wearing that just to get me worked up?”, he growled.

“I-I don’t know w-what you mean Dabi”, you mumbled, a pit of arousal was growing in your stomach.

“I think you know exactly what I mean”...

You couldn’t walk for the next week.  And know your with Dabi.

Hawks - It’s the first the he noticed when you walked into his office.

- He was literally obsessed with you

- So don’t be surprised if he knows your exact measurements, favorite color, brid, flower, food, pet, and most importantly, clothes.

- he likes to serenade you with objects, just like a bird

- He leave either dead animals, shiny objects or clothes at your doorstep

- At first you were freaked out

- Then every time you went home someone shouted from outside your window, “I love you”.

- And everytime you looked outside nobody would be there

- you thought you were out of your mind

- And one day you decided to ask Hawks a question

- “Hey Hawks, can you shout I love you?”.

- he shouted it with no hesitation.

- It sounded just like the man outside your window.

- At first you didn’t confront him

- You started giving him shiny objects in return

- You asked about his bird tendencies.

- then he told you about courting a mate

- and then it all clicked

- he was attracted to you and wanted you for a mate

(Senario)

“Mhm, tell me more”, Y/N asked softly, “Well um, birds...they court mates”, he explained, “They either give them shiny objects, dead animals, or they sing songs for them or do dances”, he started to dive into the topic very eagerly.

“So do you have a special someone in mind?”, you asked.  A blush flared over his face and he coughed into his arm awkwardly, “U-Uh n-not r-right now”, he mumbled shyly, you smiled, “Ok!”.

“So about those song stuff”, you started, “How do most of the songs go?”, you asked.  “Well it all depends on the birdy!”, he exclaimed happily, “Most of them proclaim their love in a unique song”, “that sounds so romantic”, I sighed dreamily.

“You think so?”, he asked, “Yeah, why not?”, “Just imagine someone making a song just for you about their love”.  “Y-Yeah, I guess”, he mumbled, “And so shiny objects, do female birds give them back?”, you asked.

“I-If they accept the courting, they start building a nest in the males territory, and they hide the shiny objects in their nest”, he replied.  

“I know this may sound odd but can you shout, ‘I love you’?”, you asked, something about the dead animals on your doorstep, the hidden objects hidden around your house, and the shouts from outside the house felt like they were all related to them.

“I LOVE YOU”, he shouted without a second thought, “HAH I KNEW IT”, you shouted, “Your the one leaving all those things on my doorstep, and shouting that outside my window!”, you exclaimed proudly, not even realizing what that meant.

Hawks turned red in almost an instant, from head to toe, “I know I know, I’ma. great detective!”, you said proudly, “So-”, you were cut off by yourself.

“Wait...”.....

“HAWKS!”.

“WHAT?!”

“ARE YOU TRYING TO COURT ME?!”

“MAYBE”

“MAYBE?!”

“WELL IF I SAID YES WOULD YOU LET ME COURT YOU?!”

“OF COURSE”

It all started with your thighs.

The one thing that made him fall in love with you.

Yeah he literally looked at your thighs, fell in love and then went full Sangwoo on anyones kneecaps if they tried to come near you.

[somebodycall911onabc]

Some post-4x13 Buddie because ummmm no to everything that just went down and whatever the hell they're doing with that promo. Pre-relationship Eddie introspection, guest-starring sleepy Buck and Chris (how often can I have these two idiots—Buck and Eddie, not Chris—wake each other up too goddamn early in the morning; the answer is infinite).

Eddie wakes up.

The world is a quiet, washed-out hum of static and dim light. He listens to his breath, in and out, in and out, as the room comes into focus. The rhythmic beeping monitor. The rough sheets over his chest. The hollowed-out numb of his shoulder where—

fuck. Where he’d been shot.

Eddie blinks open his eyes and grimaces. He’s probably doped to hell but his shoulder aches like forest fire, like a pain that will consume him and the whole world too, if he lets it. His head feels like someone pumped it full of air right up until the point before it bursts. He grits his teeth and gathers saliva on his tongue, carefully distributes it so that when he swallows, it will feel less like he’s ingesting a quart of sand. He knows this song and dance. He wiggles his fingers and toes and notes that remarkably, everything’s in working order. He wonders how often you can cheat death before that karma comes to get you.

Although he thinks Buck would probably go to bat for him, even against death himself. The heart monitor spikes as Eddie remembers with a vicious and cruel clarity Buck’s eyes on his as Eddie shuddered and collapsed. Buck’s wide, deer-in-headlights eyes, all that Eddie could see, just two pinprick pupils until there was nothing else, just the black, blank darkness.

Eddie tips his head to the side and opens his eyes, unclenching his fists, and nearly reels back when he sees Ana. She’s crumpled in the seat beside him, her chin resting on her collarbone, her long, dark eyelashes twitching against her cheek as she sleeps.

He closes his eyes and turns his head away.

But Ana’s a light sleeper. She was already waking up when he looked at her, roused from the shallow depths of unconsciousness by the change in Eddie’s breathing pattern, or something. His eyes are still closed when she croaks out, “Eddie?”

He looks at her.

“Eddie!” She says, raising her hands to flutter them over his chest, his face, his un-wounded shoulder. “You’re awake! You’re alive! Thank God,” she says, fervent. Like a prayer.

“Guess I’m just… lucky,” Eddie wheezes out. She smiles at him, eyes watering, and he gave the PG-version of his Silver Star story in her classroom but there’s no hint of recognition in her eyes.

“Either the luckiest man alive, or the unluckiest,” she says. “I’m pretty sure a lucky man wouldn’t be shot at quite so much.” She presses a kiss to his temple and Eddie has the horrible impulse to bat her away from him like she’s an overbearing aunt.

God, he’s an idiot. And it would take getting shot for him to realize it.

“What… happened?” Eddie asks, relieved when she leans back and settles into her chair.

“I’m not sure… I heard there was a sniper on the scene. The police think he might be targeting first responders, because how could this year get any worse?” When she shakes her head, her curls bounce in a way Eddie found appealing, once. It feels like a million years ago.

“Chris?” He asks, heart racing once more. She glances at the monitor and then back to him, offering a reassuring smile that does little to soothe his nerves.

“He’s OK. Buck’s with him.” Those three words calm Eddie instantly, like someone turning off an electric kettle, the worry bubbling up inside him simmering to a still. Because it means Chris is OK, and so is Buck. “I’m really grateful to Buck,” Ana is saying, taking his hand in hers, drawing his attention back to her. “It means I get to be here, with you.” She smiles at him like he’s fragile.

Wrong.

Eddie looks at her and doesn’t know how to tell her. How to tell her that the right thing would be for her to be at Chris’s side. That Chris always came first. Chris was the first and only priority. Chris was Eddie’s heart, raw and exposed, just like Bobby had said.

He looks at her and thinks about Chris’s smile, how he lights up the minute Ana walks in the room. He thinks about Chris confessing to him, quiet and anxious, that he’d asked Santa to find Mommy. He thinks about his parents telling him that the proper thing to do was to marry the girl carrying his child, even if he wasn’t sure he loved her.

Chris has been and will always be the most important thing in Eddie’s life. But Eddie’s starting to realize that even with a Northstar as good and perfect as Chris, Eddie didn’t always make the best choices. For himself, for Chris, or for their family.

“Can you call Buck, for me?” Eddie asks, brushing his thumb over Ana’s delicate knuckles. “If it’s not too late. I want to see my boys.”

She hastily bends down to pick up her purse and fumble her phone out, tell him it was fine, Buck had wanted her to call him as soon as Eddie woke up, anyway. He catches a glimpse of a “5” as she unlocks the phone and opens her contact list.

In the early morning, hospital quiet, Eddie can hear the phone ring on the other end of the line. Once, twice. Click.

“Hello?’ Buck asks, voice scratchy with sleep.

“Let me talk to him,” Eddie says, before Ana can get a word in. She hesitates, opens her mouth, but he holds her gaze until she extends the phone to him. Eddie’s hand is steady when he takes it from her.

“Hey,” Eddie says. Buck’s bleary-eyed, curls smashed to one side of his head, half his face obscured by a dark shape.

“Eddie,” Buck says, a ragged, relieved sound. He shifts, and Eddie hears him say, “Chris, Chris wake up, it’s your dad, Chris, he’s OK!”

And then there’s another face, pressing too close to the camera, so that Eddie mostly sees a nostril and some chin.

“Daddy!” Chris whoops, and Eddie smiles, and Buck pulls Chris back from the phone screen so Eddie can see him.

“Hey there, buddy,” Eddie says, “sorry I scared you.”

“W-wasn’t scared,” Chris insists, blinking rapidly because without his glasses, the world was mostly a multi-colored smudge. “I had Buck.”

Buck—who settles Chris’s glasses over his face with heartbreaking tenderness. Buck—who wraps an arm around Chris and scoots them back against the headboard so they can both see Eddie. Buck—who had clearly been sleeping in Chris’s bed, keeping him safe while Eddie was getting several pints of blood pumped into his body and shrapnel extricated from his shoulder.

“That’s good,” Eddie says. “Really good.”

“We knew you’d be OK,” Buck says. “Right, Superman?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause of your lucky charm.”

Eddie has to close his eyes against that. Chris is still so young, still Disney-innocent and honey-sweet, and Buck knew exactly what to say to calm Chris down. He knew Chris’s favorite bedtime story and the playlist Eddie made for him to help Chris fall asleep.

“That’s right,” Eddie chokes out. “My St. Christopher medal.”

“No.” Eddie blinks at that, at the stubborn line of Chris’s mouth. “Me. And Buck.”

Buck looks just about as surprised as Eddie feels.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“What?” Buck asks.

“What?” Chris asks, confused at their confusion. He addresses Buck. “Daddy said that I was his good l-l-luck charm. Because he loves me. A-and he loves you, so you’re his good luck charm too.”

Eddie isn’t sure if his kid is perceptive or just putting together ideas in the way only kids can. But it doesn’t really matter, because he isn’t wrong.

“Got me there,” Eddie agrees. “I must be pretty lucky, since I’ve got the both of you watching my back.”

Buck’s smiling a pleased, sunshine grin. The room is too dark and the connection is too poor, but Eddie would bet money that Buck’s blushing.

Eddie very deliberately doesn’t look at Ana.

“We’ll come visit as soon as the hospital opens,” Buck promises. “It’s good you called, because we should probably get going.”

To his right, Chris gives a huge yawn.

“You sure? I’m not going anywhere.”

“You think we’re gonna be able to sleep now that you’re awake? No way.”

“No way!’ Chris agrees.

“We’ll be there in fifteen. Twenty. Ten?” Buck looks down at Chris.

“Five!” Chris shouts. “The f-firetruck could make it in five minutes!”

“But we only have Buck’s jeep,” Buck says, pouting at Chris. “Definitely not a firetruck.”

“Fifteen,” Chris amends.

“OK,” Eddie says with a laugh that barely hurts. “I’ll see you soon. Thanks, Buck.”

“For what?” Buck asks, ruffling Chris’s hair with the hand that had been draped over Chris’s shoulders. “Be there soon.”

The call disconnects with the finality of a book snapping shut. He squares his shoulders (as much as he can while lying in an inclined hospital bed with a bullet injury) and turns his head to face Ana.

Her eyes are narrowed and hard, like ice over a troubled stream.

“So,” she says, slow and calm, “Buck?”

“Yeah” Eddie says. It’s all he can say. He can’t tell her how to be what he needs, what Chris needs. He can’t tell her to put Chris first like a reflex, like an instinct.

He doesn’t blame her. He isn’t mad at her. He isn’t even disappointed. He’s as shocked as anyone that he met someone who understood, immediately and profoundly, that Chris was Eddie’s world. Eddie had never counted on someone like Buck. And it was time he stopped running from that and accepted it for the undeserved, unparallelled gift that it was.

“I’m sorry,” he adds.

“Me too.” Ana takes her phone back with a snap of her wrist and drops it in her purse. “I’m going to go home.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, feeling a little guilty. He knows what it’s like to feel left behind, waking up with nothing but a note and the realization that you could never be good enough.

Ana gets to her feet and smooths the wrinkles of her blouse, and for a moment she reminds him so much of Shannon that he’s dizzy. The straight back, the self-posession, the tumble of curls swept over her shoulder.

He hopes Ana finds a love worthy of her, someone who will treasure her and believe her when she says, “sometimes our limitations let us know who we are.”

Because Eddie looked at the world like a challenge. He threw himself into it like the world might burn up tomorrow, but he would fight to the last breath anyway. He peeled away honorable discharge and may experience lifelong mobility dilemmas and we know what’s best for him and don’t you know how hard it is to be a single father like strips of old paint.

And Buck was the same way. Buck was I had to do it and didn’t you know Jim Abbot played baseball with only one hand and I’m in. You wanted us to bond, Cap. We might end up real close.

Eddie watches Ana leave, her heels clicking sharp against the tiled floor. At the door, she turns her head.

“I am glad you’re OK, Edmundo.”

“Thank you.”

And then she’s gone.

And then Eddie waits, anticipation mounting, for his boys to bring him home.

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme.

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut (maybe)  words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of alcohol

a/n: im certified atsumu simp now 

taglist: @apollochjld @kurosarium @vicassa @carbs-need-more-love @underratedmage @idek-at-thispoint @wtfeverbrandi @food8me @yikes-buddy @ntimacy @nyxiie

| Chapter One |

Chapter Two

When you turn the corner to head towards the gym, Atsumu is already waiting for you. Determined to make this as convincing as possible, he slings an arm around your shoulders and you do a fantastic job of pressing yourself against his side, wrapping your own arm around his middle. You ignore the thought that he is comfortingly warm and very solid next you, reminding yourself you’re doing this for peaceful showers.

The two of you approach the gym and as if they were waiting for you, the entire team is standing at the entrance. A few of their brows raise, clearly surprised Atsumu wasn’t lying. Though some of them look suspicious, eyeing the two of you up and you prepare yourself for questions.

When you get within earshot, one of them shouts, “Wow Miya, we really thought you were lying!”

“Yeah! Why’ve you been hiding this beauty from us, huh?”

Before he can speak, for some reason you decide to take the blame, answering, “I was a little nervous to meet you all for a while.”

If Atsumu is surprised at all, he hides it, instead holding you a bit closer, his hand splaying across your opposite shoulder and gushing, “Cute, isn’t she?”

One of them who doesn’t seem convinced asks, “So how’d you meet?”

Now Atsumu takes the lead. “Funny story actually! We met in the bathroom! Her favorite shower stall is the one right next to mine, and we both like late night showers.”

You can’t help the frown that turns your lips downward. “He wouldn’t leave me alone,” you admit, making the members of the team smirk a little bit. “I swear, he’d wait around for me.”

“I did not!” He pouts, and it’s beginning to look like the more suspicious members are starting to believe you.

So, you go in for the kill. “Sure, you didn’t,” you smile, reaching up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek that you don’t give yourself time to think is okay or not. That seems to stun Atsumu, which is a feat in itself, but you don’t give anyone time to think anything of it as you give them a light wave goodbye and slip out of Atsumu’s arms. “It was nice meeting you all, but shouldn’t you get to practice? I’m sure I’ll be seeing you more often now!”

They give you parting waves, some of them just as stunned as Atsumu seems to be. On your way out, you risk a glance backwards and see them surround Atsumu, one of them pulling him into a headlock and ruffling his blonde locks while they all laugh and enter the gym. Atsumu grinning the widest of them all. You aren’t sure why, but you’re smiling too. Strangely glad to have helped him out.

His teammates encircle him, clapping him on the back and congratulating him, jokingly calling him a bastard for going and snagging a girl like that. He can’t help thinking the same. You shocked him with that kiss out of the blue, enough that he probably looked more lovestruck than shocked to his teammates. He’s impressed with your commitment to this charade.

Before he disappears into the gym, Atsumu takes one last look at you heading down the path. That went perfectly. And even though he knows he shouldn’t, he thinks about that small little kiss the entire practice.

