#hopefully I’ve communicated the idea across well enough

[synthetic-rust]

I took like one look at this train and immediately thought of this

[ierofrnkk]

Poe Dameron x Na’vi Reader [1]

summary: Poe Dameron is doing reconnaissance for the Resistance, and ends up on a moon far, far away from home. (1.7k)

content: all ages, Poe is in unfamiliar territory, gender neutral reader, not beta read, Poe POV for this first chapter

a/n: starting a series!!! how about that!! I’ve been hyperfixating on Avatar for years now, and my little monkey brain couldn’t let go of the idea of Poe somehow ending up on Pandora and finding a hot 9’ tall blue partner. Thankful for the Kelutral community for helping me with the Na’vi dialogue! Also my fic, I make the rules, don’t talk 2 me about how these universes are so far apart ok !!!!!!

—

Poe Dameron was in a very, very bad situation.

He had no idea how he’d ended up here, in the farthest reaches of the galaxy, in a system much more unfamiliar than anything he’d ever experienced.

He’d been sent out to do recon, to see if there were any Resistance members far beyond the looming shadow of the First Order.

There was a point during his flight when he lost contact with home base, his comms fizzling out from being so far out of range; it was terrifying, admittedly, and now was a time he would’ve loved to have been hearing BB-8’s frantic, nervous beeps.

There was nothing but silence, but he persisted onward, long enough until he’d found a planet—much larger than anything he’d been on recently—with several moons.

This was purely unfamiliar territory here for Poe, but the readings from his ship were telling him that one of the planet’s moons was habitable, and he prepared for a quick landing, hopefully finding what he was looking for so he could return home.

The descent was a lot different than he had expected. The atmosphere was dense, but finally gave way to sprawling forests and clear skies.

He didn’t really notice it until he’d begun looking for a place to land, but the trees on this planet were massive, much bigger than anything he’d ever seen before anywhere.

He was certainly, definitely far away from home.

Poe managed to find a clearing, enough for him to land Black One safely and assess his surroundings.

It looked like there had been people living here at one point, the remnants of their presence left behind like echoes. Concrete buildings, vehicles left abandoned and overgrown.

Whoever used to live here hasn’t for a long time.

He knows that there isn’t much else for him to do besides leave the cockpit and seek out anyone that can help him get in touch with home.

This is a completely different system, so he brings his rebreather mask, knowing full well that the atmosphere might be completely toxic to him.

After a few more beats of preparation, Poe opens the hatch of his X-Wing, swings his legs over the side of the ship, and drops down to the ground without any more hesitation.

The flora of this moon was like nothing he’d ever heard of—massive trees, stretching to the heavens, the strangest shaped plants in the most bizarre of colors. It fascinated him.

Poe begins walking, picking a direction and deciding to go in it. He can hear the soft chitter of unfamiliar animals through the thick brush of the forest, and he keeps a wary hand on the holster that holds his blaster to his belt.

In his life, he’s encountered lots of different creatures—some of which he still owes credits to—but the fauna of this moon is a lot for even him.

He’d never think he’d ever be wishing to see a bantha, but he would do anything right now to see one.

Poe treads carefully through the forest, and it feels like he walks for forever before he comes across one of the seemingly abandoned buildings. It’s eerie, the sight of something that clearly was once teeming with life, now having fallen silent and into disrepair.

He’d hoped that this had become a new resistance base, but that doesn’t look to be so.

No ships here are like anything he’s familiar with; no speeders, no X-Wings or quad jumpers. It all looks incredibly…sad. Dull and grey. Military. This was something very far out of his realm of expertise.

Grass has begun growing through the cracks in the concrete, reclaiming the land as it’s been left abandoned for what must be years at this point.

He keeps walking, finding very little of any use to him.

He does, though, manage to find what was helpfully labeled ‘Exopacks’, opening the steel cabinet to find a much better rebreather pack than anything he’d had with him.

He takes the pack, getting one last good breath in before he takes off his rebreather, exchanging it for the Perspex mask that fits nicely around his face. What he assumes is the filter pack is clipped to his belt, and after a few brief moments, he gets the mask sealed on properly, continuing on his way as he explores this unfamiliar space.

As he gets away from the hard stone of the building and returns to the soft grass and lush flora of the forest, he gets the strangest feeling; a tingle on the back of his neck, the slightest bit of unease that makes him feel as though he’s being watched.

But that can’t be, can it? Who would be watching him?

Poe isn’t even sure where he’s going at this point, besides walking in the hopes of finding someone familiar; a resistance member, something.

He continues through the forest, the trees stretching high into the sky, with leaves bigger than himself. He catches a glimpse of a creature through the brush, something that can only be closely compared to a fathier, but much different; skin like a lizard, all different shades of teal and blue and yellow, with six legs.

It notices Poe briefly, its frill going up in defense, before it takes off running in the opposite direction.

Poe relaxes once the creature’s run away, the knowledge that he’s in unfamiliar territory being solidified even further with every passing minute.

That feeling remains, though, the feeling of being watched. He keeps glancing upwards, trying to parse anything out of the thick foliage, hoping to see someone or something there, watching him.

But nothing. Not at first, at least.

Light is beginning to dim, the brightness of the daylight giving way to something beautiful. Every plant glows, a bright and incredible bioluminescence that seems to react to every step he takes.

The entire forest is blooming with life, with a fascinating brightness and beauty that—of all the planets and moons he’s been to—he’s never seen before.

Another creature chittering, the sound akin to laughter, putting him on edge.

He fumbles for his flashlight, needing some better visibility, even in such a beautifully lit space. When the light goes on, is when he sees exactly what’s been laughing at him.

A creature, one that he at first mistakes for a vornskr—but with six legs instead of four, and with much nastier teeth and claws—circles him. His light catches the eyes of a few more, lurking in the shadows and making him feel more vulnerable and exposed.

He fumbles for his blaster, the weapon still set to stun as he aims it at one of the creatures, and fires.

The bolt hits it somewhere in the shoulder, and it whimpers, falling to the ground briefly before getting up dashing away.

Another one emerges from the shadows, baring its teeth to him as it circles. Poe fires again, this time the bolt hitting more in the chest. It drops to the ground, whimpering and wheezing as its legs kick aimlessly.

A third comes out, teeth bared in the low light as it prepares to lunge at him. Just as it jumps, though, an arrow is fired from somewhere unseen, the point landing square in the creature’s throat, dropping it right where it had hit.

The fletching of the arrow glows like the plants do, feathers brilliant and bright, and it doesn’t take him very long to find the source of such a thing.

A humanoid drops from one of the trees, and Poe is immediately intimidated.

Taller than him, at least twice his height. Skin blue like the clearest oceans. Pointed ears, a tail. Big, beautiful eyes.

They look down at him, gaze narrow and bow drawn.

“Kempe si nga?”

Poe puts his hands up defensively—quickly holstering his blaster—and looks up at the humanoid with frightened, wide eyes.

“What?” Is the first thing he asks, the language unfamiliar to him and seemingly only making things worse.

They repeat themselves, this time a bit more firmly.

After another beat of him not responding, certainly looking confused and bewildered in this situation, they loosen the draw of their bow slightly, their gaze still hard and narrow as they look down on him.

“What are you doing?”

It takes Poe a few seconds too many to realize that he can understand them, and he manages a response.

“What—you— you can speak Basic?”

They ignore the question, waiting for him to give a better answer than that.

“I- I needed a place to land, my ship’s—“ he gestures vaguely in one direction, hoping it’s where he’s landed Black One.

“—it’s over there, I was looking for a Resistance base, I didn’t mean to- to intrude or anything..”

Cautious, they lower their bow, taking in the sight of him.

“Are there more of you?” They ask him, ears lowered defensively.

He shakes his head so fast he’s sure that the mask is going to come flying off.

“No! No, it’s just—it’s just me, I swear, I—“

He stops when they reach down, wrap a hand around his bicep and begin pulling him along. He stumbles and rushes to keep up, the fact that they’re twice his height not helping in the slightest.

“What are you—where are you taking me? Oh, kriff.”

Poe is certain he’s just been captured again. Probably by some race that has an alliance with the First Order, and now they have the Resistance’s poster boy on their turf.

“Taking you to the Olo’eyktan. He will decide what to do with you.”

Poe follows along as quickly as he can, doing his best to keep up, the ground beneath their feet lighting up with each step they take. It’s beautiful, and he wishes that he was able to capture the sight of it all.

Thankfully, the journey doesn’t take very long, and they end up at a tree so much larger than any of the other ones. If he was flying, he’d be concerned about such a tree being in his flight path.

This is definitely not good, Poe thinks as he’s pulled along into the base of the massive tree, where dozens more of similar-looking humanoids stand, watching them as they enter.

Maker, how he wishes he could record this moment, remember it forever, especially since this confrontation is not looking promising, and the last thing he wants is to be held hostage by a First Order ally.

Again.

—

First chapter complete!! If you haven’t noticed, this is loosely going to follow the plot of the first Avatar film, but obviously a little different and hopefully enjoyable! I don’t have a set schedule for these, but I hope to put chapters out semi-regularly! Thank you again for reading! <3

Next Chapter

tags: @winniethewife @ominoose @reallyrallyauthor @my-secret-shame @silvernight-m @faretheeoscar @midgardian-witch

[crimsoncold]

Just wanted to say hi and I think I’ve recently come across some of your Sansa Stark character analysis added as reblogs (I usually tag “thank you op” but rebloggers are important too!!!) and appreciate them for adding to the discussion! Definitely add to my love of Sansa!

And Arya, definitely a more valid critical look at Arya’s classism, which often gets overlooked because of the excessive amount of hate heaped on the more obvious (learned, expected behavior of) Sansa.

Hi back!

And thank you so much for saying this!

I've definitely been challenging myself to start dabbling with replying to some of the incredible story or character metas out there and its always encouraging to hear that anyone appreciates some of my (sometimes very very late) additions to fandom discussions

Being very introverted (like pathologically shy since I was a kid) I've unfortunately been more of a longtime fandom lurker than someone who comments on or adds on to fandom discussion but it definitely gets to be kind of discouraging when rather than a fandom being treated like an interactive and welcoming community people frequently seem to just "consume/like without engagement" the fandom stuff that many people put so much time and effort into creating (metas, art, edits, fics, etc.)

I know I really appreciate getting to see the thoughts and creative works of others in this fandom (as well as anyone who takes the time to engage with my own little fandom efforts) ...and sometimes just following someone or liking/reblogging a post doesn't always seem like it does enough to show this sentiment to the OPs, so I've been trying to push myself out of my comfort zone and do my part to be a more active participant in fandom

The best starting point I've found so far has been jumping into some of the really thoughtful discussions and analysis around some of my favorite characters- Sansa in particular- because it makes me happy to engage with interesting, astute, and positive discourse on the fandoms/characters I love

And hopefully I can work up to the point where I habitually start commenting/complementing the types fandom posts that don't get the same engagement (everytime I see fan art or writing that I know someone spent hours on I cry a little on the inside that its not common place for people to reblog instead of just liking posts- especially with the addition of even a simple/nice little comment or tag about the work- and I always swear one day I'll convince my own strange little brain that leaving a little compliment in the tags of a post is not me being a bother but is something the creator will actually appreciate)

I totally agree that Sansa is such a target of so much unnecessary hate (and typically very uncharitable or inaccurate interpretations) and that is often where I focus my asoiaf fandom criticism but likewise arya is a character who often suffers from poor interpretation as well- though typically in the opposite direction, a she is perfect and can do no wrong- ignore and deny anything about her and her storyline that proves otherwise, which can be disappointing in its own way

i think sometimes fans are so obsessed with the idea of their favs being superior or without flaws from the start that they ignore or miss out on the aspects that make a character complex, sympathetic, realistic, and ultimately capable of so much growth... which is disappointing because in my opinion it is these very human qualities and imperfections that makes a character so compelling!

[bugbyte]

Today was good! I’m a little overwhelmed!

3:30 am posting because I’m feeling slightly wound thanks to today being a whole day, but it wasn’t a bad day?

Short version: bunch of appointments, thankfully all online, but after last week being stress central this was tolerable. I got my MMJ eval and it was quick and easy and if anything I over prepared because I’m so used to not being believed and having to back myself up with data. (Which I have to gather and keep for myself because medicine is apparently just a free for all where no one communicates with each other through the online app they have specifically so they can all access data about me from each other! Neat!)

Anyway that was a major relief and I was ready to cry because they said that this should work really well with the conditions and symptoms I have. I’ll probably write something up on the process later (because I would’ve liked a plain English walkthrough of what to expect but that’s ok) but I got my card from the state, which is all digital now, so welcome to the future, I guess.

We headed out to a pretty well reviewed and priced medical dispensary in the area and had a long info session on what would work best for me and landed on some low dose (for now) capsules and gummies. Then we got fried chicken because I’d had enough for one day and went home to see if it would work.

I took a capsule, ate my chicken, and waited. They did advise taking it with a fatty food (could’ve been peanut butter or avocado or anything really; we just got chicken for its uh, health…improving….properties….yeah that sounds right) It took like a solid hour and change to notice anything, and the effects were pretty minor.

I kept trying to explain what was happening to Delade but it was a very subtle thing and hard to get across. Basically the calmest I’ve felt in ages (bonus) and like a slight tiredness, like when you’re tired at the end of the day but not exhausted or like drugged tired if you take something to get to sleep and it hits hard. Just a nice soft calm feeling.

I got brave and tried adding in an extra half a gummy (watermelon flavor!) and that hit much more quickly and mostly just added to the soft feeling. Trying to put it in better words, it was like the different between laying directly on the hard floor, or laying on a puffy blanket on the floor. You can still feel the floor, but it’s much more comfortable than otherwise. I didn’t really feel particularly loopy other than finding a few things funnier than they probably actually were. I think I would compare it in drowsiness more to like…if you’ve been given an opioid after surgery or dental work or something, it’s kind of more like that than feeling just knocked right out. I always felt like these kinds of things gave me a sort of “cozy,” safe feeling while still being conscious enough to do some light things, and this was similar. Everybody’s different though so I might be a weirdo.

So yeah, it does work! I wasn’t expecting like a 100% change in pain levels, and this will definitely take some fine tuning to get right, but there was a difference for sure. I had the makings of a nasty headache after being stressed out all afternoon, which didn’t seem affected much by anything I took so that’s interesting. If I hadn’t had the headache I probably would have attempted some comic work but staring directly into a screen felt like a bad idea. In any case the sharp edges of the pain in the rest of my body got filed way down and I’m pretty amazed overall.

I know this can work now! So I can try again tomorrow! Hopefully with less stress headache so I can get a better gauge on how it actually feels! And hopefully try to draw.

So now I just have to figure out how not to feel weird about this talking to various doctors. Some recommended it, some I can imagine being less positive, but I think the anxiety about being judged is mostly in my head.

Anyway! It was a good experience overall, both the process for getting the card and actually trying the drug itself. If it’s something you’ve been looking into and have questions I can try and answer based on my (admittedly brief) experience so far. I only know how things work in NY, but being pretty anxious I get how it can feel more enormous to figure out when you don’t know the whole scope of a thing or what it’s like to actually do.

This entire thing makes me cackle btw because in fifth grade I won some DARE essay contest in school and I think got some kind of gift card I spent on art supplies, and a hat with the DARE lion mascot thing on it, which I think I still have and should probably start wearing for maximum dumbassery.

[kvibe-test]

Unlocking Creative Success: Bridging Art and Business

MindSketch emerged from a realization I had about how many people involved in creative sectors often don't have a solid grasp of the business side of their art. Frequently, we focus solely on the beauty and passion of our work, neglecting the equally vital element of understanding our worth and the business skills necessary to sustain our art in the long run. For years, I noticed the disconnect between pure artistry and business acumen, and it became paramount for MindSketch to function as the bridge between these two worlds.

The Birth of an Idea

The concept for MindSketch stemmed from countless conversations I've had with artists across various fields. From musicians and recording artists to magicians, abstract artists, writers, and filmmakers, I kept encountering a recurring theme: an overwhelming number of them didn't understand the true dynamics of what it takes to succeed in their respective industries. It's not just about talent; it's about knowing your worth, negotiating effectively, and understanding the intricate details of your business environment.

I can't count how many times artists shared their struggles and frustrations. For instance, many musicians thrive during the creative process but stumble when it comes to negotiating contracts or understanding royalty distributions. Writers often pour their souls into their stories but falter when discussing book deals or marketing strategies.

Learning from Others

MindSketch was created to change that narrative. I wanted the podcast to be an educational tool, a space where artists could come together and discuss their experiences candidly. By hearing first-hand from others who have been in the trenches, listeners could pick up valuable insights and, hopefully, avoid common pitfalls. It's about learning from each other’s journeys, drawing inspiration, and taking actionable steps to marry artistry with business fundamentals.

One of the primary aims of MindSketch is to demystify the business side of creative vocations. For example, abstract artists often grapple with pricing their work. Many don't know how to evaluate their own art, leading to undervaluation and lost income potential. Through MindSketch, we can spotlight these conversations and offer practical advice on evaluating and pricing artwork effectively.

Understanding Your Worth

Throughout all these episodes, a central theme is the importance of recognizing one's worth. It's a message that, I believe, isn't emphasized enough in the creative community. Too often, artists are conditioned to think that their value only lies in their output—the songs, the paintings, the stories. Yet, the artist's vision, effort, and journey itself carry immense value.

By exploring varied artist stories, MindSketch sheds light on what it truly takes to succeed—not just from a creative standpoint but from a business perspective as well. The stories woven into MindSketch aren’t just about success; they're about the trial, error, and perseverance associated with an artist's journey. Whether it's understanding how to market oneself effectively, negotiating better deals, or simply maintaining a sustainable career, these insights are crucial.

One striking conversation I recall was with an indie filmmaker who struggled getting his work financed. He poured heart and soul into his films, but it wasn’t until he learned the right way to pitch his projects to investors, to understand the financial lingo and present a solid business plan, that doors began to open for him. His journey underscores the nexus between artistic passion and pragmatic business sense.

Ultimately, what I hope to achieve through MindSketch is a comprehensive resource where artists can feel empowered not only to create but to thrive. It's a place to explore, learn, and get inspired. After all, inspiring each other is at the heart of what artistry is all about.

Recognizing one's worth and understanding business isn't just pragmatic; it's liberating. This journey allows us to pursue our passion without compromising our livelihood. The world of creative professions is vast and varied, encompassing an array of unique experiences and stories. With MindSketch, my goal is to capture these disparate threads and weave them into something coherent and actionable for every artist out there.

So tune in, listen, and let's sketch out our minds together in this incredible journey.

#MindSketch #ArtAndBusiness #CreativeJourney #InspirationForArtists

[violetren]

Blood of the Basilisk Chapter 20

It occurs to me now with the benefit of hindsight and watching the introduction to this chapter in the same way a person watches a car erratically swerving along the highway for a few hundred metres before they finally crash, that Kota really should have sent a message home pretty well the second she found out Nadani was a potential target. Got someone to try calling home between interplanetary calls, or sent a little thread of magic to Pyter...

