#it's time to clear out a few more things from the ye old inbox before i finally get to reblog more memes and restart the whole process!

[cagesings]

they do my girl so dirty

[nancypullen]

Doofus

I hesitate to post about this because I don't know how it ends, but it's amusing enough to share. On Tuesday morning I had a job interview. Yes, I, the self-proclaimed lady of leisure, applied for a job. Mostly because I'm absolutely rotting in this town, but also because it's at the public library. The library - my home away from home, my safe place, my tribe! Every decade of my life, the local library or my school library played an important role. That's why the advertised position seemed like a sign from the universe. Maybe this is how I make Denton feel like home. Maybe this is how I finally meet wonderful people. Maybe this is how I avoid snapping and becoming an old swamp witch with thirty-seven cats. Actually, that last bit is appealing to me. Anywayyyy, I sent in my resume and letters of reference before leaving for Ireland and left it up to fate. Last week I received an email inviting me to a Zoom interview, which I accepted. I was informed that I'd be meeting online with the "hiring panel". Yikes. Facing a panel felt weighty. What questions would a panel ask? Will they think I'm too old? Will they drill me on the Dewey Decimal System? Spoiler alert: I've had it memorized since elementary school. Where do I look. at their faces or at the camera? What if there's a technical glitch and I can't join the meeting? What if they hate me??? A million more questions buzzed around in my brain. So I did what I always do and asked myself, "What's the worst that can happen? What will you do if that happens?" That nearly always takes 99% of the pressure out of a situation for me. I either realize that the issue isn't nearly as big as I'm making it, or if it is big, it's still not the end of the world. Also, once you ask and answer those questions, you've formed at least a loose plan of how to deal with the worst outcome. Once you have a plan in place, nothing seems as daunting. I recognized that I'm perfectly qualified for the position, but if they go a different direction then that's exactly what's meant to happen. It wouldn't impact my family, no one will suffer, and I'd just have to find another outlet for my time and talents. Hardly a life-altering tragedy. That's why I woke up Tuesday morning, did my little 30 minute walk, and got ready for my interview with a lighter heart. The Zoom invitation was starred in my inbox, so I pulled it up and had it on my screen. I positioned my laptop in a spot with plenty of natural light so I wouldn't look like a creeper in the shadows during the meeting. I felt good. BUT... you knew there'd be a "but", I may have chosen the wrong outfit. I don't really own any serious business attire, there's not a blazer to be found in my closet. Most libraries are fairly casual, as long as you're neat and covered, you're fine. I decided to just choose a flattering color, so I'd look more alive and less...sixty. As the clock ticked down to the scheduled meeting time I sat down, cleared my throat, reminded myself who I am, and logged on. The little wheel was spinning and a message popped up alerting the host that I was present. After a few minutes faces started popping up in the Brady Bunch style squares and my brain immediately started playing that old Sesame Street song...

One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn't belong. Can you tell which thing is not like the others, before I finish my song?

Every person on the meeting appeared to be dressed in dark, serious colors (maybe it was just the lighting?) and it looked like a congressional hearing. I looked like a bag of cotton candy. I wore pink. I might as well have put a unicorn puppet on my hand and given my answers that way. This is what the meeting looked like.

Obviously those aren't the real people, those are stock photos, but you get the idea. I felt goofy. I think I may have talked too much and too fast. I answered every question honestly, and I was able to talk about my strengths (that's always hard for me), but I felt like I rambled a bit. You're shocked, right? In all honesty, they were a very nice panel and seemed open and friendly. The questions were thought-provoking and relevant, and the information they shared was interesting and encouraging. I did receive an email a day later scheduling an in-person interview, so they didn't hold my fashion choices against me. I should start searching my closet for the right black or navy outfit for that interview, but I'm leaning toward turquoise. I gotta' be me. *IF* I'm offered a position, they should probably know what they're getting. I may be pink and fluffy, but I'm also capable and nice. Who knows what will come of this, I may get to spend my days in book heaven or I may have to keep looking for my spot in Denton. Either way I'll be just fine, cotton candy doesn't rot. Stay safe, stay well, be yourself. XOXO, Nancy

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Mmm idk if you are taking writing requests, but if you have the time and inclination, would you write something woth Android!Peter trying to explain to Arthur how having his body transplanted into a robobod affects feelings on gender and body issue and things? While Arthur listens supportively but doesn’t really understand. Maybe gives extremely dorky robot specific compliments?

My inbox is always open to requests! (it's just a matter of me remembering to do them after I check to see what they are, haha).

Sure, I can give this a shot! I figure that before the robo upgrade, Peter was trans, yes? Cause trans Peter is always welcomed here. :D

Warning: body dysphoria

On with the fic!

--

Peter swirled his finger around the rim of his glass, surprised that the damn thing could make a clear ringing sound. Shit, this was real crystal, what kinda fancy ass bar kept real crystal glasses?

Oh, right, Arthur's does. Cause Arthur's bar is just that fucking classy, just like him.

"Is something on your mind, Peter?" Arthur asked, suddenly in front of him. "Typically by this point I am in the middle of preparing your fifth glass, but you seem to be simply nursing your second. Is it not to your liking? I made it exactly the way you like it best."

"Nah." Peter sat up straighter, only to promptly slump on his arms on the counter. "Ain't the drink, it's delicious. It's just... brain stuff."

"Brain stuff?" Arthur frowned. "Oh, shall I call your emergency maintenance contact? Best to have any issues your neurolinks looked as as soon as possible, just in case of permanent damage to the remaining soft tissue links they have in your cranial cavity."

Peter just stared at him, trying to process what the fuck was just said to him. "You've been readin' up on the organic mind uploading thing they did for me?"

"I was curious to see how the trial runs were going, as you are one of the few people actually implanted in your robotic body, it is best to keep an eye on any changes that could be damaging."

"That's... weirdly sweet of you. But no, not that kinda brain stuff. More like my thoughts, ya know? Been thinkin' about my old body. About this one, and how things are so... different."

Arthur nodded. "That is to be expected. After all, you went from organic flesh, bones, and fluids to mechanical parts, often made with plastics, rubbers, metals, and different chemicals and oils to keep you running. Although you are currently programmed to fuel yourself using organic substances, though you tend to lean more towards relying on ethanol-like substances-"

Peter held up a hand to stop him. "No, no, not... not that. Kinda, not really. More like... okay, how much do you know of me before I went all go-go-gadget hot goth android?"

The bartender stared back at him, in that polite way he does. "I am aware of many things about your life, at least anything that is easily accessible through The Network. Which, by the way, you need to finish setting up."

"Eh."

"Anything specific that you are trying to refer to?"

"My... medical stuff. The changes I went through a few years back. Before this."

Arthur's face went blank, that creepy, almost factory-setting kind of face he did when he processed information or was looking something up. He blinked and looked normal again. "Your transition."

"Yeah." Peter picked up his glass and took a long drink from it, placing the empty glass back down. It was quickly taken and refilled in just a matter of seconds. "Thanks. But yeah, my... my transition. Big deal at the time, I was so happy to run around in a body that felt more right for me, you know? Spent a long time not sure why I didn't feel so hot in my skin, lookin' in the mirror made me happy and not happy.

Was all... mixed up, couldn't figure it out. Then I had to do more research, actually talk to some people in the queer community cause I just thought this was me having conflicts with my sexuality. Which, honestly, ain't a problem. Bisexual whore, I've got a pin of that, love it. But when I finally figured out the issue I was having, my brain felt better, but not quite. Too many problems, have to fix 'em. Hard to do that when people didn't take you seriously."

He downed this drink and Arthur quickly repaired it. "So, did the name change, started small, felt too scared to go all out at once. Felt like it might make me mentally sick, too much too soon, too big of a change, throwing me all over the place mentally and emotionally! Clothes weren't a problem, always dressed androgynous, but put a bit more effort into looking like a guy. A guy in goth make up, but still."

Peter looked at the drink, and decided to sip it this time. "Show was starting, was able to get away with a lot of stuff for a while. Finally made the money and had the insurance to get the surgery, the hormone treatment. I was me! I was Peter! You wanna know what the first thing I did when I finally healed after surgery?"

"What did you do?"

"I went back to my show, took a hiatus to heal, and when I showed up on stage I ripped off my coat and presented to the world my lack of tits! It was awesome! I was feelin' so much better, I mean, sometimes there's still the dark thoughts about my identity, here and there, but that's from spendin' too much time overthinkin' things and not being on my pills."

He paused. "Fuck, maybe that's why I'm havin' thoughts again, don't need my pills anymore. Did you know that it seems mental problems can be transferred over to android bodies?"

"No, I was not aware of this. Shall I make a note?"

"Sure, why not." Peter laughed. "Look at that, they fucked up a perfectly good android. He's got anxiety over his gender. Again!"

Arthur stared at him once more. "But you are classified as a male-presenting android."

"Yeah, cause I specifically had that set up in my contract, the body is based on my own body type and shape too. If no one knows of the mechanical bits and bobs under my clothes, I look exactly as I did when I was a meat puppet."

He watched Arthur make a face at this comment towards his former body. "Then what appears to be the problem?" Arthur asked, deciding to address that instead.

"It's... remember when I said I was scared of doin' everything too fast, too soon? Well, having my brain and personality put into an android body feels like that. This is me, this is me, I made those choices, but I still can't... I still can't comprehend that? You know what I mean? I look in the mirror and I see my face, but is this really my body? It's like how I used to look in mirrors when I was younger and it feels weird and off, but it's me, I know this is me."

There was silence between them and Arthur tapped a finger on the counter, as if in thought. "If it is any conciliation, Peter, I do not think that your body has any issues. Granted, the skin grafts that you wanted for it were not finished in the period of time that you had to have your mind uploaded into it and most of your robotic shell is visible, you still look very charming for an android."

Peter snorted loudly. "That's not... that's not the problem."

"I do not see why it should be a problem. Your body is functional, and very up to date! A strong model that runs much faster, both electronically and physically, than most other androids right now. You were sculpted to exact specifications to your requests, including making you look a few years younger, such as when you first commissioned your new body."

The newer android ran a hand through his hair, letting out a startled laugh. "Arthur, dude, that's not... first off, wow, I'm flattered, I think? I can't tell if you're trying to stroke my ego or trying to flirt with me in some strange android way. But that's not my issue here. I'm hot, yeah, I know, I'm a current model of android, but that's not the problem here."

"Ah. I apologize."

"Nah, don't, it's nice that you're trying to cheer me up."

"Has it helped at all, or shall I keep trying to find ways to do so?"

Peter wasn't sure, he still felt like shit, but he knew that was gonna be a constant, was before the upgrade, but he gave Arthur a crooked smile. "It helped, thanks for tryin'."

Arthur clearly didn't understand the problem, which Peter couldn't blame him. He had always been an android, he never experienced the horrors of being human, or dealing with dysphoria and the like. Still, it was sweet that the guy tried anyway, in his own, strange Arthur way.

"How about we change the topic, wanna make me another crazy drink to see if it'll make my glow bits light up like the Vegas Strip?"

--

Gonna be honest, I have no idea if we established if Peter's upgrade was a digital copy of his mind being uploaded into an android, or if it's that sorta weird organic kinda thing of melding the brain computer parts and just... cyberman that shit up? I left it sorta in the middle, there might be some head tofu in Peter's metal skull, haha.

[social-muffin]

Hello! Hope you're having a great day. Here are a few of those emoji's from that I wanted to ask! 🥺✨️🎯🎶🌞👀🥰💌

Okay, so... yeah. That's more than a few, lol. Have fun!!!!

Thank you for the ask my dear! I hope you're having a wonderful day too!! 💞

No readmore cause this didn't turn out that super long :3

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

Oh this is a tough one cause Hurt/comfort is one of my big weaknesses. So I'm gonna just explain two interactions!

I catch the biggest feels when a more reserved character can't contain their emotions anymore and has a somewhat public breakdown. Made even better if someone cares enough to try to hide them/hug them!

I also catch the feels when misunderstandings are cleared up in a shouting match. It doesn't even have to be between two people that get along. Just let people be so emotional that they forget to control their volume! 😭💜

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

I'm really proud of my old writing, so this is a compliment for my new/not posted writing! It sparks a lot of joy when I read through my notes, even if I'm not ready to post anything yet. ;u;

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

I feel like yes, people have guessed major plot points before, but it's only happened a few times? And I can't recall any of the times when it did happen. It also happens a lit taht someone will suggest something happening and I fall in live with the idea and then I just. Steal ideas from comments with credit to the commenter in the next chapter. 👉👈🥺

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

I do listen to things when I write! I can't write in absolute silence. But the music/video I listen to varies a lot. I mostly look for music compilation type things, so I will for sure have music for like an hour at least. Or I listen to chemistry videos while I write, though I don't know why that one works lmao

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

I can write anytime, but my most emotional writing happens at around 3 am usually. Which is not conducive to having a day job. 😔 Especially since I need 8 hours of sleep to function! 😧

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Hibari has taken over my brain and demands I write for him. For one of the up and coming fics I'll try to write is Teen!Hibari's POV of the future arc! It'll be a mega self indulgent thing with a lot of headcanons and quite a few OCs, just because. Where the hell did he go and what did he do inbetween his arrival and the end of the future arc???