The following days are absolute hell. You have to garner the courage to tell your roommate before word gets out because the rumor that Miya Atsumu finally has a girlfriend spreads like wildfire. She’s hurt at first, but like you suspect, she forgives you after you tell her how you and Atsumu met.

She seems to think the shower story is the most adorable thing she’s ever heard as her squeals of, “So cute!!” are loud enough you swear the entire floor must hear it.

Your daily routine changes, feeling like you have to peer around every corner in fear of the fan club waiting to ambush you. But after reluctantly disclosing that to Atsumu, you notice he makes a point to walk with you whenever he can. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and once when you actually do run in to the fan club, the glare he gives them is cold enough to ice over a lake and you’re pretty sure they won’t bother you even if Atsumu is absent.

Additionally, you and Atsumu start spending a lot more time together. You eat lunch with him almost every day, sometimes joined by a few members of the team, sometimes by your roommate, other times the two of you eat alone. And you’re beginning to find those are the days you like the most. The days when the two of you can just be without feeling the pressure to pretend.

“So does your brother still play volleyball?” You ask one day, curious why if they were such a powerhouse in high school why they didn’t continue that into college.

“I always liked volleyball just a little more than him.”

“He quit?”

Atsumu shrugs, shoving another mouthful of rice into his mouth. “He went to culinary school, always had a weird place in his heart for food.”

“And that was volleyball for you?”

He stares at you, unprepared for this barrage of questions. There was this strange familiarity growing between the two of you, and the more time he spends with you alone the more he feels like he knows you. It makes it easier to pretend for everyone else, but he’s starting to wonder if it’s making it harder for him to remember this is all pretend.

Before he can reply, you continue, “If you love volleyball so much, why aren’t you playing professionally then?”

His brows lift. “And how did yer pretty little ears hear about that?”

You roll your eyes, but definitely need to shove the feeling of embarrassment down to be able to admit, “My roommate told me.”

“Curious today, aren’tcha?”

You stiffen. “Well, I should probably know these things if we’re dating,” you mumble, returning to your food trying to hide your flustered expression.

Yet again, you surprise him with your commitment to this façade. The two of you could easily sit here in silence since it’s just the two of you, but since you’ve started eating lunch together both of you have started to get to know the other more. So, he just smiles at you and admits, “Yeah, I could, but I was kinda lookin’ forward to the whole college experience, ya know?” He rests his chin in his hand, wondering if he should continue. He hasn’t really told anyone his feelings about playing professionally, and how he feels that with every day he ignores the offers the less likely he’ll be able to make the transition the longer he waits. “I’m still thinkin’ about it. The offers are still there.”

You cock your head, and he refuses to look at you, feeling like you have a gift for seeing straight through him. “Is college that great?”

Now he laughs, and in an attempt to bring this conversation back to lighter waters he wraps an arm around you and smothers you against his chest teasing, “Yeah, otherwise I wouldn’ta met you!”

You roll your eyes and tell yourself that for the sake of the charade you let yourself sink into his embrace. When he releases you, you stick your tongue out at him. “I know you purposefully changed the subject, but I’ll let it slide. Consider yourself lucky.”

He puts his hands together in a fake prayer. “I’ll forever remember the kindness,” he says dramatically.

To which you scoff, “I highly doubt that.”

~

You study together when he’s available, but usually volleyball takes precedence over studying most nights. Sometimes he joins you in the library late at night, finding you in your favorite corner, plopping down beside you, blonde hair damp from the quick shower he took and distracting you from schoolwork with how practice went that day.

Already a few weeks in to your agreement, one night the two of you are in the library rather late, Atsumu’s practice ended late and he has a paper due in the morning that he’s desperate to finish. For the first hour, he’s chatty, unable to focus on what he needs to get done, despite constant reminders from you and promises that you’ll go get ice cream from the dining hall when he finishes.

The next hour, he seems to get in the zone, typing furiously away on his computer. Honestly, he isn’t sure if what he’s writing is even good but at this point, he doesn’t care, it just needs to get done.

But after his stint of concentration, you’re suddenly struck by the realization that he’s been silent beside you for a few minutes now. No sound of typing or conversation, and it goes on long enough that you become concerned. Looking over, you find him slumped over in his chair, head on his keyboard, fast asleep.

You fight the urge to laugh at him. Taking only a few selfish moments to marvel over his face, his usual smirking expression replaced by his eyes softly closed and his mouth slightly open. He sighs a deep breath before subconsciously stretching his arms out across the table and you get a nice view of his biceps flexing beneath his black shirt.

It’s then you become aware that you’ve been staring at him way too long and shake him awake.

His eyes flutter open, and upon seeing you, that once infuriating smirk he likes to wear rises to his lips. “Who woulda thought I’d be wakin’ up to a pretty girl lookin’ at me like that,” he drawls, knowing exactly how to fluster you.

You shake your head, laughing and packing up your things. “Come on big baby, it’s bedtime.”

“Yes ma’am,” he murmurs, picking his head up and promptly stuffing his things away in his bag. You decide to ignore what his soft, sleepy voice is doing to your heart rate and instead focus on how he’s putting his things away. That backfires on you, as you start thinking about how long and deft his fingers are and you have to physically look away from him to stop your mind going in that direction.

The two of you leave the library, walking quietly back to your dorm building, you aren’t expecting his hand to slip into yours; those long fingers you were just trying to get out of your head intertwining with yours. You look up at him confusedly and without looking at you, he brushes it off, “Just in case.”

You press your lips into a firm line, replying, “Right.”

He won’t dare admit he did that subconsciously. He just reached out for your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, only realizing his mistake from the confused expression you gave him. He internalizes his sigh of relief that he can pass it off as keeping up your fake relationship and you seem none the wiser.

When you make it up to your floor, at the point in the hallway where you need to split ways, despite nobody being around that you need to fake for, you press a light kiss to his cheek and say, “Goodnight Atsumu.”

You’re gone before he can get a reply in.

~

You start coming to his games more often, dragging your roommate along (though she doesn’t mind one bit) and do your best to ignore just how good he looks playing volleyball. It doesn’t help that your roommate keeps commenting things like, “god you are so lucky,” and “just look at him!”

You are looking at him. And it pisses you off that she’s right. He’s annoyingly god-like, and you find yourself staring at his biceps and thighs a lot more than is necessary. Your heart fluttering traitorously whenever he grins when he makes a successful play. Even when he raises his fist to silence the crowd when he serves, which before you thought was utterly ridiculous—you now find yourself holding your breath as goosebumps spread across your skin.

He denies to himself just how much he loves seeing you in the stands. Unable to stop the feeling that swells in his chest with the way you look at him. With the fan club, he knows all they see is the surface. He’s cocky enough to know he’s good-looking (and if he didn’t think so, the fan club certainly feels otherwise). But with you—you look like you want to devour him. He doesn’t know if you are aware of it or not, but you watch him with predatory intent in a way he can’t explain that makes the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

At some point, he has to admit it. He fucking loves it.

One particularly memorable game, he swears you never take your eyes off him. And he feels like he’s at the top of his game, like nothing can go wrong for him. He’s so full of adrenaline and excitement afterwards that when he finds you in the hallway, he sweeps you up into an enormous hug. Your laughter filling the air and god—he loves your laugh; he could listen to it forever.

You don’t even care how sweaty he is or really if anyone is watching. Your instinct is to wrap your arms around him and squeeze him back, your ego inflating from the glares you can feel boring into your back from the fan club. And it’s easy—far too easy to forget that all of this is fake.

Especially when he pulls away only to plant a kiss right on your mouth, his body too full of adrenaline to truly realize what he’s doing.

And instead of pushing him away, you selfishly pull him closer, fingers laced behind his neck and body slotting against him so perfectly he has to resist the urge to groan. He cradles your head, drawing out the kiss for as long as he can consider appropriate, every fiber of his being screaming at him to just confess to you.

Instead, he lets you go, both of you chalking it up to the adrenaline and the charade. Both secretly knowing it was more than that to both of you.

And you don’t speak of it again, continuing with your sham relationship like nothing has changed.

But a lot of things have changed. It’s been almost 2 months since this started, well past the time needed to convince his teammates this is real. Some part of him refuses to bring it up, unwilling to let you go and wanting to drag this on for as long as possible.  

Despite knowing that this will all have to come to an end eventually.

~

“You gotta be there!” He pouts, doing a wonderful job of obscuring your view of the notebook on the table in front of you. “There’s no way my girlfriend would miss it!”

You groan, head resting on the chair behind you. Atsumu has been trying to convince you for the better part of the hour to come to the party the volleyball team is throwing this weekend. No matter how many times you’ve expressed your disinterest, he’s relentless.

He wiggles his brows. “I’ll throw in an invitation for your roommate too,” he says, knowing full well your roommate will be a pain in your side if she finds out you got invited to this party and refrained from taking her with.

Now you sigh, annoyed that he knows you well enough to sweeten the deal like that. And it isn’t the party that is deterring you, it’s a certain blonde-haired volleyball setter that you’ve been getting far too close to lately that’s making you hesitate. Something about the atmosphere of a party and a little alcohol in both of your systems makes you uneasy. And not in a bad way.

“You promise not to ditch me?” You pout, faking the reason you don’t want to attend.

He crosses over his heart. “I swear it. And besides, I’d be crazy to let ya wander around by yerself.” He gives you a quick wink, then a kiss to your cheek and he’s off to practice, shouting over his shoulder that the party starts at nine.

Your roommate is over the moon at the invitation, insisting you can’t possibly show up right at nine. So, you and she show up fashionably late around ten. Within a few moments, Atsumu finds you and gathers you up into his arms, whispering in your ear, “You’re late, where ya been?”

You smirk. “Roommate insisted on being fashionably late.”

He just chuckles, low in his throat and directly beside your ear—a sound that makes your toes involuntarily curl in your shoes. God, if you’re already curling your toes at the sound of just his voice you’re in for a long night. After releasing you, he easily greets your roommate and takes the two of you to the kitchen where cans of various alcohols are waiting.

You swear your roommate is going to combust with joy, taking a can for herself then happily heading off towards the dance floor. You’re glad she’s pretty independent as you can already feel you’re going to be glued to Atsumu’s side the entire night. You eye the drinks, sigh, and take one for yourself. If this night’s going to be long, might as well enjoy it.

He just watches you, amused, and unable to stop himself from thinking about how good you fucking look tonight. He wanted you to be here not to keep up the act of your relationship but because he actually wants to spend time with you. Lately, it’s the highlight of most of his days, and sue him if he wants to have a little fun.

Setting an arm on your shoulder, he first parades you around the party, letting everyone see just who he’s ‘dating’ and feeling his ego boost from the looks of jealousy he garners from a few people. The teammates who have eaten lunch with you a few times are happy to see you, indulging you in a bit of chit chat and helping loosen you up.

You might’ve been embarrassed to be on Atsumu’s arm had it not felt so damn great to be met with looks of jealousy from guys and girls alike, and it was doing wonders for your self-confidence. Enough that you tap him on the arm and ask to be taken back to the kitchen for another drink. He graciously obliges you, and once both of you have another can in hand, he finds somewhere for you two to sit.

It doesn’t even occur to you how easy it is to curl up beside him, his arm around you on the back of the couch, hand resting on your opposite shoulder while the two of you observe the party in full swing.

“You guys really know how to throw a party,” you comment, nodding to the room that was completely cleared out to make room for a dance floor.

“What’s that?” He teases. “I thought you didn’t want to come!”

Poking him in the side and refusing to look up at him, you admit, “I changed my mind.”

You know you’ve dug yourself a nice little hole when he continues, “Are my ears deceiving me? Are you admitting you were wrong?”

“Spare me,” you beg, a grin on your lips nonetheless. It’s then you spot your roommate out on the dance floor, her eyes connecting with yours long enough that she starts beckoning you towards her. “Oh god,” you groan.

She doesn’t stop though, instead abandoning the dance floor and approaching you and Atsumu. “Excuse me sir, but I’m gunna have to steal her for a dance or two.”

Subconsciously you cling to Atsumu, jerking your eyes up to him as he smiles easily saying, “Of course.” Taking your arm, she pulls you up from the couch and out of Atsumu’s arms, dragging you towards the dance floor while you look back at him with a pleading expression. He only waves idly back at you, that infuriating smirk splaying across his lips.

Worming her way into the throng of bodies, she puts her hands on your hips forcing you to sway them along to the music, laughing and encouraging you to ‘let go!!’. Eventually, there’s no resisting the thumping music or the movement of bodies around you, and soon your laughter is mixing with hers as the two of you dance ridiculously with one another.

Atsumu watches from the couch, utterly entranced at your change in behavior. He’s unable to look at anyone else but you, like the rest of the party falls away and its just you on that dancefloor swaying your hips under the flashing lights. He hardly knows what to do with himself as you laugh alongside your roommate, unaware he’s watching you.

At some point, you remember the boy you came here for, and fight your way to the edge of the crowd to catch sight of him. He’s where you left him, sitting on a couch a room away, an ankle crossed over his knee, still drinking his beer and looking unbothered by your absence. You look at him a moment, sitting there in his fitted black tee and dark jeans, so casually good-looking it isn’t fair.

His dark eyes meet yours and there’s something in them that sends goosebumps prickling across your skin. You’re barely even tipsy but there must be something stirring your boldness, otherwise you would have never lifted a hand and beckoned him towards you.

He’s pinned to his seat for a moment when you motion him to join you on the dancefloor. He has an uncanny suspicion that something is going to happen out there, under the safety of the pulsing lights and hidden by the mass of bodies. But some part of him wants that, whispering that it’s all he wants. So, he rises, setting his can on a nearby table and strides out to meet you.

A fire lights in your stomach as he stops in front of you, and now that he’s here you are quite sure what to do with yourself. “You looked bored,” you lie.

“Well, my date ditched me,” he remarks. “But I like her, so I’ll let it slide.”

Your answering smile is enough to send him through the roof. And soon, you’re engulfed by the surging crowd, getting sucked into the middle of the floor, a sense of reality slipping out from beneath the two of you. His hands at your waist, your body pressed up against his, his forehead resting on yours—he’s desperate to close the gap between the two of you. Dying to kiss you, to feel your lips mold to his, fingers lacing in his hair—he wonders what kind of sounds he could elicit from you, sounds just for him, sounds that would get lost in the thumping beat.

His better sense tells him to resist. Knowing that even though you’ve kissed before, this one would be different. It’s just the two of you, free from the pressure of pretending, he wouldn’t be able to pass it off as an act. And even if he could, he isn’t sure he wants to.

All the while, you’re watching him, wondering if he’s going to take the leap. Part of you urging him to. Pathetically wanting him to smother you in his arms and the two of you can just ignore it all tomorrow. It’s seemingly what you do best.

He doesn’t though, allowing him to just enjoy this moment—your proximity, warm breath mingling with his, arms resting on his broad shoulders as the crowd undulates around you. To him, there’s nothing else around, just you and your body fitting perfectly to his, back curved to press closer to him—he’s pitifully so lost in the way you’re moving those hips making him move along with you.

He’s grateful that if you notice him struggling to keep his composure, you don’t say anything. But when he glances at your face, you’re blissfully unaware of his plight, eyes closed murmuring along to the music and relishing the moment in your own way. Your thoughts dominated by how warm he is, how solid he feels, how his hands are resting on your back.

And the two of you stay like that, until you’re broken from your reverie by one of his teammates whistling loudly at the two of you, eyebrows wiggling suggestively that Atsumu just huffs a breath out at.

“I think I need another drink,” you say, pulling away from him.

His arms feel empty now, the clamor of the party destroying the quiet and intimate bubble the two of you had created. But instead of doing anything about it, he just gives you a winning smile—one he feels is half-assed, replying, “Ditto.”