Please note just cause I think she should have in retrospect doesn't mean I wish she had. The drama that played out was waaaayyyyy to fun for that, and honestly it works well with Kota's whole ongoing "oh shit how do I do this when the stakes feel so personal?" panic.

The pendulum again. This thing has me going full magpie brain. What is the shiny? Does it do stuff? I want to peck at it. My impression is that after a long day without his momma, knowing she was off doing something neither of them like, and doubtlessly feeling her tension as she rushed in, is that unless he was tremendously occupied by something he'd drop pretty much anything to go greet her and find out what is up. But the pendulum is there. He brought it along.

It could genuinely be nothing. Just the same as anyone with a new shiny fidget toy. But also it could be something really fucking cool and important.

Nadani really does well with her magical development when she has something tangible and practical to help focus her. There is something in the fact that when she was just doing basic seemingly arbitrary exercises at home for her own sake she struggled, but when she had a clear way to help others she came through.

It could almost come across as worrisome given her past. The idea that maybe she's throwing herself into an old pattern of service because of the familiarity it holds. However it doesn't land that way and instead becomes a showcase of the compassion that is such an important character trait of Nadani's. This reading comes largely in part because of this line:

“When people are suffering in front of you, it’s hard to think about anything but helping them,” Nadani said. “This is just the first time I’ve ever been allowed to actually do it.”

Anyways, I honestly think that Nadani would settle quite nicely into the life of a mage for hire doing little odd jobs about the city, unfortunately I don't think her future is going to be that straightforward.

The sense of community on showcase for the repairs is really beautiful.

Kota sure knows how to make an entrance but damn does that woman need to remember how to stop and breathe and explain herself like a gods damned professional. She's killing me here.

The degree to which Pyter has it out for Guthrie on sight is actually concerning and this is from someone who doesn't even like Guthrie. What the fuck kind of rancid vibes is her getting from her? At this point I'm waiting to find out she's a devil in disguise or something.

It's good to see Nadani let loose on both of them though. I have sympathy for Kota because She Is Trying™ Guthrie gets none because Nadani did try to say it wasn't like that earlier and got ignored. But yeah. It's nice to see Nadani get mad, and get to be mad, and hopefully later get to see that Kota isn't going to withdraw her kindness just because Nadani was mad at her, and ultimately feel like she's on sturdier footing in whatever their relationship. Something that will maybe be helped later if Kota gets her shit together enough to say why she was so panicked and apologise for her poor approach to the situation.

Also It's a good sign that as mad as she was Nadani could recognise that Kota wasn't actually trying to be a tyrant and so consented to letting Pyter stay with her while she stayed out longer, if only for both his and Kota's peace of mind.

I wonder if Kota will go home after this or if she'll just linger in the area helping out a little without stepping on Nadani's hooves while also staying nearby in case Pyter calls to help her protect Nadani. I guess I don't have to wonder too hard since I can just read the next chapter.

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

Can u write an au where carol’s cat (goose) keeps sneaking into fem!reader’s apartment and so carol and reader communicate with each other thru notes they put on goose’s collar and they eventually fall in love (((:::::::

Goose's Best Friend

Summary: After a stranger's cat injured in your apartment one night, you decide to attach a short note to its collar to give your apologies. They lead to something you could have never expected.

Pairing: Army Pilot!Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: language

Word Count: 2,792

It was the middle of the night, 2:57a.m., to be exact, when a loud crash shook you from the clutches of sleep. You sat up with a groan, rubbing your eyes to clear your vision enough to look at the clock on your nightstand. You swung your legs off the bed, eyes catching the shattered lamp on the ground. Fighting off the temptation to leave it on the ground for tomorrow, for fear that you might forget about it and slam your bare feet into the shards scattered around the floor, you slid your legs into some sweats and stood up.

You weren’t expecting, when you turned on the light, for something to move. When something darted around the corner you actually let out a high-pitched yelp, flying backwards and hitting your elbow hard off the corner of the nightstand. You felt tingling rush into the tips of your fingers as you tried desperately to comprehend what had just happened. Your breathing had already increased, and your heart was racing inside your chest. You took a hesitant step forward.

Despite being alone in the apartment, you flushed beet red in embarrassment when you found the creature you’d been so terrified of. The orange tabby cat stared up at you with wide eyes, letting out a quiet mew. Immediately your heart softened, its beat slowing down to a normal pace. When the cat made to step toward you, though, you immediately noticed the limp. Your eyebrows furrowed and you knelt down, letting it come to you. You reached out for its front leg, and it let you take it into your hand.

“Oh, sweet baby,” you muttered softly, wiping a bit of blood out of its fur with your thumb. “Come on. I think I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.”

It surely didn’t understand what you said, but it followed you when you stood up. It limped into the bathroom behind you, settling once it reached the tile floor. You reached into the cupboard under the sink and pulled out the red case, propping it up on the countertop and opening it up. Quickly, you located the roll of bandages and the scissors that came with it. You pulled it out and got some wet paper towels. Once more you knelt down on the ground next to the tabby.

A black collar around its neck caught your attention. You reached out for the silver tag that hung from it and spoke aloud. “Goose. Well, Goose, there’s no phone number here for your owner. Guess I’ll have to fix you up and trust you can find your own way home, huh?”

He meowed in response.

You continued to wrap up his leg. When you finally finished, you tucked the first aid kit away again. You clicked your tongue a couple times in an attempt to get him to follow you again. The both of you headed toward the kitchen, where you rummaged through the fridge for the leftover chicken from dinner the night before last. You pulled some out and set it in a small dish on the floor, a sort of apology for your lamp having done such damage to the poor animal’s leg. He helped himself quickly. Meanwhile, you dug through one of your drawers.

You popped the cap off a pen and cut a small strip of paper, struggling to keep your writing small enough to fit.

There was no number on the collar, so I opted for this. Goose found his way into my apartment and had an unfortunate mishap. I patched him up and gave him a treat. I hope that’s okay. He should be alright.

Hope he feels better soon.

You rolled the note around the tabby’s collar and taped it in place. He’d finished his treat by now, so you led him back to the apartment door. When you opened it, he cast one glance back at you, eyes shining as if in gratitude, then scurried down the hall. Just as he turned out of sight, though, someone else moved into your peripheral vision. You could have scoffed when you saw who had wandered into the hallway. She spoke before you could close the door.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Fuck off, Danvers.”

“Captain Danvers,” she hummed, a wide smirk on her face as she twirled her keys around her finger.

“In your dreams,” you scoffed. “And next time you’re using your stripes to get random women in bed, be a little quieter, would you? Some of us around here have self-respect.”

You closed the door before she could respond to that.

You and Carol Danvers had hated each other for as long as you’d lived there. The two of you were like hot and cold, or night and day. She liked loud music and late nights whereas you liked a nice book and an early night. You were quiet and soft-spoken, and Carol was a bully. In fact, she was your bully. You’d never endured such teasing and taunting from anyone else before. It wasn’t her harsh words that got to you, though. In fact, you weren’t entirely sure what it was that got to you. Maybe it was her arrogance, or maybe it was her ignorance for anyone around her. It didn’t matter.

Carol Danvers brought out a side of yourself that you didn’t know existed. You’d only have to hear a single word fall from her lips or see a glimpse of her from the corner of your eye, and instantly any semblance of a good mood would dissipate and fade into annoyance. The hatred you held for her made your blood boil in your veins at the mere sight of her stupid, cocky smirk. You sometimes wished you could just reach out and slap that stupid smirk off her stupid face.

You pushed the blonde from your mind, heading back to bed. Hopefully, the coming day would be one that didn’t involve the blonde captain.

*

It was three days later that a quiet meow caught your attention. It tore your gaze from the TV, and you glanced toward the source of the sound. The face that was watching you immediately brought a smile to your face. You pat the couch beside you and the tabby jumped up, settling onto the blanket. You ran your hand across his head, watching his eyes close in content. You were about to turn your gaze back to the TV when you noticed the paper around his collar. It wasn’t the same one you put there. You reached out for it and removed it, careful not to rip it, and unrolled it. You flicked on the lamp.

Sorry about him. He wanders around the building. This isn’t the first time he’s gotten into someone’s room. If you fed him, he’ll probably come back to you (which I don’t mind, so long as you don’t mind that he’ll keep coming back). That’s how I know you’ll get this. So, thank you for patching him up. The vet would’ve cost more. You were right. He was just fine.

Rolled up with it was a twenty-dollar bill. You chuckled, immediately standing up off the couch. You pulled a small treat out of the fridge as you passed it, Goose trotting into the kitchen at the sight. You handed it to him and he took it happily, chowing down as you stood up straight again and continuing on your journey toward the notepad on the counter. Once again you ripped a small piece of paper out of it, ripping the cap of the pen off with your teeth and holding it there as you brought the pen down to meet the paper.

It seems so. You were right. He came back. He’s a sweet boy. I truly enjoy his visits. I don’t get many of them, so he’s welcome here whenever he pleases. And I don’t need this. Keep it.

You knelt down on the ground to Goose once again. He sat still for you as you wrapped the bill around his collar, wrapped the note around it, and then taped them both in place. Once more, you led him back to the apartment door, opened it up for him, and let him into the hallway. He rubbed his head against your calf once more before dashing out of sight. You shut the door behind him.

*

You huffed as you stormed into the lobby of the apartment building. Work had not treated you well that day. All you wanted was to head upstairs, put on your coziest pyjamas, order takeout, cuddle into the couch, and watch a movie or two. It was all you needed to wash away the horrible day and ease the stress that was weighing so heavily on your chest. You only wanted to pick up your mail before you did, but apparently, the universe had other ideas.

“Looking for some mail from your mommy?”

Danvers was the last person you wanted to deal with today. You didn't even bother to grumble a response to your neighbour, who was still in uniform as she stepped up beside you and unlocked her own mailbox. You were going to step away without a single word, but once more, you didn’t get your wish. Carol snickered at something, making you slam your box shut with far more force than necessary.

“What, pray tell, is so fucking funny?” You snapped.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing. Nice keychain.”

The keychain was a souvenir one you’d gotten from your trip to Disney with your family a few years ago. It was a picture of you and your brothers all wearing Mickey Mouse ears and sticking your tongues out at the camera. If anyone else had said the words, you would have blushed and thanked them. When Carol said the words, you shoved the keys in your pocket and shot a glare so harsh that it would have killed if it could have.

“You’re a dick, Danvers.”

“Captain Danvers,” she corrected once more.

“Look, this whole army pilot thing might work on those girls you pick up from god knows where, but I’ve met you,” you sneered. “You use this uniform for detestable things, Danvers. It’s disgusting.”

You stormed away.

When you unlocked your door and stepped into your apartment, however, you found that you wouldn’t need pyjamas or takeout or movies to make you feel better. Your new best friend was sitting on your couch as if he had been waiting for you to arrive home. You dropped your bag at the door and moved to sit with him immediately. After stroking his head absentmindedly for a bit, you noticed the new note.

Take it. Please? Come on, you’re going to make Goose sad if you don’t. You’re going to make me sad if you don’t.

Attached with the note, again, was that same twenty-dollar bill. You rolled your eyes as you moved into the kitchen once more, handing Goose a few of the cat treats you’d bought for him. He accepted them happily as, for the third time, you prepared to write a note for Goose’s mystery owner. You didn’t even bother to sit down, hunching over the counter in a way that your back probably wouldn’t have thanked you for. You scribbled on the paper.

I’m sure Goose won’t mind at all. As for you? Well, I don’t really know you, do I? Just keep the damn money, will you? You know, Goose is going to gain a few pounds if you keep sending him back here.

Sincerely, Goose’s new best friend

After a few pats to the head, you sent Goose off with that. He was back later that day.

Goose’s best friend,

Goose does mind. He wants you to keep it. Please? Besides, if we keep attaching it with scotch tape to a wandering cat, it’s going to get lost. You wouldn’t want that, now, would you? I sure wouldn’t. As for the treats, I’ll make sure to walk him a bit more. Wouldn’t want to lose my new favourite pen pal over a couple extra pounds on the cat.

- Goose’s mom

This time, there were two twenties attached. You chuckled at that. Goose was gobbling down his treat as you wrote.

Goose’s mom,

I think that’d be quite a sight to see, you walking Goose down the street. Guess if I ever see Goose leashed and with some random woman on the street, I’ll know what you look like.

- Goose’s best friend

P.S. Just donate the money. Seriously.

As if it were habit by now, you reattached the bills, added your note, and sent the tabby out the door once again. You headed back to what you’d been doing.

It wasn’t long before the next reply.

Goose’s best friend,

Here, I’ll help you build the image. I’m 23, blonde, and about 5’6”. I’m in the army, so I’d probably still be in uniform after work. Oh, and Goose’s leash is blue, and he has a grey harness for walking.

- Goose’s mom

P.S. I split the $40 between the humane society and the local shelter

You once more had to laugh at the stranger. Of course, you immediately moved to respond. As much as you didn’t want to kick Goose out, you wanted her to get your answer as soon as possible. You grabbed your notepad.

Goose’s mom,

You sound cute.

- Goose’s mom’s best friend

It was a short note this time. You were having fun, though, and you wanted to tease your new friend a little. You attached the note to Goose and let him run off.

Once more, Goose returned with a new reply.

Best friend,

You didn’t give me anything in response. I’m offended.

- Goose’s mom’s best friend’s best friend

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the way she’d signed her newest note. A pang of confidence hit your chest. You scribbled on the note.

Goose’s cute mom,

Let’s go for coffee then. 2B. I’m free when you are.

- Girl with a crush

*

You regretted sending that last note. You’d never gone more than 12 hours without communicating with the mystery note sender. You’d grown quite fond of the little pieces of communication you’d exchanged with her. It was actually the highlight of your day, on most days. Since sending that last one, though, you’d yet to hear back from her. It’d been four days now. You were quite upset about it, and decided the best way to fix that was some loud music. Maybe it’d piss Danvers off as much as she pissed you off.

When there was a loud knock on the door, you immediately assumed that you’d sure pissed someone off. Of course, they’d complain about you and not her. Everyone loved Carol fucking Danvers. You wished you could whirl the door open and shout at whoever was on the other side, but knew yourself better than that. You’d probably open it up and apologize, then turn the volume down and wallow in your misery to the sound of softer music.

That is, if it were anyone but Danvers.

“What? Just now realizing how damn annoying it is to hear loud music blaring from the apartment directly below yours?” You rolled your eyes. “Fuck off, Danvers.”

You went to slam the door, but she stuck her hand in. It must’ve been a little harsher than you meant to, because she shook her fingers out when she retracted them. You didn’t apologize, because you didn’t even feel bad. She deserved it after giving you two years of hell having to live in the apartment below her. You’d not have been surprised if one day she invited an elephant into her room just so she could make as much noise in your apartment as possible.

As you were about to make another snarky remark, though, you noticed something. That cocky glint that was usually shining in her brown eyes was missing. She wasn’t even meeting your eyes. Her gaze was cast to the door beside your head, locked to the bronze numbers that were screwed into it. You raised a single eyebrow, waving your hand in front of her face to get her attention. She blinked as if coming out of a trace, looking back to you.

“What do you want, Danvers?” You snapped when she wouldn’t speak.

She didn’t answer. She only held out a small piece of paper. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but took it from her. The handwriting was one you’d seen so many times.

Goose’s best friend,

Coffee it is. But I’m paying. I still owe you.

- A girl who also has a crush, Carol Danvers

[storiesforallfandoms]

cautious ~ ed mercer;the orville

word count: 3051

request?: no

description: the orville saves a beautiful woman from certain danger, and ed is reminded of all the times he fell for a woman who wasn’t what she seemed to be

pairing: ed mercer x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

Ed was careful as he pried open the door of the shuttle they found floating in space. A scan on the shuttle indicated a trace of life, but their requests for contact kept being denied. Isaac found that the shuttle seemed to be out of power, aimlessly floating through space, just waiting for trouble to come.

Ed took it upon himself to investigate. If there was someone on the shuttle who needed help and they passed by on the off chance that this was some Krill attack, he would never forgive himself.

The minute he opened the door, a deathly chill hit Ed. The shuttle was dark and silent. Ed feared he was already too late until he literally stumbled across the body of a female human. She was laying on the ground, her body curled up and a thin layer of frost starting to cover her.

Ed knelt down next to her to scan her. She was still alive, but just barley.

“Mercer to bridge,” he said into his communication device. “I found a human female. She’s alive, but we definitely got to her in time. Prepare a bed in sick bay for her.”

“Aye sir,” came Kelly’s voice in response.

Ed carefully slipped one arm under the woman’s shoulders and another under her legs. He picked her up and held her close to him. Th moment her cold body met his warm one, her eyes opened just a little.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he told her. “I got you.”

~~~~~~

Some time later, Ed and Kelly walked into sick bay to check on their latest passenger. After warming her up, Dr. Finn did a quick check up to make sure everything was okay. She was finishing up on the check up when the two commanders of the ship walked in.

“How is she?” Kelly asked.

“Everything seems alright,” Dr. Finn responded. “Just a bit cold and in need of water, but I’ve fixed both of that already.”

Ed looked at the woman, her blanket still around her shoulders and a glass of water in her hand. “How do you feel?”

“Like I almost froze to death,” she responded. “I feel like my fingertips are permanently frozen.”

“That feeling will go away eventually,” Dr. Finn assured her. “I’ll leave you three.”

The woman stood from the bed, holding her blanket tightly around her shoulders. He couldn’t explain why, but Ed just had the urge to reach out and hold her. She wasn’t as frail looking now, but he still wanted to protect her, or at least to help her feel her fingertips again.

“Thank you so much for saving me, Captain,” she said. “I really thought I was a goner there.”

“I did too when I first found you,” Ed said. “Why were you out there on your own? And what happened to your shuttle?”

“I’m an explorer. I travel alone, with clearance of course. My shuttle ran out of fuel a while back. I was hoping to find another ship that could help me, or drift to a nearby planet where I could refuel. Unfortunately, I had no such luck.”

“How long were you floating out there?” Kelly asked.

“Oh, I have no idea. After the power went down it didn’t take long for the cold to seep in. I managed to fight it for a little while, but soon enough it got so cold I could barley function. I had little hope that anyone would save me, so I laid down on the floor of my shuttle and basically waited to die.” She shivered, trying to forget that doomed feeling she had when the shuttle first ran out of fuel. “What happened to my shuttle? Were you guys able to save it, too?”

“After we got you here, we pulled your shuttle in and gave it to our engineers to fix,” Ed explained. “They’ll refuel it as well as repair any damages it may have. Hopefully they can give you a bigger fuel tank while they’re at it.”

The woman chuckled. “Well, thank you both so much for everything. Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“You almost froze to death out there. I think repayment is the last thing on our minds,” Kelly said. “We’re just glad you’re okay. And you’re free to stay with us as long as you need. I don’t think I’d feel right sending you off on your shuttle so soon after what happened to you.”

“Same here,” Ed agreed. “We’ll have a room set up for you whenever you’re ready to leave sick bay.”

“I’m ready to leave now,” she said. “I’m ready to lay in an actual soft, warm bed and sleep for about 12 hours.”