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

I am so open to receiving questions I made a whole ask blog specifically about my stories!! So if you have random questions, here's the place to as them! @ask-skull-and-muffin

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

I feel that, for a while now, I'm being a bit of a glass canon about comments. Sometimes they are super motivating and get me to write 5000 words in a day! And other times a single comment can burn out my entire passion for a whole fic... It's pretty confusing to my soul.

I also have.... A shame I want to admit to here. 😔 A year or so ago I abruptly had the worst depressive episode of my life and I couldn't make myself reply to/answer comments as they came in at all for a good few months. So now there are 450 comments in my inbox and I think that's one of my biggest issues when it comes to getting back into writing properly... 😭

I'm so sorry to all my peoples that crave comments and don't get nearly enough! I wish I could give you some of mine, I swear! Feels like comments are a little wasted on me right now...

[cellophaine]

Lingered Affection (Chapter III)

Chapter I, Chapter II

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 5081

Series Summary: You thought breaking up with Matt was the right thing to do. For his sake and yours. Life went on as you navigated through it with the lingered love and affection you still had for each other, neither of you could let go.

Chapter Warnings: Bloody situation, medical procedure involving needle.

Author's Note: I felt like I messed this chapter up BAD. REAL BAD. I hope you will somewhat enjoy it. I'll go cry in the corner.

As always, any likes, comments, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Taglist: @juniebugg <3

Gif Credit

A few days had passed, the weather was still as cold as ever, and you still missed Matt. It was something that you anticipated, but still, it should be easier by now. Out of sight, out of mind, right? But, unfortunately, that was not the case with him. This gut-wrenching pain was still here, and it only got stronger the longer you parted from him. He called less and less as the days went by, his last voicemail sitting opened in your inbox.

"I won't call or message you anymore. I understand that you want to be alone and you want some time to yourself. But, just, please, with all of my heart and being, know that I care about you so much. I will do anything if that means you will talk to me — even if to say you hate me. I can handle that. The silence hurts worse. Please, we can meet up and talk. I miss you."

Why did it have to be this hard? You knew you could never tell him that you hate him or anything remotely close. You still loved him, after all. But you couldn't tell him that, face to face, as he would know right away that it was the truth, and all of this was for nothing. You delved your own hands into your gaping, bleeding mortal wound and couldn't scream out for help, for you knew that it was useless.

You found yourself on the streets of New York, again, walking towards Balsley Park with purpose. What was the purpose? You thought you might have an idea. You were going to find out anyway.

"Hey, Foggy."

He perked up at his name being called. He stood up, getting ready to welcome you, before being interrupted midway as an old lady closed by threw bird seeds on the ground, caused an influx of pigeons to flew past him in the most impolite way. Foggy turned to look at the lady and muttered the most sarcastic 'thank you' he could come up with. You chuckled, raised an eyebrow at him. Then, he came to stand before you and asked:

"Do you want to go to a cafe before I get bird feces all over me? I'm pretty sure that woman can control those evil creatures."

"Sure. Let's go."

It wasn't long before both of you were seated across from each other in a small and cozy coffee shop nearby. You took a sip of your hot tea nervously while Foggy studied you. Finally, after waiting for you to put the mug down, he spoke up:

"Did something happen between you and Matt?"

There it was. The question that you dreaded. You had a clear understanding that this would have come sooner or later. Still, you were hoping that you didn't have to be the one who told Foggy or Karen the news because they were his friends, not yours. However, they welcomed you with open arms, and you had come to cherish them dearly, despite knowing that it was all Matt's doing.

"Yes." You sighed.

Foggy looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue.

"We broke up."

Your voice cracked a little at the end. You cleared your throat, trying to brush it off. You didn't want to say it out loud, didn't want to talk about it. Hadn't you tortured yourself enough already? Bottling it all up inside, not letting anything slip out. Because you were afraid, you couldn't get all the regrets and the aches back in once it got out. Wasn't it better to be in denial and pretend everything was okay?

Foggy's eyes widen, seemed to be taken aback by what you admitted.

"You guys seemed fine. I mean, more than fine. As a matter of fact, very happy."

"Well, we weren't perfect, Foggy."

He huffed out a breath in disbelief.

"There's no such thing as perfect."

He called your name softly, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Is it because of his other ... you know, duty? His ... nightly activities?"

He raised his brows meaningfully at every pause. Shaking your head, you abruptly stopped the motion. Wasn't that ... a part of all the reasons why? Not because of him engaging in those ventures, putting himself in danger, beating up criminals, but because of how inadequate you were in those nights when he needed you the most. You could deal with bruises, swellings, and shallow wounds. You could stitch him up quite nicely if he needed you to, but what about collapsed lungs or internal bleeding or something so much worse? Claire was a lifesaver when it came to those situations. But she was no longer around. You weren't equipped to handle that. Wouldn't it be better to be able to assist him somewhat when he was out there?

"I just feel like he could do better, you know? Our time ran out, and it was in our best interests to take separate paths."

Foggy rolled his eyes at you.

"That's bullshit. Everyone knows that's bullshit."

"Believe what you want, Foggy. It's the truth."

You shrugged nonchalantly, hoping to fool him.

"You want to know how he's been? He's had more injuries, like he just randomly threw himself into the middle of the traffic. As if he's collecting bruises for fun. He's closed up and wouldn't tell us what's going on with him. He's been going to Fogwell's gym a lot, too, beating the hell out of the punching bags, as if he had some sorts of personal vengeance with them."

Your heart seized at the mention of Matt sustaining even more harm. His reckless tendencies were something that you were familiar with. You understood and accepted it, but it didn't mean that it was easy for you to watch him going out every night, throwing himself at danger with little regard to his life. To hear that his recklessness had only increased, this sinking feeling inside of you only felt heavier, like it was dragging you down, determined to drown you.

You let out a shaky breath, tried to keep your voice even.

"I'm just a liability, Foggy. He'll understand what I did for him was for his own sake, eventually."

Sitting up straighter to keep your shoulders from shagging, you decided to tell Foggy how you felt. Because you were so tired of convincing yourself that if you tried hard enough, you just might be deserving of Matt.

"A goodbye was all I could offer him. Swipe the plate clean so that he could start over with someone else, someone better."

Foggy reached out for your hand from across the table, squeezing it kindly, a sympathetic expression on his face.

"You and I both know that's not the truth. Matt is not one to look for the best person. If anything, he wants to be the best person he can be for you."

Your heart lurched at the words. He continued.

"I care about you. You are my friend too, whether you like it or not. Even if you and Matt don't get back together."

You couldn't help the surprised expression at his words. You had assumed that when you had gone out of Matt's life for good, Foggy would be gone too.

"Thanks, Foggy. I appreciate that." You squeezed his hand back.

"So, is there any way that I can do to get you to talk to him?"

"No, I'm sorry. It's my decision. And I need to go through with it."

He nodded solemnly, accepting your final resolution.

"I won't interfere more than I already have. Just know that it wouldn't hurt to talk to him. I respect your decision either way."

"Thank you, Foggy. I appreciate that."

Leaving the coffee shop, you walked back to your apartment. You turned the conversation you had with Foggy over and over in your head. You were so used to leaving people and being abandoned yourself, that you accepted once people realize they could do better, you would be left in the dust, like a forgotten toy under a kid's bed. You were, without a doubt, believed in what you told Foggy: Matt would move on, he'd be better, eventually, just not with you.

Back in your place, you sat down in front of your desk, with the window facing you. Snow started falling again, twirling beautifully and leisurely in the air, like they had all the time in the world. You thought about Matt's apartment, filled with lights filtering through the big windows, and the time you spent with him at the place. You were happy, the little happiness you allowed yourself to enjoy after what felt like a long time. But you also allowed yourself to be greedy, to the point you didn't want to let go. Now, it turned back and attacked you relentlessly, even though there was nothing else but ash and ruins left in your heart.

You flipped your beloved sketchbook open to the page that you had run your fingers over the edges so many times. A detailed pencil drawing of a face concealed by a black mask, leaving only the mouth and the jawline in the open, standing out on the material. You thought back when your gnawing suspicion slowly reached its breaking point, to find something unexpected on the other side.

For a few weeks after the attack, you tried your best to recall the masked stranger's features in the hope of expressing your gratitude if you had the chance to come across him. You drew him as the memories of him came back to you, hazy at first, but the fog started to clear out, allowing you to see him better. At first, the sketches were vague, and now, with more details, you were almost sure that he looked like a certain lawyer you knew. You were conflicted with yourself. It simply couldn't be. Matt was blind. How was he able to "take care" of your attacker? The guy was massive. There were so many coincidences, ones that you couldn't explain, but the similarity was so apparent that you couldn't ignore it.

You had plenty of chances to observe Matt since he stopped by the cafe nearly every weekday, sometimes on the weekend, even on your days off. May teased you with the possibility of Matt hoping to see you, specifically, but you rejected the silly notion immediately. He couldn't have visited just to see you, could he? Sure, you two shared lengthy conversations. Eventually, you found yourself enjoying his company and, even more, his flirtatious remarks. You grew to look forward to seeing him whenever you worked. You should have recognized the red flag since getting close to people and letting them get close to you was something you wanted to avoid, but you walked forth and ignored it. It was harmless, right? He must have come for the coffee. The teasing, flirtatious comments he made, seemingly just for you, was only a bonus for him.

You looked at the newest sketch you made of the man in the mask when the door chimed. The uncertain tap of a cane pulled a smile on your face.

"Matt! Here for your usual coffee?"

He chuckled.

"Sorry, not today. Foggy called in sick today, and I was supposed to meet up with a client over lunch, but they bailed on me. So I sat there alone for 45 minutes until they finally called and asked to be rescheduled."

You frowned.

"I'm sorry that they wasted your time. So, what brings you here?"

"I wanted to see you. Well, in my case, to hear your voice."

Your face flushed red at his unexpected confession. You were used to his harmless teasing, but there was something earnest laced between the words. You stammered for what to say in return. Before you could come up with a complete sentence, May walked to where you stood and spoke out for you.

"Oh! Hey, isn't it your lunchtime already? It's your lucky day, Matt. So get her out of here!"

You turned your head, glaring at May, mouth open agape with betrayal. She gave you a not-so-subtle wink, and you just wanted to dive off a cliff. You looked at Matt, noticed the slight rose tint on his cheeks and ears. He gave you a sheepish grin and said at the same time as you scrambled to save your face.

"You don't have to do that. I don't want to take your time."

"I would love to get lunch with you."

The words hung in the air between you. You thought your face couldn't get hotter, but it did. Matt smiled bashfully, extending a hand in your general direction.

"Shall we?"

You hesitated. May made a shooing hand motion at you. Finally, you gave in, taking off the apron you were wearing. After getting your wallet from the backroom, you walked towards Matt and offered him your arm.

"Alright. Let's go."

You ignored the fluttering of your heartbeat when his hand brushed over your bare arm, settled itself comfortably in a gentle grasp on your upper arm. You tilted your head slightly to look at him better. With how close you were, you could see the faint facial hair and the way his mouth quirked up slightly at the corner, showing the barest hint of teeth. You didn't miss the ghost of a black eye and a small cut beneath it. At this angle, a pang of familiarity hit you again — the image of the stranger in the mask fleeting in your head. You had to make sense of this.

You two sat in a booth in a restaurant, with the scattered patrons talking in a just-right volume, lounging around. Your food hadn't come yet. Matt broke the silence.

"You said you're an artist, right?"

"Yes. That's my main job."

"How does that go for you?"

"Pretty decent, I would say. I can afford the sky-high rent here and some. And I love doing it."

You smiled fondly at that.

"I wish I could see your works. I bet they are exquisite."

You thought about it for a second.

"You can, in a way. I mean, I can describe them to you. Or you can use your hands to touch my stuff and feel the texture."

His brows rose high, his eyes widen. He choked on the sip of water he was taking, coughing into his suit sleeve. The realization of what you'd just said dawned on you; you blushed and stammered.