[hobicomeholla29]

Soulmate- Drabble - PCY

Pairing: Vampire! Chanyeol x Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU! /Fluff /Crack

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: None

Rating: PG13

A/N: Well look who has returned from her semi-hiatus! xD This is a small drabble I had saved in my WIPS and decided to give it a little life. Unedited, please bear with me. This is my attempt to get back into writing, hopefully, it works lol.

Summary: Sleep doesn’t want to come to you tonight, but a phone call with your favorite person might do the trick.

♡¤▪•°°°•▪¤*♡*¤▪•°°°•▪¤*♡*¤▪•°°°•▪¤*♡

You tossed and turned in your bed, not sure why you couldn't bring yourself to sleep. It was way past the appropriate bedtime for someone who wanted to be a responsible adult on the following day.

It didn't help that tonight, it seemed to be one of those cold nights, where no amount of clothes and blanket layering made you feel warm enough.

You considered abandoning the little warmth you had finally achieved after hours, thinking you could maybe get Sehun to entertain you until you felt sleepy since he loved being active so late at night. But you remembered -One- that he lived a mile and a half away and -Two- he would probably send you right back home and to sleep, so you opted to stay put.

Running out of ideas on how to get yourself to finally sleep, you stared into the darkness of your room, ready to accept that you would walk into your office with bloodshot eyes the following day. That was until a buzzing sound coming from your nightstand startled you.

Rolling around in your bed to get in a more comfortable position, you answered your phone without checking who it was. "It's 2 in the morning, why are you still up?" you croaked.

There was no need to check the caller ID, only one person would call you this late at night and that could mean a couple of things, but mainly either his thoughts were running rampant again or he was hungry.

"I can't stop thinking about you, but also I don't require sleep," he answered, voice matching the grogginess in yours due to not speaking for hours.

The way he decided to answer your question had you chuckling involuntarily.

How can he confidently say stuff like this, when it's so difficult for you to even show him proper affection yet.

"Well, you better stop and try to at least get some shut-eye, I'm sure everyone expects you to be at your best tomorrow, no bags under your eyes."

You were pretty sure you heard Junmyeon say something about a show tomorrow and that he needed Chan to be well-rested for it.

"Tell your mini-you to stop running tracks in my head then." he requested, laughing a little. Funny how, even though you could only hear him, you could easily picture his sharp canines peeking out from the corners of his top lip.

Shuffling could be heard on his end of the line and you assumed he was more than likely also laying in his bed.

"Mini-me, get out of my Chan's head now! He needs to rest; tomorrow is a busy day for him, and you aren't helping." You barely noticed your slip of the tongue by calling him yours, yet you didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.

"That's all I get? Wow and here I was expecting a title or something a little more...endearing. Dang." He mused.

You knew what he wanted to hear, you just liked playing dumb once in a while.

You and Chan had known each other for a while now, however, just recently did your relationship turn into a romantic one, as it wasn't always so.

"Oh~ you mean something like my SUPER BEST FRIEND Chanyeol?" You teased; knowing perfectly well you were more than that.

"We're not JUST friends and you know it. Plus I don't think Sehun would want me to compete for that place in your life." he answered so quickly, you were sure you even heard a slight snarl escape with the sentence. He knew you were teasing him, but you were sure he was pinching the bridge of his nose to not let it get to him.

"I know nothing Park Chanyeol" you smiled to yourself.

There were a couple seconds of silence before he sighed deeply and took another approach.

"So, tell me, baby, what does an undead man have to do, so his ex-prey/ex-friend understands that she is no longer either of those and has escalated to soulmate?"

"If people knew that, they would probably come to the conclusion that I developed Stockholm syndrome."

It was an old inside joke, you both knew that. However, it wasn't too far away from the truth.

Chanyeol was a vampire, and you were once his prey, simple as that. Yet if anyone knew how your relationship with Chanyeol began, they would think you were either masochistic or probably crazy.

"We've had this conversation and we aren't going back to it." He defended jokingly.

"I've said nothing that's untrue, but, back to your original question on how to make me understand that we are now 'soulmates' or whatever that means..."

He scoffed at that, knowing well that you were more than likely making air quotes for the word soulmate, because you really didn't believe in that crap, yet study sessions with Sehun said otherwise.

"Hush! You may prove yourself to be my soulmate by feeding me with a delicious food bouquet."

He laughed a little too loud at that one, leave it to you to make a dent in Chanyeol's bank account by getting him to buy you food.

"First of all, did you just hush me?" he seemed much more awake the longer you bantered, however, the whole thing was lulling you to sleep.

"Yes, so…?”

You heard a deep sigh and slight grumbling coming from him, probably complaining about how you think about food 24/7 but not about him, when he was suddenly back on the phone.

"Anyways, Buffalo or BBQ?"

"Half-and-a-half please and thank you."

"Your wings bouquet will be at your office tomorrow at 12."

"Thank you~" You could feel yourself fully relaxing and losing consciousness, sleep now finally reaching you and you hated to admit that maybe it did have something to do with the soulmate thing.

Both lines remained silent for a couple more minutes, none of you ready to hang up on the other until you finally decided to speak.

"I love you... soulmate" your own heart skipped a beat after the word left your lips, something you won't admit to Chanyeol ever, yet somehow, you felt like he already knew about it.

"I love you more baby. I think I can go to sleep now."

"Mm-hmm, me too." You answered half yawning.

You have no idea who ended the call, but you did recall hearing his deep chuckle before slumber took over you and you just had to accept that his laugh was one of your favorite sounds in the world.

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I hope you guys enjoyed the little drabble.

[cagestark]

A Hole In the Head//8

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

-

About this: 4.5k. Smoking. Alcohol. Mention of wounds, healed (burns specifically). Masturbation. Threatening as foreplay. Typical winterspider stuff. Daddy kink.

-

Hours later finds Peter still staring upwards, only the ceiling blocks his view of the stars. Most nights he crawls into bed naked (or ends up that way thanks to his lover). It’s more comfortable that way, his sensitive skin against the high thread count sheets. But Peter doesn’t hold much hope that he’ll sleep at all tonight, so instead he dons one of Tony’s dress shirts pulled from the laundry basket, pressing his nose to smell the fading cologne whenever his heart starts racing. 

The bed is far too big for one man. Far too empty. 

Peter picks up his phone and opens a message to Bucky. Come lay with me. Even though it’s two in the morning, Bucky’s response is almost instant, a bullheaded, No, that Peter can almost hear in the man’s rasping, no-nonsense voice. 

No fucking, Peter promises. He sends the message, but his thumbs hesitate over the keyboard, fluttering anxiously before he decides that nothing ventured will mean nothing gained. I can’t sleep, he admits. Help distract me?

In a few moments, the bedroom door opens a fraction and Bucky’s figure is there. He’s wearing sweatpants and an undershirt, hair mussed like maybe he was laying in bed the next room over just like Peter. The sight of him makes Peter’s heart flit upwards to his throat. He’s much more aware of his own outfit: nothing but one of Tony’s shirts and the softest boxer-briefs. 

“No fucking,” Bucky mutters. 

Peter crosses his heart. 

The snort Bucky gives shows just how much he thinks of Peter’s promise. The armchair is still beside the bed where Bucky left it earlier. Peter had thought about pushing it back to the spot in the corner, but a part of him likes the new spot for it. It was a fond reminder of the man who had just sat it in hours before and who was there again now. Maybe it was time to redecorate—call it fengshui. 

Peter settles in amongst the blankets and sheets still smelling of Tony’s scent. With his lover miles away, this is the most contentment he can find. Against his will, he feels the sting of exhaustion at the back of his eyes, the tender ache relieved only for a moment when he blinks. 

“Can you believe I don’t know anything about you,” Peter says, resting one hand beneath his cheek on the pillow.

Bucky shrugs one shoulder—the one without the terrible scarring. “Not much to know.” 

“You’re the Winter Soldier,” Peter says with no small amount of awe in his voice. The way Bucky’s shoulders tense at the title isn’t lost on him, but by then the words are already tripping their way out of his mouth. “You must have plenty of stories you could tell—” 

“They aren’t bedtime stories.” 

Peter winces. Maybe Bucky has a point. “Then just tell me about Bucky Barnes. What’s your middle name?” 

The man’s mouth twitches, his eyes glinting in a way that makes Peter feel like the butt of a joke. All at once, the expression is neutral again as Bucky says: “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Oh man,” Peter says with vicious glee. “It must be awful, then.” 

“Terrible,” Bucky agrees. 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know? Pick one.” 

“Pick one for me.” 

Peter sighs. “That’s not how favorites work.” 

Bucky stares at him, solemn. “It’s not how I work, kid. I’m not that kind of man.” 

“Your favorite color is blue, now,” Peter says. “I’ve decided.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes in answer. 

“You said you lived in Russia. Were you born there?” 

“No.” 

When the man doesn’t elaborate, Peter presses. “Where were you born?” 

“The west.” 

“I’m sorry, the west? That’s not a satisfactory answer.”

“What do you want me to say?” Bucky asks. “I’m wanted internationally. Telling you anything about me could get me killed one day, or—” 

“Or?”

“Or it could get you killed,” he says, expression dark. “I have powerful enemies.” 

“Powerful allies, too,” Peter points out. “Not that I can imagine anyone ever getting one over on you.” 

“It’s happened before.” Bucky’s hand comes up to trace at his shoulder along the mottled scars that circle the shoulder joint. With the attention drawn to it, Peter allows himself to look. The skin is heavily textured, shiny pink in some lights and a dark purple in others. Fresh, he thinks. Maybe a few years old. During Tony’s employment, he thinks. “I’m human, kid.”

“Does it hurt?” Peter asks. 

Another one-armed shrug. 

“Is the person who did that—are they dead now?” A slow, mirthless smile stretches across Bucky’s face; an answer in itself. Peter finds himself mirroring it. “Good.”

Without a further thought, Peter throws the blankets off of his bare legs. Bucky’s eyes flicker over them: pale and soft with dark, sparse hair, gaze lingering on Peter’s glossy clear-polished toes. When Peter crawls towards that side of the bed, Bucky’s chin ducks down like he’s preparing for a physical attack, though the way his eyes shimmer like molten mercury makes Peter think it wouldn’t be altogether unwelcome. 

Peter opens the bedside drawer on Tony’s side of the bed. Tony’s personal handgun is gone, which makes it easy to rifle through the condoms and lube to find the half-empty tube of cream the older man had received from the dermatologist. 

“Come here,” Peter says, patting the bed. 

“Why?” Bucky asks, eyes narrowed at the tube in Peter’s hands. “No fucking.” 

“No fucking!” Peter says. It takes all the mental fortitude he has not to roll his eyes. Who could have imagined that an international assassin would be such a prude? “Tony—he’s got a scar too. They gave him this cream that he was supposed to rub on it three times a day to help the scar tissue break down and lighten, but he’s too fucking busy for that.” 

“And I’m not?”

“You’re with me two-thirds of the day,” Peter says, opening the tube. He squeezes out a generous amount of pale colored cream onto his fingers. “And I’ve got nothing better to do.” 

When Bucky makes no move to come to the bed, Peter lets his legs dangle over the edge, reaching out to where the man sits at the bedside, but before his fingers can come close to Bucky’s shoulder, the man flinches backwards, catching Peter’s wrist in a fierce grip. 

“Don’t,” Bucky rasps. “You don’t have to touch it.” 

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Peter scoffs. The grip around Peter’s wrist tightens to the point of pain before going slack again, Bucky’s thumb pressed against his pulse point which must be hammering. “When will you learn that there’s not a person in the world who could make me do something I didn’t want to do?” 

After a long moment, Bucky lets go. 

Gentle, Peter lets his fingers trace over the ring of scars. It lacks the clear edges of Tony’s stab wound; if Peter had to guess (which he doesn’t, he doesn’t have to think at all about what gave Bucky those scars, about how badly it must have hurt, about how long it must have taken him to heal), he would say that the scars look like burns. 

The scars don’t have the same texture as the surrounding skin, no softness, no stretch. Peter rubs the cream in with the utmost care, working hard not to cause any pain. He coaxes Bucky’s arm to shift so that he can reach the scars that extend towards his armpit and then stands, t-shirt touching his thighs to walk around the other side of the man and make sure every inch of tissue receives the same attention. 

“I hate this.” Bucky’s voice makes him jump, jerking him from where he’d become lost in his own thoughts and in the pleasant monotony. His hand freezes, but Bucky goes on: “I hate the way I am around you.”

“Nobody said you had to be such a hardass,” Peter says. He reaches out and gathers Bucky’s hair where it’s falling onto his shoulder and getting stuck in the cream. When his fingers brush the back of the man’s neck as he brushes the hair to the other side of his head, Bucky shivers. 

“That’s how I’m supposed to be,” Bucky rasps. “I hate how you make me so—” 

Bucky cuts himself off and Peter waits one endless moment before he prods the other man. “So?” 

“Weak.” 

Peter isn’t sure what to say. There’s a queasiness in his stomach. He remembers when things started to get serious with Tony, when his older lover had explained that affection was weakness. There’s a reason why cold men make it so far. When you fall in love with something, it becomes a part of you, an extension of you. Suddenly, you’re taking up more space in the world, Tony had said. The man had turned his hand into a makeshift gun, pressing the barrel of his pointer finger to his temple. Bigger targets are always easier to hit, sweet thing. 

He’d lifted a hand, shifting it between Tony’s finger and his head. Then, it had frightened Peter. Tony was right; love could be a liability. But after Beck, Peter knew that for people like them, that wasn’t true. Love could make him colder, braver, bolder. Strong. 

When he opens his mouth to tell Bucky that, he notices that the man’s head has slackened, body loose in the chair. One glance at his face shows that he has fallen asleep. 

-

Peter falls asleep himself, somehow. When he wakes he can see the dim signs of impending morning through the window, but the chair beside the bed is empty. He stretches, groaning with satisfaction before reaching for his phone on the nightstand to make sure that he hasn’t missed his morning Facetime with Tony. 

He has a handful of unread messages from the man, which is more than he fell asleep with hours ago. Smile stretching his face, Peter opens with one hand while the other reaches down to palm his morning wood (more out of habit than anything else). When he sees the wall of text sent, eyes skimming it quickly, he squeezes his erection tightly and hisses through his teeth. 

Fuck kid, Tony begins. I just finished that footage and I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard in my life. I’d kill to have been a fly on the wall, to hear whatever filth he was spewing in your ear. How did his cock feel pressed against you, honey? Looks like it felt good with the way you rutted against him like an animal. You looked like an absolute slut pinned underneath him and so desperate for whatever scraps he’d toss you. When I’m home, I want to see you suck him off and show him your gratitude properly, is that understood? 

If there’s any doubt how I feel about this, see the enclosed.

Next Tony sent a video. The thumbnail tells Peter everything: just a still of Tony’s shirtless torso. He clicks on it frantically and makes it full screen, mashing the button to turn up the volume. For being in his forties, Tony looks incredible. He’d worked hard with the physical therapists hired to come to the mansion after Beck, and it shows in the flat lines of his abs. Dark hair is smattered across his chest and then against below his belly-button. The scar at the center of his chest is dark with shadows from the dim lighting. 

Tony fiddles with the placement of the phone until it is propped up on what appears to be the desk of his hotel room. A glass rests just barely in view, drained. Tony sits back in his chair, the movement flexing the muscles in his core. Peter can only see him from nose to knee, but it’s more than enough. His dress pants are open, cock tenting his boxer-briefs obscenely. But he doesn’t touch it; instead, he takes a package of cigarettes from where they rest offscreen on the desk and expertly taps one free. Just the sight of his capable hands has Peter’s throat bobbing, the hand on his cock squeezing to the point of pain just to pace himself. 

Tony lights the cigarette with the lighter Peter bought him at the mall, and Peter swears he can feel the flame. 

“There’s no smoking in this room,” Tony says after the flame catches. “But with a sinful little thing like you at home, a fee is the least of my worries. I haven’t smoked cigarettes in over a decade, pumpkin. You see what you’re doing to me?” 