~~~~~~

After settling away in her room and sleeping for the exact time she said she would, Ed went to her room to check in on her and offer her a tour of The Orville. He told her that he figured she should become acquainted with the place if she was going to be staying a while, but the truth was that he just wanted to spend some time with her. He wished he could say he wanted to spend time with her because there was something about her that drew him to her, but the truth was he just thought she was extremely beautiful. As superficial as it was, he just wanted to be in her presence for any length of time.

He led her onto the bridge where his crew were hard at work as always. “And this is the bridge where the magic happens. Or well, most of the magic anyways. The most important magic I guess.”

(Y/N) looked around the bridge with astonishment. “Holy shit, this is amazing! You just...you guys sit here all the time and get to see...everything?”

“Basically, yeah.” Ed turned to his crew to add, “Everyone, this is (Y/N). She’s going to be staying with us for a while. (Y/N), you’ve already met Kelly. This is Lieutenants Gordon Malloy and Alara Kitan, Lieutenant Commanders Bortus and John LaMarr, and resident robot Isaac.”

Everyone said their hellos to (Y/N) as she awkwardly waved at them.

“Thank you all so much for saving me out there,” she said. “And for being so welcoming of me staying on the ship.”

“I think it’s pretty cool to have an explorer on the ship,” Gordon said. “You don’t have to be tied down to going to one specific place or doing meaningless tasks when you don’t want to. It just sounds so freeing.”

“It’s probably the best experience of my life,” (Y/N) agreed. “I love being out there, but it’ll be nice to be around people for a while. I’ve been traveling by myself for I don’t know how long now, and you start to go a bit crazy with no one to talk to.”

“I guess it’s a good thing you were saved by a Union ship then,” Kelly said. “There’s plenty of people around here to make you wish you were on your own again.”

(Y/N) chuckled. Ed tried to fight back the smile that tugged at his lips when he heard the sound, but it was impossible. It was like listening to the most beautiful music he had ever heard.

“Hey, are you going to be joining us for the formal gathering tonight?” Alana asked (Y/N). “All of us on board are going to dress up all fancy and eat fancy foods and drink way too much. It’s going to be a lot of fun.”

“Sounds like fun,” (Y/N) said, although there was some skepticism in her voice.

“It’s just a way for everyone to unwind after some of our more trying travels,” Ed explained. “We rarely get to let our hair down and dress up, so we’re doing this formal type of party. It was Kelly’s idea I think.”

“Nope, not at all,” Kelly quipped.

“But anyways, you should join us if you feel up for it,” Ed continued, ignoring his Commander. “It’ll be more fun than you think it is.”

(Y/N) looked around the room of hopeful faces looking back at her. She sighed and shrugged. “Why the hell not? I haven’t been to any sort of gathering in years, and haven’t drank in just as long. Sounds like it’ll be a blast.”