"I ... I mean ... not like that. I mean, like in a non-sexual way. No, I mean, you can touch my artwork any way you like. It's your experience; you can do whatever. Can you even sexually feel something? Of course, when it comes to intercourse, but I mean touching an object sexually. You know what, I'm going to shut up."

His smile broadened as you struggled to dig yourself out of the situation. You groaned, covering your face with your hands, looking at him through your fingers.

"This is going very well, isn't it?"

He let out an amused laugh.

"That was very hard to hear, and if I have to be honest, that wasn't a good save at all."

You exhaled through your mouth, dropping your lower arms on the table.

"I will never be able to live this down. So I must leave the country. Maybe I can catch a train to Canada."

Matt reached out with his hand, hesitantly looking for yours. You moved your hand. He deftly felt for your wrist, gave it a gentle squeeze. You internally told your heart to keep it down because you were sure everyone in this place could hear it, including Matt. Why were you so nervous?

"It's alright. This can stay between us. I'd miss you terribly if you skipped town."

You rolled your eyes at that, even though he couldn't see it.

"Yeah, right. You'd miss the coffee I make for you more."

"I'm serious. I would miss you. I enjoy your presence and our conversations. Do you?"

That was unexpected. You had a million different scenarios in your head about how this lunch would go, but you didn't predict this. You decided to tell him the truth. There was no harm, right?

"I do."

Two simple words, filled with earnestness. Matt beamed at your response; the smile lines around his eyes imprinted on his face, and you found yourself wanting to run your fingers over them. So, to distract you from your dangerous thoughts, you decided to use this opportunity to act on your suspicion.

"I feel like we've met before, way before you started coming to the shop. You look very familiar."

Matt's smile dropped slightly. Then, he adjusted his position and said:

"Maybe I just have one of those faces, you know? The typical face you see in some people."

"No, that's not it. I find your facial features incredibly familiar, especially with your lips and your jawline."

"Oh really? I didn't know that you took your time staring at my lips."

He grinned, one eyebrow raised playfully.

Fuck fuck fuck. You kept digging yourself in holes today, didn't you? What was up with you?

You cleared your throat loudly in an attempt to save your face, quickly added:

"I often memorize people's faces. It's a way for me to gather inspiration, study people's face proportions and all. I find it interesting. I'm an artist, after all."

"Are you saying I'm not the only one you stare intensely at? Now my feelings are hurt."

He laughed lightheartedly, followed by your giggles. You didn't know what it was about Matt that made you feel at ease. You wondered if it was the loneliness that got to you, or if it was you simply liking Matt for being himself?

Matt picked up the conversation.

"Alright. If you spent so much time watching me, I would love to hear your read on me."

"First of all, I didn't watch you. I observed. And second of all, are you serious?"

He shrugged, motioned with his hand, encouraged you.

"Yeah. Why not? I want to hear what you have."

This is your chance. To see if the man sitting across from you was your saviour that night.

"Okay. Stop me if I go too far. If you absolutely must know what I think of you, here goes ..."

You felt his stare from behind his red glasses. You took a deep breath and started:

"You're blind, but you're not helpless or powerless. Sometimes, I forget that you can't see with the way you move around. It's almost like an act. I feel like you're hiding something, with all the bruises on your face and knuckles."

He went silent. You stopped yourself.

"I'm so sorry. Did I go too far?"

"No, no, that's alright. Foggy said that as well. It's strange having two different people telling me the same thing. For the bruises, I'm just clumsy. I knock over stuff sometimes. I'm ... blind, after all."

You mused over the confession. Were you going crazy, or did he contradict himself there? It was so apparent that it might as well laughed at you. Was it possible that Matt and the masked man were the same people? Your thought was interrupted as the waiter put down two plates of steaming food.

"I hope I didn't freak you out or offend you."

Your voice was small, full of guilt. You glanced out the window, tried not to look at him. You felt something warm engulfed your hand. You looked down to see Matt had settled his hand over yours, and gave it a light grip, full of comfort.

The familiar crush and warmth rushed through you, clearing the last of the haze, and you knew you had your answer.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. No offence taken. It takes a lot more to upset me. There's nothing I'd like more for you to be comfortable with me."

You smiled. The clarity you had was liberating and confusing at the same time. Matt Murdock being some sort of hero or vigilante. Maybe he did this because he enjoyed beating someone up. How would you know? More important of all, how was that possible? You ended up with more questions than answers, but at least, you had the truth.

The lunch went by quicker than you thought. The food was great, and Matt was even better. By the time both of you had to go back, you found yourself wanting to stay there in the restaurant with him, even if it was for only a moment longer. Matt walked you back to the cafe, saying goodbye, not before reassuring you that he had a great time and hoped you two could do something like this soon. The way his hand lingered on your arm just a moment too long tinted your face red. You had a soft smile on your face for the rest of the day, and May took every chance to tease you about it. You wondered if you would get a chance to see him in his other identity again. Lucky for you, you didn't have to wait for long.

It was another hot summer night, two weeks after your brunch with Matt. It was 8 PM, the sky started darkening quickly. Since May had to attend a wedding over the weekend, she allowed you to close early since your last brush with near death. So you wrapped things up quickly. Closing the side door behind, you hurried to the main street until a dark figure appeared in front of you, making you shrieked, pulling out the thick paper cutting knife you stored in your pocket. The shadow slumped down onto the ground, holding their hands up in surrender with great effort. You tentatively stepped closer, inspecting the dark figure, eyes roved over the black mask, the black attire and some drops of blood trailing out of the dark material.

"It's you!"

You exclaimed. The knife in your hand shook less. Finally, the silhouette spoke out, their voice gravelly and desperate:

"Please, I need help."

Helping the stranger into the backroom of the cafe was no easy feat, but you didn't dare to stop to take a breath. Still, you managed to sneak in a comment:

"What you need is help from the hospital, not help from me, buddy."

"No ... no hospital."

"Fine. It's your funeral."

After laying him down on the couch, you frantically searched for the medical kit. Pulling it out from the top of the cupboard, you settled quickly beside him to find his shirt already pulled up past his pectorals, revealing a toned and scarred body; his bloody and bruised abs rose and fell rapidly to his rough breathing. Well, it would be a dead body soon enough if you wouldn't stop staring and get to work.

You used a small towel to clean away some of the blood, to take a better look at his wound. A knife wound on his stomach, not too deep, thank God, the stitching up should be easy enough.

"Got ... shot. Grazed ... my arm ... hurt. "

Shit. You carefully rolled up his sleeve. Just like he said, the bullet only grazed his arm but still made quite the damage. It cut his skin open, the blood seeping freely through the edges. You grabbed a clean cloth, carefully pressed on the wound on his arm. He grunted.

"Hold onto to that. I'll take care of the cut on your stomach first."

He held his hand over the cloth. You cleaned more blood from his abdomen, then ran to the kitchen, washing your hands and upper arms as thoroughly as you could, and came back with a pair of clean gloves. After putting them on, you started preparing the needle and the thread. Once that was done with, you turned to him, keeping your voice as calm as you could manage:

"I'm going to stitch you up now. Do you need a painkiller or sedation?"

He shook his head quickly, muttered some breathy words.

"No ... you have ... sedation?"

You hesitated.

"... nooo. But I can try knocking you out or something."

He chuckled; the vibration made his body stiffen instantly.

"No ... just ... go for it."

Bracing yourself, you lined the edges of the wound together and started your work. Your hands shook lightly, but you managed to keep the stitches somewhat even, and the cut sealed shut. You blew out a relieved breath, secured the gash with sterilized gauze and started preparing for the bullet scrape on his arm. He had stayed very still, made it easier and faster for you to go through with the whole procedure quickly. Every so often, an agonizing grunt would escape his gritted teeth, making you falter for a brief moment.

"You either have insanely high pain tolerance, or you do this every other day because you're handling this very well. For a person who was bleeding from two injuries with others in God knows what places."

Finishing up with the stitches on his arm, you sealed it close with a clean bandage. He sat up cautiously, releasing a hiss of pain. You helped him sit up fully, leaned on the couch, and grabbed a new warm towel to clean up the rest of the blood on his body.

One hand holding his arm, the other made gentle swipes at the blood that was drying up; you assessed him. His rough breathing had even out. Some droplets of sweat raced down from his jaw to his neck, and you outstretched your hand toward them. He startled at the contact; the free hand came up and snatched your wrist.

"Hey, relax. I'm just cleaning the sweat off. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have fixed you up."

He let go of your wrist.

"Sorry. Habits."

You snorted, muttered 'of course' lowly. You softly dabbed the sweat off his neck. He made a pleasant throaty sound like he was enjoying your touch. You two fell into the comfortable silence until you decided that there was no use in not talking about the obvious, to you at least.

"Did you come here tonight on purpose? For help, I mean."

"What do you mean?"

His head cocked slightly to the side, looking at you as if he could see you through the mask.

"Did you know I was here and that I would be willing to help you ..."

"... Matt Murdock?"

You let his name fall quietly, like a final prayer, connecting two sides of him and shattering the illusion he put up with you. He took in a sharp breath; his whole body tensed up.

"How did you know?"

You huffed out a laugh in disbelief.

"Seriously? It's not that hard connecting the dots, although the concussion did a number on me, and it took quite a bit for me to remember everything from that night. I had my suspicion about you being the masked man since you're blind, or supposed to be, and I still don't know if you're really blind or not, but it was the only explanation."

You didn't tell him, but it was hard not to take notice when his injuries went beyond the busted lips, the scarlet bruises on his cheeks and around his eyes. He could school his expression to be impassive, but you noticed the slight wince he made when he moved his body anyway.

"So, are you actually blind? Or you can see the whole time? Do you have a superpower?" You added.

Matt sighed in defeat. There was no use in hiding anymore. He reached up to push the mask off his face, eyes trained forward.

"No, I am legally blind. When I was 9, I came in contact with a radioactive chemical, which blinded me. But it enhanced my other senses. I can feel and hear things in a wide range."

"So technically, you can somewhat see things around you?"

"Yes, I can only see an outline. Not many details. I can hear more than I can see."

You fell into silence once more. Matt's lips pressed into each other, contemplating something. He wouldn't face you; his fingers fidgeted with the mask.

"Are you upset? That I didn't tell you about ... this?"

He gestured to himself.

Were you upset? You didn't feel like it. You didn't feel like you had the right to be mad at him for not telling you. What was the relationship between the two of you? You talked; you had lunch once; you flirted, occasionally. Who were you to him anyway? So that was what you told him.

"I'm not mad. I don't think I should be because I had no right to. I'm not your friend, Matt. I'm just ... an acquaintance to you, at best."

"Acquaintance? I consider you to be my friend."

Matt responded, a puzzled look on his face.

'But friends don't do what we're doing. Friend doesn't feel what I'm starting to feel for you.'

You kept the thought to yourself. Then, clearing your throat, you asked him.

"Did you know that I would help you, even if I didn't know who you were?"

"Yes, I had no doubt."

He answered with no hesitation. It tugged at your heartstring the fact that he trusted you would take care of a stranger. You wanted to reach for him, caress his face, brush your thumb over the corner of his eyes, over the curves of his lips. You found yourself wanting to violate the code you had set for yourself; the thought was dangerous, bearing red in your vision. You pushed it aside to allow yourself this one small moment.

You took hold of his hand instead, silently swiping your thumb over his bruised and bloody knuckles. He squeezed your fingers, putting his other hand atop of yours. You wished you could soothe the pain, erase the marks that engraved on his body. You knew there was so much more to Matt, but what you hadn't known then was the pain lurking underneath the surface, the perpetuate conflict he had with himself, always threatened to swallow him whole. It didn't matter, nonetheless. The time would pass as your understanding of him grew, welcomed you in the eye of the storm, his storm. Yet, you felt peaceful and at home.

[ohworm-writes]

hello! :) so u know how kuon has a crush on sniper right ? can i get an imagine where reader is jealous bc of kuon, cuz u know, her crush on sniper etc etc (sorry i'm just vv lazy at typing), and how sniper reacts to it ?? can u make it like they're still friends but have mutual feelings for each other as they hang out as a unit, and they get together in the end bc sum confessions happened !! sorry if u don't get it i'm rlly bad at explaining but thank u in advance if u do this !! <33

High-Rise Invasion/Tenkuu Shinpan: Sniper Mask Boyfriend Imagine

high-rise invasion/tenkuu shinpan masterlist

‼ Jealous Reader (over Kuon) + Make up + Confession ‼

Featuring: Sniper Mask, Yuri Honjo, Mayuko Nise (implied), Kuon Shinzaki (implied)

Warnings: frustrated Y/n, crushes, jealousy

a/n - good GODS this has been in my inbox for a while and i’m so so so sorry for not posting it way sooner! hopefully you see this anon, and i hope you enjoy!

content below the cut!

you had developed a crush on the man in the mask ever since you first joined Yuri's little group

you couldn't really tell what it was the drew you to him

he was silent, dismissive, and he was a Mask for goodness sake!

but none of that deterred you from the attraction you garnered for him

you always found yourself trying to interact with him

whether it was offering your help with something that he was doing, or simply keeping him company

most times he brushed you off, walking away and not giving you an answer

other times he silently accepted your offer

those times the two of you would sit in comfortable silence, just enjoying one another's presence

you cherish moments like these for a very specific reason

Kuon

now you had nothing against the girl!