Holding the cigarette in his lips, Tony reaches down to work his cock free. The sight of it evokes a physical response, Peter’s mouth salivating, his throat tightening. Leisurely, Tony fists it while his other hand comes up to take the cigarette from his mouth, smoke rushing from his nose. 

“You can show this to him, if you feel so inclined. If you really think he’s interested.” The handsome, full mouth twists into a smirk. “You know I’m not shy. And if he’s going to have you, he’s going to have to get used to me, too. The things I’m going to have him do to you,” Tony sighs wistfully, shaking his head to clear the illusions. “You’ve got no idea what you’re in for. I’m going to take you apart, sweet thing, and he’s going to be the tool that does it for me.”

Peter can imagine. Beneath the sheets, he shimmies his underwear off and runs his fingers over his cock. All at once he remembers that he isn’t allowed to touch himself and his expression sours. On screen, Tony taps ash onto the desk. Peter hopes he has to pay a big fine. Huge, he thinks sulkily. 

But if Peter is anything, he is resourceful. Rolling into his stomach (kicking when his legs get all twisted up in the sheets), he presses a pillow down between his legs and groans at the pressure on his aching cock. It’s juvenile, but it will work, and if Tony didn’t want him to exploit loopholes in his orders, then he shouldn’t have left the loopholes in the first place. He turns his head until his cheek is pressed into the pillow, holding the phone inches from his face. 

Tony’s stamina and cool head always impress Peter. Surely it is something that comes from twenty more years of experience, but Tony always strokes his cock like he has all the time in the world, like he’s savoring the feeling of himself in his hand and cumming is secondary. His knees are spread wide, the perfect place for Peter to kneel between. 

Behind him, the door opens. 

He sucks in a breath, rolling onto his side to take in Bucky’s figure where he leans against the doorframe, eyes narrowed at Peter’s suspicious figure on the bed. Peter lets his back arch, emphasizing the obscene curve of his ass where he continues to rut against the pillow, leaking precum. 

“Jesus, kid, it isn’t even eight AM. What the fuck has you so worked up?” 

Peter grins. Holding up the phone, he says, “A gift. From Tony.” 

A muscle in Bucky’s jaw twitches as if he is clenching his teeth. The otherwise unimpressed look stays on his face until Peter adds: “He says it’s for you, too.” 

A normal person might react with interest, pleasure. Bucky looks as if he’s only been pushed a fraction closer to a murderous rampage. He stalks closer to the bed, boots silent against the floor. How a man with so much mass is so quiet, Peter will never know. “The fuck do you mean it’s for me?”

When he gets close enough, his eyes flit to the phone and there’s no hiding the widening of his gaze. His whole expression shudders as it struggles to return to a more neutral position, but it’s difficult when those pale eyes are glued to Tony’s tan hand where it leisurely jerks the impressive cock between his legs. Has Bucky always been this expressive, Peter wonders, or is Peter just getting better at reading the few expressions he has?

It was one thing to hear Tony’s sinful mouth yesterday on the phone, but it’s another thing entirely to be confronted with the image of it, the overt sexuality of the cigarette dangling from his lips, the way his head tilts back on screen as he draws closer to his orgasm. All this and Peter hasn’t taken his eyes off of Bucky’s face. On screen, Tony mutters, fuck kid, take it, and Bucky’s pupils dilate, and Peter is lost, the phone lax in his hand as he presses his face into the pillow until its hard to breathe, hips jerking through his orgasm.

He comes to in time to lift his head and watch Tony cum, all the muscles in his abdomen thrown into sharp definition as his hips jerk upwards into the tight circle of his fist, cum pale where it lands on his tan skin and the dark fabric of his dress pants. The groan he gives is music to Peter’s ears, one hand coming up to take the cigarette from his mouth so that he can pant properly. 

“Look what you fucking do to me,” Tony sighs smoke curling from his mouth. “And nobody here to clean me up. What a tragedy. Shakespearean proportions. Next time I cum, I’m doing it down your throat, sweet thing. Be good for Bucky. I love you.” 

He stands onscreen, tucking his softening cock back into his dress pants (though he leaves them undone as he reaches out and turns off the video). Peter dares to give Bucky a glance and finds him glaring at the phone. He waits to see what the other man might do, but eventually the phone screen goes dark and still Bucky stares, now at his own reflection. 

He drops the phone onto the bed with a quiet thud, fingers flexing and smoothing at his jeans as if he’s trying to wipe away a filthy touch. When he speaks again, it’s with a mixture of hostility and resignation that makes Peter shiver: “He knows.” 

“If you mean how obsessed you are with him, then he doesn’t. But to be fair,” says Peter, edging towards the far side of the bed just in case he decides to run for it. “You’re a little obvious.” 

“Obvious?” The word comes from Bucky’s mouth sounding like a curse. He shifts on instinct until he is between Peter and the one exit. Fucking assassins. “I’ve worked for him for eight years and he never caught on. Three weeks with you and now I’m fucked. What did you tell him?” 

“All I said was that I thought you had a hard-on for him!” Peter says. He pulls the blankets up, cocooning himself in soft cotton. A slip of dark fabric appears - his boxers, score! - so he works to tug them on instead. “He seemed shocked, but in a good way. Look, I don’t want to be presumptuous or anything, but I feel like this is a very natural progression given where we were heading. I don’t get why you’re freaking out.” 

“You don’t understand,” Bucky mutters. He breaks from standing between Peter and the door and chooses to sit in the chair Peter is beginning to think of as his. Slumped over, he looks like the picture of dejection. He mutters something under his breath but it doesn’t sound like English. 

With all the care of a man approaching a feral animal, Peter carefully slips off the bed (tugs up his boxers the rest of the way, even if there is cooling cum clinging to his well-trimmed pubes) and pads to the chair Bucky occupies. The carpet is soft and not uncomfortable to kneel on. When he tilts his head to rest it on Bucky’s jean-clad knee, the man flinches. After a long, still moment, he lets a hand come down to pat condescendingly at Peter’s head. 

Rolling his eyes, Peter says, “I don’t understand. Then tell me.” 

Bucky lets out a breath. He tugs on a lock of Peter’s hair until Peter turns, resting his chin on the man’s thigh to look up into his tired, uncertain face. “You want to know more about me? Tony is all that’s worth mentioning. This thing with you,” he begins. “It’s big. I’m not saying it isn’t. But this - thing - I’ve had for Tony? It’s been so long. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s formative. It made me.” 

“I still don’t get it.” 

“I’m still talking, aren’t I? Do I sound finished?” 

“Start from the beginning.” 

“You’re a bossy little shit,” Bucky mutters, flicking Peter between the eyes. “There’s going to be none of that when we’re fucking, you know that right?” 

Peter grins. “We’ll see. Quit stalling.” 

“About eight years ago, I reached the end of my rope. Lost my mind, a little. I convinced myself that I was being followed, that the people I worked for had put a hit out on me, and I ended up isolating myself in a tiny cabin - somewhere, don’t give me that fucking look, kid, be lucky I’m telling you this much. I was there for twenty days. Starving to death. Spiraling...then one day out of the fucking blue, Natasha called me.”

“Nat?” Peter asks, eyebrows raised. “You two knew each other?” 

Bucky nods and doesn’t deign to explain their relationship any further. “She called me to say she’d been stateside for three years, working for a man she couldn’t even name over the phone. She promised that if I ever wanted a change of scenery, I could catch a plane and there would be a job waiting for me.

“I thought it was a plot. Maybe she was in on it with the others, maybe they were just trying to lure me out. Maybe there was no job, maybe as soon as I stepped foot outside, they’d have my location confirmed and they’d send someone to kill me. The no food, no water just made me more paranoid. In the end, I told myself that even if it all was a plot - if I died trying to get out - it wouldn’t matter. Who’d fucking care if I died? Not anyone I worked for. Not Natasha. Not some boss in New York City. Least of all me. 

“So I caught a plane to New York, drank water out of the faucet in a bathroom at JFK International and met up with Nat. She took me to Le Cinq in downtown Manhattan, that fancy French place. Fuck, I must have looked like a nutcase walking in there, smelling like a homeless person, thin enough that a stiff enough wind could have carried me away. And there I was surrounded by all these white table clothes and maître d’s, luxury like I’d never been treated to. Then there was Tony, sitting alone at a table dressed in one of his suits but without the jacket. He stood up when he saw us coming, like some kind of gentleman in one of those old black and white movies. You know what he looks like. But it was more than that. He’s got a presence, and once I was in it, something inside me just - burst.  

“We’d never even fuckin’ met. Never even spoken. But I told him that my gun was his, my skills were his, my life was his, if he wanted it. We hadn’t even sat down yet. He asked me what did I want, and I said I didn’t know. Trust, maybe. Rest, but I didn’t fucking say that. And he just smiled and said, ‘well, how about a hamburger’?” 

“No,” Peter says, one hand clutching at his bare chest. “No, tell me you did not force Audric Ansel, head chef of Le Cinq, make you a fucking hamburger at the finest Parisian restaurant in the tri-state area. They don’t even have beef on the menu.” 

“I didn’t,” Bucky says. He reaches out and threads his fingers into Peter’s hair, pulling to coax him to rest his head back on the man’s thigh. Just that act of dominance alone starts a fire simmering low in Peter’s belly. “Tony did. Is that the only point you took from that story? Shows how fucking often I’ll open up to you.”

“Not the only point,” Peter says, eyes heavy lidded. He’d need a few more minutes to become hard again, but that doesn’t mean his cock doesn’t tingle with the threat of it. “I know now that you’re in love with him.” 

Peter feels viscerally when Bucky’s hand tightens in his hair, pulling at his scalp to the point of pain. He loosens them right away at the wince on Peter’s face, patting clumsily as if to soothe the ache he caused. 

“If you tell him,” Bucky warns. “I’ll make you regret it.” 

“Fuck, yes, threaten me again,” Peter groans lowly. He has to bite off the end of that sentence, the way the word daddy came so easily to his tongue. But the other man isn’t ready for that, hasn’t expressed any interest in it. Not to mention, maybe it makes him a sentimental fool, but Tony is the only man he’s ever called daddy, and it doesn’t feel right to pass the moniker along. Not without permission. Peter opens his mouth wide and plants his teeth into the muscular thigh that was resting beneath his cheek. When he pulls back, there is a shadow of the imprint in the denim. “It turns me on.” 

Bucky pulls his hair again, this time harsh and purposeful. Peter’s neck cracks, an unsettling sensation that makes him shiver. He leans down until his breath fans across Peter’s upturned face. “I mean it.” 

There is a real trace of fear that trickles down the back of Peter’s neck, but he leans into it. This is what he wanted. A dangerous man brings danger with him. His mouth opens to taunt Bucky more but the eyes - those pale, sea spray eyes - they are wild. Maybe frightened. It takes herculean effort to decide between egging the man on and comforting him. Well - it takes effort to choose what he knows to be right. 

“I’m joking,” Peter says, throat hoarse from how his neck is exposed. “I won’t tell him.” 

He’s left pinned under that fervent gaze for a few more endless seconds and then Bucky’s fist loosens. Brings him back down to rest his head where he had moments ago planted his cheek. Between Peter’s legs, he is throbbing. He can’t help but reach a hand down to palm at the tented fabric of his boxers. 

“None of that,” Bucky says sternly. “Jesus, how desperate are you? You came just fifteen minutes ago and you’re already thirsty for more. You’re going to learn some patience, kid, if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Good luck,” says Peter, breathless.

[theycallmebecca]

Drabble: A Very Important Question

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates (and happy Friday to those who do not). This Christmas drabble is for @the-ce-horniest-book-club​ and the HBC Home for the Holidays. The prompt today is Christmas.

Title: A Very Important Question

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: n/a

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission. 

“UNCLE CHRIS!”

The cries of Chris’s niece and nephews greet the two of you and Dodger as you make your way up the snowy path to his mom’s house on Christmas Eve.

“Where’s your bag?” His oldest nephew asks as you and Chris come into the house.

With you back turned, you miss the panicked look that Chris sends his sister.

“Maybe Uncle Chris wants to sleep in his own bed tonight,” his sister says.

“He can’t! It’s tradition!” his nephew whines. “He always spends the night on Christmas Eve."

Turning, you see Chris is getting a triple whammy of sad faces from the kids.

Suspecting that Chris hadn't wanted to put any pressure on you to stay the night at his mom's, you touch his arm and he looks at you.

"I don't mind," you whisper to him. You give him a smile to show that you mean your words.

"Come on, Uncle Chris," the boys whine.

"Dodger wants to sleep in my room," his niece adds, wrapping her hand around the dog's neck for a hug. "He loves to spend Christmas Eve in my room."

"If Uncle Chris isn't sleeping here, can we stay with Uncle Chris?" his oldest nephew asks his mom.

This time you catch the look Chris shoots his sister. You aren't sure how to interpret the look, but seeing it, you can tell something is up.

"We'd have to go home and get our stuff," Chris says.

"Can we come? We can take mom's van!" his nephew asks.

"Fine, yes," Chris says. "Just let me talk to your mom for a minute. Get bundled up."

Chris waits until he is in the privacy of his mom's office before he turns to his sister.

"Thanks for your help out there, Carly," he mutters.

His sister just shrugs with a smile playing on her lips.

"You know what I have planned for tomorrow morning," he hisses. "Now what am I supposed to do?"

"You can still do what you have planned," she points out. "We do have a Christmas tree."

Chris glares at her.

"You know what I mean," he snaps. "It was supposed to be perfect and now it will have to be done with an audience."

Her smile is a fraction too big and it gives her away.

"You planned this!" he accuses her. "You set me up!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replies innocently. She glances at her wrist, where there isn't a watch, and adds, "The kids will be ready just about -"

"Uncle Chris we're ready to go!" his nephew shouts.

"Now," his sister finishes. "Good luck."

"I'm going to get them sugary coffees," Chris threatens.

"Well you're staying the night so we'll all have to live with your choices," she says with a smirk before she leaves the room.

You can feel the irritation radiating off of Chris as he drives his sister's minivan to his house so the two of you can pack overnight bags. The kids, however, seem completely oblivious to their uncle's Scrooginess as they sing along with the Disney Christmas album playing on the van's sound system.

Arriving at the house, Chris tells the kids and Dodger to stay in the living room while the two of you go to his room to pack. You follow him back to the bedroom and close the door behind you.

"I really don't mind staying the night at your mom's tonight," you tell Chris. "If that's what you're worried about."

His surly attitude fades as he turns to you. "That's not what I'm worried about, but I'm glad," he says then frowns. "Is my attitude that noticeable?"

"To me. The kids were too busy singing," you assure him. "If that's not what's bothering me, then what is?" Then you remember what day it is. "I mean, if you can tell me."

"I can't tell you," he says with a wink. "I just have to rethink something."

"Whatever it is, I'm going to love it," you assure him. "So don't let it ruin the rest of the day."

"You're right," he says, pulling you into his arms. "Thank you, I love you."

"I love you, too," you reply, leaning in for a kiss, only to be interrupted by a child pounding on the front door.

"Are you guys ready yet?" one of the kids asks from the other side of the door.

"Give us ten minutes," Chris calls back. He gives you a quick kiss and then the two of you get to packing.

After returning to his mom's house, the afternoon passes quickly. Chris seems to take your words to heart and gone is his Grinchy attitude. The two of you play outside in the snow with the kids before coming inside to warm up.

With a lot of cooking planned for tomorrow, dinner tonight is pizza from the family's favorite pizza place during which the kids try to decide which Christmas movie to watch after.

You are surprised when Chris's mom announces that everyone gets to open one present tonight, but you quickly notice that no one else is surprised. Obviously, this is part of their tradition.

Everyone files into the living room and his mom passes out gifts that are all wrapped in the same plaid paper.

"1!" Chris yells out.

"2!" two of them echo.

"3!" another person shots.

Then it's pandemonium as the room is filled with the sound of people tearing paper. Not wanting to be left out, you open your present and find a set of red plaid pajamas. Looking at Chris's, you see he got a matching pair. Then he holds up a smaller shirt that is clearly meant for Dodger.