Ed tried not to let his excitement show too much.

~~~~~~

Hours later, everyone was gathered in what was usually the lunch room. They were all dressed in their finest clothes and already had started drinking maybe too much of the alcohol provided.

Ed was stood with Gordon and John as they talked about something regarding some comedy show they had been watching. He was trying his best to act like he was listening, but his attention kept flickering to the door, waiting for (Y/N) to arrive. He was wondering when she was going to show up, or if she was going to show up at all. He’d understand if she didn’t; a room full of people she didn’t know after the experience she had would be more than nerve wracking for anyone. But he was really hoping she would.

“Hey,” Dr. Finn said, cutting into the conversation and effectively bringing Ed’s attention back to the group. “How’s our new passenger doing?”

“She’s great as far as I can tell,” Ed replied. “She got lots of rest, toured the ship today. She said she was going to come tonight but I don’t think she’s here yet.”

“Oh come on, you know she’s not here,” Gordon said. “You’ve been staring at the door all night.”

Ed tried to defend himself, to say that wasn’t true, but all that came out was a couple scoffs and a stuttered response. Gordon and John shared a look that said Ed was just proving their point.

“Don’t act like you weren’t because we’ve seen you looking at the door,” John said. “And at one point the two of us were just insulting you and you were agreeing with us.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little infatuated with (Y/N),” Gordon added. “I mean, she’s gorgeous. And you did save her life after all. I’m sure even the slightest bit of attraction came from that.”

Dr. Finn scoffed. “You men really think women swoon over everything you do. Just because Ed saved her doesn’t mean she’s automatically attracted to him. You need to build a connection with someone first, to really get to know them before you jump into anything with them.”

“Ed’s really not the best with that,” Gordon muttered to John, which earned him an elbow to the ribs from the latter.

It dawned on Ed then that his helmsman was right; he really didn’t have the best track record when it came to getting to know someone before jumping into something with them. Besides his relationship with Kelly (although even that was a bad example considering how it ended) he had rushed into something with every woman who showed him the slightest bit of attraction and it always blew up in his face. Especially his previous two romantic attractions, Pria and Janel/Teleya.

Ed felt himself getting inside of his own head. He didn’t want to think things would be like that with (Y/N) - especially when he didn’t even know if she had any attraction to him - but it was hard not to focus on the awful endings with the last women he had been with. He barely knew (Y/N), he had no idea if she was entirely a good person or if she had some sort of plan up her sleeve to screw over Ed and the Orville.

His thoughts were interrupted when someone asked him, “Isn’t she beautiful?”

He looked up to see that the “she” in question was (Y/N), who had walked into the party wearing a beautiful champagne colored, sparkling dress. It hugged her body around her torso, then came down in a more loose way around her legs, giving her more room to move. Her hair was pulled back into a braid, which just showed off her beautiful face even more. All eyes were on her as she moved through the party.

Suddenly, all the worries Ed had had vanished from his mind.

(Y/N) walked up to him, Gordon, John, Dr. Finn, and Alana, who was the one who had asked about how (Y/N) looked.

“I feel like I dressed a bit too fancy,” she said. “I stick out like a sore thumb.”

“You really don’t at all,” John said. “You look incredible.”

(Y/N) smile was just as bright as her dress. “Thank you. Alana helped me pick it out. I’m no good with formal wear, especially after wearing basically the same clothes for months on end.”

“I just had a look through some human fashion magazines and picked something I thought would look nice on her,” Alana said. “You guys can say it, I’m a genius.”

Ed felt like he couldn’t say much of anything. He was speechless at the sight of her.

(Y/N) looked at Ed, causing him to quickly snap out of his trance. “You look really nice, Captain.”

“T-Thanks. So - uh - so do you.”

The other crew members shared a look before finding an excuse to dismiss themselves, leaving Ed and (Y/N) alone.

The two spent most of the night together, just talking and sharing stories about their travels. Every so often, (Y/N) would be pulled into a conversation with someone else, but it would never last long. Soon enough, she’d be back in front of Ed and starting another story of another place she had been.

When the night was coming to an end, Ed offered to walk (Y/N) back to her room. Her arm was laced through his as he guided her through the halls. She’d stumble every so often and curse under her breath, which would always cause Ed to laugh.

“I don’t know why I told Alana I’d wear heels with this dress,” (Y/N) said. “I knew I was going to be drinking. Heels and drinking just don’t mix.”

“I guess they complete the outfit or something? I don’t know, I was never good with women’s fashion. I used to let Kelly do whatever she wanted and I’d tell her she looked fine.”

(Y/N) gave Ed a look he had seen numerous times before since embarking on his adventures with The Orville. “Is it hard to work alongside your ex-wife? Especially after...what she did?”

Ed shrugged. “It used to be, but we’ve gotten so used to one another now and we’ve both tried our hands at dating. We realized that it was never going to work and it’s better that we stay...whatever we are now I guess.”

“Well, I have to applaud the two of you. If I was working along side my ex-husband I don’t think I’d have any sanity left.”

“You were married?”

Her face suddenly changed. She turned away from Ed and looked down the hallway, a vacant look on her face. As if her natural reaction was to shut down when the question was asked.

“Not married, but I was engaged,” she said. “He, uh, he left me at the alter. Said he got cold feet, but I found out it was actually because he started banging a  Regorian a few weeks earlier.”

Ed cringed. “Yeah, I know that feeling. Except I was already a few years into my marriage.”

“Yeah, I guess I dodged a bullet with that one.”

They came up outside her room door. Ed was reluctant to let go of her arm, but he knew he couldn’t keep her there all night, no matter how much he wanted to.

(Y/N) turned to look at him, her hand still lingering on his arm. “You don’t deserve that, Ed. You’re such an amazing guy, you deserve someone who is going to give you their all.”

“You deserve someone who is going to give you their all, too.”

They looked at each other for a long time, their comments just hanging in the air. Finally, (Y/N) reached up to cup Ed’s cheek and kissed him passionately. Ed immediately melted into the kiss at first, wrapping his arms around the small of (Y/N)’s back and holding her as closely to him as he possibly could. He felt completely happy and blissful. He never wanted the moment to end.

But then he remembered what Gordon and Dr. Finn had said earlier, and his memories of Pria and Teleya came rushing back. He pulled away a little too quickly, which resulted in a concerned look from (Y/N).

“I-I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me. That was wrong of me to do, I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Ed said. “Please, I wanted to do that too. It’s just...I’ve only been with two people since Kelly and I got divorced and neither of those relationships ended well. Like one of them was trying to kidnap me and my crew to sell us to some futuristic pawn shop and the other was a Krill in disguise trying to kill me.”

(Y/N) scrunched up her nose. “Oh, yeah neither of those sound very good at all.”

“No, they weren’t. So, you have to forgive me, but I am a bit cautious right now when it comes to new people and starting a relationship. Not that I think you’re anything like that, but that’s the thing, I really don’t know you all that well yet.”

She nodded. “No, I completely understand. Honestly, you’re also the first person I’ve been attracted to since the whole thing with my ex-fiancé, so this is all new to me, too.”

Ed took one of her hands in his and gave it a slight squeeze. “I don’t know how long you plan on staying with us, but if you’d be willing to give me just a little time, I would love to try to start something with you eventually.”

(Y/N) smiled and pulled Ed towards her. She kissed his cheek lightly before pulling away from him. “I’ll wait as long as you need.”

[coolest-in-chaldea]

hello! im quite excited for this blog fate fic blogs are quite hard to find may i have some headcanons of merlin realizing he has fallen in love and what a relationship would be like hopefully thats okay good luck with the blog!

Merlin Realizing He’s In Love Headcanons

note: hi! thanks so much for being the first request ever sent in!! Sorry this took so long to get to, I’ve been swamped with school and grinding on f/go for daysssss, 90 saint quartz but no 4 or 5 stars 😔💔 also I finally got on my laptop so anon is an option now for anyone wanting to request :D

- Merlin’s vast knowledge of pretty much everything happening at any given time is a little scary, so I don’t think he’s really the type to be dense. I think he’s more likely to pace around and talk to himself for a day or so while ‘deducing’ that his racing heart and flushed face are in fact indicative of falling in love. He’s not super serious like some of the other genius servants, he’s more-so just really awkward at handling social situations since he spent most of his life pretty isolated in his tower.

- Meanwhile, everyone else in chaldea are holding their breaths because the lack of Merlin shenanigans is starting to get suspicious..you and the Camelot servants especially are going ‘awww shit here we go again’ as you anticipate an elaborate scheme to come.

- Merlin definitely isn’t insecure, but I don’t think he’d have any plans of confessing at first because he’s never seriously imagined himself in a relationship. He’s perceptive enough to know that he likes you, but he doesn’t see any significance to it until it starts to get distracting!

- When he eventually starts interacting with you again, he’s 1000% more of a hassle than he usually is. He’s like that one kid in elementary school who just constantly bothers his crush. It doesn’t take long for you to grow tired of Merlin’s 24/7 bs, and when you finally retire to your room for the night you have a frustrated ‘why me?!’ moment. Tbh you’re just trying to figure out what you could’ve possibly done to prompt Merlin’s wrath, but the knights of the round table are painfully aware of why Merlin’s been constantly targeting you.

- Merlin’s an extremely talented mage, and I’m sure he’d switch around or transform some of your things, but I could also see him pulling some of the classic childhood pranks on you with the assistance of magic.

- You’re having a lovely conversation sitting across from Artoria, but when you get up to leave, you immediately trip and faceplant onto the floor. A very concerned Artoria asks if you’re ill and, trying not to lose your cool, you have to explain to her that SOMEONE apparently tied your shoelaces together with an elaborate series of knots in the shape of a flower. There wasn’t anyone else near you, but you both exchange an exasperated look as you know exactly who the culprit is.

- Merlin's flirting is still totally focused on annoying you and/or pissing you off. what can I say? it's just his favorite hobby! He's the type to believe than any attention from you is good attention, so he's more than happy to provoke you in order to put your focus on him. He's not that awful though, and he sticks to being a general nuisance and causing mild inconveniences as opposed to actually harming anyone. He does care a lot about you if he has feelings for you after all, he just has a...funny way of showing it.

- You will constantly be asking yourself 'is Merlin antagonizing me or flirting with me??' (the answer is both btw)

- If you're shorter than Merlin, he always interrupts your conversations by strolling over and using your head as an armrest. If you aren't, sike yes you are actually because the cheeky wizard is now floating to be taller than you >:)

- Merlin has literally zero chill and I think he'd continue to be chaotic af whether he's just crushing on you or you've been dating for years. He probably does like physical contact and cuddling, but he refuses to initiate it like a normal person. He'll eventually get comfortable enough to where he doesn't have to be affectionate via pranks, but don't get me wrong, that doesn't mean that Merlin ever gets calm or discreet about it.

- Any time you're sitting on a couch, chair, the floor, or your bed, regardless of what you're doing, he will just come stand next to you and very dramatically fall on top of you (secretly careful not to hurt you of course) and just chill there sprawled over you in whatever ridiculous position you ended up in. If you adjust him to a more comfortable position (his favorites are sitting with his back to your chest and your arms holding him or vice versa and sitting tucked into your side with one of your arms around him and his around your waist) he'll be more than happy to comply, but how you deal with your beloved needy wizard is up to you!

- Tbh I could see a confession going one of two ways, both extremes on opposite ends of a spectrum with no in between. Either

A.) he never officially confesses, but you get the idea and you both come to an agreement of being exclusive to each other (or having communication as partners if you're polyamorous) as well as comfortably doing everything a couple would, just with an official label OR

B.) He's a total showoff and performs the most absurd, elaborate and extreme confession with magic the world has ever seen. I cannot get the thought of those brilliant wizard pronoun images made by iguanamouth out of my head-

I'm imagining THIS but it's a confession like those 'will you be my date to prom?' signs people make 😳

[ruby-static]

I feel like gyro would be mega pissed if mira got real hurt

Hahaha, oh… oh boy. Where the hell do I even begin with this one?

Oh you absolutely have no idea- 

This shit happens

a LOT.

Like-

a LOT a lot.

It’s not even funny!

These poor dudes go through so much together- Throughout Mira’s “story”, he quickly seems to attract danger wherever he goes wether he likes it or not. No matter how hard he tries, the dude just can’t escape. And as the two grow closer, Gyro secretly grows more and more protective over Mira because of this.

Hurt this dude, and Gyro will absolutely get pissed.

Some context for the drawings under the cut:

Image 1:

The first doodle of this image doesn’t really have much context to it. Just a random bit of fun early friendship Mira and Gyro banter. Mira’s a little battered after getting the two of them out of a dangerous situation, and Gyro’s giving him a hard time. Gyro, just admit you care about the dude and move on damn it-

The second doodle actually has to do with the whole haunted mansion exploration story idea I drew about a year ago. Specifically, the end, after a particularly dicey skirmish with a pack of mystical timber wolves. (Forest-dwelling wolf ghosts that long ago cursed the haunted house Mira and Gyro were exploring.) This is actually where Mira gets the scratch mark on his left arm! During this encounter with the timber wolves, Mira takes a hit from one of them to protect Gyro. Baffled by this man’s lack of self preservation, Gyro then patches him up. I’ve always been a softie for the whole “Character A tends to character B’s wounds while fussing over them exasperatedly calling them an idiot” trope.

Fun fact: Mira calls Gyro “Sparks” as a fun nickname! Initially, he calls Gyro Sparks because it annoys the hell out of him. But when they start dating, it becomes his cute pet name for Gyro.

Image 2:

There isn’t really much solid context for this one, to be honest. Perhaps Gyro’s first (real) encounter with Mira’s arch enemy Talon? He accompanies an expedition to find one of the prophecy’s artifacts, which gets attacked by Talon himself. Mira ends up taking a hit, prompting Gyro to step in and protect him. Not because he cares or anything, no! The very idea!

Image 3:

Oh, this is a big one- The origin of Mira’s eye scar!

 I could go on for ages about this part of Mira’s “story” but I’ll shorten it down. Long story short: Almost directly after “The Phantom and the Sorceress!” takes place, something happens where Talon manages to find a way to remotely control Mira. It’s a similar situation to the whole Bipper plot in Gravity falls where Mira’s soul is detached from his body while Talon controls it. Talon wants to use Mira and the amulet to cause as much damage to the Silvereyes and the McDucks. However, he is quickly found out as Mira finds a way to communicate with Gyro and inform him of the imposter. Gyro, Fenton, and Bolt then form a group to rescue Mira, who has now been sent to Talon’s location. Hopefully aiming to take Talon down once and for all.

...Leading to this moment. After the group rescues Mira and he finally regains control of his body, things sadly all go to shit and everyone needs to escape from Talon immediately. Mira decides to split off from to “hold him back.” Gyro tries to protest, knowing that Mira is practically giving himself up after they had just got him back, but there sadly isn’t enough time to really stop him.

Mira tries to hold Talon back by confronting him. The fight between them becomes more and more intense until Talon charges up a spell and... well... Mira ends up getting his trademark zuko scar.

It doesn’t take too long for Gyro to run back for Mira, and he comes across this scene. Needless to say, the man is both terrified and pissed.

Eventually, Gyro manages to escape with a damaged and unconscious Mira and the entire group escapes back to the Silvereye household. Everyone then splits off to return to Duckburg, save for Bolt and Gyro who watch over a still unconscious Mira. Gyro struggles to mask his anger and heartbreak as he waits for his friend to recover.

Fun fact: This event is not only the origin of his eye scar, but it is also the catalyst for Mira and Gyro’s romantic relationship! After Mira finally wakes up, the two of them end up in an argument where, in the heat of the moment, Gyro accidentally blurts out his feelings for him and the two end up becoming a thing.

Image 4:

This image takes place during the Ducktales finale: The Last Adventure. If you know me, then you probably already know about my proposed story of Mira confronting Phantom Blot and ending up being drained of as much magic as Phantom Blot can manage to take from both Mira AND the Twilight Amulet. Being drained of magic, he was pretty much drained of his life. Gyro is absolutely furious and heartbroken as he is helpless to do anything, being held back by Phantom Blot’s goon.

(I’ve actually been working on a sort of storyboard based off of this! I’m still chipping away at it, it’s just that a lot of things have been getting in the way!)

[writethelifeyouwant]

Make Him Look - Ch 1 / 2

Pairing: Cordell Walker x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: flirting, many many drinks, jealousy, dancing, slow burn Word Count: 3k Created for: @walker-bingo - In Vino Veritas | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Jealousy A/N: Written with the lovely @thinkinghardhardlythinking in mind ❤️and y'all can also blame her for the fact it got so long I split it into two 😂

Cordell swings his leg over a barstool and settles into his usual spot. The bar is busy but not crowded. There’s a few more empty stools awaiting occupants for the night, and Cordell hooks one with his foot and draws it closer, popping his hat down to save the seat for Liam, who’s on his way. But there’s no reason to wait for Liam before he orders – they get the same thing every time.

“Barkeep! Can I get some queso, hot wings, and whatever Pinthouse you’ve got on draft?”

“Sure thing, man,” the kid behind the bar drawls, his accent thick and voice lazy. Cordell would bet anything the guy had had a joint on his break earlier, but he’s off duty – tonight is not about busting people for drugs, tonight is about letting loose. He checks his phone to see if Liam had texted him that he’d left the office yet, but there is nothing there. Taking a sip of the drink that has just been plopped on a coaster in front of him, Cordell scans the room. It’s a bad habit that every law enforcement worker he’s ever met has developed. Even when he’s trying to relax and blow off some steam, he can’t help being a little vigilant.

He takes in the tableaus around him; the groups of kids from the local community college, the gaggle of mid to late aged men in awful polos that Cordell recognises as the inner city bowling league, a couple of less savoury looking guys playing pool, the cluster of women those guys keep eyeing up – he’ll keep an eye on that one.

Checking his phone again and taking another drink, he still hasn’t heard anything from Liam. He opens his brother’s contact and is about to give him a call to tell him to get his ass in gear when someone suddenly reaches down beside him, picks up his hat and drops it back on his head while they slide into the seat he’d been saving - except it’s not Liam.

“Hey you,” the stranger says familiarly, bumping her shoulder against his. “Thanks for saving me a seat.”

You shrug out of your jacket and sling it over your arm as you head up to the worn wood counter of the bar. You don’t see your friend yet, so you decide to go ahead and order a drink while you wait for her to show. She’s always late, you should have just assumed and shown up fifteen minutes from now. You play on your phone as you wait for the bartender to finish serving the gang of people at the other end of the bar. When you feel someone in front of you, you look up, about to order a glass of wine, except one is already being placed on the bar top in front of you.

You stare questioningly at the kid serving you the drink. You’d been here before, sure, but you’re hardly a regular, and even if you were you don’t recognise this server – so why does he know what you were about to order?

“Um, I didn’t–” you start but the kid interrupts you.

“From the gentleman at the end of the bar, milady,” he gave a geeky little bow, “Sorry, he told me to say it like that,” he grimaces at himself. You chance a fleeting look back to the group you’d noticed him serving a few minutes ago and to your horror, you recognise your ex, Dirk, grinning back at you. He tips the brim of his ball cap and gives you a wink, like he’s expecting you to be impressed that he remembers you drink red wine. Shit, this is not how this night is supposed to go. You’re supposed to be here to get drunk with your best friend and have a bit of a dance, not be looking over your shoulder the whole night hoping that jerk leaves you alone.

Panicking a little now, you check your phone but there’s no text from Lea telling you when to expect her. Knowing her like you do, you would bet anything she won’t be here soon, and you don’t want to wait on your own and risk Dirk coming to talk to you. Desperately, you scan your eyes around the bar, cataloguing your options and escape routes. Someone catches your eye a few seats along from where you are. Tall, broad – dark and handsome, your mind supplies unhelpfully – but what really catches your eye is the badge hanging from his belt. He’s a Ranger.

Normally, you’d pick a group of girls who you know would happily pretend to know you so you don’t have to wait alone but you know Dirk, and you know he won’t be shy enough to let any number of girls stop him from coming to ruin your night. But a guy - and a Texas Ranger at that – Dirk wouldn’t dare. He had an outstanding DUI, and he’d always been a bit of a chicken around cops anyways.

Choice made, you grab the wine he’d bought you – hey, you’re not made of money, free booze is free booze – and you march purposefully over to the Ranger, who’s checking his phone and not paying attention until you grab his black cowboy hat off the chair next to him. Clearly he had been saving it for someone, and you want Dirk to think that someone is you.

“Hey you,” you chirp, placing his hat back on his head as you slide into the seat he’d been saving, “Thanks for saving me a seat.” You smile at the Ranger long enough to see him looking at you completely perplexed before you glance back to Dirk and see him watching you with a scowl. You let yourself feel inwardly triumphant and turn back to the man you’d just decided to befriend, if only temporarily.

Swivelling back towards him, you let yourself get a good look at his face for the first time. His bright hazel eyes are staring back at you, confused but not unkind. Tall, dark, and handsome is definitely apt, and now you’re seeing him properly you’re a bit speechless. You hadn’t counted on him being this freakin’ attractive.

“Sorry,” you finally manage to choke out under your breath. “I’ll leave you alone soon, I promise, I’m just hiding from my ex,” you explain, and understanding melts across the man’s face.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks sympathetically.

“Just pretend like you know me until my friend gets here?” you propose hopefully.

“Happy to,” he smiles, grabbing his drink and holding it out to clink against your wine glass. You tap your glass against his, relief flooding your body as you settle onto your stool a little more comfortably.

“Thank you…” you trail off leadingly, hoping he’ll fill in his name.

“Cordell,” he supplies.

“Now there is a Texan name if I ever heard one,” you giggle.

“If you’re gonna laugh at my name do I at least get the chance to laugh at yours too?” he grins jokingly.