... at first

she seemed nice enough, always eager to help, and full of ignorant innocence

but then you realized her (very obvious) crush on the masked man

the way she got flustered around him so easily

the way she clung to him like a lost child

at first, you thought maybe she saw him as a parental figure, seeing how young she was

but that thought was (very) quickly thrown to the wind when you saw her wrapped up in his jacket, blushing like the schoolgirl she was and giggling to herself

so what she liked him? you liked him too, maybe the two of you could bond over that!

that's what you told yourself

of course, you never acted on it

it was simple, you were too jealous to do so

you noticed how Sniper Mask welcomed all her little instances without a care in the world

not giving a damn when she clung to him

or batting an eye at her obvious fangirling

it pissed you off

naturally, you began to avoid Kuon

and Sniper Mask simultaneously

you avoided the two of them whenever you could

when you saw them walking towards you, you kept to the opposite side of the wall and walked quickly past them

when you all usually ate together, you picked up your food and ate outside

you were simply, undeniably jealous

you didn't think Sniper Mask cared about it, not that you could tell under his mask

but in actuality, he was confused as to why you avoided him all of the sudden

so, he opted to ask you one day

You shut the door to the dining room rather aggressively as you exited, but you couldn't care less. You let your body slump against the adjacent wall, your plate of food resting on your lap.

Today had been... exhausting, to say the least. Kuon was on her usual actions of pining over 'Mr. Mask', crossing your way a few more times than you would have liked. During your meeting earlier with her and Yuri, your fellow mouthless masked allies, she had the gall to talk on and on about how much she adored him.

You hated it.

You looked down at your food, a scowl finding its place on your features. You glared at it, pushing the pieces around with your fork, not noticing a door open and close right in front of you.

"Jesus, if that food was alive, it would be 6 feet under with the glare you're giving it." You hear a gruff voice call from in front of you. A voice you would rather not be hearing right now.

You continue to move around the food, staying silent as the man awkwardly stands in front of you, unsure of what to do with himself in this situation. "Is it, uh, okay if I sit here?" He asks, which finally makes you look up.

He had a plate of food between his own hands, his jacket gone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His mask covered his face, per usual, but it seemed much more lopsided than usual.

You give him a shrug in response, looking back down at your food again. He stands there for a moment, before taking a seat right next to you, your knees almost touching. "You don't mind if I eat with you, right?"

His question makes your eye twitch. Was he seriously trying to be all buddy-buddy with you now? You shrugged again, not giving him as much as a single word.

You heard him sigh, setting his food to the side before he speaks again. "Alright, what's going on?" He asks, making your body tense up. "Nothing." You shoot back, scowling.

"What happened to the Y/n that stayed up and talked about their life for hours? What happened to the Y/n that told me horrible jokes to try and get a reaction out of me? Huh? What happened to them?"

That broke you.

You were angry, furious even. Was he trying to blame this on you? You didn't do anything wrong! If it wasn't for Kuon, maybe you would still be that person! If it wasn't for her, you could still be friends with him! You could be-

"What?" You hear him say softly, much softer than his previous tone. Shit, did you say that out loud? "Yeah, you did." He says again, looking at you with a concerned expression on his face, not that you could tell.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lash out. I just- I’ve been-" You stutter, trying to find the right words. He laughs at that, actually laughs at it.

His laugh is hearty, warm, almost inviting you to laugh along with him. You don't, but he quickly composes himself, making your head turn towards him.

"Why on Earth were you jealous of Kuon?" He asks honestly, watching at how the invisible gears turn in your head, searching for an answer. You sigh heavily, running a hand across your face as you shake your hands while you speak.

"I just- she’s always there with you. She's latched onto you 24/7! I can't get 5 minutes alone with you before she comes barging in." You rant, frustration evident in your shaky voice.

"I just wanted to be your friend, be close with you. I can never do that because she's-she's there." You groan, hugging yourself with your arms. "I sound like a selfish idiot now, huh?"

You laugh dryly, frowning. He sighs, but a smile plays at his lips. "Y/n." He begins, his hand resting you your forearm. "You know she would never purposefully do that. She just, she has an infatuation with me I guess."

He sighs dramatically, earning a chuckle from you. "But." He tells you, watching your eyes as he speaks. "That doesn't mean I didn't miss you."

Your heart skips a beat at his comment, face flushing softly. "Kuon also misses you. You might not have caught onto it, but she looks up to you." He explains, smiling at how your expression softens, mumbling a soft 'she does?' to him.

He nods, laughing once more. "Come on, have dinner with the rest of us. We can't have you sitting alone out here anymore." You roll your eyes, but take him up on his word. He leads you back to the other, Kuon frantically waving over to the two of you the second you pass through the door.

"Y/n! Come sit with me!" She yells excitedly. Maybe you were wrong about her.

after that interaction, the three of you were all on much better terms

yes, kuon still had her habits, but he toned them WAY down after you explained to her how it made you feel

she teased the hell out of you for it too

you, of course, shrugged it off

but you never told her that she was wrong

you were happy to be on good terms with Sniper Mask again

he made a lot more time for you

your old interactions coming back at full force, and some new ones

he loved to take you on little walks on the high rises

he also made it a point to teach you how to shoot his rifle

which was terrifying, but exhilarating

you fell for him harder and harder every day

one day, you ranted your feelings out to Kuon

and while she wasn't surprised, it warmed her heart to see how much you loved him

yes, she crushed on him too, but that didn't take away from the obvious connection she saw between the two of you

unbeknownst to you, Sniper Mask had come to her about the same things

his usually cold demeanor broke whenever he talked with you

he genuinely enjoyed your company, he wanted more of it

and then some

so, she put a plan together

operation "get Mr. Mask and Y/n together" is a go!

she took it all very seriously

making sure you guys get paired together for scouting missions? that's all her

convincing Sniper Mask to get you little gifts and things? of course

overall, the best wing-woman you could ask for

however, the one thing she didn't have anything to do with was his confession to you

he could have used her help with it, that much was clear

but he wanted to tell you how he felt, no help necessary

Sniper Mask had told you earlier this morning to meet you at his room when the sunset before he rushed to get out of your vicinity like you were a plague. Granted, it hurt your feelings, but you couldn't stand him up.

You knocked gently on the wooden door, stepping back and waiting patiently for it to open. After about a minute, while you had heard nothing, you went to knock again.

Your efforts were proved useless as the door swung open hastily, revealing a disheveled Sniper Mask. His usual blazer and fedora were long forgotten, his hair messy, strands pointing this way and that. His mask sat lopsided on his face, still covering it fully.

"H-hey Y/n." He mumbled out, you offered him a wave as he awkwardly shuffled to the side, opening the door as an incentive for you to come in. You stepped inside, walking to the center of the room as you heard him close the door behind you.

You turned to speak to him again, but those thoughts were cast aside as you felt his hands settle onto your cheeks and his lips molding with yours. It startled you, you're eyes open in shock as you looked at him. His mask was completely off, thrown somewhere in the room, but he didn't seem to have a care in the world.

You quickly melted into the kiss, bringing your hands up to gently hold onto his forearms. He hummed, taking a moment before pulling away, leaving the two of you to gasp for air as he rested his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes to meet his, full of adoration.

"I, uh, I think I'm in love with you?" It was more of a question, but you took it happily. You laughed softly, your fingers rubbing small circles in his forearms.

"Was that what that was?"

[professorrw]

Hello my darling girl, I see the u have u request open so i want to know if u could write something about the life of Tom Riddle x wife reader with his child and how he treats them and maybe how is they child growing up and going to hogwarts from 1 first year to the end of 7 year if that make sense, I love u writing already 🤍🤍🤍

Pairing: female reader x Tom Riddle

Requested: Yes

Warnings: just fluff

A/N: I've made the decision that I won't be doing MHA fanfiction so my requests aren't open for that fandom anymore but they are open for Stranger Things instead! Requests open, taglist open, inbox open! Please like, comment, and reblog!

Tom Riddle, Y/N Riddle, and Charles Riddle. The perfect family. Just like you and Tom, your son Charles was brilliant. At a young age he showed signs of magic and it thrilled both you and your husband. Charles was yours and Tom’s first priority. When Charles turned eleven he was invited to Hogwarts, just like his parents.

You, Tom, and Charles were on the way to King’s Cross Station.

“Are you ready Charles?” you asked.

“Yes mum. I’ve packed my trunks and double checked that everything is in there,” the eleven year old responded. Even at a young age he spoke very maturely, mainly because he was raised with you and Tom talking like that. Nevertheless, he didn’t miss out on his childhood. You and Tom both made sure that he had friends and kids his age to play with. Once Charles was six you three moved to a house closer to other wizards so he could be immersed in that culture.

He was indeed bright and all your neighbors could tell. Everyone expected great things out of him, but you made sure the pressure wasn’t too much for your son. Even if he wasn’t as smart as you or Tom you would still love him and you wanted to make sure he knew.

“You’ve grown so much Charles,” Tom said.

“He has, hasn’t he? I feel as though it was just yesterday when you were a little tot running around.” You smiled at the memory of your son when he was younger. You absolutely loved being a mother and you had no regrets in having a child when you were nineteen. Now that Charles was eleven you and Tom were thirty. Tom no longer had the same mischievous attitude but had grown sharper in wit.

“I’m only eleven you know. Technically I’m still a kid,” Charles piped up from the back seat.

You turned around and patted his knee. “Of course you are darling. But you’ll always be my little tot.”

He groaned, “Mum please stop calling me that.”

You laughed, “Alright fine. I guess you’re too grown up to be my tot.”

Tom drove the rest of the way to King’s Cross Station and you three got out of the car. Charles pushed his cart through the crowds of people all the way to Platform 9 ¾.

You turned to your son, “You need to back up and then run as fast as you can at the wall right here.” You motion to the wall that gets you to the train. Charles already knew about the wall because he had asked you many questions about Hogwarts and your time there.

Your son took multiple steps back and ran at full force with his cart through the wall with you and Tom following suit. You made it through and arrived on the platform. There before you was the crowded area filled with young and old wizards. The whole platform was abuzz with life and excitement. All those young children, new and returning, ready for the new school year.

Charles bit his lip and looked warily around at all the people. He fidgeted with his buggy and tapped his shoe against the ground. You briefly let out a little laugh when you recognized your son’s nervousness, which wasn’t far from your own on the first day.

You crouch down to Charles’ level and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be nervous darling. You’re going to love it, I promise.”

Charles let go of his cart and wrapped his arms around your neck. “I love you,” he mumbled into your neck.

You smiled, “I love you too tot.”

Tom stood beside the two of you with a warm smile on his face. He was proud to be Charles’ father and proud to be your husband. Tom loved his son like nothing before. And the way you were with Charles, especially when he was younger, just made him love you even more. His role of father suited him, and you found that Tom really softened up when it came to your child.

You would often find Tom being involved in what Charles wanted to do. He was quick to teach him all about magic and the history of it.

Charles slipped out of your arms and moved on to his dad. Tom hugged his son and placed a kiss on top of his head. As they stood next to each other you noticed how similar Charles and Tom really looked. When he was first born it was hard to tell who he would resemble, but as the years passed it was clear that it would be Tom.

Charles begrudgingly left his father’s embrace and started toward the train. Tom wrapped an arm around your waist as you both watched your son board the Hogwarts Express. You leaned your head against your husband’s shoulder. A few moments later Charles’ head popped up in a window. He waved and you blew him a kiss.

“Don’t forget to write!” you said.

The train whistled and then slowly rolled out of the station. You and all the other parents stood around the platform in silence. Even though you were extremely proud of Charles for getting into Hogwarts it was still sad to see him go. For the next few months you and Tom would be on your own.

Just a few days later you received a letter from Charles. He informed you that he was a Slytherin, which you both expected, and he had made a friend. You read the letter with your hand over your heart. For some reason tears were in your eyes. Charles was a blessing and you knew that you were going to miss him until he returned.

Six years later you found yourself on Platform 9 ¾ once again. Charles was now seventeen and a spitting image of his father. He had surpassed your expectations, being just as smart, if not smarter than you and Tom. He played Quidditch and was the head boy for Slytherin.