Looking around the room, you see that his sister and her family all got red and white striped pajamas pants with matching Christmas shirts while his younger sister, her boyfriend, Scott and his boyfriend got the same plaid as you and Chris. Then you see his mom, holding up plaid pants that match yours but the same shirt as her daughter's family.

"Everything has been washed," his mom announces. "If anything doesn't fit, let me know, I bought extras and we will find something." She glances at the clock on the wall. "Let's get changed, I believe the Polar Express is scheduled to leave the station in fifteen minutes."

The kids squeal with excitement and race for the stairs.

Thirty minutes later, you are all dressed in your Christmas pajamas and settled as The Polar Express plays on the TV. 

After the movie ends, his mom reads 'The Night Before Christmas' and then the kids are sent upstairs to go to bed while the adults watch another Christmas movie.

Only once the second movie ends does Santa make "his" appearance as the men bring in Santa gifts hidden and the women fill the Christmas stockings.

Then it's bedtime and everyone goes upstairs.

It's five am when Chris wakes up. He isn't a morning person, but he always wakes up early on Christmas morning.

Glancing across the bed, he smiles when he sees you still fast asleep.

Slipping out of bed, he leaves the room to go to the bathroom. On his way back, he pauses at the top of the stairs to see if he hears anyone downstairs. Hearing nothing, he returns to the bedroom and pauses when he sees you sitting up in bed.

"Merry Christmas," he greets you. Then the idea comes to him. "Let's go downstairs."

"I have to pee first," you tell him.

"Alright, I'll meet you downstairs then," he says.

He waits until you leave the bedroom before he opens his suitcase and pulls out the small box he'd put in there while he'd packed the day before. He quietly goes downstairs, not wanting to wake anyone up just yet.

Entering the living room, he finds the room lit only by the Christmas tree lights and he gets into position as he waits for you to come into the room.

Butterflies flutter in his stomach as he hears you coming down the stairs.

"Chris?" he hears you call.

"In here," he calls back.

Walking into the living room, you freeze when you see him down on one knee in front of the Christmas tree.

When he says your name, your feet move of their own accord and you soon find yourself standing before him.

"I'm still not entirely sure what I did to deserve you," he says with a nervous laugh. "But I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. Will you marry me?"

"Yes," you answer.

He slides the perfect engagement ring onto your finger and then he stands up. He pulls you against him and kisses you.

It isn't until the two of you hear cheers that you realize you are no longer alone.

Turning, you see that his entire family is standing in the doorway, wearing big smiles on their faces. Then you spot the bottle of champagne and a second of sparkling cider in his brother's hands and see that his mom and sisters are holding cups. They'd all known.

"Seriously, guys?" Chris sighs, but even you can tell he is faking his displeasure. "Did you have a bell on our door or something?"

"You always wake up at the same time on Christmas morning," his mom says, leading everyone into the room. "It's the only day of the year that his internal clock works exactly the same," she adds as a side note to you. "We just wanted to celebrate with you guys."

Drinks are poured and toasts are made, most of them welcoming you into the family, but a few are good-hearted teases directed at Chris, which make you all laugh.

In the end, it's a beautiful start to Christmas morning, even if you're all slightly tipsy.

[rfadaydreaming]

boyfriend jumin headcanons

theres no way hes been in a relationship before, never even kissed someone before. you best believe hes going to go all in hes so starved for love

he needs to hear every single thing about your life, even the littlest things. he will remember it all, and asks so many questions too. could listen to you talk for hours and never get bored. your life is so different from his, he finds it fascinating. always wants to know more.

at the beginning of the relationship he has an extremely hard time controlling himself and finding whats right and wrong in a romantic relationship. you have to be very open with your boundaries or he’ll treat you like a doll, he cant help himself hes just so enamored.

does SO much research on relationships, he doesnt like the advice he finds but hes looking in all the wrong places. seven gives him links for real advice from real people reddit instead of mens magazines because those all suck. jumin starts to ask him for help whenever hes curious about something and seven will find a link for him to read. it helps bridge their relationship a bit more. seven is one of those friends thats amazing at relationship advice but for some reason desperately single.

even though he’s new to relationships and still trying to figure it out, that does not mean hes bad at it. no sir. this man was raised on romantic novels and cheesy soap operas. he knows his way into your heart easy peasy

the most beautiful arrangements of flowers delivered to your doorstep, your favorite foods from the most gourmet restaurants in seoul sent right to your work, hand written love letters sealed in wax sent to you while he’s away on business. declares his undying love for you over the phone almost daily.

hes never been around women much before, rikas the exception but he wasnt around around her like you would be with a lover. so hes interested finding out about your habits, routines, likes. the way you cook breakfast in the morning, the way you do your bedtime routine, your afterwork routine. always finding something new to love about you every new day.

he really adores anything and everything you think is a flaw. he prefers you with your quirks rather than aiming for perfection. theres nothing wrong with being “plastic” but the majority of those types of women he’s been around are the rich snobby type more than every day women. he prefers you. again hes never been close to many women so its kind of amazing but sad the things you can find to think harshly about. things he absolutely would never imagine someone being insecure about in the first place. he loves this body, it makes him upset when youre so critical to it.

he’ll explain to you what goes on behind the scenes of corporations and how exactly they make you insecure about those odd little things just to profit off of it, theres nothing wrong with you to begin with but if you believed that then they would be out of business, you see. knowing that aspect of things is why hes understanding but still saddened by your insecurities.

hes a very possessive man and is unashamed about it. hes never had anything as important as you to protect before so he doesnt care how ridiculous he may be sometimes, as long as youre safe. body guards, frequent calls, locations on, always wanting to be with you if he can. if that all bothers you i feel like that would be a bit of a disagreement area. his personality is naturally possessive and he does it out of love so bear with him please. he would definitely tone down as time progressed but for now he doesn’t want to let you out of his sight. trusts you, not other people.

he likes to observe you a lot, your day to day. it’s interesting to him even though it can be a little annoying to you sometimes. asks questions constantly. hes so curious. jumin let me go to the bathroom in peace hes literally a child

it makes him so happy when you laugh at his jokes. everyone else thinks they’re not funny but he doesnt care, as long as you laugh hes happy.

if you wear make-up it’s literally amazing for him to watch. he’ll stand in the bathroom and just observe. you can GLUE eyelashes to your FACE?! and its common?! this is so shocking to him. he had no clue. its kind of embarrassing for you but hes just so interested. never watched someone put on makeup before. the process is so intricate and careful, hes so fascinated by this strange magic. youre so smart too, he doesnt know any of the names of the things you use but always asks so he can remember for gift giving purposes. shades you like, shades you dont like, companies you dont buy from, your favorite brands. somehow has a giant mental notepad and writes all this down for safe keeping

speaking of smart he thinks you are the smartest person on the face of this earth. hes so confused at certain aspects of life and you help him get it. why do people eat fried chicken when its not nutritionally dense or even healthy to consume? it doesn’t make sense. because its yummy, jumin. wow, youre so right...

always texts you little reminders throughout the day to show his love. dont forget to eat breakfast dear. dont forget to wear sunscreen before you go out love, its hot today. dont forget that i love you so much my darling ♥︎ SO CUTE hes so caring

this man is so so touch starved, he always wants to hold you or touch you in someway. if he could bring you everywhere with him he would. he starts to get anxious if he goes too long without your comfort, truly doesn’t know how he made it for so long without it

not the biggest fan of pda but it depends on the situation. he likes making others jealous but he doesn’t want anyone else to see the way you look after he kisses you in that one special way that only he can. thats for his eyes only

loves showering you in anything you desire. you are spoiled. he’d buy you a whole ass island if you wanted one. he never understood how his father could just give away so much to a woman but now he cannot say a THING. he’d go completely broke as long as it made you happy

if you dont like tons of store bought gifts he’ll spend more time on meaningful ones. picking you flowers from the rooftop garden and arranging them himself, he embroiders as a pastime so he’ll make you cute little cat decals and stuff like that

he likes to do things for you like paint your nails, wash your hair, put lotion on you after a bath etc. loves it so much, if youre not comfortable with him babying you its totally fine but if you are he’ll do it whenever you let him

he has very cold hands. never really thought about them until he met you, really hopes you dont mind. tries to warm his hands up where he can before he touches you, but secretly loves when he runs his cold fingertips down your skin and you get gooseflesh all over. thinks its cute.

gets insecure sometimes. not really about his looks, but his personality. luciel is funny, zen is handsome and suave. yoosung is sweet and open with his emotions. he wonders frequently why you chose him out of anyone else.

all in all jumin is someone you need to get used to being in a relationship with, hes not the average joe and has a lot going on with himself that he needs to work through. but if you help him, love him for him, he’ll be the sweetest lover you could ever ask for.

[wendystales]

Memories - lrh (Chapter Eighteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Seventeen ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Nineteen

I remember the first time I really wanted to see New York. I must have been about 12 years old and was watching a random episode of Friends that was on TV. I saw those flashes of the city between one scene and another, and I thought it was amazing, the great stone jungle.

When I turned 16, my dad gifted me with a trip to New York, not because it was my favorite place in the world, but because it was on sale. There were 10 days where the only time I stopped to rest was bedtime. We went to almost every tourist spot, took thousands of photos and it was definitely one of the best trips I've ever been on.

Now, the city that I once wanted to know and live in, like the characters in Friends, felt like a prison. I wasn't there of my own free will or for a truly irrefutable proposal. I was there out of fear and passion, the most dangerous mixture.

I believe that at some point, a few months from now, I'm going to start loving New York, but right now, I can only feel contempt.

I pass through the arrivals gate, looking at those millions of unfamiliar faces, waiting for someone. I'm looking for a sign with my name or the logo of the Hastings Agency.

I find my name in the hands of a boy a little taller than me. Dark hair and fair skin, he needs sun. In an impeccable suit, but fumbling with his cell phone and notepad.

I approach slowly, able to hear his voice, replaying a million things. He said something about waiting for me to arrive and taking me to the hotel. Something about treating me kindly and not asking questions. I stop in front of him with a sympathetic smile, watching him widen his eyes and quickly turn off his cell phone.

“Miss McGonagall, welcome to New York.” he takes my hand, squeezing it and shaking it quickly. “I'm Edward. I will be responsible for your schedule.” I can't control the smile, noticing him nervousness. In other words, he was my Noah.

“Hi! Yeah, you can call me Marnie, that's fine. I prefer, actually.”

“Oh! Of course.” his cheeks turn pink. “Well, I'll drop you off at the hotel to rest and tomorrow at 8:00 am you should be at Valentino's studio for the rehearsal of the new bag collection. At 2:45 pm you should already be at Chanel's studio, they want to take your measurements and do some color and fabric tests for the fashion show at the end of the month. Then, at 5:00 pm, you will participate in the E! podcast, and I believe that after that you will be free for the rest of the day.” he passes it on to me as we head out of the airport.

“OK!” that's all I have to say.

“Sorry if I'm being nosy, but were you the one who required a lot of work for the next two months? I mean, you have a really busy schedule. If you don't want something, I can try to help.” he flips through the calendar while we wait for a car.

“No! It's OK. I was the one who asked. I was down for a while and I need to get back to work.” I give a slight smile, debating. "Hm, was the doctor I asked for by any chance be marked?"

“Yes! Wednesday at 3pm.” he smiles proudly, making me smile too. Edward seems like a nice guy.

We got into a silver car and went to the hotel. Along the way, Edward answers a few calls, closing in on his tasks. I seize the moment and close myself in my own world. I get my cell phone, turning it on and seeing that tsunami of people looking for me. Missed calls, messages, dm on twitter and instagram, everyone looking for me, but not him.

I lock my cell phone, trying to focus my mind on the new beginning I sought for myself. I admire the city through the car window, trying to find a piece of home there. I feel the phone vibrate in my lap with Kyleen's name, but I just decline the call. In seconds, the screen lights up again and several messages come in, I believe they are hers, but I don't even bother to look. I have no courage.

The car stops in front of the Intercontinental, and just like that, Edward jumps out of the car.

“Your loft, unfortunately, is not ready yet. So you're going to have to stay here for a few days.” he explains, heading towards the reception desk.

I stand behind him, taking in the details of the hotel. Before long, I'm entering a room on the 14th floor, with a beautiful view of the city. The bags are left in the small room before the bedroom.

I smile at my new “Noah” showing that everything is perfect.

“Good! I'll let you rest for tomorrow. Anything, these are my phones.” he gives me a card. "And you can call me at any time. I live near here, I will come in a few minutes.”

“Thank you so much, Edward. You are very kind." Again, your cheeks turn pink.

As he heads for the door, I start rummaging through my bags for pajamas.

“Hm, sorry if I'm not being professional right now, but since I believe we'll be working together in the next few months, I imagine a good relationship is essential, so you can call me Eddie.”

I open an even bigger smile, seeing that Eddie was willing to make a friendship, which is perhaps the thing I need most at the moment.

“Thanks, Eddie!” he smiles and this time he walks away, leaving me alone again.

I go back to looking for a more comfortable outfit, ignoring my cell phone blinking on the table as I muted it. I grab my clothes, heading to a shower and stay there for a long time, letting the water take everything.

When I get out of the shower, I pick up the bedroom phone, dialing my mother's number, I don't want to take the risk of answering any of my cell phone calls.

"Hello?" her lost tone makes me smile weakly.

“Hi Mom!”

“Hi, my love. How are you? Marnie, what's going on? Leah came here to say you left without saying goodbye. I called Luke, but he did not answer me and Noah said something about you being to move to New York, you told me it would be just a month.” I cover the phone, not wanting her to hear my cry, letting the tears fall. "Marnie?"

“I'm sorry, Mom.” I can't control my voice and pretend it's okay.

“Honey, what's going on? You can tell me. Mom will help you.” I realize she wants to cry too, and that hurts me more.

“I needed to do this, needed to get away from him.” the revelation comes out before I can see it.

"He who? Luke? Why? I thought everything was fine.” her desperate tone returns.

“I'm sorry I can't talk.” I close my throat, holding back tears. “I just want to let you know that I arrived well and that everything is fine.”

“Fine? Marnie, just look at your voice, your condition. I saw what you did to the apartment. Honey, things aren't fine.” now she was angry.

“Mom, please just trust me. I know what I'm doing.” Do I? I clear my throat, holding back the emotion. “I just wanted to call to say I got okay. Later we'll talk.” I hang up the phone before she asks anything else.

I head to the bathroom, drying my hair. I notice that yesterday's anger is still in me as I can't face my image in the mirror, refusing to look deep into my eyes.

With dry hair, I go back to my room, thinking about taking a nap, since I haven't slept all night and even less on the flight. I close my eyes, trying to focus my thoughts on something else. I think about that taxi I saw earlier, trying to park. Or people crossing the street without looking at the sign. At the cookie shop I want to see.

I manage to evade Luke's, my mother's, John's, and Noah's voices, giving myself more and more to the sleep that finally came. Far away, I hear someone knocking hard on the door, but I ignore it, as I had the same thoughts yesterday morning. But I wake up when the pounding comes back stronger and Leah's voice enters the room.

“Marnie Elizabeth McGonagall, open this shit now before I drop it and you know I'm capable of it.” I leap out of bed, running to the door.

She can’t be here.

I open the door, revealing Leah with perhaps the worst expression I've ever seen in the world. She was furious, if not more so. As she storms into my room without waiting for an invitation, I quickly look down the hall, seeing a couple look at me startled. I smile awkwardly, closing the door.

“What are you doing here?” I question, still not understanding.

"What are you doing here? And without warning anyone. Fading in the morning. Breaking up with Luke. What the fuck was that?” she screams.

For a second, I see that my amnesia was an issue with my plan. By not remembering my friendship with everyone, I really believed that I just left and everything would be fine. I didn't imagine anyone would cross the country for me, to understand what was going on.