“Y/N,” you give him your name, tucking your hair behind your ear and taking a sip of your wine.

“Well that’s no fun, how can I tease you for such a pretty name?” Cordell takes a sip of his own drink, mirroring you. Jeez, this one is a smooth talker.

-

When you finish your glass of wine, probably a little quicker than normal due to your anxious state, you check your phone again and see a missed call from Lea. “Crap,” you sigh, drawing a concerned look from Cordell, who is happily munching away on some chips and queso next to you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, muffled, mouth still full of food.

“Yeah, s’just my friend bailing on me,” you gripe, listening to the voicemail she’d left on your phone a few minutes ago. “Sorry I gate crashed your night for nothing,” you apologise, popping your phone back in your bag and planning on just going home to turn in early and watch some junky tv show in bed now that your ‘girls night’ wasn’t happening.

“Hey, you aren’t gate crashing.” Cordell shrugs, like he’s hedging his bets with his next statement. “I’ve had a good time so far.” His smile is shy and sincere, and you soften just a little in your annoyance at the world.

“I totally am though, you were clearly waiting for someone,” you gesture to the stool you’d taken up residence on.

“Just my work-a-holic brother, who, as luck would have it–” Cordell pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it up to show the message on the lock screen “–also pulled out on me.”

“Oh,” you blink, not sure what to make of that. It sounds like he’s asking you to stay but… “Well, thank you for being my knight in shining armour for a bit, seriously, but I don’t really want to stick around just to have my ex looking at me all night.”

“Well, if he’s gonna be a creep and keep watching you all night, we could make that fun, give him something to watch,” Cordell offers, his smirk incongruous with the almost hopeful expression in his eyes.

“What?” You’re perplexed.

“I mean, I don’t know what happened between you, but it’s pretty obvious to me that he wants you back, and you seem pretty pissed at him for that. I’m guessing the bastard cheated on you?” You huff in response, a little bitter that he’d read the situation so easily.

“Yeah, he did,” you admit, slumping against the bar, feeling downtrodden at the memory.

“So don’t let him chase you off,” Cordell shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He messed you around – you tellin’ me you wouldn’t like to mess with him right back?” he raises an eyebrow in temptation, a knowing smirk twitching at his lips.

“And you’re proposing that instead of not wanting him to look at me all night–”

“You make him look,” Cordell finishes your sentence for you. “We’ve already pretended to know each other for the past–” he checks his watch “–twenty minutes. May as well just do the whole pretend date.” Cordell looks at you with so much honesty, you believe that he really does just want to help you screw with Dirk. And you cannot say the idea isn’t appealing.

“Alright,” you concede, shaking your head slightly in disbelief that you’re actually agreeing to this, and Cordell’s face splits into a wide smile. Honestly, seeing that expression alone made agreeing to this worth it. “So, if we’re on a pretend date, you gonna pretend to buy me another drink?”

“No,” you insist, shaking your head vehemently.

“C’mon,” Cordell chides, grinning madly.

“I did not agree to this,” you shake your head, finishing off the last bit of wine in your glass.

“Come on,” he urges again, leaning against the bar and tilting his head close to yours pleadingly.

“I am not dancing,” you repeat, wholeheartedly meaning it. You think if you have to come into genuine skin to skin contact with Cordell, you might actually melt into a puddle. Now three glasses of wine into your fake date, you can feel yourself loosening up and really enjoying yourself with this handsome stranger. He’s kind, and funny, and a little weird but in a charming way – exactly your type. And him begging you to dance with him wasn’t helping your self-restraint. This is a fake date, you keep reminding yourself firmly every time he flashes you that little half smile that makes his eyes light up.

“Well, I don’t know what kind of boring fake dates you usually go on, but mine aren’t complete unless I get to show off my two-step and knock back a tequila shot.”

“Oh, we’re doing tequila now, are we?” You laugh – this guy is actually ridiculous, and you kind of love it.

“That wasn’t a no,” he jumps on your ‘non denial’ and waves at the kid behind the bar. “Two tequilas, two limes?” he holds up two fingers and the bartender nods to him, quickly pouring out the shots and dropping two lime wedges onto a plate. Cordell grabs a salt shaker from the condiments rack on the bar and sets everything up between you. You let him work, watching incredulously but enjoying the show nonetheless.

“Give me your hand,” he holds out his own hand expectantly once he’s arranged all the pieces to his liking.

“Why?” your voice is nervous but your hand reaches out instantly of its own accord. Without answering he proceeds to rub the edge of the lime over the inside of your wrist, then puts the lime in your fingers and shakes some salt over the trail of juice he left behind. He does the same thing to himself, then passes you your shot, which you take in your lime-free hand.

“Right, you wanna do this the normal way or the ‘make Dirk jealous way’?” Cordell asks with a smirk once he’s oriented himself.

“I’m gonna regret asking this, but what’s the ‘make Dirk jealous’ way?” you groan exaggeratedly, like he’s put some great burden on you, but the truth is you’re really enjoying yourself.

“Like this,” Cordell steps up to you and links your right arms together. Catching his drift you smile and try to hold back the snort of laughter that bubbles up inside you – a nervous reaction to feeling the warmth of his body against yours, even through the layer of his shirt. “One, two, three,” he counts off and you go to lick the salt off your wrist except that’s what Cordell is doing. You freeze momentarily, heat shooting up your arm from where his tongue and lips are laving over your skin. You don’t think to move until Cordell puts his own wrist against your lips and you lick obediently.

Your linked arms pull you closer together as Cordell lifts the tequila to his lips and you follow suit in a kind of trance, both knocking back your shots. The tequila hits you harder than you remember it ever doing before, and you scrunch up your face, disoriented for a moment until you once again feel Cordell’s lips on your skin. This time they’re wrapping around your finger tips as he sucks the lime into his mouth. You stand frozen, the burn in your mouth and your fingers meeting in your chest and ratcheting up your heart rate as if you’re trying to run away from the oncoming flames. But it’s hopeless, you’re stuck in the blaze now.

“You want your lime, darlin’?” Cordell laughs at your stock still frame and holds his fingers to your lips, gently pressing the fruit inside and urging you to suck. You’re sure you must have physically combusted into fire by now, but Cordell isn’t jumping away like he’s been singed – he’s pressing closer. “Dance with me,” he rasps, voice hoarse from the burn of the alcohol. It’s not a request anymore, it’s an order, and you don’t question it.

Drawing his hand down the arm of yours linked with his until your fingers lace together, he pulls you away from the bar and out onto the dance floor. It’s an upbeat country song, the kind you’d normally jump around to, but he pulls you in and wraps an arm around your waist like a proper partner dance calls for – except he’s ignored the social convention of leaving room for Jesus. He pulls you after him in tiny circles and you let him lead happily. When the song changes to something a little slower he pulls you just a little tighter, and you can’t stop yourself from moving your gaze off his shoulder up to his face.

His eyes dart over your shoulder, then smile down at you wryly, and you feel yourself blush. “He’s watching,” Cordell grins mischievously. You go to look but he puts a hand on your neck and holds you still, keeping your eyes on him. His fingers are strong and warm against your collarbone, ironically causing you to shiver. “No, don’t look at him,” his voice is low as he leans in conspiratorially, “you wanna make him look, remember?”

“Why are you helping me?” The alcohol swimming through your veins is making you comfortable and fuzzy, and you let yourself lean against him familiarly, your head resting against his chest as he continues to move you both around the dance floor. You feel him shrug as his grips on your hand and the nape of your neck tighten a little.

“The truth?” he asks. You can hear the nerves in his voice, even if you can’t see them on his face.

“No, I want you to lie to me, please,” your voice manages to stay serious through the end of the joke before you burst into giggles, and you feel your laughter move into his body and trigger his own, making his chest rise and fall unevenly beneath your cheek.

“You are one hell of a gal, you know that?” You’re glad your face is buried in his chest so he can’t see just how brightly you smile at the compliment. “Truth is, I’ve been trying to get you drunk and have my wicked way with you.” You can tell by how expressionless his voice has gone that he’s winding you up, but you pull back and slap your hand to your chest in mock horror.

“Well Cordell Walker, I have never met such a rogue in my life,” you gasp in your best Scarlet O’Hara accent. It’s not a good one. Neither of you can keep a straight face for more than a few seconds, and you both double over in laughter after your minuscule standoff.

As your laughter dies down, Cordell grabs your hands again and pulls you back to him, swaying entirely out of time to the song that’s playing. He looks like he’s about to say something but the words haven’t quite found their way to his tongue, and when you catch his eyes you suddenly don’t want to hear what he has to say and you pull away from him. He looks at you, puzzled and just the slightest bit hurt as you try to find some cover for your sudden movement.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a bourbon fan, would you?”

Part 2 Here!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67

All Walker: @lovealways-j @delightfullykrispypeach @stoneyggirl @thinkinghardhardlythinking @sams-sass @walkersbabygirl

[paper-n-ashes]

New Endeavours

Characters: Modern AU!Kylo Ren x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: Explicit (18+), Sugar daddy relationship, sexual references but no actual smut, bisexual vibes, attending a strip club.

Author’s Note: This is all because of my love, @maryforyou. An AU venture she ignited and I couldn’t let go of. Read into this however you want, I’m an open book in terms of exploring sexuality without labels. Being the first AU I’ve ever attempted, I kept this as an intro, to hopefully dive into the more explicit content I’ve been ruminating on for too long as a Part 2 (depending on how this is received).

*

“Are you sure this what you want?”

You smiled sweetly, smoothing out the creases in your dress as Kylo handed you your coat and gloves. “Like I said every day this week, I’m very sure.”

He still appeared doubtful, plush lips twisted in a disbelieving frown. “I could give you anything your heart desires for your birthday, princess,” he urged, helping you to secure the top buttons of your waistcoat, his large frame shifting close to yours. “This barely seems like enough of a gift for such a special occasion.”

Kylo was used to showering you with physical symbols of his adoration in the 18 months you had known him. The man had more money than he knew what to do with, lavishing all types of jewellery and clothing on you, some of the pieces you were certain cost more than your tiny apartment in the outskirts of the city. Every time you tried to refuse the extravagant gifts, Kylo always replied with sweetened notions of needing to worship and adore the personified goddess he saw you as. And when spoken in his infuriatingly mesmerising tenor, they would quickly conquer your resistance.

You were acutely aware of what this looked like from an outside perspective. A wealthy older man courting a young woman over 10 years his junior. Bathing her head to toe in the finest attire, parading her around in places a woman of her standing wouldn’t have been able to afford in two lifetimes.

A label came with this kind of behaviour. One you didn’t particularly like, yet was still true.

Sugar daddy.

There wasn’t a way you could deny that’s how your association with Kylo begun.

You’d heard whispers of other girls at the college you went to doing it. Offering their bodies to the affluent men of this city. At first, you’d scoffed at the idea. But when that third overdue notice of your credit card debt came, with the threat of eviction hanging over your head, you didn’t really have much choice.

A name was given to you of a bar that specialised in these kinds of meetings, completely covertly of course. And there Kylo had found you, hiding away in a secluded corner, stirring the gin and tonic in front of you with a single finger. At first, you’d assumed he was a well-dressed bartender, seemingly too young and strikingly handsome to be in need of a place like this. So you smiled sweetly and told him you weren’t quite done with your drink.

Within such an innocent interaction, Kylo knew he had to have you. And he did, 45 minutes later in the poorly lit bathroom stall, half-dressed bodies clutched together as he had you perch on the porcelain sink, fucking you with an uncharacteristically reckless abandon.

He hadn’t intended to. He hadn’t been entirely sure what he anticipated from that evening, the recommendation being given to him from a higher executive who regularly partook in the questionable operations of this establishment. Kylo meant only to scope the place out, sit for a quiet solitary drink out of the way of other patrons. There, he’d discovered you.

Shrinking into your stool, somewhat inhibited, clearly out of your element. The shy smile that spread across your face after he murmured a stiff hello ensnared him in moments, simply for how sincere it was. He wasn’t used to that.

Another thing Kylo wasn’t used to was the type of electricity that followed in your conversation. Rarely had he experienced an exchange that was so charged yet… genuine. You didn’t appear expectant, didn’t care to know how much money he made or the status of his career. You simply wanted to talk.

It was interesting how this fuelled an urge to make you speechless, to have you resorting to whines and whimpers rather than articulate your thoughts with any words. He didn’t act on them. Content to bide his time, play his cards right, set a precedence of composure and restraint in the hope of securing another meeting. You, however, had never cultivated the same type of discipline Kylo had.

After too many long minutes of flirtatious banter, you leaned forward, mouthing in a hushed tone, asking him to meet you in the women’s bathroom.

The chance encounter had bound you for longer than predicted.

Although never explicitly stated, the two of you fulfilled a portion of each other’s needs. Kylo required adequate distraction from his corporate life, someone who could slip into his erratic schedule with ease to… relieve him of mounting tension. In return, he provided you the monetary means to live in the city of your dreams without constant fear of homelessness.

In the months that passed, your arrangement turned into something stable, secure. His presence a constant in your life. While his working hours were long and finishing times unpredictable, Kylo could always count on you to be summoned to him from a single text message. Be it in the middle of the day, or the early hours of morning, you would race to a place of his choosing. Sometimes at his lush apartment, sometimes his office, and a plethora of restaurant bathrooms across the city after particularly stressful business lunches.

Initially, your involvement was kept mostly out of public view. Kylo had wanted to protect you from the judgements and negative connotations that were unavoidable in the arena of his work. Around the year mark, these reservations about being seen with you seemed to dissipate. Soon you were linked hand in hand at countless high-class dinners and charity events. A poised and elegant couple, right until the last set of eyes moved away.

This is where you had your fun.

As spectacular as Kylo was at fucking you until you saw stars, he’d surprisingly gone this long in life without venturing into more creative territory when it came to satisfaction. His version of sex was fast and hard, needing as much as you as he could get, chasing release with no frills or diversion. He’d never had the time, or the right lover, to encourage any of his deeply hidden fantasies. Until you.

You were game for anything. Sexually adventurous. Ready and willing to try all there was on offer just to elicit the highest levels of ecstasy. It was difficult not to be at the thought of Kylo’s hands, his mouth, his tongue, any part of him.

Although a little more slowly, he began to welcome new experiences, new pursuits of pleasure. Witnessing your reactions to these efforts became somewhat of an addiction for him. The way you writhed and squealed when exploring anal play for the first time. The way you surrendered and adored his verbal degradation and physical strikes. The way your body twitched and spasmed after the use of a newly obtained toy purchased with his platinum credit card.

You never pushed him, or forced him into anything he found uncomfortable in the chase of a sexual high. Communication was paramount, and boundaries were respected.

Interestingly enough, tonight was a boundary he never thought you’d cross.

“This is what I asked for, remember?” you smiled, taking the opportunity to press a gentle kiss to his nose.

Kylo’s apprehension refused to dissipate, while still clutching you closer. “It just… seems like this is something I will enjoy more than you.”

You barely withheld the urge to roll your eyes. “You’re sure about that, are you?”

His eyebrows crinkled, thinking the question over. There was the hint of a smirk that tugged the corner of his mouth, a subtle excited quiver in the breath he exhaled. “So you’re not doing this for me?”

“Not at all,” you breathed. Your palm slipped under his clean-shaven jaw, skating a thumb reassuringly over his cheek. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

“You have?”

You hummed a yes, drifting your lips intoxicatingly close to his, staring up with wide eyes.

Kylo’s mouth twisted slightly. “I wouldn’t want you to feel jealous, princess.”

“You’re only looking,” you insisted softly. “And, even if you touch a little…” You bit your lip at the thought. “Those women won’t be who gets to be taken home and fucked until it hurts.”

There was a noticeable tensing in the arms circled around you, as Kylo’s eyes began to burn with an impatient greed. “I could do that now, right against this door.”

It was difficult to deny how you’d happily allow him to make true on that statement. To slam you into the exquisitely carved oak door of his apartment and fill you to your absolute limit. However, the tantalising image of your planned evening was too consuming, heaving and tugging for you to indulge a deeply embedded desire you’d never been brave enough to pursue.

“Save it for when we get home,” you chirped, reaching for the doorhandle and dragging Kylo into the hallway.

 *

“Follow me,” the maître D instructed, her voice cheerfully welcoming. Even the sight of her silken, green dress was intimidating, the fabric glossing over her nimble shape as she guided you up the set of stairs. The lighting was low, almost too dark to see properly, Kylo’s grip strong as your steps were drowned out by the sultry music emanating behind the double doors at the apex. As they were opened to you, the hypnotic baseline ricocheted around your body.

You scanned around the large room, bold lights illuminating a risen stage with two currently unused silver poles at either corner. Plush chairs circled around, occupied by a differing array of men. Slinking between the patrons were women decorated with luxurious, high-end lingerie, each one styled and set to provoke unyielding temptation.

This was a completely new undertaking for you. Attending a strip club. Usually a male endeavour, seeking out instant gratification in the form of scantily clad bodies and paid attention. You knew this was an unusual request for a birthday outing, yet in truth there was nothing from Kylo you wanted more.

The two reasons were somewhat opposing, although they would still feed the same goal. Satisfying a craving.

One being that you had always found women to be alluring and captivating to a height you’d never really accepted, almost been afraid of. Only with time and maturity had you learned your attraction to them was a natural occurrence you were now ready to explore.

The other reason was a little more scandalous, and what you hadn’t quite articulated to Kylo yet. To have the view of his eyes roaming another woman’s almost naked body as she exposed herself to him, drove you wild. In a situation you should feel jealousy, you were only devoured by an uncontainable lust.

Occasionally your mind had forayed into imaginations where he would take another like he’d taken you countless times, able to watch his hands clawing at supple breasts, the smooth motion of his hips, how his thick cock would split a tight, dripping cunt in two. All the while he would deride and goad you, layering you with taunts, desperate to inflame your envy and ownership.

Your plan for this particular evening didn’t extend that far. You only wished to enjoy the performance of mesmeric women in their most enchanting form, observe Kylo’s undeniable arousal at the same lithe, flexible bodies, and return home to remind him that only you could ignite the billowing flames of a violent release.

Oh, but that plan crumbled when you’d each settled into your seats, just in time for the next show of seduction. A pair of glittered, platform heels slinked near to the pole closest to you, your vision roaming upwards over the statuesque figure they connected to. Delicately laced, ivory fabric shielded her most intimate portions from full view, conforming flawlessly to the curves of her figure. Somehow demure yet indecently sensual.

Lips parted, your breath hitched as the exquisite woman twirled around, her eyes trained to you as she let a wicked smile appear. You were sure this was a regular occurrence, a flirtation she expressed to all the patrons in this room. Yet, as she began to move in time with the decadent beat of the music, her eyes stayed transfixed to you marvelling stare.

In an unprecedented display of courage, you beckoned Kylo closer to you, whispering to his ear. “Her. That’s what I really want for my birthday.”

*To be continued*

Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in future works! 

@tlcwrites @roanniom @maryforyou @mariesackler @sacklerscumrag @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @mylifeisactuallyamess @hopeamarsu @foxilayde @goddesstonythetiger @caillea @direnightshade @blackberries45 

[fabulouspotatosister]

is it still you?

summary: getting left behind is never easy. being found is even harder.

word count:  6,127

gif(s) by: @gabrielokun, @elenaglbert​

a/n: hello there, everyone! welcome to my first proper fic since the school year started! you might have seen this on that wip title game i did a little while back, and here it is! thank you to @penguinwithitsarseonfire​ for reminding me that this idea even existed and inspiring me to write it :0 hope you’re all doing well lovelies!

~ o ~

“Amy, I’ll be fine.”

Amy rested against the console, one delicate eyebrow raised as she watched you hover by the Doctor’s side. You were watching him tinker with something on the console, but you could still feel Amy boring holes into you. “Right, just in case we forget the last time you said you were gonna be fine - remind me again why you’re the one doing this?”

“Because I’ve done it a bunch of times!” You glanced up at Amy, then shrunk back at her piercing gaze. You were definitely being judged. You swallowed the urge to say “sorry, mom”. “Reconnaissance. Right, Doctor?”

“Right,” the Doctor replied, sounding slightly distracted. He was peering at what looked like an earbud through a magnifying glass. His coat lay abandoned, flung carelessly over one of the chairs in the console room. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of large circular goggles rested over his face as he worked. He was cute, but you’d never say that to his face. “I’ve tracked the weapon to this planet, but they’re a hivemind - if they see me, they’ll raise an alarm. I need you to be my eyes and ears.”

“Aye aye, captain,” you said cheerfully, raising a hand to your forehead in a mock salute. “Racked up your fair share of enemies, huh?”

“Oh, you know me.” The Doctor poked at the earbud-thingie with a sparking device. “I’m like James Bond.”

“You wish you were like James Bond,” Amy piped up. 

“Oi!” The Doctor looked up, indignation written over his face even through the huge goggles. “I’d make a great spy.”

Amy grinned at you. Something dangerous glittered in her eyes. “You’d trip over those laser things and set off a bomb with those limbs of yours.” 

The Doctor made a frustrated noise, and buried his nose in the magnifying glass again. 

“Okay, maybe not James Bond,” you said. You let your hand rest on his shoulder, trying not to jostle him as he started connecting some very thin wires. “I think you’ve got the gadgets down, though. You’d be the Quartermaster.”

“The man in the chair,” the Doctor muttered. 

“Yeah, the man in the chair,” you repeated. Absentmindedly, you let your hand wander, travelling down his back slightly. The Doctor went still. “You’ve got a very important job.”