You looked at your now grown son who was chatting with his friends across the platform. It seemed like it was just yesterday that you had hugged your jittery son before he left for his first year at Hogwarts.

The train whistled for everyone to board and Charles ran over to you and Tom. He bent down and kissed your cheek, “Bye mum.”

He smiled at Tom and embraced him. “Bye dad.”

Tom rubbed his son’s back and closed his eyes. A single tear rolled down your husband’s cheek but he was quick to wipe it off. You however had caught it. The pair pulled apart and as they shared soft smiles Charles turned around and boarded the train.

Just as you had done every year you blew him a kiss when his head peaked out of the window. After a few minutes the train was gone from view and the chugging of the engine was out of earshot. You laced your fingers with Tom’s and sighed.

“He’s grown up so fast,” you said.

“I know. And he’s turned out so wonderful thanks to you,” Tom replied. He leaned over and kissed the top of your head.

You turned to him, “It’s not all my doing. You’re an amazing father Tom.”

“Thank you darling.”

You and Tom walked back to your car with your hands intertwined and your minds full of memories.

[kirishimas-manly-eyeliner]

➶ am i doing this correctly?

THE FIRST TIME YOU HOLD HANDS

pairings: izuku midoriya, denki kaminari, eijiro kirishima, hitoshi shinsou x gn!reader

warnings: none, besides my favoritism for shinsou BAHHAHA + a minor injury because a certain someone in this was being wayyy too in love and ACTIVATED HIS QUIRK

IZUKU MIDORIYA !! - wikihow.com how to hold someone’s hand

yes, he took notes on how to hold someone’s hand. yes, he studied which fingers go in-between which and how firmly he had to hold it. but once it was actually time, as usual, all the information he learned blanked and he was left trying to figure out what a finger was.

right, uh... the index finger goes-- what even is an index finger?? oh shoot oh shoot oh shoot “and- auasyfsh!”

...indeed. yes. he did. he just activated his quirk. and busted his own finger trying to get his hands to cooperate out of pure panic while trying to hold yours.

“izuku- are you- are you okay?”

his hands scrambled into his pockets “y..-yep! i’m good! just fine, haha..”

what was he supposed to say?? “oh yeah, no, i just busted my own hand because i was having an existential life crisis on how to hold hands. haha! i may be stupid.” (fin.)

POOR BABY DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO?? he starts freaking out until you brush beside him to let him know that he's doing his best and you love him for it. and of course, his entire face turns red and he gives a nervous smile.

but after trying to hold in the whimpers of pain that his hand is literally pulsing, you give a concerned smile and ask him, “uh, deku? do you maybe want to go back home and treat your hand?”

he gave a nervous nod as you two headed back.

and even though you couldn’t go to the movies, the two of you spent the rest of the night curled up in front of the tv with buckets of ice cream.

DENKI KAMINARI !! - shocked in ways more than one.

his quirk activates. good lord. when your hands intertwine with his, denki’s entire face just turns RED and he thinks, “here we go. not gonna mess this up. not gonna mess this up.” and slips his hands into yours, but as you’re talking, all he can think about is his lips pressing against yours as he pulls you to his chest and kiss your stupidly beautiful face.

why did you have to be so- so- perfect?

“kaminari, how about we stop at the store over there?”

your voice snaps him out of his thoughts as a sudden jolt crawls up your spine.

did he just-  ????

by the look on kaminari’s face, you don’t even have to ask. luckily, it’s not bad enough that it hurt you, it was just a slight shock. and his face. is authentic, genuine, pure embarrassment. and yes, he will try to play it off. yes, he is currently trying to play it cool but honestly, it isn’t working. it’s kind of hard to shrug it off when his hand is literally sparking. “i’m sorry!! uhm, uh, are you okay? i hope you’re doing. are you hurt? i hope you’re not h-” he’s panicking.

you laugh and his heart does a mini relay-race, “i’m not hurt, kaminari.”

he releases a sigh of relief and nods, “good.” after that, it’s plain silence.

denki scratches the back of his neck after a few more walks, and it’s clear that you’re trying your best not to laugh at his failed attempt. swallowing his pride, he whispers nervously, "could we.. try the hand holding thing again?" you laugh. "I thought you'd never ask."

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA !! - 10/10, would try again.

he is an absolute MASTER at the art of hand-holding. and yes, to him, it is so important that he calls it an art. he is AMAZING at it. he should take a MAJOR at it, because holy cow, the way his hand perfectly intertwines with yours just,,, yes.

it’s the way his eyes look at you with all of the love in the world, it’s the way he communicates with them and knows exactly what you’re thinking at a single glance. it’s the fact that he chose the best time of the day and waited another week to see your face because he heard the sunset was most beautiful at exactly this time. it’s how he casually keeps on walking with his hands resting perfectly in yours.

“you look lovely today, baby!” 

your cheeks heat up at the sudden compliment, “where did that come from, eijiro?”

he shrugs casually as his thumb brushes over yours. “everywhere! i love the way you walk. i don’t know, it’s just-” he clears his throat, trying to cover his embarrassment. “it’s kind of... a mix of everything?”

you laugh softly. “i’m glad. you don’t look so bad yourself, mr. red riot.”

he smiles proudly and raises his eyebrows in delight, “thank you, baby. now, shall we?” he motions towards an old swingset at the park as another laugh bubbles out of your chest.

“i’d love to, eijiro.”

HITOSHI SHINSOU !! - your hands,,, look like,, hands,,,-

hitoshi shinsou is no love expert. in fact, he’s nowhere close to knowing a single thing about love. all he knows is that when people are in love, they look at each other’s eyes and do romance-y things and kiss and whatnot. but besides that, he doesn’t know much about it. which doesn’t explain to him ANYTHING of why his stomach is rolling over the very idea of holding your hand.

he wants to say something nice about your hands as you two walk across the park, the smell of different pastries filling your nose as you walk along the crisp nght air. okay, say this: can i hold your hand? they look quite lonely.

shinsou practically feels like a genius at the idea and he nearly chuckles to himself in pure delight. he opens his mouth to say something, except a fly buzzes next to his ear and he yelps, “hands!”

your eyes immediately dart to him, “uh,” you laugh. “hitoshi, are you good?”

embarrassment fills his chest as he nods. there’s no way i can ruin it more than i already have,, right? “your hands,” he starts, trying to lower his voice to cover up his sudden outburst from before. 

your cheeks heat up, subconciously pretending to not know a compliment was coming ahead.

“your hands,,, look like-” come on. “hands.”

shinsou almost triumphantly laughs before he realizes what he just said. he pinches his nose, pausing and sighs, long and dragged out.

you laugh slightly at that, but you outstretch your hands anyway. “yes, my beautiful lavender boy. they do look like hands, and they’re quite heavy. care to hold them?”

it was shinsou’s turn to blush. “absolutely.”

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hey hey heyyy!! feel free to pop into my inbox if you want a part two! this is also your daily reminder to go drink some water and eat something the best you can. no matter what you’ve done today, i am so proud of you for trying your best. thank you for being here!!

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[dourpeep]

IT WAS 2AM WHEN I SENT THAT SO I HELD BACK MY SIMPING FOR COLLEGE ALBEDO A LITTLE. tried not to send all my brainrot so I didn't just send a wall of text into your inbox LOL. Some others I thought of were:

- Mona giving astrology forecasts and compatibility readings in this au and Albedo may have asked her about the two of you

- Going to botanical gardens or museums with Albedo but for some reason it feels like a date even when it didn't intent to be. You tug on his sleeve now and then when you see something he might be interested in or even when it's something that excites you, and Albedo can't help but have a soft look in his eyes that he can share this moment with you! Somehow it results in the two of you holding hands - just so neither of you stray from each other of course - and eventually, intertwined fingers. You hear someone say that the two of you seem like a cute couple and you know Albedo heard it too, but neither of you say anything. You feel his hand squeeze yours a little tighter and respond in kind. The two of you are too embarrassed to look at each other but can't help the smiles on your faces.

- Lending Albedo some of your favourite books for pleasure reading and you've left tiny tabs on lines that you like. Perhaps this is before Albedo realizes his feelings so when he reads particularly romantic lines, he wonders if this is how he feels about you. Or did you mark these pages because you feel this way about someone? His stomach is in knots to the thought that you may be intrested in someone that isn't him and he settles for it just being prose.

WHAT YOU WROTE WAS SO CUTE AAA. THANK YOU FOR SIMPING FOR COLLEGE BEDO WITH ME!!

Tugging his hand and not letting go omg . . . you tend to just intertwine pinkies or play with his fingers absent-mindedly that Albedo becomes so accustomed to it so he starts to offer you his hands without a second thought.

WAIT. I gasped at Albedo being a cuddler. He's a little delirious when he first wakes up but you're so comfy that he hugs you a little tighter, asking if you've slept well. You try to reply while worrying about whether or not he can feel your heart thrumming in your chest.

What if Klee is staying with Albedo one night and the three of you fall asleep cuddled up together. Alice comes back early in the morning before any of you are awake and takes a picture. She sends it to Albedo later and he sets it as his phone's wallpaper.

Albedo staring at your lips winded me, thank you.

YES TO THE SWEATERS. I bet Albedo would have the softest and coziest sweaters too! Imagine it being a little cold out and you see Albedo across campus so you bound over to him and give him a hug. You nuzzle into him and mumble out a little 'hello' and say he's warm. You feel his laugh rumble through his chest while he greets you back, wrapping his arms around you

And I LOVE ALL YOUR HEADCANONS! I believe I found your blog around the time you posted Albedo's snort headcanon and it was too much for my heart!! I held tight to that headcanon and never let go lol. I also thought the science + college headcanons you had of him were really nice despite not being necessarily romantic!

Side note: I looked up that lobster fact and that's so cool!!

The Lobster Fact(tm) is my go-to ice breaker and it always fails. I'd imagine it's normally the same w/ Bedo OTL so sad...not many wish to know about potential lobster immortality.

I'm glad that you love the headcanons though!! I enjoy writing for Albedo so so much as you can tell ehe

That being said--if it makes you more comfy to send stuff in a few bursts of asks, I don't mind :DD I'll answer them as usual nodnod

OKIE DOKIE

-

"...Mona, yes?"

"Ah, I was expecting you to come around sooner or later, Kreideprinz."

Really, Albedo didn't mean to stumble upon the Astronomy major, but for some reason the thought of you has been on his mind and the campus' observatory just so happened to be on the way. With the meager hope that...maybe he'd find some sort of answer (in what, he wasn't really sure himself), there she was.

Luckily, she knew just what he was there for.

The moment that she twirls her hand with a wave, telling him that there isn't anything to worry about, the apprehension creeping within his chest at the thought of seeing you next-

disappeared.

It's not often that he turns to less orthodox methods, but he wouldn't lie. Knowing that--at least in Mona's opinion (which tended to be correct, anyway)--the two of you were undoubtly compatible? Something about how your constellations were intertwined...

In fact, Albedo turns a little theory around in his mind. Though based in old folktales, the idea that you gravitate towards those who are made of the very same stardust as yourself, suddenly made sense.

Or, perhaps he was just being hopeful.

-

Little does he know that you most definitely asked Mona about the same thing earlier that day.

-

AHHHHH BUT OF COURSE-

Any of those kinds of places--Botanical Gardens, Art Museums, Aquariums, Zoos, Museums in general--Any place where you're able to utterly lose yourself in your surroundings and look around in awe, really, are your go-to date outing destination!

Usually, it's just the two of you, maybe with Sucrose or Timaeus if it's for a particular class, as well as the occasional Klee in tow whenever Alice is busy with work.

But in this case, fingers interlocked, it's just the two of you on a impromptu trip to the art museum downtown after seeing a promotional banner about a new exhibit. Once inside, you rush along, Albedo trailing close behind with a light squeeze of your hand. The large area used for temporary exhibits isn't far from the entrance, so it's not long until you skid to a stop.

All along the walls are incredibly detailed oil paintings, the thin layered strokes glistening in the light. Albedo takes a moment to whisper to you about how oil paint works.

Due to the thinness of the paint and it's transparency, light passes through every carefully placed stroke, allowing for a unique sort of depth that isn't achievable with other painting media. You smile, the artificial light of the art exhibit making your features glow and Albedo can't help but wonder if you are like those paintings.

So complex, so carefully created in an image perfected with time. Your eyes search his and you say his name and Albedo clears his throat when he realizes he's been staring.

"Do you like this one?"

Ah, you must've assumed he took a liking to this particular painting.

His eyes shift back to it, taking in the sight of the balance of color, the composition, then back to you. He only stares a second longer before nodding.