And if Leah did it, it's a matter of hours before someone else does. They weren't going to leave me alone, they weren't going to forget me, and they weren't going to let this story pass. I need to push them away, but I don't know how.

"Go on, Marnie. What the fuck is going on? And if you tell me it's a job offer, I swear I'll fly at you without pity or mercy, and I'll slap the truth out.” she cross her arms.

I consider the last option a lot because I know she can do it. But I won't tell her the truth, that's not an alternative. I want to believe that if I don't back off, she'll see I'm not lying and won't attack me. And even if she tries, I just run away, I'm closer to the door and there's an armchair between us.

"But it is what it is!" I shrug.

“Stop it!” she screams. “Stop lying, Marnie. Everyone. Everyone knows you're lying, so why don't you tell the truth?” she waves her hands through the air.

“Because there's no other truth, Leah. Will I have to draw it for you?” I make the same moves she does.

“Be my guest!” she sits on the couch. I sigh wearily. I haven't slept for hours, I'm angry with myself and the world and now that I thought the situation was resolved and I just had to go on with my life, she comes and messes everything up.

“Why are you here?” I stay upright.

“I do not know! It must be cause you went crazy and disappeared without saying anything. Didn't answer my calls, no one had any answers about what was going on. So I took my father's jet and came to resolve this situation and I don't leave here without an answer at least.”

In the same way I laugh at Noah, I laugh at her, thinking it will fix everything. Leah carries the same expression as her brother, neutral, mocking.

“Why did you break up with Luke?” she asks quietly.

The mention of his name makes me shiver. I notice how my stomach turns and try to ignore it. I wonder if I can subtly extract some information from his state, but I don't want her to think I still care about him.

"Cause I wasn't in the mood anymore." I shrug, walking through space.

“My God, you've actually lied better.” I glare at her. “You know you're in trouble here, I know you better than anyone. I know you are lying and that you are going through some difficult situation. I even have my theories. So you're going to have to work a lot harder to trick me or get me out of here.” she cracks a smile, feeling victorious.

"Oh do you have? What are your theories?” I mock her.

“The first is that you really freaked out with amnesia and you can't handle it. The second is that you can't handle your feelings about Luke, it happened once before. And the third is that someone put some shit in your head and made you believe that everything would be better if you were out of the way.” I feel her gaze burning into me, looking for any reaction.

I let out a laugh, not forced, nervous that she got it right. Leah raises an eyebrow.

“You really traveled on your theories. Sorry, none are right.”

As if by magic, the answer appears to me. The only way I was going to get rid of everyone and go through with the plan without a hitch was to make her hate me. Make everyone hate me, just like I did Luke.

Just considering their hate for me makes my heart ache. But I need to do this. For Luke. For the boys. It's for their success.

“You know, a few months ago you were asked to be in a movie and you didn't take it cause you said you were a terrible actress. Isn't that right?” she gets up again. “Noah told me you said you were doing this for Luke, because you loved him. Marnie, what are you trying to hide?” she comes closer.

I feel dirty because of the attitude I'm going to take. It's low, very low, but I need her to hate me.

"Look who talks about hiding." I give a cynical laugh. Leah looks at me confused. "Don't you have anything to tell too?" she still doesn't understand. “You and Kyleen?”

Hastings freezes. The bitter taste of my act starts to fill my mouth. I’m sorry, Leah. I’m so sorry.

“How do you know?” she takes a step back.

"Who do you think closed the bathroom door on Ash's birthday?" I raise my eyebrows.

“Is not the same thing.”

“It isn’t? Aren't you hiding something from all of us?” I force a smile like hers a few minutes ago.

“No! Cause I'm not pushing everyone away, I'm not telling lies. And if you asked me, I would tell you the truth. Deep down, you know why I didn't say anything. You know my dad hasn't accepted Noah yet, that this is a problem in our family, and you know he wouldn't accept me either. You know that deep down I'm trying to protect both of us.”

“Oh! Do I?” I debauchery more. Right now, I feel horrible when I see your eyes water. I'm so, so sorry.

“I know what you're trying to do and I'm not going to stage it.” she walks past me to the door.

"Didn't you want to talk? I am talking.” Leah turns to me, straining the knife I carried in my chest, letting me see her crying face.

“You're trying to make me hate you.” now I'm the one who freezes. She laughs. “See how I know you? You are very predictable, Marnie. And as much as I know of your intention, I will not allow you to reach your goal. I hope that one day, not too far away, you realize what a big shit you're doing.” she opens the door, going. “Oh, and before I forget, since it's meant to hurt. Congrats, since your little chat with Luke, he's been locked in his room, needing Michael to keep an eye on him.” so Leah slams the door and strikes the final blow.

I bite the inside of my mouth, letting the tears fall. Honestly, I didn't even have the strength to hold back anymore. The rage burning inside me gives way to pain. I imagine Luke locked in his room, lying on the bed, hating me. Hating what we had and what we thought we had.

I walk over to my suitcase, pulling out a package, with the photos I'd taken from the box and the little white box he'd given me. I open it, holding the necklace with his name on it, the one he gave me.

Even knowing what I had to do, I wouldn't get rid of this necklace, I don't have the courage. It was easier to buy an equal one and put it in his hand. What he did to me would be kept with me forever.

““Closed eyes.” he fights.

"I have my eyes closed." I rebate. “Lucas…” I chide him, when I feel his lips on the back of my neck.

“Sorry, I got distracted.” I hold back the urge to laugh. “Closed eyes.”

"If you say it one more time, you'll get hit." I threat.

"How, if you can't see me?" right now, the urge to hit him is so strong that I follow the sound of his voice, trying to kick him. “Hey! No rudeness, otherwise you'll be left without a gift.” the false authoritative tone makes me angrier. “Good girl!”

“Go!” I kicked.

I'm startled by the icy touch against my neck. It's a necklace. Eagerly, I touch the pendant, recognizing the shape. He didn't do it.

“You can open it.” his hands move to my hips, hugging me.

With my eyes open, I run my vision to my neck, finding there a necklace just like his but blue.

“Happy Birthday!” he drops a kiss on my cheek.

I hold the blue quartz, seeing Luke's name engraved on the back. I let a stupid smile spread across my face, glaring at my boyfriend with the same.

"Want to explain why we're wearing practically identical necklaces?"

“It's a little obvious. Couples wear rings and I know what a problem you have with rings.”

“It’s not a problem.” I try to defend myself.

“It's just Alzheimer's. You know, in some people, it starts before they're 70 years old.” I hit him, and he laughs, before he hugs me. "Like I was saying, I know you're not into wearing a ring, so since I already had my necklace, I thought you'd have yours. That way we'll always be close to each other's hearts.” I rest my hands on his shoulders, standing on tiptoes.

"Have I told you I love you today?" I whisper, moving closer.

“Not after 5 pm.” he pouted, looking at the clock on the wall.

I don't know how I managed to kiss him with such a stupid smile on my face.

“Why do I like you, huh?” I question, stealing a little kiss.

“Because I'm cheesy and romantic. And even if you deny it, I know you get attached to it.” he opens a victorious smile.

"Don't ever say 'get attached' again." I beg laughing.

"What is it, bae? That was awesome.” he laughs.

“No!” I scream, laughing.

"What is it, babe girl? Don't you stick to my way of get in?” he keeps teasing me.

I place my lips on yours, determined to shut your mouth and thank you that it works. My mental reminder of “we're late for dinner” evaporates when his hands reach under my shirt. I scratch the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

“We're late for dinner.” he says against my mouth as I start to unbutton his shirt.

“Just say the traffic was like hell.” I suggest kissing his neck.

Luke accepts the idea, picking me up and walking me back to the bedroom."

It's not hard to know that we were late for dinner that day. But I didn't care, I had been given a necklace with his name on it, a necklace that showed how our relationship was getting more and more serious.

I also realize that the two times I got this necklace, at least once I ended up in bed with him. In fact, in both, but only one made it to the end.

“I hate myself.” I say tiredly, going to the minibar to get anything containing alcohol that makes me forget everything.

I call the front desk for two bottles of champagne and the biggest snack they have. I pick up the small whiskey bottles, turning one after the other, as if they were shot. I shake my head, wanting the effect to start faster.

“I hate myself. Leah hates me. Kiki must hate me now too. Just like Noah and everyone else there. Everybody hates me.” I turn the last one over, shaking my head once more. “Luke hates me. Hates me too much.” I comment, hugging the pillow.

I pick up a Polaroid of ours, staring at our happiness marked there. What am I doing?

I throw my head in my hands, lost. I wonder what might happen if I crawl into bed and don't go out for the rest of the month. Probably more people will hate me, but who doesn't hate me now? I mean, just get in line.

Awakened from the thought, when someone knocks on the door. For a second, I wonder who it was, then remember I ordered room service. I walk to the door, feeling the weight of the six small bottles.

My stomach churns and I feel an overwhelming urge to vomit as I land my eyes on the redhead in front of me. Red-haired?

"Bethany?"

[glitterygayvodka]

Yellow

Note: Omg hiii everyone!! I know that it’s literally been a billion years since I’ve written anything and I’m so sorry for that. Over quarantine I got inspired though so this piece is going to be the first installment of my color series! For every color red through purple I’ll have a story involving Harry and Y/n’s relationship. Thank y’all for being so kind and patient with me. I love you all and I hope you enjoy! My requests are open as well as my inbox in general if you have any questions/comments/concerns. Thank you!! Kissy - 🧡✨Kylei

Warnings: None!! This is all fluff but there’s a wholeeee lot of softness so gear your heart up :))

Yellow is the color of warmth and harmony. Yellow feels like the soft caress of sunshine on your skin, the taste of fresh mango on your tongue, the pleasant aroma of steaming chamomile fluttering against your nose, and the cheerful song of canaries in the early hours of spring.

For Y/n, yellow is a feeling that is almost incapable of being put into words. She feels yellow most often on nights like these, while tangled up with Harry as the sun begins to retire. Yellow is the gentle whisper of his fingers against her back, almost as if he’s writing poetry against her skin. She feels tranquility wash over her as she gazes up at him through relaxed lids, basking in the peaceful sound of his voice as he narrates the newest book they’ve been reading together.

Y/n grins happily as Harry uses different accents for each character, slowly sliding her arms around him and further entangling their legs under the cool and crisp sheets. Yellow feels like plopping onto your bed after a long time away from home, and not to be cliche, but Harry had started to feel like home for Y/n. She found refuge in his ability to be his authentic self with ease, and with him there’s never any pressure for her to be something that she isn’t. Their relationship is a safe haven; one where they can express themselves freely and openly. Their differences and similarities alike connect them in ways neither of them ever imagined.

Y/n finds herself studying him as he reads, admiring him in the same way an art historian admires a Monet. His lashes flutter gently against his tan skin as he blinks, his eyes the color of fresh sage in the hazy lighting of their shared bedroom. Her eyes follow the curve of his nose, down to the beautiful outline of his plush lips. Y/n has always been entranced by Harry’s lips. Their soft pink color conjures the image of delicate cherry blossoms to mind, and the way they wrap around syllables as he speaks mesmerizes her. She can’t help but to stare as he continues to read in his slow, deep, drawl. Eventually, Harry feels her gaze on him as he breaks his focus to look down at her with a puzzled yet knowing smile, his lips sandwiched between two endearing dimples.

“S’there something on my face Princess?” he inquires with humor in his voice, placing a bookmark between the pages and slowly closing the book. Y/n blinks as she emerges from her trance, her gaze moving reluctantly from his lips to his equally enticing eyes. She holds his gaze, bringing a hand up to brush a stray curl away from his face. “Nooo,” she laughs with a shake of her head, “I’m just admiring you.” Harry can’t help the flutter in his stomach at her words. Her laugh a melody that he was sure he could listen to for the rest of his life. He pulls her up his body with a giggle of his own after gently placing their book on the nightstand, her thighs falling on either side of him with her bum resting comfortably in his lap.

They sit in a peaceful silence for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. Eye contact has always been something that both of them cherish. It never felt uncomfortable or forced between them, even in the very beginning. The feeling that runs through them while looking into each other’s eyes is hard to label. It’s almost as if their souls are communicating anything that’s ever been left unsaid. The intensity of their connection never fails to send a shiver up Y/n’s spine, or to cause a rosy blush to warm up Harry’s cheeks. She wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers gently intertwining with his soft curls. Harry lets out a peaceful sigh as Y/n runs her fingers through his hair, taking the time to scratch his scalp occasionally. He lets his eyelids droop in pure bliss, relishing in the aura of the beautiful woman in his lap, who chooses to be with him over anyone else. He can’t say that he’s surprised however, because it often feels like the two of them were made for each other. Two pieces of the same puzzle that make a perfect fit. Harry wasn’t someone who usually believed in fate or destiny, but after meeting Y/n, it didn’t seem so unlikely that certain events were just meant to be, or as Y/n would say, written in the stars.

“What’s on your mind lovely?” she inquires softly, her fingers leisurely making their way up and down his arms and shoulders, stopping every once in a while to trace his tattoos, paying extra attention to one of her favorites; the butterfly. A murmur of contentment slips past his lips, his hands caressing the familiar silhouette of her waist, giving her hips a tender squeeze as he languidly opens his eyes once more. Harry stares at her for a moment before speaking, his eyes committing the blueprint of her face to memory. “M’just thinking about how much love you brought into my life,” He sighs with a gentle shrug of his shoulders.

Y/n can almost feel the sincerity of his words within her bones, his loving tone sending shivers throughout her body despite the warmth of the room. She’s quiet for a while, allowing her thoughts to marinate. Her fingers glide over the delicate string of pearls he had yet to take off, before her gaze slowly returns to his. “Hear my soul speak. At the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service.” She quotes with a coy smile, her fingers continuing their path along his body.

Harry’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, a perplexed look overtaking his features as he studies her goofy expression. He begins to replay her words in his mind, when suddenly, the realization hits him and he lets out a loud chuckle with a shake of his head. “Did you just quote Shakespeare to me?” He inquires, his tone a mixture of playful annoyance and genuine humor. Y/n lets out a chorus of her own laughter before nodding, a beautiful smile adorning her lips. “Did you expect anything less of me?” She questions, her eyes glinting playfully in the soft lighting. Harry shakes his head yet again, moving his hands from the comfortable position on her waist to intertwine their fingers. “Well, I was actually expecting a kiss,” he grins cheekily, “but the surprise visit from Shakespeare was very enlightening.” He finishes, his thumb caressing the back of her hand lovingly.

Y/n’s body shakes with laughter at his words, and Harry can’t help the huge smile that plasters itself on his face. He could live in this moment, with this beautiful soul, for the rest of his life. He had never felt more genuinely warm, seen, and loved in his entire existence than he did while with Y/n. The love constantly radiates off of the both of them in waves, reaching anyone and everyone who is open to experiencing their magic. As Y/n’s laughter finally begins to subside and he helps her wipe away any happy tears that happened to betray her, Harry’s heart feels beyond full. “Okay I have no idea what came over me!” She breathes, slightly out of breath in the way that only a good laugh can induce. “I guess you’re a comedian and I’m a nerd, so where does that leave us?” Y/n giggles, bringing her gaze back to him with laughter glossed eyes.

“Hmmm,” Harry ponders, slowly intertwining their hands yet again. “I guess that means you’ll always have someone t’quote literature to, and I’ll always have someone t’laugh really hard at my bad jokes.” Yet another smile makes its way to his lips, and Y/n giggles again with a squeeze of his hand. “Well then!” She sings, releasing one of her hands from his to cup his cheek, bringing her face closer to his. “Aren’t we just the perfect pair?” Her question has a playful tone and he can feel the warmth of her breath against him, her eyes moving between his gaze and his lips.