“...Yep.” The Doctor’s voice was strained. 

“Okay, enough, lovebirds,” Amy said. She raised a finger before the Doctor could protest against the “lovebirds” comment. “Is she gonna be gone long?”

“Hopefully not,” the Doctor answered. “Just long enough for me to find out where they’ve landed so I can shut off their queen. It shouldn’t be too far. Twenty minutes, tops. And - aha!”

The Doctor grinned widely at you, pushing the goggles off his face. “That should do it. Look -” He plucked the earbud from the console and beamed at it. “Your very own communicator. Brand new! You don’t even need your phone.” It gleamed silver as he turned it over in his hands. “It links up directly to the TARDIS so we can hear you twenty-four-seven. Or seventy-two seven here.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, and if it was possible, the Doctor beamed brighter. You reached out to take it, but the Doctor moved forward before you could snatch it from his hand.

“Hang on, let me,” the Doctor said softly. He leaned down, brushing his hand against your hair, and you shuddered. Some kind of heavy silence fell over the two of you as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and gently pushed the communicator in - it fit snugly, almost like it was made for you. Which it was. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed. “There we go.”

Amy met your gaze. Lovebirds, she mouthed.

Shut up, you mouthed back. 

The Doctor ran to the other side of the console, picking up the telephone and quickly punching in some numbers. There was the whining sound of feedback in your ear. He tapped the receiver, and the soft tap tap tap felt like someone tapping directly on your brain. “Can you hear this?”

“Loud and clear.” He tapped again, and you winced. “Ow.”

“Sorry,” the Doctor said. He raised the phone to his lips and spoke again, but quieter. The sound sent shivers down your spine, and you tried not to visibly tremble. “It doubles as a tracker, so I’ll know exactly where you are.”

“Useful,” you squeaked out. Amy waggled her eyebrows at you, and you didn’t have the strength to tell her to stop. “Anything else?”

“Nope!” the Doctor said, setting down the phone with a thunk. “Alright! I think you’re all set, mission control.”

You frowned. “I thought you were mission control.”

The Doctor opened his mouth, as if to say something, but caught himself. He settled on smiling instead, the corners of his lips turning up meekly. “My mistake. You’ve been mission control before, I just…”

“Yeah, when you lost the TARDIS with me in it,” you said, giving him the gentlest smile you could muster. “Remember that? Good times.”

The Doctor hummed in reply. He shifted in place, staring at you, his hands hanging limply by his sides. In the dim, yellowish light of the TARDIS interior, you couldn’t tell if he was blushing or not. He stood there for a moment, his lips slightly parted, seemingly lost in thought.

“Hey,” you ventured. The Doctor jumped at the sound of your voice, his gaze darting up to meet yours. “You okay?”

“Always,” he said quickly. “I’m just seeing you off. That’s what I’m doing.”

He was not, in fact, just seeing you off. This was typical Doctor behavior - he was dodging the question. It was almost frustrating, but the way he looked like he was pouting took the edge off the frustration a little bit. But only a little bit. “Are you worried?”

“Me?” The Doctor pulled a confident face, the one he put on when he wasn’t. “Never.”

If you weren’t looking at the Doctor, really looking at him, you would have believed him. But then there was rule one - after some time, the Doctor had turned into an open book for you. The way he stood, very still when he was usually bouncing off the walls, told a different story.

You met his eyes, and something shifted. His face morphed, from confident to bittersweet, to an expression that looked almost mournful. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, bugger it,” the Doctor muttered under his breath. 

“Doctor - oh!”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, pulling you flush against his chest. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and squeezed. He dipped his head down onto your shoulders, his face disappearing into your neck. Amy whistled, but you didn’t hear her - you were too busy focusing on feeling the Doctor’s lips on your skin, and his breath, warm against it, and - well -

“I wasn’t expecting that,” you gasped out.

The Doctor didn’t reply - just squeezed tighter. This face was most definitely a hugger, but they were mostly short and sweet. Little celebratory hugs. These hugs were reserved for certain moments, and certain people. 

“I’m the man in the chair, of course I’m worried,” he finally muttered. “It’s sort of my job.”

“You’ll keep me safe,” you said. You leaned back, and the Doctor lifted his head to look at you. “Mission control, remember? You’ll be there to guide me.”

The Doctor peered at you. “You trust me,” he said quietly, like he couldn’t believe it.

“After all this time, how could I not?” You gave him another soft smile. “You’re trusting me to do this, I’m trusting you to keep me safe.”

“Just -” The Doctor sighed, ragged, and squeezed his eyes shut. When they opened, they were filled with a familiar concern. “Promise me you’ll be careful. I can’t lose you too.”

The last part was nearly a whisper. The sound of his voice tugged at your heart. 

“You won’t,” you said, pulling away from his embrace. Disappointment flickered in the Doctor’s eyes as you stepped backwards towards the doors. “Ever.”

“Okay,” the Doctor said. He looked you over, his expression turning serious. “Ready?”

You nodded. “On your signal, captain.”

A grin slowly spread across the Doctor’s face, childlike. “Captain. I like the sound of that.”

Amy ran up to you, pulling you into another quick hug. She looked just as concerned as the Doctor when she pulled away, holding your face protectively. “Seriously, be safe, alright? I don’t want to be stuck with him without you.”

“Noted,” you replied, and Amy brightened.

“My company isn’t that bad, is it?” the Doctor asked. 

“It’s unbearable,” you joked, and the Doctor pouted. Amy laughed, you laughed, and eventually the Doctor joined in too, chuckling quietly under his breath.

The TARDIS doors swung open slowly, and a gust of cold air burst through them. You walked backwards, waving your fingers at the two in a two-fingered salute, and creeped quietly through the doors.

The first thing that startled you was the smell. The familiar smell of wet grass. A light drizzle fell on your skin, and you looked up. The sky was dark and full of stars - in the distance, you could see the faint lights of flickering street lamps and lit up windows. You could hear the faint sounds of people chattering and cars passing through the night. All of these things were things you knew -

“Doctor, we’re not in the right place,” you said, tapping your earpiece. 

A feedback whine, then the Doctor’s voice, loud and clear as if he was beside you. “What? No, the coordinates were right, I checked -”

“Check again.” Something felt off. You took a hesitant step backward, your back resting against the TARDIS doors. “This is Earth.”

“No, it can’t be,” the Doctor said, incredulous.

“I can see houses in the distance,” you said, “human houses. Unless this is a really convincing simulation, I’m really sure we’ve just landed back on my home planet.”

“Why’d you send us here, old girl?” he asked quietly, probably to the TARDIS. You could faintly hear the TARDIS hum and beep in reply. Then, sharply: “What?” 

"Doctor?” you asked. You tried to keep the fear from creeping into your voice.

“Come back inside, quickly,” the Doctor snapped. 

The urgency in his voice scared the hell out of you, and you straightened, whirling around to face the doors. The handles rattled, but the doors didn’t budge. “I can’t,” you gasped. 

“They’re not locked.” The Doctor’s voice sounded strange through the earpiece. It was getting fuzzier, the ends of his sentences tapering off into silence. “I’ve unlocked them, you should be able to get inside -”

You moved to try again… and your hand passed right through the door handle. You stumbled forward, shocked, and stared at your hand like it was the one that had turned transparent. Then the air started shimmering, and you heard the beautiful wheezing and singing of the TARDIS’s engines -

It was leaving you behind.

“No, no -” Your voice was like molasses in your mouth. You pressed yourself against the doors. They were still solid, still there. The door handles were impossible to grab now, just a faint image in the air, and a sob crawled up your throat. “Doctor, don’t leave!”

A yell ripped through the earpiece, and you winced - the Doctor only ever raised his voice when he was furious. You curled your fists and pressed them against the doors. 

“This can’t be happening, this -” Another strangled noise. It sounded like a sob, and your eyes blurred with tears. “Stay put,” the Doctor said, his voice trembling with emotion. 

If you imagined hard enough you could feel him on the other side of the door. “Okay,” you replied shakily, and sniffed. 

“I’ll come find you.” The Doctor sounded like a broken man. Your name falling from his lips sounded like a promise. “I -”

His voice cut off, and the TARDIS was gone.

You pitched forward and didn’t even bother to put up a fight - your knees buckled underneath you, and you fell onto your knees in the wet grass. Sharp rocks dug into your skin. You could barely feel their jagged edges. You looked up at the night sky as the drizzle slowly eased into a rainstorm, and suddenly your home planet had never felt so alien before. 

“Doctor?” you whimpered, your voice impossibly small. It was foolish, thinking the Doctor could hear you, but you didn’t care - “Doctor, can you hear me?”

Nothing. You were soaked now, raindrops running down your face and blurring with your tears. Biting back another sob, you tried again. “Please - come back, okay?”

The silence was deafening. 

You didn’t know how long you had spent in the rain. Long enough for the lights in the windows to shut off, one by one; long enough for chattering and the sounds of passing cars to quiet down; long enough for the rain to fall even harder than before. Long enough for you to stop shivering from the cold, and long enough -

Long enough for something to block the onslaught of the rain. Blearily, you looked up at the face of a young woman in a police uniform, holding an umbrella over the both of you.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” she asked softly. The tone of her voice was enough to make you start bawling again, as if you hadn't spent the last hour just crying your eyes out. “You shouldn’t be out here in the rain.”

“I know, I just -” How could you explain this to her? “I’m lost,” was what you settled on. 

The woman’s face brightened in a reassuring smile. “Not to worry, I'm here to help."

You nodded, bringing yourself to your feet. The policewoman held out her hand for support, and you wrapped your hands around her arm. You didn’t trust your legs to keep you upright right now. “Sorry, weird question, but - where am I?”

She probably thought you were drunk. That was a better alternative than the truth. “Sheffield,” the policewoman replied.

You hoped she was ready for an even weirder question - “What year is it?”

 A year passed. Settling in was easy enough - thankfully, you had your wallet and phone on you when you arrived back on Earth. All it took was a quick call back home, some trips back and forth to move your things, some paperwork, and you were officially a Sheffield citizen. 

You kept the earpiece. Found a way to wear it around your neck like some kind of ornament. It looked pretty enough, but it was hard to move on when you had a reminder of him resting like a weight on your heart everyday. 

You had tried talking into it on some days, on rainy days that reminded you of the day you were left behind. Sometimes, if you listened hard enough, you could hear faint conversation, sometimes laughter.

Maybe he’d forgotten. Maybe he’d found another companion. Maybe he had gone off to find that Clara girl. It was none of your business now, and yet -

You could’ve gone back to your actual home. But it was so hard to leave - it was hard to leave when the Doctor’s last words had been stay put. Your rational brain tried to convince you that he could find you wherever you were, but there was just something that was keeping you from leaving. 

Yasmin Khan was the policewoman’s name, and she was your very first friend in Sheffield. She’d been the one to help you adjust, and had been the one to help you find a job - as a receptionist in a hospital. 

It was a little funny, working with doctors when none of them were him.

A bolt of lightning lit up the sky. You turned to look out your window - there was no rain, and yet the rumbling sound of thunder echoed across the land. Absentmindedly, you brushed your fingers against the earpiece. It was worn now, from all the constant sentimental holding. 

Your phone chimed. A weather forecast - scattered thunderstorms, it read. And your lock screen - a still image of you and the Doctor that Amy had taken, once upon a time. You were on your tippy toes, adjusting the Doctor’s bow tie with an exaggerated focused look on your face, while the Doctor just stood there, flustered.

They say take a picture, it lasts longer. You still had pictures of all your travels. They felt like tourist pictures, posing in front of alien architecture and making silly faces at otherworldly flora and fauna. They lay buried under pictures of paperwork and cute kids that came into the office, but they were still there.

A year. It would be seconds to him, but an eternity for you - and you couldn’t live an eternity hanging on to just memories of him. Your finger hovered above the delete button.

Sorry, Doctor, you thought. The mere idea of just deleting pictures made you feel sad, then you sniffed indignantly. You had to move on some time, and if it could be now, then -

Knock knock knock!

“Who is it?” you called. There was shuffling behind the door, and a hushed argument. “Hello?”

“Hello!” That voice sounded familiar - it was Grace, Grace Sinclaire, who used to be a nurse and someone that you worked with and who was notoriously really nice - “It’s me! Could you open up, love?”

“Coming!” you called back. You ran a hand through your hair and rubbed your face, wondering why she would be at your door at this hour when she should have been heading home with Graham -

You swung the door open and very nearly dropped your phone.

It was Grace, alright - Grace and her grandson Ryan, who was carrying an unconscious woman in his arms.

“Grace, what the -” you floundered. “What’s going on?”

“We need your help,” she said, and gestured to the woman in Ryan’s arms. “Can we come in?”

You were gaping now, craning your neck to try and get a good look at this woman’s face. “You need to take her to A and E, not to my house! I can drive you there, if that’s what you need -”

“I said that too,” Grace said slowly, like she was bracing to drop a bomb on you. “But right before she fell, she said -”

“Said she didn’t trust anywhere that was just initials,” Ryan finished, glancing down at the woman and then back to Grace, who gave you a sympathetic look. “She said your name.”

You swallowed. How -

“No.” An incredulous smile spread across your face, and you shook your head. “No, you’re kidding.”

“It’s true,” Ryan said. 

“...I don’t know this woman,” you said nervously.

“She knows you,” Grace said, almost pleading. “Please, love.”

There was no reason for them to be lying - the shell shocked expression on Ryan’s face was enough to tell you that he was absolutely telling the truth, whether you liked it or not.

And something that the Doctor had taught you - never refuse a call for help - echoed in your brain.

“Put her on the sofa,” you said quickly. “I’ll go get blankets.”

A few minutes later, you had a stranger lying limply on your sofa. 

She didn’t even make a noise when she was laid down. You laid a floral blanket over her middle, and it settled over her clothes - clothes that were obviously too big for her. The sight rang a bell in the back of your mind, of a night where a man climbed out of his broken ship in a past life’s clothes, clumsy and new -

There was a pull to her that you couldn’t resist. You sat down near her, gently taking her head in your hands and guiding it onto your lap like it was second nature to you. Her skin was warm, almost flushed, blonde hair falling over a surprisingly beautiful face.

Grace crouched down near the woman. “Do you know her?”

You stared at the woman’s face. Your answer would have been no, but now you weren’t so sure. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her even if you tried - and you were trying. Very hard.

Your hands found their way into her hair, and soon you were running your fingers through it like it was the most natural thing to do. “I don’t know.”

“You look like you do,” Grace’s voice was soft. “You look at her like you’ve known her all your life.”

Your head shot up, and Grace just shrugged. She had a small smile on her lips as she reached for the woman’s arm.

“How do you know that?” 

“I can tell,” Grace said simply. “That’s how Graham looks at me, sometimes.”

There was a beat of silence as she took the woman’s pulse, then she gasped - “Ryan - look.”

The woman’s skin was glowing gold. 

“Whoah,” Ryan said. The woman’s eyebrows were pinched together, a small crease forming between the two of them. Gold patterns swirled under her skin, pulsing like starlight, and you jerked your hands away from her like she would burn you. 

Grace looked up at you, her eyes wide. “She’s got two separate pulses.”

The woman’s arm fell limply at her side as she exhaled - golden dust fell from her lips, floating around like a miniature star in the room. You followed it with your eyes, your mouth hanging open for what must have been the third time that hour.

“Oh my God, what is that?” Ryan asked, moving out of the way.

Grace stared. “I have no idea.”

But you had an idea. You knew. Only one person did that. Only one alien did that. If this was who you thought she was, then -

Suddenly, the woman shot up, sitting bolt upright, breaking you out of your racing thoughts - she clutched her collarbone, gasping, eyes wild and searching. “Who woke me up? I’m not ready - still healing, still -”

Still healing. Your mind was still reeling, still trying to pick up the pieces - her voice was so painfully familiar, and now you knew why. You reached out, placing your hands on your shoulders to soothe her. She startled under your touch.

“You’re alright, you’re fine,” you soothed. A part of you was saying that to yourself. “You’re safe, yeah? Look at me.”

The woman whirled to face you, and you shrunk back. Her eyes were striking, green flecked with yellow and brown. It looked like a galaxy.

“Safe - you…” The woman breathed, staring into your eyes. She stared for what seemed like forever, her gaze locked onto yours, searching your face for something. Then something shifted - her eyebrows quirked up, then pulled down, her face morphing from shocked to confused to mournful. 

“Oh,” the woman said. “Oh no, I’m too late, am I?”

Too late for what? you wanted to ask, but the woman had shot up again, crouching like a bird on the sofa.

"Can you smell that?” she asked, then stopped, one hand coming to press against her collarbone. “No, not smell. Not hear. Feel. Can you feel…” She trailed off, her expression serious. “Stay still, Ryan.”

“What is it? What’s the matter?” he asked quickly. The woman leapt forward to pull down Ryan’s shirt slightly. She exhaled, a worried noise, and spun to face the others.

“Show me your collarbones,” she said, a touch of authority in her voice. Everyone else in the room pulled down their shirts slightly, and you gasped. Small glowing dots, pulsing with a magenta light. You’d only ever heard of those kinds of devices, whispered in the dark alleyways of alien cities, hidden under layers of conspiracy.

“Oh, you’ve all got them,” the woman breathed out, eyes wide.

“So have you,” Ryan pointed out, and the woman looked down. Another blinking light on her collarbone. She made a face.

“Yeah, I have. Okay.” The woman inhaled sharply, straightening her posture, preparing to give bad news. You knew that posture. “Really sorry. Not good news. DNA bombs.”

You rose slowly from your chair. “What?”

The woman cocked her head towards you as she walked in a circle around everyone else, her hands behind her back. “Microimplants which code to your DNA. On detonation, they disrupt the foundation of your genetic code, melting your DNA.”

“But -” you spoke, and everyone’s eyes were on you. “But those are illegal in almost every galaxy, right?”

An unspoken how did you know that hung in the air, but the woman just nodded, her lips pressed together grimly. She reached out to press against Ryan’s glowing dot. “Right.”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “How did we get them?” 

“Nevermind that, are they gonna go off?” Graham asked. 

The woman grimaced. “Quiet. I’m trying to think, it’s difficult -” Her expression changed, her eyes big and searching and so very new. “Brain and body still rebooting, reformatting… oh, reformatting! Can I borrow that?”

“Yeah, I guess so, but what for?”

The woman had reached over and grabbed Ryan’s phone. She was tinkering with it, her brows knit as she focused. “That creature. On the train. When you two came onboard, it zapped us all with these. Simple plan to take out witnesses. Very clever.”

“Merciless,” you piped up.

“But clever,” the woman continued. The phone beeped a few times, and the woman gasped, then held it up proudly. “I reformatted your phone!”

“No! All my stuff’s on there,” Ryan groaned, but the woman just grinned. 

“Not anymore!” She said cheerfully. 

She held the phone to her collarbone - there was a loud zap, then she was knocked back against the wall like she had been thrown. She looked up at everyone, gasping. 

“That nap did me the world of good. Very comfy sofa,” she said, breathless. She glanced down at the phone, gasped again, and then scrambled to her feet. She yanked her coat from one of your chairs, and headed for the door - “Come on, keep up!” 

Everyone stopped to stare at each other, then quickly turned to follow. You took a few steps forward, the woman still drawing you towards her - “Wait, let me come with you -”

The woman turned to face you, already halfway out of your door. She shook her head. “No.”

You frowned. “No?”

She stared for another moment, and you saw it - the familiar gleam of concern, of protectiveness that you had seen at least a billion times in another face. The way her mouth dragged downward and her eyebrows knitted together, an expression somewhere between angry and worried. Your breath caught in your throat, your outstretched hand frozen in place. 

“I’m not putting you in danger again,” the woman said, determined. “I don’t know why. Think I’ll find out later. But you -” Her gaze burned you, with eyes that seemed so old and so new at the same time. “You have to be safe,” she continued. “Please. Stay put.”

It sounded like a promise. The woman glanced down at your hand while you lowered it, drawing it close to your chest.

“Okay,” you said. “Go. I won’t keep you.”

The woman nodded. “Thank you.”

And then she was gone, driving off into the night with everyone else. 

You didn’t rest easy that night. Lightning flashed and crackled across the sky without any rain. You jumped every time the sky lit up - too on edge to be calm at all, too confused to try and get some rest - your hand thumbing the silver earpiece that still hung around your neck, strangely warm to the touch.

“This can’t be happening, this - stay put -”

“Please. Stay put.”

“Doctor,” you whispered. 

 Grace’s funeral was a few days after that.

At first glance, it didn’t seem like a funeral. The place was covered in balloons. There wasn’t a hint of melancholy in the air - the sun was shining bright through the windows of the church, not a single cloud in sight. No sign of the lightning from the days before. It was almost like the world had moved on.

You decided not to sit in the front. Tried not to think about the Grace that had brought the Doctor to your doorstep. Tried not to think about you had never thanked her for bringing her back to you. Instead you thought about happy, knowing Grace, and hoped that she could hear you, wherever she was now.

You found Ryan standing near the doors of the church. He was waiting - your heart clenched at the sight. Steeling yourself, you moved to comfort him -

And you stopped in your tracks. The Doctor walked up to him slowly, her hands in her pockets. Ryan glanced at her in acknowledgement. 

“What time did your dad say he’d get here?” the Doctor asked softly. 

Ryan kept on looking out, searching. “Two hours ago.”

“If he said he’ll come -” That was the Doctor, always trying to comfort -

“He says a lot of things,” Ryan said, gruffly. “He’s never been the best at being reliable. I mean how can he not be here? She’s his mum. She would have wanted him here.”

The Doctor nodded, pursing her lips. She kept that empathetic look in her eyes as she gazed up at him, not knowing what to say. That was another familiar thing that hurt. She still was so kind, still out to help others in need.

“I want him here,” Ryan finished. 

That was you, once upon a time. But things had changed, and you weren’t the one that left.

The Doctor’s gaze flickered to where you were, standing just a few feet away. Your eyes met for a second, and something passed over the Doctor’s face. Recognition. Her mouth opened like she wanted to call out for you, her mouth forming over the syllables of your name - 

You turned on your heel and walked away before she could see the tears forming in your eyes.