Whether or not you realize the view he likes is you is something that he dwells on as you both make your way to the next painting.

-

If you had a penny for every time that someone comments on the way you compliment each other, you'd probably be able to pay off your tuition for next semester.

Okay, perhaps not, but the idea still stands.

You're only just at the end of the art exhibit when the security guard wishes the two of you a lovely date. Something about how young love is something to be treasured, something about how the two of you already seem so natural and comfortable in each other's presence.

Before you can mumble out an explanation, Albedo just squeezes your hand, gentle as always, and smiles.

It's a compliment, right? For someone to see how close you are, even if you really are just friends, is a good thing.

Ignoring the warmth that spreads over your cheeks, you smile and turn your head away shyly. Squeezing his hand back, the thought of what it'd be like if you were together crosses your mind.

-

Just as you lend books to him, he lends books to you. Surprisingly, this time it just so happens to be a poetry book--something that you expressed interest in a week ago but ended up not getting.

Within, he's left colorful notes with his neat, slanted writing.

Short discussions (presumably questions to himself) of what the poet must've been thinking, different possible scenarios, are peppered throughout the book. But one just so happens to catch your eye. Rather than a question, it's a statement. Simple, short, and...sweet.

'You carry the aura of the stars.'

The little yellow sticky note pasted beneath a love poem to the night sky stands out. Suppressing a flutter in your chest, you continue reading through the poem book with a few giggles at Albedo's musings until you find a note with most of the words crossed out.

It's entirely unlike him, the way that the dark ink scribbled over the words, making them illegible.

But at the bottom was a continued attempt--one you presume he was satisfied with by the way it lay pristine on the colorful paper.

'You look. I fail to speak.

Your mind, so brilliant as it is I wish to see behind To further appreciate the one I love.

I can only hope one day you shall let me in, So for now I wait patiently by your side.'

Who could he have written this for? You can't help but stare at the poetic attempt, knowing full well that Albedo seldom does something without meaning.

The book closes and you tuck it back on the shelf to ask about later.

-

AAAAA YESYESYESYES I LOVE THAT CUDDLE PILE W/ ALBEDO AND KLEE

Even though Albedo's a grade A student and certified genius (he's adamant in his denial, shaking his head and mumbling about how he just studies hard), he's not entirely a stickler for rules.

Well, that is, Aunt Alice's suggestion that Klee goes to bed by 9.

Instead, the three of you settle in the common room of Albedo's place in a bundle of pillows and blankets at the demands of a pillow fort.

The tv blinks on accompanied by the near silent click of the remote.

"What should we watch?"

Klee always ends up picking the movie. This time, she wants Alice in Wonderland, commenting on how the bunny is like her best friend Dodoco and the blonde girl on screen is named after mommy. Albedo doesn't bother correcting her, even though he knows quite well that dear, sweet Dodoco is a chinchilla.

Between sips of juice and a few mouthfuls of popcorn, the three of you fall asleep, Klee curled up besides you and Albedo's arm draped over you both.

Even when the sun is up in the sky, you sleep peacefully.

So, naturally, Aunt Alice has a spare key just in case something like this happens.

Immediately she's met with the sweetest view--her two kids (she's practically adopted Albedo as her own at this point) and--

Hiding a cheeky smile behind her hand, Alice can't help but sneak a little closer when she spies the way that you and Albedo somehow gravitated closer, his face buried in your hair and yours resting against his collar. Wedged between you with tousled hair, Klee snoozes peacefully.

She snaps a picture, followed by another, and another, and a fourth for good measures before meandering into the kitchen to prep something for breakfast.

Might as well let her three favorite people enjoy the comfort of sleep for a little longer...

You wake up the moment that Klee wiggles her way out of the blankets, nuzzling against the warmth radiating under your cheek.

Nice and cozy. Smells nice...wait.

Eyes fluttering open, you're met with a familiar birthmark and the nearly gone scent of Albedo's cologne.

You nearly pull away until the arm, now wrapped around your waist, pulls you closer accompanied by a satisfied sigh. Ah. You shut your eyes tight when you realize that Albedo's going to be asleep for at least another thirty minutes, resigning to your fate gladly.

Of course, Alice takes the opportunity to snap a few more pictures when you've finally fallen back asleep.

-

YES ALSO ALSO

Speaking of Albedo and sweaters and warm and also the just mentioned cologne. A little fun tidbit--not only are you familiar with the scent of his cologne because he wears it often, but it (in this au) is actually one that you picked out some time back. You probably were at the store together smelling some of the perfumes when you came across one that you were pleasantly surprised by.

Specifically, something that's lightly floral, a little warm but sweet with a hint of earthiness.

The pros? It fits Albedo perfectly! It also kinda sticks well and his place faintly smells of it.

The cons?? Well...you're embarrassed to say that hugging Albedo tends to drag on a little longer than anticipated because it's just such a comforting scent-

Not because you associate it with Albedo or anything-

Ehe

Man I really went to town again, didn't I?? Well, I'm glad that you enjoy my headcanons :DDD Albedo just seems like such a sweet person??? Like endearing in a way that just is...him. If that makes sense.

Brain go brrrrrr

I'll admit that my favorite headcanons for Bedo are mundane and domestic ones though! Like these! Just the little moments where there's nothing really going on except for him and you and ahhhh yesyesyes

Okay that's all-

[ladybugout-au]

Dear. GOD. After seeing Furious Fu, I would honestly love to see LBO!Marinette just chewing out Su-Han for all his canon-to-fic BULLSHIT. Like, I know you’ve already got a plan to incorporate Feast into LBO, which I’m super excited for, so this asshole showing up with all his nonsense after the new Team Miraculous is set, hell maybe even after they’ve already retrieved the Butterfly and the Peacock, and watching Marinette (and possibly Fu since he has the memories to stand up for himself) tear this dude a new one would really be the cherry on top of an already awesome fic. Sorry to rant in your inbox lol but the new episode just made me so. ANGRY.

In the lounge room of the Liberty, everyone jumped as they heard a noise from up above deck, as if something heavy had fallen or been dropped. Marinette briefly pulled away from Luka’s hold, staring up at the ceiling and wondering aloud, “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Juleka admitted, exchanging concerned looks with Rose.

“That definitely wasn’t Mom,” Luka noted with a tilt of his head.

Pounding footsteps followed, making it clear that a person had clearly gotten on the houseboat without the gangplank being there.

Nino jolted on alert, turning to Duusu with a hushed whisper. “Hide!”

“All of you,” Kagami began, standing up and looking around vaguely at every kwami. “get out of sight.”

The kwami, breaking out of their trance after the brief scare, scattered in every direction to find their own individual hiding places, some choosing to hide with their respective holder and others preferring to hide behind or inside objects. Ivan went into his usual protective mode, wrapping an arm around Mylene while she clung to him.

Marinette stood up, rushing over to the table and picking up the Miracle Box to stow it away. She looked around, then dashed for the microwave and stored the box inside.

She shut the door just in time for the intruder to descend from the staircase: an old man, dressed in Chinese garb and carrying a strange mystical-looking staff. He had a stern expression, his brows knitted together as he scanned the room like none of them were even there. He raised his staff, his gaze eventually locking on the microwave the Marinette was standing near.

Without a word, he pushed Marinette aside, earning an offended, “Excuse me—hey!” from her as he grabbed the microwave door and tugged it. When that did little more than jostle the microwave itself, he tried blindly tampering with the buttons to no avail.

Marinette slapped his wrist away, standing with all her pride as guardian as she asked, “What do you think you’re doing?!”

He glared at her in response. “Young lady, I demand you open your magical sealing chamber and return what’s rightfully mine!”

She blanked, the words catching her completely off-guard. This guy thought their microwave was a magical sealing chamber?

In response, Marinette gave a brief glance to the others, who were all looking back at her with equally puzzled expressions, any tension from before completely gone.

An unspoken question echoed throughout the room: Is he for real?

Before Marinette could ask any further, Tikki emerged from her hiding spot, flying over and explaining, “Marinette, I know who this is! This is great master Su-Han, the guardian of the Miracle Box!”

Marinette raised a brow skeptically. “But I’m the guardian?”

“He was responsible for the box before the incident that Master Fu caused,” she corrected.

Su-Han looked down at Marinette condescendingly. “So you are the current holder of the box.”

“That’s right,” she confirmed unapologetically. She gave a side-glance to Luka and the others, seeing that they were prepared to stand up and fight for her, but she gave a subtle gesture to let them know that it wasn’t necessary. Resolving to deal with Su-Han herself, she faced him again. “How did you find us?”

He held out his staff, the jewel on it mere centimeters from her face. “Guardian scepters are equipped with compasses that can find their Miracle Box at any given time.”

“In case you lose it?” Marinette blurted out, but didn’t apologize or try to take it back.

“Insolent!” Su-Han gasped. “You are not even a proper guardian. I can tell that this box hasn’t even been properly passed down to you!”

“Because Master Fu gave it to me,” she explained, “and we agreed that he should keep his memories.”

“Fu?” Su-Han echoed. “You mean Wang Fu? Chicken legs?”

Is this guy five? Marinette wondered.

Orikko popped out from their hiding place, waving a paw at Su-Han as if in warning. “I take offense to that!”

Su-Han glared at Orikko at the comment, and Orikko quickly ducked back down. Turning his attention back to Marinette, he continued, “Wang Fu is a student who wasn’t even able to fast for a day, nor do a thousand finger-pushups. He was never a rightful guardian, and he failed to fulfill the hope we’d seen in him.”

“Master Fu may have made mistakes, but he’s done his best to make up for all of them!” she argued. “He protected the box for over one hundred years and it’s because of his choices that our team was able to defeat Hawk Moth!”

“Team?” Su-Han asked, his face scrunching up as if he were piecing something together.

“Yes!”

Marinette gestured to her boyfriend and friends for emphasis. Luka, Ivan, Kagami, and Juleka stood while Rose and Nino pinched and stretched their shirts to show off their respective miraculouses.

“Children?” Su-Han gaped. Glaring at Marinette, as if she had personally given out the miraculouses herself, he declared, “Children are never meant to hold miraculouses, especially from the first and most powerful Miracle Box! Kwami are extremely powerful, cosmic creatures!”

A voice piped up from across the room. “Y-you say that, but—!”

Marinette and Su-Han turned to look at Nooroo, who had peeked out from behind Rose’s shoulder. He breathed up, seeming to gain some confidence, then floated out to the center of the room.

“They saved me and Duusu from the hands of evil! We would still be in Gabriel’s clutches if not for them!”

“What?” Su-Han asked. Just when Marinette thought they might be getting somewhere, he turned back to her and accused, “The peacock and butterfly were lost?!”

“Fu lost them when he was escaping the temple,” Marinette explained, a mixture between unphased and annoyed at the man’s outbursts, “but we got them back and everything’s okay now.”

Luka chimed in from his place near the couch, “Marinette has been an incredible leader, as both Ladybug and the guardian.”

She smiled at him in thanks, but Su-Han was clearly focused on anything but the positives.

“Ladybug? You’re even wearing a miraculous?! Guardians aren’t meant to hold miraculouses!” he said, throwing his arms out for effect.

“What—why?” she asked, genuinely confused.

Instead of answering her, Su-Han pulled out a book, shoving it pointedly towards her with the cover facing downwards in his palm. “Let me remind you of a few important rules you’ve violated.” He flipped through a few pages, then pointed at one of them. “Rule fourteen: Kwami must not live outside of the box.” He flipped through a few more. “Rule fifty-two: Guardians must never lose a miraculous. “He flipped to a page near the end. “Rule one hundred and thirty-three: Guardians must never, under any circumstances, wear a miraculous.”

“Master Fu wore a miraculous,” she argued, having never heard of any such rule from him.

“And that proves exactly what I’m talking about!” Su-Han retorted. “Neither you nor Fu are capable guardians because neither of you have respected the rules of the order!”

“...”

When Marinette initially imagined the Order of the Guardians and the people who ran it, this was not what she’d pictured. She had pictured zen and calm, not belligerent and immovable. She was reminded vaguely of her grandfather when she first met him, and that wasn’t a good thing.

She tossed another gaze at everyone, who gave her the same look and nod in response: let him have it.

“Young lady, I’ll repeat myself once,” Su-Han warned. “Return the Miracle Box and the miraculouses to me before--”

Marinette grabbed the book out of his hand, shut it with a satisfying “clap,” then set it back in his hand. “No.“

“What did you say?” he asked, aghast that she would speak to him that way.

“I said no.” Marinette advanced on him, the sheer force of her presence making him take a step back. “Now let me remind you about everything you must’ve missed this whole time.”