“We sure are...” he murmurs, his hands following her lead, one moving forward cradle her face with the other gently resting against her throat. Harry can feel her pulse quicken with his actions, and it makes him smile to know that she still has this reaction to his touch. Their eyes flutter closed as they move even closer, their lips finally brushing against each other as delicately as if it were the first time. Harry deepens the kiss, the faint taste of mint and honey lingering on her tongue from their nightly bedtime tea, and Y/n relishes in the intoxicating feeling of his soft lips against hers. A long time ago, Y/n realized that soulmates are yellow.

[natrogersfics]

After All - Chapter 1/5

Cover art by @faith2nyc​ Read on AO3

​In the history of work-life balances, The Daily’s has to be the most bizarre of any company, and Natasha knows that it has nothing to do with the reasonable work hours Pepper is a stickler for implementing. One would truly be hard-pressed to find another work environment where the people get along so seamlessly. Sure, they have their disagreements, and their instincts are always to engage in debate rather than shy away from it, but for the most part, the second the clock strikes five p.m., all spats are forgotten in lieu of brainstorming which watering hole to head to (Dalton’s, always Dalton’s).   

To say that her coworkers are like family seems like a banality on the surface, the type of line an HR Department would print in the welcome packet for a new employee before their first day on the job. But as she stands by the doorway of Tony and Pepper’s living room, watching the very people she works with on a daily basis joyously mingle with members of her actual family, she does not know how else she could possibly define them. These people are the best of the best in the respective subjects, their combined accomplishments the envy of anyone with even a scintilla of ambition to succeed in the media. And yet here they are, holding plates filled with rainbow cake and sporting unicorn party hats, all because these happen to be her daughter’s latest obsession and they’re all powerless to deny her – especially on her first birthday.

In some ways, she knew they would be fond of Isabel, but she never expected them to adore her quite like this – for Thor to bring her a strawberry cupcake every eleventh to celebrate each new month of her life, or for Stephen and Christine to insist that they come over so the latter can personally perform routine checkups, or for Tony to customize a double stroller for when he takes both Isabel and Maria to his workshop. What’s more, they’ve all rallied around her as well, none of them ever more than a text message away when she’s in need of anything, which proved invaluable as she navigated motherhood for the first time. 

This outpour of love from a group of people who are not by any stretch obligated to go so above and beyond is an anomaly, she knows. It’s going to take some kind of miracle for her to find another group of genuinely kind people who would go up to bat for her and Isabel. And it’s that very thought that wrests the sadness she’s been trying to keep at bay all day as she ponders how this may be the last time in a long while that they will gather like this. 

“Are you sure you have to go?”   

The question breaks her out of her reverie, and she turns to see Darcy next to her, holding up two forks in one hand and a plate of cake in the other. She chuckles, reaching for the other fork as they both take a bite and moan at the perfection that is Sarah Roger’s baking. “I already paid the security deposit on the flat we’re staying in,” she says. “So that’s going to be a yes.”

“Flat, huh? Look at you, getting in on the lingo,” Darcy teases before groaning. “But until your butt is officially across the pond, it is an apartment. And it is take-out, not take-away. Which, coincidentally, we happen to have the best of here. Where are you going to get your Nom Wah fix in London, Nat, huh? Where?”

“They have a Chinatown there too, last I checked,” she counters, laughing when Darcy rolls her eyes. “Besides, I have to go anyway on the account of me being out of a job. I do have a child to support, you know.”

“First of all, the only reason you’re out of a job is because you got a big promotion,” Darcy says matter-of-factly. “Stupid corporate ladder.”

“Big words coming from the newly minted editor of The Daily’s International section,” she says, suddenly brimming with pride.

“Only because I learned everything from you,” Darcy says quietly before sighing in concession. “Ugh! You better not forget us when you’re out there being a hotshot editor-in-chief. And you better make sure Boss Baby doesn’t forget who her favorite is!”

“Darcy, Darcy, Darcy,” she says, wrapping an arm around the shoulders of the first person to truly become her constant at work. “You are many things, but forgettable is not one of them.”

“Yeah, true,” Darcy concedes easily, causing them both to laugh.

“Speaking of the Boss Baby though,” she says, checking her watch. “It’s almost her bedtime, so I better go make sure none of her grandparents have let her eat all the icing.” 

“I think what you really have to be concerned about is an aunt and uncle helpless over her charms,” Darcy says, smiling knowingly. “Last I saw her she was in the kitchen with Bucky and Wanda.”

She’s about to thank her, but before she can, Darcy’s already running towards the center of the living room at Thor’s roaring announcement that a game of Pictionary is about to commence. For a second, she allows herself a moment to watch the pandemonium unfold as her friends – her fully grown adult friends, no less – vie for the positions of team captains. “Hooligans,” she says, shaking her head fondly before making a beeline for the kitchen. She pokes her head in, finding Bucky and Wanda poring over the cheese and cold cuts selection laid out on the island before knocking on the wall to get their attention. “Any of you know where Izzie is?”

“Nat!” Bucky exclaims, “you have to try this cheese. It smells like something died in it, but it’s so damn delicious!”

She tilts her head to the side, the corner of her mouth tugging up in amusement. “Maybe later, Buck.” 

“Ignore him. He’s inhaled too much cheese,” Wanda says over the rim of her wine glass before pointing upwards. “Steve took her upstairs for a diaper change.”

“Thank you,” she says, turning to leave. She makes it to the stairs, climbing it two steps at a time until she reaches the top and stops in front of the framed collage of Maria on the wall. As her eyes scan the plethora of pictures, she can’t help but smile. She’s seen this frame countless times before, can practically name where each photo was taken and how old her goddaughter is in every one of them, but for some reason, she finds herself lingering before it, as if she needs to recommit everything to her memory lest she forget. She gives herself another minute, and with a sigh, forces herself to look away and walk down the familiar path to the nursery.  

“Do you know how much Daddy loves you?”

Steve’s words stop her dead in her tracks, and through the door left cracked open, she catches a glimpse of him sitting on the rocking chair with Isabel across his lap, their daughter staring up at him as he feeds her a bottle. The sight of them gazing affectionately at each other punches the breath out of her lungs, and it’s only by instinct that she moves out of view, pressing her back against the nearest wall.

“I don’t even know if I have the right words to describe how much,” she hears Steve confess with a little chuckle, to which Isabel coos, and in her heart of hearts, she knows that she should not be eavesdropping on this moment – it isn’t hers, and yet, she finds herself unable to move. “I guess it’s a good thing that you don’t understand me all that well yet, so I have some time to figure them out...” He sighs, long and winded. “Though, if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I ever will. There couldn’t possibly be words in existence that will encapsulate how much I love every little inch of you.” Steve’s voice cracks by the end, followed closely by a sniffle. “I’m going to miss you like crazy, fig. And I’ll call you all the time, so please don’t forget Daddy while you’re over there, okay? You’re my whole world, baby girl…”   

The hallway and the stairs and the foyer are all a blur as she bolts, the air around her suddenly too thick. She makes it out the front door, but by the time she gets to the bottom step of the brownstone, her legs feel too heavy to keep herself upright and she slumps down, placing her head in her hands as the Summer night’s air blows by and the sound of the traffic on the Upper East Side rings ambiently around her. She sighs. Steve’s words weren’t even meant for her to hear. It shouldn’t affect her this way – shouldn’t hurt her this way – especially when they’re full of adulation for their daughter. And yet, it’s as if she’s taken another dagger to her already crippled heart.

“Natasha.”

She looks up in time to see her mother take a seat next to her, and in the warmth of Melinda’s embrace, she finally lets the tears fall. “Would you believe me if I said I was just tired?”

“Oh, Nat,” Melinda says, reaching over to thumb her tears away. “You don’t have to do this. You know that, right?”

“Only I do,” she says, the words tumbling out of her mouth almost immediately. “He’s had a year. Heck, he’s had more than that to say something, give me a sign.” Melinda’s expression softens at her words, and she knows that it’s because despite offering her a way out only moments ago, Melinda’s one of the few people who knows she’s right. It’s been too long since that fateful night she asked Steve if she had a reason to stay, only to be met by silence. It was damning then, and it’s even more so in the time that’s passed since they’d agreed to postpone both her move to London and the implementation of their custody agreement until Isabel turned one. If he wanted her, if he felt even a fraction for her of what she felt for him, he had countless opportunities and ample time to say so. But now here they are, their daughter past her first year of life, and a day away from each of them getting her six months out of the year. She shakes her head. “He loves her so much. That’s more than I could have ever asked for, and in some ways, that’s always been the deal.” She turns to Melinda, smiling sadly. “I can’t keep hoping anymore. I have to move on.”  

With a sad smile, Melinda drops a kiss to her temple. “Okay.” 

In the months leading up to this day, there were countless times Natasha had caught herself imaging how it would play out. She expected a tear or two to be shed – Sarah and Melinda being the most obvious culprits – but at the very least, she thought the massive crowds at JFK would prove a compelling enough reason for them to not only keep it together, but also to keep their goodbyes short and sweet. But here, on the tarmac in Teterboro, with the Stark Industries jet before her and her entire family close by, she realizes that this is quickly morphing into her worst-case scenario – drawn out goodbyes, too many sad eyes, and her heart feeling all too heavy in her chest.

“You tell T’Challa that I will never forgive him for this.”

Pepper’s words elicit a laugh from her. “Oh please,” she says, scoffing even as she wraps her arms tighter around Pepper and pretends not to feel the warmth of the tear that drips down to her shoulder. “If you were at all capable of holding a grudge, the three of us would’ve stopped being friends long ago.”

“That was before he plotted to steal my best friend from me,” Pepper mumbles, making them both laugh. “Do you realize that this is the first time since college that we’re not going to live within a subway’s ride from each other?”

“We’ll drop by for Christmas,” she offers quietly, unable to trust that her voice won’t falter if she dares answer the question directly. Over Pepper’s shoulder, her eyes quickly glance at the group by the stairs of the jet – Sarah, Nick and Melinda, and Bucky and Wanda all gathered around Steve and Isabel – and she finds herself relieved that she had already said her lengthy goodbyes to most of them last night. She takes a step back from Pepper as she says, “These next six months will fly by.”

“Alright, alright,” Tony interjects as he comes up next to them with Maria on his hip. “Let’s not act like there’s not going to be a Stark Industries emergency in the London office in two weeks that only the CEO can solve.” He eyes Pepper and then her knowingly before nodding towards the jet. “Best not to misuse company property more than we already are.”

She rolls her eyes, breaking away from Pepper’s embrace completely. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you the one who insisted on this whole spectacle?”

“You were gonna fly commercial,” Tony says, his expression twisting in disgust. “We’re not savages, Red.”  

Her lips quirk up at that. To anyone else, Tony’s quip drips with arrogance and reeks of privilege from a life defined by exuberant wealth. But she’s known the man for over a decade now, and though most of the time his tact leaves much to be desired, she understands him enough to know how to read between the lines. Their friendship has never been defined by heartfelt tête-à-têtes, and part of her is glad that he doesn’t seem keen on starting that now. Nevertheless, she knows that making sure she and Isabel are nothing short of exceedingly comfortable on an already difficult trip, is Tony’s ultimate way of showing just how much he cares. 

“Come here,” she says, stepping forward to engulf both him and Maria in a hug.  

“Oh, we’re doing this?” Tony says. “Okay, we’re really doing this.” She ignores him, but it only takes a beat before she feels his free arm wrap around her as well, squeezing back. When they pull away, he has his signature smirk on his face. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

She chuckles just as she drops a kiss to Maria’s forehead. “Bye sweetheart,” she tells her goddaughter before turning back to Tony, raising an eyebrow at him. “Does that list even exist?”

Tony winks at her, prompting Pepper to shake her head at the both of them. 

“Indeed, it does not,” Pepper says, linking arms with her. “Come on.”

The pit in her stomach that she’s been trying to ignore since she got up this morning rears its ugly head once more. It’s for the best, she reminds herself. These four words have become her mantra ever since she uttered them that night in Steve’s office when she had first given him the custody agreement, and though her heart had never felt as eviscerated as it had in that moment, the fact that she’s only minutes away from jetting off to a different continent is testament to the fact that there’s truth in it. That, despite all that she’d hoped would change, this is how their lives must play out if they are to make their arrangement work. She sucks in a breath at the thought, at the finality of it all, and as she huffs out, the reassuring squeeze from Pepper grounds her enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Sarah is the first to notice them as they near, and she’s quick to offer her a warm smile before turning to Steve, whispering in his ear and giving Isabel one last kiss. 

“Be safe, darling,” Sarah says when she makes her way over to her, cupping her face in her hands. “And please, don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” she says, smiling earnestly. “Thank you, Sarah.” Sarah’s barely stepped away from her when she feels two pairs of arms wrap around her simultaneously, and she can’t help but laugh when she finds herself sandwiched between Nick and Melinda. “Sucking up all my oxygen here, guys.”

“Call us the second you land,” Melinda orders. “And not a second later, you hear? We have your flight plan.”

“Or by God, I will order an F-35 to come find you,” Nick adds.  

She scoffs. “You’ve been saying that since I was sixteen.”

“It was true then and it’s even truer now that you’re taking my grandbaby with you,” Nick says, eyeing her pointedly. “Don’t try me.”

“Fine,” she says, chuckling softly. “We’ll FaceTime you the second we land. How’s that?”

“Excellent,” Melinda says, hugging her tightly once more. “Our girl, we love you so.”  

“Love you too,” she says to each of them. Wanda and Bucky are last in line, and as she accepts a hug from the former and a kiss on the cheek from the latter, she begins to make her way towards the landing of the stairs where Steve stands cradling a sleeping Isabel. She stops a foot short of them, tucking her hands into her pockets and mustering the best smile she can. “We should get going.”  

Steve nods, turning to nuzzle the top of Isabel’s head. “Be a good girl for momma, okay?” he says, and she has to avert her gaze elsewhere at the way his voice breaks at the end. “Daddy loves you so much, fig.”

Just as she had the night before, she finds herself once again an intruder in a moment she has no business being a part of as she listens to Steve whisper sweet nothings to their daughter. But despite the feeling of being so unwelcome, so unwanted, she swallows it all down along with the lump that’s formed in her throat in an attempt to keep it together. It’s only when she hears Steve mutter a soft okay that she dares look back, watching as he steps forward to place Isabel into her arms. 

“Shh,” she says gently when Isabel stirs at the movement, carefully shifting her so she can rest her head on her shoulder before turning to Steve. “I’ll text you when we land and again when we get to our flat, so you know she’s safe.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, letting a beat pass before shaking his head. “Natasha…”  

For a moment, she can only stand there, letting his utterance of her name hang in the air between them. Where she finds the courage to look in his eyes, she isn’t certain, but she does. The pain in them is clear as the sky above them, but for whom it’s for, she can only surmise. Surely, for being separated for the next six months from their daughter, who’s oblivious to the loaded silence between them as she slumbers peacefully against her. And though she knows she shouldn’t, she lets herself wonder – wish, really – if only for a fraction of a second, and perhaps for the last time, that maybe that pain is for her, too. And that maybe, just maybe, now he would say the words she’s been longing to hear.

Steve sighs, and she holds her breath as he leans down to kiss her cheek. “Knock ‘em dead, Natasha Romanoff.”

Her eyes fall shut at that, and though he’s close enough that she can smell the familiar scent of his cologne and feel the warmth of his skin, they might as well be continents apart already. “Thanks,” she whispers, giving him a final nod before she turns to ascend the stairs.

There’s only the whirr of the jet taxiing towards the runway as she settles further back against the softness of the leather seat. Across her chest, Isabel sleeps peacefully, her curls glowing russet in the sunlight streaming through the window and her weight a welcome distraction from the hollowness burrowing deep inside of her, settling in. By now, she realizes, the sensation is just an old friend. She sighs, running her hand up and down Isabel’s back, holding her closer. “It’s just you and me, fig.”

I’m not freaking out, you are!

Steve’s brow arches as he reads the words in the blue bubble, and he does not waste time pressing down on the file attachment, eagerly waiting for the video to take up the entirety of the screen. Once it does, Isabel comes into view, sporting a gray Dodgers jersey with her hair pulled up in two symmetric pigtails as she clings onto the edge of a coffee table. The sight pulls his lips up into a beaming smile, all but threatening to split his face. 