The door shuddered in its frame as you slammed it behind you. Stupid, getting emotional over her when you were supposed to be moving on like she had - your hands clamped onto the earpiece, gripping onto the small device like it was a lifeline. You hadn’t noticed that you were shaking, or that you had fallen on your knees onto the floor. You took in quick, shallow breaths, blinking the tears away like your life depended on it.

The earpiece was cold in your palms. You tried to let the feeling ground you, but even just remembering what it was made you nearly tip over the edge -

Knock knock knock.

“Yes?” Your voice was rough, and you coughed. “So - sorry, who is it?”

There were some hushed voices. 

“Isn’t it so weird how they know each other?”

“Not the strangest thing anymore, after what’s happened.”

“Hush, both of you.”

Then - a soft call of your name, warm and everything you’d ever needed. 

“It’s me," the Doctor said. “Could you open the door?”

You stilled, not trusting your ears. This wasn’t the triumphant reunion that you had wanted for the past year. That fantasy had faded over time. And yet there was a spark of hope in your chest, threatening to set everything alight.

The Doctor spoke again, her voice impossibly gentle and impossibly the same. “Listen -” Her voice cracked, and you bit back a sob - “I know it’s been some time, but I am so so sorry -”

That was it. You rose to your feet, red eyes and runny nose be damned, and flung the door open.

“No,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “No, don’t start.”

The Doctor’s beautiful new eyes widened a fraction. 

“Hello to you too,” she said quietly. She wasn’t as tall as she used to be - in fact, she was much shorter, so you didn’t have to crane your neck as much to take a good look at her face. She was dressed differently too, finally out of her raggedy clothes and into a new outfit that you’d say was cute, but never to her face. 

You blinked up at her, sniffed, and crossed your arms over your chest. “Don’t apologize.”

The Doctor frowned slightly. “I have to, I left you behind for - oh!”

You grabbed the Doctor by her new suspenders and pulled her against you so she was flush against your chest. You buried your face in the crook of her shoulder, throwing your arms around her neck. Someone - you weren’t sure who - maybe it was Ryan - whistled, but you didn’t hear him.

It took a moment for the Doctor to let her hands rest against your back. Maybe this face wasn’t much of a hugger. But she didn’t let go, and leaned in closer so her chin rested on your shoulder.

“Let me say sorry,” she whispered. “I promised I would keep you safe, promised I’d come back for you. You trusted me, and I let you down.”

“I didn’t think you were gonna come back,” you mumbled. You shifted, letting your cheek rest against her skin. “I thought you’d left me forever and I thought - I thought -”

“Hey,” the Doctor soothed, pulling away. She brought one hand up to rest on your cheek, her thumb delicately brushing tears away, and you sniffed again. You probably looked ridiculous. “I’m here. I’m sorry I took so long.”

You nodded. “Is it still you?”

The Doctor grinned, and the way it lit up the world around her made your heart do flips. “‘Course it’s still me.” She looked down at the earpiece resting against your chest and raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You kept the communicator.”

“I - I couldn’t throw it away,” you stammered, shrugging, “sentimental value. Or I just missed you. Maybe both.”

“Oh, you,” the Doctor said, her eyes glimmering. “You won’t need it anymore.”

Your hands shot up to grab it. You raised an eyebrow at the Doctor, whose grin was just growing wider and wider. You couldn’t help it - you let a smile slip onto your face. “Why is that?”

“Because I want you to come with me. Again.” The Doctor leaned backwards on the balls of her feet, and tucked her hands firmly back into her pockets. 

You felt like you’d just been kicked in the chest - all the air was suddenly gone from your lungs. Every last bit of eloquence that you’d had disappeared in an instant, and all you could manage was, “Uh.”

The Doctor smiled, a kind of nervous, polite smile. “What do you say?”

You could - take her hand and fly away with her again, like nothing had ever happened. Your gaze moved to behind her, where Graham, Ryan, and Yaz stood. They had seen this face before you did, and maybe - just maybe - 

“I can’t. Besides,” you gestured to the three of them, “you don’t need me anymore.”

The Doctor turned to face the three of them, and when she turned back to face you there was an intensity in her eyes that you weren’t a stranger to. The Doctor’s brows furrowed, and you curled in on yourself - that was something the Doctor never liked, when people put themselves down - but you thought it was the truth. 

The Doctor shook her head.

“Yes, I do,” she said simply. She leaned forward to press her lips against your forehead. It still felt magical. “I always have. Always will.”

She peered down at you, looking you right in the eyes, and you tried to find any sign that she was lying. Any sign that this was some kind of trick, some kind of fluke. 

But there she was, her voice gentle and earnest, one hand outstretched to take you back.

You took her hand and her lips quirked up just slightly. That same spark of hope instantly blossomed into a fire, comforting like a hearth on a cold winter evening. 

She led you outside, let you cross the hidden gap between a normal life and a life with her, again. Ryan, Graham and Yaz smiled as you stepped through, your hands intertwined with the Doctor’s.

“No ship, but at least I’ve got you,” the Doctor said cheerfully. Your head shot up to meet her sheepish expression, and you breathed out a laugh.

“The TARDIS? Really? Again?”

“Yep,” she replied, popping the “p” sound. You sighed deeply, but you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face. 

“Oh, you definitely know each other,” Yaz said, her eyes wide with amazement.

“Well? Just like old times,” the Doctor said. “Ready?”

“Aye-aye, captain,” you chirped, and the Doctor laughed.

And when all of you got spat out in the middle of space, in the split second between life and death, you met the Doctor’s gaze and grinned. Perhaps nothing had really changed at all. Perhaps this was just a new chapter.

Geronimo. 

[doiefy]

after party // lee taeyong

genre: celebrity au, fluff pairing: taeyong x gn. reader word count: 1.1 k warnings: alcohol

You’ve just wrapped up filming for your first full-length film—and it seems your co-star has something to say to you before it all comes to a close.

note: this is the after party for shadow, the movie taeyong and the reader featured in (i had to write this to recover from the trauma of writing the screenplay but anyways). there are very very mild spoilers, though a lot of the references might not make sense without the context of the film. 

It’s strange how vastly different your castmates are from their characters on screen.

Presently, the diligent assistant is ten drinks too far into drunken stupor, giggling to himself on the couch and having a conversation with—well, no one in particular; it’s probably just some remnant of the script still running through his brain. The alcoholic best friend to the female lead is busy coaxing water into a very drunk android, and the two sworn enemies are playing beer pong, downing cup after cup regardless of how the game is actually played. Across the room, Dejun sticks his tongue out at you, then feigns disgust when you lazily give him the finger. Dejun, he’s still the same.

And what’s stranger: sitting in a room in which all the other actors and actresses have had at least half a decade of experience in the industry. Blue Dragon winners, seasoned idols, the most eligible young talents of South Korea—although now that they’re all drunk, they could easily pass as anything else. And then there’s you. You and your first ever full-length film after dozens of short films on YouTube… it doesn’t quite register yet, that you’ve made it this far. You owe it to Dejun, you guess, for sending you a link to the auditions a couple months ago.

You sigh, downing the rest of your drink and settling back into your seat so you can take in all 1000 square feet of Mina’s apartment; you’ve been meaning to decorate your new place, and the pearly whites and golds of her living room bring all sorts of ideas to mind. You make a mental note to ask where she got that painting—

“Hey.”

You nearly lurch out of your seat, turning to see someone coming up the stairs. Your breath catches in your throat; Taeyong’s dressed in a white shirt and blacks jeans, hair swept back. Filming ended only yesterday, and yet he’s already dyed it back to its original colour. It looks good. Better than the red.

“This seat taken?”

You laugh. “You don’t see anyone else hiding up here, do you?”

The bookish assistant is a wild party animal, the alcoholic is the motherly one of the group, and the reluctant allies are actually in a long-term relationship, yet Taeyong embodies his character fully. Perfectly. The role was made for him, and when he sits down next to you, you feel as though you’re on set again, waiting for the cameras to roll. He’s charming in a quiet way, charismatic but humble, inconspicuous despite the numerous awards he has under his belt; two years ago, if someone told you you’d be acting alongside him, you likely would have passed out at the mere mention of his name.

“Parties aren’t your thing?” He asks casually, glancing over at your empty cup. He offers you one of the beers he brought up and reluctantly, you take it. You’ve only had one so far. Another will be fine.

“Trust me, I’d be passed out on the ground if I didn’t have a schedule tomorrow morning,” you tell him with a wry smile. “Showing up to ODG hungover? For an interview with kids? That sounds so wrong.”

“Nervous?”

“A little.”

He laughs. It’s a bright, cheery sound that cuts through the bass-boosted music, easing your worries a bit. A sign of unrestrained contentment, something unlike his screen character, who would surely be suppressing some sort of dark thought in this moment. “They’ll love you. I’m sure.”

“Thanks.”

You settle into a comfortable silence. Well, as silent as it’ll get anyways. Taeil has now gotten off the couch and is chasing Jungwoo around the room, yelling his lines. Yuta and Jisoo are trying to see how much beer they can put in a red solo cup before it overflows, like it’s not obvious enough. Finally, Taeyong sighs, looking over at you. Melancholically. Or maybe nervously. You can’t quite tell until he speaks, at which point you realize it’s the latter.

“Could I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

He takes a sip of his drink like he’s preparing himself, screwing up courage; you’ve never seen him like this, and it worries you, what he’s about to ask.

“I haven’t really told anyone about this,” he starts, stealing a glance at you before returning his eyes to the rest of your costars. Yuta waves at him drunkenly. He waves back. “I’ve been thinking about taking a break from acting.”

You certainly weren’t prepared for that. “Oh,” is all you manage to get out, and he gives a quiet chuckle.

“No, not like that. Not because of anything—” He breaks off, laughing. “I’ve just been… thinking about doing my own writing. Directing, maybe. Nothing too grand, of course, maybe a couple of shorts.” He glances at you hopefully. “I was hoping you’d be interested.”

“Me?!”

The word is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and suddenly you wonder if you sound like the main character of some sappy teen romance, the quirky hero who doesn’t believe in themself until their rag-tagged group of friends forcibly pushes them to greatness. You must look completely caught off-guard, a deer in headlights, because he giggles a bit, patting you on the shoulder reassuringly.

“Of course,” he says and his lips quirk upwards into a coy smile, something almost cat-like. It’s cute. “You’re wonderful, _____. Give yourself more credit.” A pause. “Though don’t feel pressured to. I know this is just the start of your career, and if taking part in some small project like mine might hinder your own goals in the industry—”

“What was that about credit, Lee?” You ask teasingly. He blinks. “I’d love to. Honestly, I’m not so sure if all this big movie business is really for me. Short films and community theatre productions… that’s where it all started for me. That’s where I’ll always be.”

“Don’t hold back though,” he says. “You have potential. I mean it.”

You’ve heard it from countless representatives, countless agencies, countless other actors. Meaningless words whispered in your ear in hopes that you’ll sign a contract with them. But from Taeyong, after working with him for months, after staying up night after night rehearsing with each other, you know it’s genuine.

“Thank you, Taeyong.”

He gives a soft laugh, and before you can register what’s happening, his lips brush against your cheek. The heat rises rapidly to your face, and you turn around in surprise. He meets your eyes shyly.

“It was a pleasure working with you, ____. I look forward to doing this again.”

You smile. “Likewise.”

[quiet-onset]

New Suit

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k+

A/N: it’s been forever since I’ve posted, but I have been writing since I was stuck at home with covid 😅 Hopefully I can post something else next week too! ANYWAYS, this fic does not have any TFAWS spoilers and (as usual) does not give a fuck about Endgame, meaning our favorite dysfunctional couple Tony and Steve are alive. Steve simply passed on the mantle. Enjoy!

So Sam was Captain America. And he was proud of that fact. 

The day that Steve decided to retire and give him one of his most prized possessions was a day Sam would never forget. A whirlwind of emotions had swelled in his chest. Shock, unworthiness, gratitude. But after talking it over with Steve — and surprisingly enough, with Bucky — Sam agreed to take in the role.

The thing was, no one knew yet. At least, no one outside of the Avengers facility.

Immediately after Thanos, there weren’t really any Avengers level threats. Most threats could be handled by one team member, and it was usually one of the newbies — Peter, Scott, even Wanda. That being so, Sam didn’t have much of a reason to even make public appearances. So he didn’t.

Sometimes, he’d stand in the training room, the red, white, and blue shield strapped to his arm, and just stare in the mirror. Something felt wrong. Out of place. Like the reflection before him was almost right, but he still couldn’t tell what was wrong. Tony had caught him one time as he stepped into the room, a sports bottle full of ice cold water in his hand. “Mid-life crisis?”

Sam jumped at his loud voice and almost scrambled to detach the shield from his arm, like a kid caught with his grubby little hand in the cookie jar. “My bad, I’ll just—“

“No no, keep it on.” Tony waved a hand. “I gave it to Steve, he gave it to you. It’s yours, no give backsies.”

Sam nodded but took the shield off anyway. He decided that he didn’t need to train anymore and headed toward the door. “I’m just gonna go put this back.”

“What is going on with you, Wilson?”

“What do you mean?”

Tony raised a brow, “What do I mean? You staying cooped up in this facility. Barely training with the shield. Opting out of assignments. That’s what I mean.”

“There’s not much of a need.”

“There is. You just don’t see it yet.” Tony walked toward him. “Look, I know being the new Cap has you freaked out—“

“I’m not freaked out.”

“Sure. But Steve chose you and that should be good enough.”

“It is.” Sam huffed as he turned the shield in his hands. “I don’t know, man. I just… It’s just hard to believe. Hard to put in action, I guess.”

“Well, seeing is believing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Head to room 626 when you get a chance.”

“What’s in room 626?”

“You’ll see.”

—

Sam exited the elevator on the sixth floor to loud muffled music. Looking around, he realized he’d never even been to that part of the facility before. The white walls and obscure art seemed strange and misplaced in a building full of superhumans. Too clean, too elegant. 

Each of the rooms seemed that way too. Sam paused in the hallway, glancing through some of the glass doors with people’s names painted neatly at the top. Hardwood floors and marble countertops in each room. So impeccably clean that even dust bunnies wouldn’t dare step foot inside. 

Yet, when Sam approached room 626, he realized this was where the loud music was coming from. Different from the other rooms, this one was messy and colorful. He slid the glass door open, flinching at loud volume. 

He recognized the track — his father used to listen to it all the time when he was growing up. He could almost hear his dad’s deep voice teasing him: “You don’t know nothin’ ‘bout this, son. This was before your time.” Of course Sam knew the song. His dad was the one who put him on. Still, Sam’s dad always got a kick out the playful fight he put up. 

The long, seemingly endless hallway was painted a blinding white. He could make out a peculiar smell as he walked toward the end of the hall. Wet paint or fumes, he wasn’t really sure. He just pulled his shirt over his nose and kept looking for… well only God really knew. 

Finally, he arrived in the main room and saw you and your controlled chaos. You had ten or twenty different fabrics pinned to one wall and sketches of different outfits pinned to the opposing one. Against the back wall were mannequins wearing your works in progress. And just in front of Sam on a large wooden desk were schematics and what looked like engineering tools. Soldering iron, wires, circuit boards, and the like.

Everything seemed like a tornado of colors, clothes, and fabric. But you? You were as cool as a cucumber with your expensive looking spray painting mask strapped on as you sprayed the back of a jean jacket with bright pink paint. Sam chuckled when he heard your muffled voice sing along to the song, not noticing his presence. “Sherry bay-yay-by. Sherry, wontcha come out tonight.”

Sam pulled his shirt back down with a small grin on his lips, debating whether he should disturb you. In the end, he decided to save you the embarrassment, but by then, you’d already moved on to the next verse. You dropped your voice down low in an attempt to sound just like Nick Massi, singing, “Why don’t you come on.”

Sam let out a loud laugh, only covering it with his hand as you jumped, finally realizing someone else was in the room. “Sorry.” Sam chuckled. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your concert.”

You pulled the mask over your head, revealing a nervous smile. You jogged to the desk and grabbed the remote to switch off the stereo. “Concert’s a flattering choice of words.”

“Well you were really nailing that Massi.”

You raised a brow as you set down the can of spray paint. “You listen to Four Seasons?”

“Growing up, it was a staple in the Wilson household.” He offered his hand. “I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Y/N.” You shook it, an impressed smile on your face. “So what can I do for you, Sam?”

“I’m actually not sure. Tony just kinda sent me up here.” He raised a brow when you gasped, amused with your excitement. He smiled as the cute squeal that pushed past your lips. “I assume you know what that means.”

“I’ve been asking him forever if I could design your new suit!”

“New suit?”

“I mean, if you’re okay with it.” You added.

“I just don’t see why I need a new suit is all.” Sam shrugged as he looked around at all your work. He knew, way deep down in the rational part of his consciousness, that he needed a new suit. There wasn’t anything wrong with his Falcon suit, but wearing a new suit seemed too definite. If he put on a new combat suit, it meant that he was fully stepping into this new role. That he would be Captain America in more than just name. People would look at him, at his suit, and recognize that he was the Captain America.

“How about this?” You stepped toward him, prepared to bargain. “Let me make you a suit. If you don’t like it, I’ll just give your Falcon suit an upgrade. Deal?”

He let out a nervous chuckle at your offer. He had nothing to lose, really. Either way, he got upgrades. Still, he looked over at you and decided he couldn’t be the one to snuff the ambitious look in your dark eyes. He shook your hand, smiling softly at the triumphant grin that broke across your face. “Deal.”

“Great!” You were bouncing on your toes when he agreed. You practically raced back to your desk and started shuffling through your sketches and until you found the folder you were searching for. You handed them to Sam, “You can come back tomorrow morning so I can take your measurements. Till then, look through these sketches and tell me what you like.”

“So you’ve been working on this for awhile?” Sam asked, briefly flipping through the many colorful sketches.

“Ever since Tony told me about you.”

He let out a breath of amusement through his nose. Of course it was Tony, trying to set things in motion before Sam was even sure of what he wanted. Still, he knew Tony was trying to help. Sam gestured with the folder. “I’ll take a look.”

“Cool. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

— 

When Same woke up the next day, he found himself immediately thinking about meeting with you later. He felt weird. Nervous, even. Whether it was due to the idea of a new suit — of being Captain America — or seeing you, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he felt like a swarm of butterflies had flown from his stomach to his throat and decided to make a home there.

After stepping out of the shower, which took twenty more minutes than usual, he fumbled around for something to wear. What was he supposed to wear to fitting anyway? Sweats? Jeans? As his mind wandered, he thought of you. Rather, he thought of how you would see him. Maybe I should wear the green shirt, he thought. Girls always seem to like the green shirt.

He paused. Why was he thinking that?

He’d just met you. He knew a total of two facts about you: your name was Y/N and you listened to Four Seasons. That was hardly enough for Sam to be worried about how he looked for you. Yet, there he was, slipping on the dark green shirt that seemed to stretch ever so slightly across his broad chest. He settled on a pair of dark jeans before heading down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

As he stepped into the communal kitchen, Bucky was already sitting at the island, back facing Sam. He had just returned from his daily run, still in his sweatpants and white T-shirt with a cup of coffee in front of him. “There’s still fresh coffee in the pot.” Bucky mumbled into his cup as he flipped to the next page of the newspaper.

“Thanks.” Sam walked past him, slapping the newspaper into Bucky’s face as he walked by. “Why are you reading a newspaper?”

“To keep up with the news. Like a normal person.”

“There are these great new things called cell phones. Most people read the news on those now.” 

“Well, I’m not most people, am I?” Bucky lowered the newspaper and furrowed his brow at the sight of Sam. “What girl are you trying to impress?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Green shirt.”

“What about it?”

“That’s your ‘I want a girl to like me’ shirt.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sam scoffed as he poured a second cup of coffee. “This is just a shirt.”

“The shirt.”

“I’m not having this argument with you.”

“Not much of an argument when you know I’m right.” Bucky smirked. “Who’s the second cup for?”

Sam paused as he realized he’d been caught, but quickly recovered with an eye roll. “For me. So I don’t have to come back and hear your annoying ass voice.”

“Mhm. Tell the girl I said hi.” 

“Screw you.” Sam left the kitchen to the sound Bucky’s chuckles, reluctant to admit that he was right. Moments later, he was waiting for the elevator, tapping his shoe to distract himself from the butterflies that were starting to flutter around again. When the doors slid open, Tony briefly greeted Sam before stopping and pulling off his glasses. “Green shirt?”

Sam stepped past him. “Shut up.”

Every step closer to your workspace had him jittery. Not only was he forced to deal with these unfamiliar feelings for you — if that’s what they were — but he was finally being confronted with his new position. One step closer to replacing Steve. To being Captain America. Yet, he couldn’t deny, he could envision himself in some of the suits you had sketched for him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

When he entered 626, there was loud music playing once again. Another old song he recognized, Van Morrison. He smiled at the thought of you dancing around your space again, singing along to Brown Eyed Girl. It wasn’t so much about him catching you in the act. It was nice, a privilege really, to see the natural you. Eyes closed, arms up, hips swaying. Seeing how you act when you believed no one was watching was like strangely endearing.

And there you were, almost matching his wandering thoughts to a tee. You were setting up for work, once again not noticing Sam’s arrival. You danced across the room as you moved things from place to place. You began to sing out the words as you prepared to lift your tri-fold mirror. Sam broke from the trance and called out your name. You jumped and placed a hand over your heart, laughing quietly when you saw it was only him. “Caught me again.”

“To be fair, you seem pretty easy to catch with the way you get lost in music.” Sam smiled, placing the coffee cups on your desk, far from any of your papers. “Let me get that for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“It’s no problem. Just tell where you want it.”

You stepped away from the mirror, tossing a stray braid over your shoulder with a smile. “Just over there, in front of that pedestal. Thanks.” When he went to lift it, your eyes were drawn to his arms, watching his biceps flex. You caught yourself before you could begin to stare, heat rising to your cheeks as you went to look for your measuring tape.