She raised a finger at him, raising additional fingers as she went on. “One: You intruded on my boyfriend’s house without any sort of permission. If you’d actually called out to us, we might’ve actually been willing to come out and listen to what you had to say. Two: You wouldn’t have even been able to be here in the first place if not for me using Miraculous Ladybug after our team took down Feast, which you weren’t able to do. Three: We aren’t children, we’re teenagers, and the fact that you can’t tell the difference or bother learning what technology is shows that I shouldn’t trust you with the Miracle Box even if you had a right to it. Four: You didn’t bother to listen and blamed me for losing miraculouses when it was you and your order who didn’t keep an eye on a poor boy who didn’t want to be there. Five, last but not least: I say the kwami are allowed out of the Miracle Box because I am the guardian. You and your order have been gone for over one hundred years and you can’t go making demands after I brought you back. You told me rules I didn’t even know about and didn’t explain why you have those rules in the first place. The kwami are my friends and they have feelings and I’m not going to shut them in a box because you told me to.”

Silence filled the room, no one saying a word and Su-Han’s face contorting between shock and outrage.

Marinette took a step back, standing at the ready and gesturing to herself. “So if you want the Miracle Box, you’re going to have to go through us first.”

She tossed a look at her team, all of them doing a synchronized, confrontational motion to face Su-Han.

“Tikki!”

“Plagg!”

“Wayzz!”

“Pollen!”

“Trixx!”

“Nooroo!”

“Duusu!”

They then shouted in unison, “Transform me!”

Several individual flashes meshed together, overtaking the room and then fading to leave several heroes behind, their weapons equipped for battle.

Su-Han looked amongst them, a flicker in his eyes that hinted that he knew he would be outmatched, but also wasn’t willing to admit it. He retreated a few steps back, hands out to show that he was prepared to defend himself.

It was at that moment that Ladybug heard and noticed movement from behind him, realization striking and a smile overtaking her face. Pulling back from her fighting pose, she placed a hand on her hip and stated confidently, “Captain Anarka will escort you out.”

He looked confused, and he was only able to let out a, “What—?” before a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Su-Han wasn’t even able to turn around before he was pulled backward, a jewelry-adorned fist decking him in the face and sending him flying into the staircase. His scepter fell to the floor and he could only gape at the woman standing there, cracking her knuckles while he was sprawled out on the stairs with all air having been knocked out of him.

“A trespasser on my ship, eh?” Anarka asked, a grin on her face but her eyes glinting with malice. “I don’t take kindly to ship rats who threaten my crew and think they’re too good to walk the plank.”

Su-Han hurried to get up, only for Anarka to grab him by his shirt and haul him up the stairs, a rapid shuffling noise following as Ladybug went over and shut the door.

A few seconds passed and the atmosphere shifted to peace, everyone mutually releasing their transformations and relaxing. Marinette smiled reassuringly at everyone, letting them know that things were okay, but then jumped as she heard a resounding, “Marinette!”

The kwami all emerged from their hiding places, Marinette having no time to react as they all charged at her, their tiny bodies clinging affectionately to whatever they could grab of her.

“You’re amazing!”

“Thank you so much!”

“You stood up for us!”

“You’re the best guardian ever!”

Marinette gasped, finding it hard to move without disturbing any of them. Trying hard not to laugh, she protested, “Aha—hey! Stop, you’re all tickling me!”

She blushed, looking over at her teammates who were only staring at her with pride, which just made the pink on her cheeks turn red. “This is so embarrassing!”

Once the kwami had their fill of thanking her, they finally obeyed and flew away, each giving her smiles of approval. She covered her face with a hand, waiting for the shyness to die down, then noticed the guardian scepter out of the corner of her eye, still lying on the ground.

She approached, touching the scepter at first to make sure it was safe, then properly picking it up and letting it stand next to her. She tapped the gem on top, eyeing the compass that Su-Han had been talking to her about, then followed its direction back to the microwave. She walked over, opening it up, then took out the Miracle Box and held it in her free hand.

Looking back and forth between the two clearly ancient objects, she couldn’t help chuckling. “They don’t really suit me.”

Her friends giggled in response, Luka in particular shooting her a warm smile and approaching. One of his hands went to the scepter and the other went to rest on the Miracle Box.

“I think you make them work, actually,” he replied.

Marinette beamed at him, thoroughly warmed by the compliment. It didn’t feel like that long ago when her support was lacking and defeating Hawk Moth seemed like a pipe dream.

Now, holding the Miracle Box and scepter in her hands, she didn’t know why she’d ever doubted herself.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Then, looking at the Su-Han-less room, she gave a shrug and walked back with Luka to the couch. “So, where were we?”

[shitty-marvel-fan732]

Hi can I request a peter parker x barnes-Rogers reader (steve and Bucky's daughter) and me and Peter find out I'm pregnant with Peter's baby and we try to keep it a secret but everyone is suspicious of us cause I've been really poorly lately and Peter is being overprotective and one day Peter accidentally says "don't do that it could hurt the baby" or "and everyone freaks out and me, Peter and my dads have a long talk but everything is fine thanks xx

Unexpected

Pairing: Peter Parker x Barnes-Rogers! Reader

Requested?: Yes!

Word count: Almost 7k

Warnings: Pregnancy, some angst but thats it I think?

Author's Note: Yessssss this was so fun to write! Very excited to be back to posting on this page again. Thank you so much for the request! Hope to start adding in more content soon, so if yall have any requests feel free to send them in! And if you have requests sent in already, know that I love you and I will be getting to clearing out my inbox here pretty soon 🥰

Taglist: @just-that-bi-girl , @winterfrostsarmy

---------------------------

In retrospect, the entire team should have realized what was going on with you a lot sooner. To their credit, most of them had noticed that something was different about you, but other than Nat and Wanda none of them had a guess as to what exactly that was. 

The men appeared completely clueless in respect to the cause of the recent changes in you. Even Clint, a married father of three, hadn't caught on even after he'd seen you leaving the bathroom having clearly just thrown up. Tony had been the closest to figuring it out of the all men, having noticed your odd mood swings and crying fits as they became more and more frequent. He noted the same behavioral pattern as he'd found himself stuck in after the Battle of New York, and secretly worried for your mental well-being. He hadn't felt comfortable enough to broach the topic with you just yet though, instead opting to watch you from a distance for the time being. 

The women, however, seemed to understand almost instantly what was going on. Nat had figured things out once she realized that you had been skipping training lately and noticed that you and Peter barely appeared to leave one another's sides for even a moment. Wanda based her guess almost solely upon the fact that she could just feel that something was different about you; your entire energy had changed in the last few weeks and she noted it even before Peter had. Both women had their suspicions, but had seemingly agreed to keep their thoughts to themselves until you were ready to tell the team what was going on. 

Your dads were a different story altogether. 

It took Steve and Bucky much longer to notice something had changed with their daughter, Steve longest of all. Either you'd done a great job of avoiding your Pops or he'd been incredibly unobservant (or more likely both), but he hadn't seen anything that he would've considered out of the ordinary for you. 

That is, until today. 

"AAAAUUUUUUGGGGH"

Steve was on his feet in an instant, sprinting into the kitchen at the sound of your enraged scream. He skidded to a stop and surveyed the room with a trained look for the source of danger, but found none. In fact, you and Sam were the only two in the space as far as he could tell. Sam's back was pressed snugly against the furthermore countertop as you practically cornered him, the older man clearly caught off guard by your sudden burst of rage. You flung your hands around wildly as you yelled, one gripping a box so tightly that your knuckles were beginning to turn a concerning shade of white.

Completely bewildered, Steve watched in stunned silence for moment as you fumed and screamed expletives at the slightly-terrified looking Sam, without any clear indication as to what had happened. 

"I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE YOU, YOU GODDAMNED ASSHO-"

"Y/N Barnes-Rodgers!" Steve scolded you finally, momentarily stopping your verbal assault. "What in God's name is going on here?" 

Your eyes turned to your Pops' briefly before flickering back to glare in Sam's direction. 

"Pigeon-brain ate the last of my oreos," you seethed, walking forward and jabbing an accusatory finger to Sam's chest, his hands instantly flying upwards in surrender.

 Steve felt his jaw drop in utter disbelief.

“You-,” 

“What’s with all the commotion in here?” Bucky interrupted, striding into the kitchen much as Steve had moments ago and joining his husband's side with a confused look on his face. Steve crossed his arms and frowned at their daughter. 

“Apparently our daughter is screaming at Sam because he ate her cookies.” your Pops explained tersely.

“Not cookies, oreos,” you muttered, glare never wavering from Sam. You furiously threw the offending empty package roughly at his still bewildered face in lieu of another expletive. Sam was evidently so bewildered, in fact, that he didn't even flinch as the box hit his head and bounced pathetically to the floor. 

Bucky raised his eyebrow. 

“And that’s why you’ve been screaming like that?” he confirmed. You nodded, arms crossing your chest stubbornly. 

Bucky shrugged, looking towards his husband with a look of indifference. “Makes sense.”

“No, it absolutely does not make sense,” Steve lightly scolded, glancing at Bucky with a pointed look before returning his gaze to you. “Y/N you’re completely overreacting. Apologise to Sam right now.”

Your mouth dropped open, and you gaped at your dads with an expression that was equal parts betrayal and rage. 

“No.”

“No?” Steve repeated incredulously. He stared at you with disbelief, looking between you and Bucky like he was hoping he’d somehow misheard you. You met his glance with an equally stubborn look as you planted your feet solidly beneath you and tightened the cross of your arms. “What do you mean, no?”

“You heard me,” you spat, unwavering. 

Sam merely looked confused as he watched the two of you argue, if albeit still a bit scared, but Bucky was sure his shock was evident on his face. You never back-sassed your Pops, not even when you were really angry, and Bucky only felt his disbelief grow at the prospect that your attitude was all due to a few cookies. 

"Y/N, you don't get to tell me no," Steve ground out carefully, voice stern with a rare sort of parental authority he seldom had to use with you. In fact, Bucky was pretty sure he hadn't actually heard him use this particular tone since way back when you were a toddler testing the limits of your dads' patience. But unlike your three-year-old self, you didn't back down at your Pops' disapproving tone; in fact, you met his intense stare with a flippant roll of your eyes, deepening your dad's shock at your abrupt behavioral shift. 

"He fucking knows what he did, everyone knows those oreos are mine," you snapped, eyes alight with a kind of fury the likes of which your dads had never seen from you before. 

"Language!" Steve gasped at his daughter, his authoritative tone giving way to a spluttering one of complete disbelief. 

"FUCK OFF!" you shouted instantly. 

"HEY!"

Bucky had officially had enough. Irritation blossomed deep within his chest at the hurt he saw wash through his husband's eyes at your vulgar screech. Teenaged angst was one thing, but it was entirely another to blatantly disrespect Steve like you were. He still didn't know what was really causing you to act like this--because no way in hell could this be all over some oreos-- but he'd definitely passed the point where he even cared. 

"Doll, that’s enough. Clearly you're upset, but you cannot speak to your Pops like that," he practically growled. You turned your attention to your dad with the same kind of indignant irritation in your eyes, a flash of fresh anger rolling across your face at the sight of Bucky's equally irate expression. 

"You can fuck off too," you spat.

 Bucky's jaw clenched dangerously, the muscle in his cheek jumping and twitching as he took in his daughter's crass retort. Sam had long since left the scene, the nearly suffocating tension officially too much for him to take. Steve's eyes went wide for what felt like the millionth time since he'd first walked into the kitchen. If he hadn't known something was wrong before, he undoubtedly did now. 

You may not disobey him often, but you never snapped at Bucky. 

Steve had long since accepted that, though you loved the two of them the same, you'd always liked Bucky more. A daddy's girl from birth, you and Bucky had always been inseparable-- so for you to now scream and curse at him like this was like a flaming-red flag in Steve's mind. 

Something was definitely wrong. 

"Excuse me?" Bucky hissed. The two of you faced one another, arms crossed and expressions grim. You planted your feet even more solidly underneath you, staring your dad down with a fury so intense it was almost palpable. If it weren't for the overall tension of the situation, Steve might've teased the two of you for your near-mirrored positions. 

"Y/N? What's going on, I thought I heard yelling?" Peter asked as he practically skidded into the kitchen. He immediately joined you, face morphing into a look of utter concern at the sight of yours and Bucky's standoff. Steve braced himself, mentally apologizing to Peter for the verbal assault that was surely coming his way. 

But it never came. 

It was as if all the unwarranted anger was sucked from your body in a rush as soon as you caught sight of your boyfriend. Your face crumpled into an anguished expression, and Steve could see how the tears welled up in your eyes instantaneously. Peter clicked his tongue in pity and you thrust yourself instantly into his awaiting arms. He gripped you tightly, and you eagerly buried yourself further into his embrace. Face smashed tightly against his chest, you began to sob uncontrollably.