“Come to momma, fig,” he hears Natasha encourage in the background. “You can do it!”

Despite Natasha’s message alluding to the fact that this had been a fruitful exercise, he finds himself holding his breath as he watches Isabel blink, her eyebrows furrowing in suspicion as if she’s contemplating her mother’s words. On the lower part of the screen, her foot inches forward ever so slightly, though whether it is to test the waters or tease her mother, he can only guess. But then her dubious expression fades as quickly as it had come, making way for a toothy grin, and then his eyes widen as he witnesses her take one wobbly step and then trot the rest of the way.

“Yay!” Natasha cheers, eliciting an elated giggle from Isabel, and he can’t help but laugh along as the camera flips to show Natasha with Isabel now on her lap. “We’re walking!”  

He types back a quick Yes! followed by But also, uh oh! 😬 before pressing play on the video once more, this time watching Isabel walk on her own without the nervousness that had plagued him only moments ago. It seems ridiculous – though he’s willing to bet that most parents feel the same way – but he feels pride surge right through him. Isabel was just beginning to get the hang of walking while her hands were being held up during her first birthday, and now, less than six months later, she’s already cruising along by herself. Time, he muses, truly does zip on by.

Placing his phone down on the counter, he stops to ponder his last thought. If there’s one thing he’s come to realize about time, it is that it can be a real conundrum – moving faster than you wish it would when you least want it to and slowing down to an agonizing crawl when you’re all but begging for it to fly. Only, these two facets seemed to be happening simultaneously in the last six months since his custody agreement with Natasha had taken effect. On one hand, Isabel is growing and changing faster than he can keep up with, becoming her own person with every day that passes. But at the same time, it feels as if his turn to have her, to witness these milestones unfold in real time, is an eternity away.

“I don’t like that face. Not one bit.”

He turns towards the sound of the voice, chuckling when he sees his mother walking into his kitchen, a box from her bakery in hand. “So much for a face only a mother can love.”

“Of course I love that face,” Sarah says, setting the box and her purse down on the island before hopping on the stool next to his. “I made it.” Sarah snickers as he rolls his eyes. “What I don’t love is when it’s all broody and scrunched up” – she points to his head – “means something’s going on up there.”   

With a sigh, he unlocks his phone, opening the video back up before pushing it towards Sarah. His mother squeals upon seeing her granddaughter, picking up the device to get a closer look. 

“She’s gotten so big!” she says, her eyes on the screen. “Goodness, she’s walking. Really walking!”

“She finally fit into the jersey Thor gave her before she was born, too,” he adds, shaking his head in disbelief. “Now it’s just right.” It’s probably the tone of his voice – crestfallen, though he hadn’t meant for it to come out that way – that causes Sarah to look at him, her eyes rueful. He waves off her concern. “I’m fine, ma. Some days are just harder than most. Technology’s great and all, but I still feel like I’m missing so much. And now...”

Sarah reaches over to place her hand over his. “I’m sorry they’re not going to make it for Christmas, darling.” 

“It’s fine,” he repeats. While he isn’t due to have Isabel until after New Years’, with some cajolery from Melinda, Nick, and Pepper, Natasha had agreed that she and Isabel would come visit for Christmas. That’d been the plan even before they left for London almost six months ago, and if he’s being completely honest, it’s been the day he’s been counting down to since. But then an emergency at Natasha’s work came up, preventing her and Isabel from traveling until after the holiday and successfully upending everything he had been looking forward to. He sighs. “It’s still technically Natasha’s time with her and she was being really magnanimous about sharing Izzie for Christmas anyway.” He swipes his hand out, as if to dismiss his melancholy, but even that is half-hearted. “I was just really looking forward to it, you know? Bucky already bought her a beanie with Reindeer antlers that light up and I thought maybe she could still see the Rockefeller tree.”

“Still might,” Sarah says, to which he gives a non-committal nod. “They don’t take it down right away anyway. But have you maybe considered asking Natasha if you can fly there for Christmas?”

“What?” he nearly spits out the word in surprise, tilting his head to the side as he looks at his mother like she’s grown three heads. “What’re- I mean, what in the world makes you think she’d agree to that?”

This time, it’s Sarah’s turn to look at him incredulously. “You two have been getting along great these past few months, haven’t you?”

“We text about Izzie,” he says, “and yes, Natasha’s there when we FaceTime too, but that’s because she has to hold up the phone on the account of Izzie wanting to put everything in her mouth. That is not the same as getting along great.” He sits up straighter, shaking his head. “Besides, spending Christmas together? In London? That’s not even remotely in our-”

“Oh please,” Sarah interrupts. “I don’t care what you two have written down in your contract-”

“Custody agreement,” he corrects.

“Semantics,” Sarah counters. “Like it or not, you and Natasha are forever bonded by the beautiful baby girl you two brought into this world. That makes you family, and families spend Christmas together.” Sarah shrugs, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip and seemingly deliberating her next words. “Unless…”

He looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. “Unless?”

“Steven, hon, you know I don’t like to pry,” Sarah says carefully. “But ever since… well, okay. I suppose I thought that maybe things between you and Natasha… especially after Izzie was born… I thought maybe you two would give it a chance. But then nothing happened, and I said I’d leave you two to it. It’s your lives. But now she’s over there, making a life for herself and you know what? Good on her. But then I see you, and I… It just seems to me like you’re stuck. And I feel like I’ve seen this before, so I have to ask… Do you maybe still have feelings for Natasha?”

His eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “That is not what-”

“And that is not an answer.”

“I…” he begins, only to pause to collect his thoughts. “I have had the tremendous opportunity of curating for a successful gallery and overseeing its expansions. And that is on top of my day job at the paper and making sure I am pulling my weight as a co-parent. I’m barely in the same place for five minutes, so quite frankly, ma, by definition I think that’s the opposite of being stuck.” When Sarah’s pointed glance does not let up, he sighs. “Look… if the lack of two more seats at our Christmas table this year is any indication, I’d say my feelings weren’t any good on a one-way street. If I were stuck, I’d still be standing on it, but like I just said...”

Sarah puts her hands up. “Well, if all the hatchets are buried…” she says as she moves off the stool and slings her purse over her shoulder. “No harm in asking then, is there?” She reaches over to the counter, pushing his phone back to him and nodding towards the screen. “You don’t get any of these moments back, Steve. So if there’s any chance you can be a part of them instead of watching from afar, try.” With a smile, she leans in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you Sunday at brunch.”  

Sleep eludes him later that night as he watches the shadows dance across the ceiling, his mind replaying the conversation he had with Sarah. As he ruminates on its substance, he’s suddenly transported back to that night almost two years ago when Natasha had received her award from the Journalists’ Guild. At that point, their relationship had plunged into this strange and confusing pitfall. They had gone from living together as Natasha recovered from her awful fall, falling into domestic bliss as they did, to her serving him a custody agreement in his office seemingly in a blink of an eye. When he approached her that night for a dance, all he truly wanted was to erase the distance and the silence that had grown between them. But sometime in the middle of them swaying along to a soft string tune, she had informed him that she was going to take the job in London, and as he remembers how her words had made him feel then, hurt washes over him anew. She had pulled the rug from underneath him, sending him into free fall that, by the time she was accusing him of having never wanted their child in the first place, and asking him if she had a reason to stay, he was frozen. Speechless. Powerless to stop her from walking away and disappearing into the crowd.

Navigating their relationship after that night was incredibly difficult. They were both hurt, and understandably so, but giving each other space became nearly impossible when Natasha’s pregnancy spurned more health complications. They weren’t grave, thankfully, but it was enough to bring them to the sober realization that regardless of what had transpired between them, they couldn’t let their feelings get in the way of prioritizing the one thing that meant the world to the both of them. And by the time Isabel was born, the effort they’d both put in to make their circumstances work was so much that he told himself that it did not matter that his feelings for Natasha were not only lingering, but also brewing deep – rocking the boat was the last thing the three of them needed.

Further, what he had told his mother hadn’t been a lie. Feelings are no good on a one-way street. Perhaps there was a point where Natasha had felt the same way about him as he felt about her, but that was all moot now. In the end, she had gotten on the plane to London, and though he wanted nothing more than to tell her how he truly felt as they said their goodbyes at the airport, he still did not know with a certainty if that would have been enough. That, his love was a compelling enough reason for her to forego an opportunity that she’d been working towards her whole life. So instead, he told her the one thing he knew she’d do anyway – go and succeed. And if the reviews of the paper she’s helming and their cordial co-parenting relationship are anything to go by, it’s clear that staying mum was the right call. 

It’s then that the merit of Sarah’s earlier argument becomes clear. While spending Christmas together isn’t something they’ve ever discussed, with the both of them moving forward, perhaps there really was no harm in asking. Perhaps what’s in the past can stay in the past. Perhaps Christmas didn’t have to be so somber this year.Before he can change his mind, he reaches for his phone. 

Natasha holds her breath as she creeps out into the hallway, relief crashing down on her like a ton of bricks when she successfully clicks the door shut without hearing a cry. With a sigh, she brings a hand up to the bridge of her nose, pinching down and letting her eyes fall shut in exhaustion. Isabel’s been restless the last couple of days, waking up intermittently and distraught for reasons that she cannot seem to figure out. To top it all off, despite the holidays fast approaching, her workload only seems to grow exponentially, and with the recent lack of sleep, the fatigue is getting harder to stave off.With a heavy exhale, she straightens up, willing herself back to her living room and to where she left her laptop on the couch. 

The words on the open document on her screen are ones she’s read enough times that she can recite them verbatim from memory, and yet, as she tries to come up with the next sentence, her mind draws a blank. With a groan, she pushes her screen down shut. Writing has always been her outlet of choice, allowing her to clear her head by losing herself in the topic of her current piece, and for it to fail her now when she’s most in need of a catharsis, she can’t help but feel even more untethered.The ding of her phone cuts through the silence, and she looks towards where it’s resting on the cushion to see an email notification pop up. 

Picking it up, she glides a finger over the bubble on the screen and sighs when she sees the subject line read: 

URGENT – Meeting w/ PR tomorrow

Without reading the contents, she closes her email app, deciding that at two in the morning, she just does not have the mental bandwidth to deal with any more work woes. But as she does, her photo stream appears, and a video begins to play. The camera zooms in, showing Steve carefully lifting a six-month-old Isabel up to blow bubbles on her belly, and she stops to watch Isabel giggle. In her desperation to soothe Isabel tonight, she had decided to play the video as she rocked her to sleep, and much to her relief, it had worked. Within minutes, and with Steve’s voice on loop in the background, Isabel had finally gone to bed.It’s when the frame switches to Steve and Isabel playing peek-a-boo that she finds her throat tightening. When she had moved six months ago, she had believed that not only was it the right decision, but also that the challenge of a new job and readjusting to a different country would aid her in moving on. But as Isabel’s soft coos and Steve’s laughter from the video fills the room, the sounds only seem to further underscore how big and empty her flat feels.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the audio cutting off, and she glares at the screen in anticipation of another work-related email, but her eyes only widen in surprise when she sees a text from Steve.

Hey, do you have time to talk tomorrow morning (late afternoon your time)? Just had a question…

As she reads the text, her eyebrows furrow. While they communicate several times a week, it’s only so he can video chat with Isabel or so she can send him Isabel’s latest photo. It’s not like him to shoot her a text out of the blue, and it’s even more so unusual for him to be vague about the subject. She bites her lip as she contemplates a reply, typing something out only to delete it. By her fourth attempt, her mind begins to race with a deluge of questions. With a huff, she puts her phone down, and finds herself almost grateful when she catches the porch light next door flicker on through her window. Hurriedly, she gets up, running through her foyer and hastily throwing her door open just as her neighbor is about to place their key into the lock. “Any chance you’re up for a nightcap?” she asks, biting her lip. 

Her neighbor turns, looking every bit as tired as any reasonable person returning home at this hour should. Nevertheless, he smirks. “When you’re offering?” he asks. “Always.”

“Long week, huh?” she asks later on as they sit on her couch, each clutching a glass of wine.

“Endless,” he says as he angles to face her. “Two back-to-back shifts with a twelve-hour surgery somewhere in between that nearly went critical, to be exact.”

“Nothing the great Dr. Laufeyson couldn’t handle, I’m sure,” she says, eyeing him knowingly.

“The patient survived, if that’s what you’re alluding to,” Loki says, prompting them both to laugh.

Her gaze falls to her wine, watching the dark liquid swirl as she rotates the glass in her hand. “Must be nice, though,” she says, “knowing what you do saves lives.” She looks over at him as she adds, “That of children, especially.”

“It is,” he agrees. “They’re wonderful and pure, as I’m sure you know. Not yet privy to the trickery and harshness of the world at large like we adults are... But that’s a conversation for a different time.” He takes a sip of his wine before arching a brow at her. “So, tell me, Miss Romanoff. What is it that has you keeping me from my bed?”

She scoffs. “Didn’t realize I had the power to make you do things you didn’t want to do.”

“I’d do anything for you and that little angel of yours,” he says before shrugging. “You know that.”

Loki’s words bring a smile to her face. For all her struggles in the last six months, meeting and getting to know him has been one of the bright spots that’s kept her going. That, and the fact that he lives next door and is up at ungodly hours like she is, is convenient – especially on nights like this when she could really use someone to talk to. It’s with that reminder that she sighs and goes about catching him up on everything that’s been plaguing her mind since the last time she saw him. When she finally gets to Steve’s text, she hands him her phone. “I’m probably just over analyzing it,” she says. “For all I know, he probably just wants to FaceTime with Izzie more.”

“Then why not just get to it then?” Loki challenges. “Natasha, let’s be honest about what this is really about.”   

She shakes her head. “I just said that he-”

“I don’t mean about him,” Loki says, sighing when she stares confusedly at him. “You’ve basically just admitted to missing the man-”

“I said no such thing!” 

Loki shoots her a withering look. “Do you’ve any idea how many parents deny how much sugar they’ve fed their kids as I hold the results of their child’s blood work in my hands?” He scoffs. “It’s easy to say things, Natasha, but you cannot deny what is so. I assume you sulking in the dark and watching videos of him and Izzie aren’t just because you’re feeling nostalgic.”

“What do you want me to say, Loki?” she asks. “That I’m freaking out about this because I’m... lonely? Tired? Tipsy?” She chuckles, but it’s humorless, hollow. Her voice is barely above a whisper as she adds, “or that moving thousands of miles away was for nothing seeing as I’m still so pathetically in love with someone who clearly doesn’t love me back and who can seemingly pull me apart with a single text?”

“Only if that’s the truth,” Loki says, making her shoulders sag in defeat. “Natasha, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He takes her hand in his, causing her to look at him. “I simply wanted you to be honest about what’s at play here.” He sighs. “I don’t claim to know what or how he feels. And for that matter, what you truly do, and I will not pry. But what I do know is that you are smart, strong, gorgeous, and any man would be lucky to have you. The ones that don’t see that? They’re idiots and they don’t deserve you.” Her lips quirk at that, and he smiles. “Remember that the next time you think one text from someone can pull you apart, hm?”

Loki punctuates his words with a gentle squeeze to her hand, and as she lets the gravity of his sentiment sink in, she nods. “Thanks,” she says, laughing when he only winks and brings her hand up to kiss her knuckles.  

By the time Loki bids her goodnight and she makes it to bed, her mind feels a little clearer. Maybe she’s right and that whatever it is Steve wants to ask her is something as small as wanting more time to talk to Isabel, but the reality is that she’ll never know if she doesn’t find out. And if it turns out to be something that takes a wrecking ball to her heart all over again, if what Loki said is anything to go by, then maybe she isn’t giving herself enough credit. She has made it this far – scars and all.

With that in mind, she reaches for her phone and searches for Steve’s message to type out her reply.

Sure! Talk to you then.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5