“Oh, by the way, I brought you a cup of coffee.” Sam mentioned as he set the mirror down. “You know, if you drink it? I didn’t know what you put in it, if anything, so it’s black. Is that okay?”

“That’s perfect, actually.” You sighed happily. “I’ve been trying to replace coffee with loud music in the mornings, hence the dancing.”

“Of course.” He chuckled in response.

“And while I love to blast Morrison at nine in the morning, it’s not the same without a hot cup of coffee.” You took the cup he offered with a smile. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

Sam couldn’t help how his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t mention it.”

You took a sip, “So, you ready to get measured for your new suit?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Great, just step onto the pedestal for me, and relax.”

“Got it.”

It was quiet as you brought the tape measure under his arms and around his chest. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but Sam was sure his nerves had to be radiating out of him. The butterflies were beating against his ribcage as you pulled just tight enough on the tape measure. You took note of the number and bent over to write it down on your notepad. Being so close to you, Sam felt himself tense up as you measured around his waist. You chuckled and looked up at him. “You gotta relax.”

“I’m relaxed.”

“If you don’t loosen up, your new suit is gonna be super tight in all the wrong places.” You joked. “Talking usually helps.”

“About what?”

“Anything.” You shrugged. “Like why are you so opposed to a new suit?”

Almost as if it was a reflex, Sam tensed up again with a nervous and playful chuckle. “Way to get me to relax.”

“I’m just saying.” You laughed, adjusting the tape once again. “It’s not like you’re not qualified. I mean, Steve chose you.”

“Yeah, he did. I wish it were that simple in my mind.” He admitted.

“What’s your mind saying?”

“What isn’t it saying?” Sam rolled his eyes at himself. “It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t want to put that on you. That’s not your job.”

“It’s not.” You agreed with a chuckle. “But that’s not why I asked. You can tell me.”

Again, with a wave of confusion, he felt the tension melt away. He didn’t know why he felt this way, like he could tell you anything and everything. There was a familiarity about you, like you were someone he’d known his entire life despite only meeting twenty hours ago. His father probably would’ve called you an old soul. Maybe in some other lifetime, in another universe, you knew each other. Or maybe, this was just fate coming to pass. Destiny finding, not two halves, but two wholes — putting them together like some sort of experiment to see what would come of it.

“It’s just… how am I supposed to follow after Steve?” He asked. “He has such a huge story, this legacy just hanging over my head. He’s been saving people since before either of us were born. And now here I am, some dude from the Air Force that met Steve completely by accident, about to take up his shield. It just seems unbelievable. Literally.”

You nodded as you measured around his left thigh. “First, let me say that your feelings are completely valid.”

“Why do I feel like you’re about to decimate everything I just said?”

“Not decimate!” You laughed. “Just gently prove wrong.”

“Oh, in that case.” He smiled down at you.

“Shut up.” You snapped him with the tape measure before measuring his other thigh. “Steve is not the only one with a story. I mean, Sam Wilson, the guy who grew up in Harlem, lost his parents and his best friend, and still managed to not give up? The guy Steve Rogers trusted with his life almost immediately after meeting him? The same dude who stole a top secret government project and used it to become a superhero? I think that’s pretty badass.”

Sam considered your words with a small smile. Sure, he may have seemed normal — maybe even mundane — to himself, but the fact is that he had also been through a lot. Just like Steve, Sam realized that his life was no walk in the park. Not many people couldn’t have lived Sam’s life and come out the other side not just okay but strong. He wasn’t Steve Rogers, but that didn’t matter. He was Sam Wilson, and maybe that was okay. 

“You’re good at that.” He commented quietly, looking down at you. He just about caught himself staring at you. The bright smile across your ruby shaded lips, the almost childlike excitement in your eyes. And your eyes — jesus. They were the same color as his, a dark brown. Yet, he couldn’t help but find yours so much more interesting.

“At what?”

“Talking to people.”

“Not everyone. Just...” You shook your head as you stood up straight. There was something indecipherable in his eyes — or maybe you wanted to believe it was. Still, it was there. Admiration, confusion, gratefulness? You weren’t sure. But the intensity of his stare made heat spread across your cheeks one more, and you ducked your head, moving to the side to measure the length of his arm. “Just people like you.”

Minutes later, you finished his measurement and moved on to the designs. You and Sam went through each and every one, noting his likes and dislikes. As time went on, it became very apparent that he was ready to be Captain America. Even if he wasn’t sure yet, you were. Much too soon, every detail of his new suit was planned out, and it was time for Sam to go. 

“If I make this my top priority, I can have your new suit finished in two weeks, tops.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Sam said bashfully. “I’m sure you have other work to do.”

“None as exciting or as important.”

“Now you’re just stroking my ego.” He joked.

You scoffed painfully, “Like you need me to do that.”

You walked beside him, down the hall and to the elevator. He couldn’t help but wish he had some sort of excuse to stay, but leading the Avengers meant a mountain of responsibilities. Still, he wanted to see you again. Not for work and not for designing a new suit. He wanted to get to know you away from the fabric and tape measures. He wanted to find out how someone as sweet and breathtaking as you could even exist in a world filled with such evil left and right. So, he rocked back and forth for a moment before turning to you. 

“And um, Y/N?”

“Yes?”

Sam fully intended to ask you out just then. But he felt like he couldn’t move. A feeling of nervousness he hadn’t gotten since he was a teenager, he was frozen. Staring at you like a deer in headlights, his brain screamed at him: Just ask her, you dumbass! Then, the elevator announced its arrival with a ding and broke his concentration. He cleared his throat and smiled nervously. “Thank you again. You’ve been a huge help.”

You blinked in confusion but stammered out, “Glad to be of service.”

It wasn’t until a few days later that Sam had gained the courage to do what he should’ve done in that moment. 

The city was in danger — some high-level Hydra threat — and the Avengers were needed. Everyone rushed off to suit up, including Sam. That’s when he saw it. You had just finished his suit, and it was more than Sam could’ve ever imagined. A shiny white breastplate with red decals on the torso, blue pants lined with bulletproof material, and to top it off, his signature red wings. That was something he wanted to keep. They reminded him of his humble beginnings, of what made him the man that Steve chose to be Captain America. 

And Captain America he was. 

Sam was aware of all the stares he got as he fought the Hydra agents and ended the crisis with the rest of the team. He knew it would take some getting used to. But he was pretty sure — no, extremely sure that he could do this. He could be the symbol that the public needed. 

He strolled back into the Avengers Complex, handing a handcuffed Hydra agent off to be questioned, when he saw you. You were usually there waiting, ready for feedback on your new toys and inventions. But what Sam said surprised you. 

“Hey Sam,” You started. “Did your new suit fare well? I was already thinking of some modifications based on —“

“Would you like to go out with me this Saturday?”

You blinked, lowering your clipboard in shock. “What?”

“Would you like to have dinner with me on Saturday?” He smiled wide and unabashedly. Then, with no hesitation, you smacked him on the arm with your clipboard, making him bark out a laugh. 

“Took you long enough.”

[kelieah]

surprise (peter parker x stark!reader)

summary: you give peter a gift he would have never expected to receive from you

word count: 2.9k

warnings: angst angst angst, fluff, language

edited: sorry this is super late :(

a/n: hehe, happy bday to the cutest puppy of all! thank you to everyone who helped me come up with ideas for this fic, ily all 3000

masterlist

You and Peter have been dating for almost a year now. You both decided to get together after all the chaos that took place in Europe. You two have been friends for quite a while before that, so the fact that your friendship with Peter flourished into something even better is one of the many reasons why you adore him.

His birthday is tomorrow and you wish to make it as special as it can be. Though you’re not exactly sure how to do that. You know your dad would’ve easily bought something tremendously big and written a cheesy yet short letter with it, and Peter would love it. But if you did the same, it wouldn’t be right. Right?

The night before his birthday, you were in a spiral. You had already planned a surprise party for him at his apartment though that was the least of your worries. You were pacing around your room, unsure if the gifts you’ve been preparing for weeks was enough or if you should add more things. 

Over the years you’ve been friends with him and the months you’ve been dating him, you put together memories and experiences all in a scrapbook. It looked cute and simple on the outside, but once you opened it up, the pages were filled with photos, letters, doodles, and colors. Many references or inside jokes were scattered along the side margins and stickers were put accordingly. You made sure it was perfect, but your gift still felt incomplete to you.

You wanted to be extra. You had to be extra. You remember your mom saying it was something you got from your dad. That man was always one for his dramatics. So you stayed up a bit later than you should’ve, making tiny little paper stars with sweet compliments, affirmations, and advice in them. Then you made as many as you can to fill up a glass jar shaped like R2-D2. 

Though to you, that still wasn’t enough. So you searched and searched and eventually found some vintage Star-Wars comics. Ignoring the fact that they were over a thousand bucks, you bought a dozen or so. His gifts were spread across your bed and you stared at it for what felt like hours.

Is this enough? Is this too much? Will he love it? Will he even like it? Shit.

You remember wanting to sleep and putting it all aside to figure out in the morning. You might’ve forgotten his birthday was the next day with how much you focused on the gifts than the actual date, so you woke up with panic.

You also remembered there was one last thing you wanted to get for Peter but once you glanced at the clock, it was already noon. You overslept.

You feel your heart drop immediately realizing that you weren’t able to text or call Peter a happy birthday or good morning. You assume he must be worried, or hurt or maybe upset? You place your face in your hands and fall into deep thought. Then it hit you, the surprise party is in three hours.

“Morning Friday, read my text messages and voicemails please,” you groggily lean against your bed rest.

“Are you sure, Y/n? You have 243 text messages and 94 voicemails,” Friday informs you. 

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, “Uhm, actually just read the ones from Mom, Peter, Aunt May, and Happy please,” you mutter.

“Understood,” Friday responds, beginning to go through your messages and voicemails, “Mom has messaged you, “Morning honey. Had to go to some meetings. Nanny is leaving at 1, please watch Morgan. I’ll meet you at the party. Could you bring Morgan with you when you go?” Peter has not messaged or called you. Aunt May has messaged you, “Hi dear! I’ve already baked up some cherry pies for the party, when are you going to be over to decorate? By the way, Peter went out and is probably patrolling,” with a smiley face and heart. Happy has messaged you, “Hello, I already ordered the catering, and went over the invite list. Are you up yet?” and he also left the voicemail saying, “Hopefully you’re up by the time you get this. Most of the Avengers are coming, except Thor, the Saviors, no wait, the Guardians of whatever they’re called, and Captain Marvel. I’m sure you could figure out why. Give me a call when you’re up.” Done.”

“Shit,” you whine loudly. You throw yourself out of bed and get to your morning routine. You quickly tidy up your room, take a quick shower, go through your skincare routine and get dressed up. You decided to put on some makeup and wear nicer clothes for once given it’s your boyfriend’s birthday.

You look around your room and inhale deeply, “Just that one last thing,” you remind yourself and walk off. After getting what you need, the nanny informs you that she’s leaving. You walk over to Morgan’s room and knock the door before entering, “Hi princess, you ready for Spider-Man’s birthday?”

She turns around, all dressed up in a pretty floral dress, “Hi sissy, yes! Don’t you mean, your friend boy?” she giggles, running up to you.

You roll your eyes playfully, “You mean boyfriend? Yes, c’mon pretty girl. We’re going to go now.”

An hour or so later, you’re making your way over to Aunt May and Peter’s apartment with Morgan in the backseat. You felt bad for not greeting Peter at all today but you decided to make it a part of the surprise. “He still has a tracker in his suit!?” you burst out in laughter as you stop at a red light.

“Seems like Tony didn’t get rid of it before, I don’t blame him,” Happy mutters. “You got everything right? Morgan, Peter’s gifts, the decorations, and your head?”

“Yes Happy,” you glance into your back seat, checking in on Morgan and seeing the piled clutter. “I feel like Santa Clause with a bunch of gifts and an elf in the backseat,” you chuckle. Morgan gasps and makes a silly expression at you that brings a smile to your face.

“Maybe you are with all the cookies you eat,” he jokes.

“You’re one to talk, anyway where’s Peter now?” you ask as you drive off as soon as the light turns green.

“He’s swinging around, I saw the news. He’s interacting with fans and interviewers, a pretty rare case.”

“True, he must be trying to distract himself. Am I the only one who hasn’t greeted him yet?” you ask, nervously biting on your bottom lip.

“Yep.”

“Shoot, well I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Let’s hope so, I’ll see you and Morgan when you both get here. Gotta help May out with the pies.”

“Sure, the pies,” you tease, causing Happy to roll his eyes and end the call.

You feel your heart stop as Peter suddenly gives you a call. You fight the urge to pick up and shower him in reassurance and love, but ignore for the sake of the surprise. 

Ten to twenty minutes later, you and Morgan arrive at May and Peter’s apartment. You smile and knock on the door, struggling to hold everything in your arms while holding Morgan’s hand.

“Hello hello, you two,” Aunt May opens the door with a bright smile on her face. She lets you in and helps you out, “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, I overslept. I wasn’t sure if my gifts were enough,” you pout and kiss her cheek. 

“That’s okay. Morgan baby, Happy’s in the kitchen.” May smiles and ruffles Morgan’s hair. Morgan hums and hugs her leg, running off.

“These are all your gifts for him? Sweetheart, it’s his birthday not Christmas,” she giggles. “I’m sure he would love anything you get for him, even if it was a cheap lego set.”

“I know I know, it’s just Peter has been through so much. I feel like he deserves the world,” you say bashfully.

“You’re so cute,” she hums and helps you place the many gifts on a certain table. “Remember, you have been through a lot too.”

“Yes, but today’s his day,” you cross your arms. “Anyway, enough chatter. We should decorate now, everyone’s coming over in an hour right?”

“Yep. I also told Peter to swing around for a while and bring Thai food home at 4. He thinks it’s just going to be him, Happy and I. I told him you have work,” she says, grabbing some decorations.

“Okay, perfect. I feel so bad, I haven���t communicated with him since last morning,” you huff and grab some streamers.

“I’m sure he understands, kid gets busy too,” Happy walks over from the kitchen with Morgan trailing behind him. “Man, are these all your gifts for him?” he glances over at a table filled with only your gifts.

“Y-Yes? Why is that such a bad thing,” you groan.

“It’s not, I think,” he glances at May who gives him a look. He puts his hands up in defense and slowly walks back into the kitchen.

“You’re fine, honey. Also, I love your dress, isn’t that?” she tilts her head.

“Yeah, it’s the dress I was wearing on our first date,” you smile to yourself, glancing down at your cherry red dress. It fit perfectly, not too loose or tight and it had pockets. Something you and Peter were always amused by.

After the three of you finish decorating, the guests begin to arrive. Most of the team showed up and you and Peter’s close friends. You let out a sigh of relief and lean on the fire escape railing, looking out at the city. You glance at your watch, “Almost time.”

“Hey there,” you hear from behind you. You look back and see Happy.

“Hey.”

“You doing alright? Peter’s coming soon,” he says and walks next to you, leaning against the railing.

“I know, I just feel like. I did too much? Too less? I’m not sure, I just wanted this day to be perfect for him especially after last year,” you mutter and glance at Happy with teary eyes.

He smiles sadly and pulls you into a hug, “It’s absolutely perfect. You know, Peter isn’t going to be the only one who’s proud.”

“Who else? You?”

“Well, besides me and a bunch of other people. Your dad,” he murmurs.

You feel your heart tighten and you stifle a cry, stuffing your head into his chest. He sighs and hugs you close, “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. Sometimes I feel like he never left, because everyday I see him in you,” he pulls away, holding your shoulder.

You smile softly and nod, “T-Thank you, Happy really,” you sniffle.

“Of course. You should probably tidy up, your makeup’s running,” he takes a step back.

You laugh half-heartedly, “Alright. Could you tell everyone to get in their places?” you begin to walk towards the apartment.

“Got it,” he nods and follows you back inside.

Your heart was racing, everyone wasn’t sure if he was going to show up at the front door or his room. Happy gives the signal that he’s arrived and everyone goes silent. You feel a slight sense of relief when you hear noises from the front door. If he came through his room, he probably wouldn't be that surprised. 

Peter sighs and holds the bag of Thai food in one hand, opening up the door with a key in the other. His senses have been all over the place today and his heart didn’t feel like it was in the right place. He was beyond worried about you, he didn’t even care that it was his birthday. He just wanted to know if you were okay.

He opens the door, calling out for May. “May, I’m home-”

“Surprise!” Everyone appears out from their spots, greeting Peter with bright smiles and confetti. 

Peter instantly jumps and places a hand over his heart. “G-Guys!? Bruce? Scott? Wait, Ned? MJ!?” he stammers, looking all over the place.

“Happy birthday, Spidey,” you come out of your hiding spot, smiling warmly at him.

“Oh my god, Y/n,” he breathes out and rushes over to you, pulling you into a hug. You let out a gasp as he picks you up and spins you around. He places you down and hugs you closer. He pulls away and glances at your dress then at you, “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he sighs, kissing your cheek. 

You blush at his comment and fiddle with your dress. “Thank you,” you smile, hoping he notices your outfit.

“Wait, isn’t this the dress from our first date?” he holds some of your dress and glances at you. You grin and nod, he sighs happily and pulls you back into a hug.

Everyone reacts sweetly until Flash, who was surprisingly invited yells out, “Get a room!” Everyone instantly glares at him and he shrivels up, smiling sheepishly.

You roll your eyes and Peter ignores him, peppering your face with kisses. “I thought you were mad at me or something, or hurt, or just forgot about me,” he rambles, holding your face.

“Well, luckily none of those are the cases. I just wanted to surprise you,” you hum.

“You planned all this?” he gapes, glancing around his apartment once again.

“Yes, but I had a lot of help,” you hum.

“Friend boy!” Morgan squeals and rushes over, hugging you and Peter’s legs. “Happy birthday,” she beams.

Peter’s eyes soften and his bends down, “Thank you cutie,” he grins.

She squeals and hugs him, “Can you be my friend boy?”

You gasp dramatically, “Morgan, he’s my friend boy.”

“I don’t know babe, Morgan looks amazing in her little princess dress,” he picks up Morgan, holding her close.

You pout and cross your arms. Morgan bubbles happily and wraps her tiny arms around his neck.

To say Peter was overwhelmed with happiness was an understatement. He felt relief, appreciation, love and support. This whole time he was worrying that he had done something wrong when really nothing was wrong and everyone was just hiding and being quiet for his surprise.

After catching up with some of the Avengers and friends and eating dinner all together, it was time for cake and presents.

You couldn’t express how unbelievably happy and emotional you felt for Peter as he stood in front of his cake as everyone sang Happy Birthday to him. His face was filled with pure joy and you wish that could stay on his face forever, because to you, that’s what he deserves and more.

Not much later present time begins and Peter starts to open up everyone’s gifts. You told him to open yours last. You absolutely adored this boy and your heart swelled up every time he held a genuine smile to his face as he opened his gifts. He got up, thanked and hugged every single person who had got him a gift. You truly are smitten for him.

“Who are all these gifts from?” Peter asks, glancing at the huge piles of gifts left. “I thought I had opened everyone’s except Y/n’s already,” he chuckles. 

“Those are all mine,” you walk over, sitting next to him.

“Oh, flower,” he mutters softly and pouts out his bottom lip. “You didn’t-”

“Ah, please open them and shut your mouth,” you cross your arms. Everyone laughs in amusement at your sass and watches as Peter begins to open up the gifts.

Peter first opens up the comic books and jars filled with little letters, “Oh my god, you didn’t,” he whimpers happily. “This must’ve cost a fortune,” he holds up the comic books.

“What? All I did was write on little pieces of paper and-”

“Babe.”

“I know! I’m joking, on to the next please,” you coo and kiss his cheek. 

He huffs and unravels the next gift, his eyes beginning to glisten with tears. He slowly flips through the pages of the beautiful scrap book you made for him. He comes across a page where it was you, your dad and him in multiple photos. He lets tears slip form his eyes and glances at you with softened eyes, “Y/n,” he mutters.

“Larb you,” you kiss his cheek. He places the scrapbook aside and pulls you into a hug, kissing your forehead.

“I larb you more,” he sighs. 

“I thought that was our thing,” May pouts, causing everyone to chuckle at her comment.

“It can be our thing too,” Peter teases. “Is that all?” he sniffles, glancing back at you.

“One more thing,” you smile cheekily.

“Oh man,” he sighs, placing his forehead on your shoulder. “I don’t know if I can take it.”

“Morgan,” you look up, running your hands through Peter’s curls. She grins and grabs the last small box, bringing it to Peter.

He looks up and smiles, silently thanking her. “You want to help me open it?” he asks her. She nods and sits on his lap, helping him pull away the ribbon. As they both do so, the box falls and reveals the gift your mom once gifted your dad, then to you. Peter covers his mouth, “No, I can’t-”

“Peter,” you shake your head.

He sniffs once again, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks as he glances at the glass case with your dad’s arc reactor inside. He glances down at the words surrounding the arc reactor, “Proof that Tony Stark has a Heart,” he sobs.

You glance up seeing that your mom smiles sadly, wiping away some tears. “Happy birthday,” you repeat, kissing his cheek.

“Why are you giving this to me?” he stammers, hugging Morgan back as she hugs him close, nuzzling her head into his neck.

“Mom, Morgan and I already have many parts of dad with us. You don’t have as much and we all know how much he meant to you. You really are a part of our family too Peter, and I felt like you deserved this. Now you can see that his heart also belongs with you,” you smile warmly, cupping his cheek and wiping his tears away.

Everyone watches the heart-touching moment unravel, a sad yet understanding smile appearing on their faces. “I love you. I love all of you, and you,” he pokes Morgan’s nose, causing her to giggle.

“We love you too Peter,” everyone chimes in.

“I love you more,” you whisper, kissing his nose.

“I love you 3000,” Morgan pouts, playing with his shirt. You and Peter look at each other with sad smiles.

“I love you 3000 too.”

tagging some mutuals who might be interested! @ariistotles @cosmicholland @petersholland @tonguetiedholland @theamazingtomholland @tombrina @spideyyeet @toms-gf @peterspideysstuff @chloecreatesfictions @mcdwcman @hollandsrecs @the-salty-asian @fallinfortom @hermayone @allegra-writes @waitimcomingtoo @futuremrspcy @dreamofaprilsblog @t-lostinmendes @musicalkeys @icyhollands @beverlyparkerr​ @marvelhoesworld​