Your dads gaped at the scene, wide-eyed. 

"S-sam ate my oreos a-and now everyone's mad at me, and I j-just wanted my snack!" you all but wailed, voice muffled by Peter's body. 

Bucky blinked once as he turned to his husband, total confusion written all over his features. Steve just gaped in response, unable to formulate a semi-coherent thought, let alone words. 

"Oh angel, it's okay," Peter cooed softly into your hair, hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly as you continued to cry. "I can go and get you more oreos; don't cry Y/N/N, I'll just run down to the store right now to get you some."

Lifting your head from his chest, you seemed slightly placated and hopeful as you sniffled and looked up at him. 

"C-can I come with you?" you asked him shyly, tear-stained cheeks turning a slight shade of pink at your childish request. Peter smiled fondly down at you, clearly happy to see that you were feeling better. 

"Of course, it'll be nice to walk with you," he smiled sweetly at you and lightly kissed your nose. You giggled as you removed yourself from his embrace before walking over to your dads. 

"M'sorry I shouted daddys. Love you guys!" you apologized in a chipper voice before kissing both of the men's bewildered cheeks. 

The two supersoldiers both stood in stunned silence as they watched you leave hand in hand with Peter, who briefly shot them an apologetic look before the pair were gone. Steve thought he heard Peter mumbling something to Y/N as they left, but the only words he could pick out were "not good to get so worked up", which only confused him further. 

"What in the hell was that?" Bucky grumbled, face still crinkled with bewilderment. Steve simply shook his head. 

"I have absolutely no idea. I've never seen her behave like that, have you?"

"Nothing like that, but she was acting funny the other day too," he frowned, recalling the scene he'd walked in on just a few days prior. "She was full out sobbing on the couch a few days ago over a toilet paper commercial."

Steve gaped at his husband. 

"Sh-she...what?"

"Doll have you seen your Pops? I can't find him any-"

Bucky's question died in his throat as soon as he hit the threshold of the TV room. You were curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees as sobs racked through you. Peter sat next to you with his eyes crinkled in concern and hands rubbing gently at your shoulders as you cried. 

"Y/N what's wrong, why are you crying?" Bucky asked. Feeling his protective instincts kick in instantly,  he couldn't help but search the room with his eyes in search of any danger. Finding nothing, he narrowed his eyes at your boyfriend.

"Did he do something?" Bucky demanded. "Parker I swear to God if you hurt her I-" 

"What? N-no I didn't do anything Mr. Bucky I swear!" Peter spluttered, eyes widening in fear at the terrifying look in your dad's eyes. 

"Bullshit, then why's she crying like that? Of course you did someth-"

"N-no it's not P-peter dad!" you interrupted tearfully. "There was an ad on TV that just made me emotional okay? You know, the one with the boy crying in the bathroom and his dad offers him toilet paper for his tears?"

There was a beat of silence. 

"Doll, you really mean to tell me that you're sobbing over a toilet paper ad?" Bucky asked, brows furrowed in disbelief. You sniffled as you nodded, and fresh tears began to pick your eyes once more. 

"Yes! I mean it's just so inspiring," you blubbered. "I mean how often do you actually get to see a teenaged boy cry on TV? Never, cause toxic masculinity standards in this stupid patriarchal society we all live in say otherwise! And not only does the dad accept that his son is crying and is allowed to feel real emotions, he sits down to talk with him about them! I just got so happy thinking about all the little boys who will see this ad and feel the validation that they're normal for feeling sad every once in a while!"

Bucky just stared at his daughter with a blank look for a moment; he looked like he was unable to formulate a single response to the information he'd just been given. 

"Well that's...uh….that's great I gue-"

"I can't believe you would just assume that me crying just had to be because of something Peter did," you interrupted, angrily brushing the leftover tears from your face. "It's so unfair, you always blame him for everything!"

"I-uh," Bucky stammered, flustered by the sudden change in your emotions. You scoffed and stood quickly from your spot in Peter's embrace, crossing your arms petulantly. 

"It's true dad, you're always looking for something to yell at him for! It's so biased and unfair," you practically yelled. "Honestly it's such prejudiced bullshit. Some kind of outdated 'lock up your daughters' rhetoric that I can't believe yo…"

At some point during your impassioned speech you began stomping away from both your dad and Peter while still ranting. As your shouts became fainter and fainter Bucky found himself directing his dumbfounded expression at Peter instead. In a rare show of solidarity with your boyfriend, Bucky silently begged for an explanation as to what on earth had just happened. 

Despite the way his heart was hammering wildly in his chest Peter remained silent. He offered only a passive shrug to your dad before he clambered to his feet and began following after you. If Bucky hadn't been caught so off guard he surely would've been suspicious at the visible sweat that was beading on Peter's forehead and the way the young boy's hands trembled as he quickly left the room, the question of what was causing your mood swings laying thickly unanswered in the air. 

"What the fu-"

"She...a toilet paper ad? Really?"

"Yep, a friggin' toilet paper commercial," Bucky nodded solemnly. Steve blinked once, shaking his head. 

"So what did you do?" he asked incredulously. 

"Nothin'," Bucky shrugged. "She was so damned worked up that I figured she needed some space, and by the time I went to talk to her she'd already seemed completely fine. Thought it wasn't worth upsetting her all over again."

Steve snorted. 

"Yeah right, you were just too scared you would make her mad again," he chuckled. 

"Hell yeah I was," Bucky admitted freely, crossing his arms and shooting his husband a defiant expression. "You've seen her, you know how terrifying she can be when she's pissed!"

Steve chuckled once more, shaking his head fondly. 

"Mmmm, and I wonder where she got that from."

Bucky narrowed his eyes and scowled at the implication, a surly look overtaking his features. Steve couldn't help but laugh outright at the expression on his husband's face; it was the exact same face you always made when you were annoyed, right down to the little pout in your lip. 

"For the last time Stevie, she doesn't get that from me," he grumbled. 

"Sure Buck, whatever you say," Steve laughed. 

Though your odd behavior and mood swings were at least now on both your dads' radar, neither had any clue as to the actual reason for your sudden changes. The pair of them chalked up the incidents to little more than teenaged angst, however they had no idea how wrong they were nor just how soon they were about to find out what was really going on. 

---------------------------

"I don't understand Y/N," Steve stated carefully. "Why exactly don't you want to go with the team?"

You shifted your weight from foot to foot anxiously, huffing out a breath in mock annoyance and very real frustration. 

You'd been in the training room, lightly working out with Nat and Wanda when your Pops and Tony had walked in to announce that there was an urgent mission that apparently would require the entire team. Internally cursing your timing, you'd tried to sneak out of the room unnoticed, but as your luck would have it, your dad caught you. Now you were stuck arguing with your dads, the attention and curiosity of everyone in the gym directed at you. 

Your heart was thrumming wildly in your chest as you furiously racked your brain for some way, any way, out of this assignment and this conversation without an actual reason. 

Well, a reason you were actually willing to give, that is.

"Why does it even matter?" you snapped, hoping that no one clocked the tremor in your voice. "It's not like you guys even need me anyways."

"Doll, you always jump at the chance to come with us," your dad interjected. "So what's so different about today?"

"I just don't want to," you whined, lying through your teeth. "I'm tired and I don't feel good."

"But you were literally just training?" Sam pointed out. You narrowed your eyes at him, irritation bubbling under the surface of your anxiety at the contradiction. The older man shrank back a bit under your firey gaze, the previous incident in the kitchen clearly prominent in his mind as he stepped behind Wanda. 

Clint snorted. 

"If you could even call that training," he mumbled under his breath. Your jaw dropped. 

"What is this, gang up on Y/N day?!" you sassed as your arms flew to cross your chest defensively. Your Pops shook his head. 

"We're just worried Y/N/N," he reassured, brows furrowed with concern. "You've been behaving very strangely lately, and this is just one more thing."

"Yeah doll," Bucky nodded, agreeing with his husband. "So what gives?"

Your pulse sped up once more at the direct question, a sickening feeling rising in your throat like bile at the realization of just how suspicious your dads were. Unable to think clearly through your panic, you did the only thing you could think of. 

You scoffed in fake disbelief, rolled your eyes, and began stomping out of the room. 

"Y/N Barnes-Rodgers!" your dad shouted in an indignant and angered tone. "We are not done talking about this!" 

Damn. 

"What?!" you whirled around, stomping your foot like a child. "I just don't want to go this time okay?"

Bucky's face turned red at your open defiance, but Steve interrupted before he could even open his mouth to snap back at you. 

"No Y/N it's absolutely not okay," he scolded. You felt the burn of unshed tears prick your eyes as they searched desperately around the room, mind racing to think of an excuse that would get you out of this situation. 

"But-"

"No, no buts Y/N," your dad barked, clearly having composed himself enough to speak once more. His arms were crossed as he glared at you, and the stubbornly annoyed look on his face was enough to make the tears in your eyes begin to fall. A feeling of utter entrapment and fear settled in your chest like a suffocating weight as you felt the hot, fresh tears stream down your cheeks. 

"Doll, are you crying?" your Pops questioned incredulously. "What on earth is going on with you?"

"Nothing! I just can't go today," you blubbered, past the point of being able to hold back your sobs. 

"You can't go, or you won't go?" Bucky asked pointedly, evidently not swayed by your tears. 

"It doesn't matter," you cried desperately. Your dad's eyes bored into yours directly as if he was searching your brain to find out what you were holding back from him. 

"It clearly does matter, otherwise you wouldn't be acting like this," he continued harshly. "I'm not sure what it is you aren't telling us, but I don't even care at this point. Stark said he needs everyone and your Pops told you to go, so you need to get yourself together and go and get ready."

The tears were now cascading down your face in giant streams and your face was growing warmer by the second. You darted your gaze back and forth between the other team members' faces, still searching for some kind of last minute way out of this situation. Finding only curious or concerned expressions, you turned back to your dads with wide eyes. You felt your mouth go dry as your lips open and closed wordlessly, the severity of your current predicament weighing you down more and more by the second. 

"I-"

"No. I don't want to hear another word from you Y/N," your dad snapped. "Go and get ready for the mission now."

"But she can't go!"

Time stopped for a split second as the entire room's heads snapped towards the desperate shout.

Peter had only just entered the training room, wondering where everyone was, when he caught the tail end of your dad's order. He couldn't help but blurt the first thing that'd come to mind, the implication of which only dawned on him afterwards. As he rushed to your side he shot you a sheepish look, and you internally cringed a bit at his slip. 

Even though you were certain Peter's involvement would only further reduce your already slim chances of getting out of this mission without a full confession of what was really going on, you couldn't help but feel an inkling of relief as his eyes locked with yours. His hand immediately intertwined itself with yours once he'd reached you, and your belly fluttered with a warm tinge of comfort with the simple touch.

True, things were probably about to go sideways for the both of you, but at least Peter was here to go through it by your side. 

"Excuse me Parker?" your dad spat incredulously, eyes blazing with anger at your boyfriend's outburst. "I don't recall asking you for your opinion on my daughter or what she can or can't do."

Peter stood a little taller as he looked Bucky straight in the eyes with an unprecedented amount of determination. 

"She can't go." he practically growled, eyes stern and unyielding as he openly defied your dad. He was standing a half-step in front of you, tense back partially shielding you from the rest of the team as he spoke.

 Even with his face turned the opposite direction you could see from his profile the way his brows were furrowed and how dark his normally chocolate brown eyes had gotten. You felt a slight shiver run up your spine at the fiercely protective energy Peter was radiating, and your heart felt a bit lighter at the way he stood up to your dad on your behalf. You squeezed his hand in an effort to ground him, and he softened marginally as he glanced back at you.

Your dad however looked as if he might combust soon based on the way his eyes bulged out and his face turned a concerning shade of red. 

"What's that supposed to mean Peter?" Steve interjected carefully, his hand reaching up to rest comfortingly on his husband's shoulder. 

"It means exactly what we said," Peter said firmly. "Y/N cannot go on this mission today."

The team watched the interaction between you, Peter, and your dads with their heads bouncing back and forth between the four of you like they were watching a tennis match. Not a word had been uttered from a single one of them, and yet they stood completely transfixed as they waited patiently to see the outcome of the argument. 

"And why, pray tell, is that Parker?" your dad hissed, scowl etched across his features. 

Peter's eyes traveled to yours, irises swimming with a silent question. Realizing that there was no way out, you took a steadying breath as you nodded softly and squeezed his hand once more in reassurance. Peter smiled at you fondly before dropping his smile and turning back to your parents. 

"She can't go because...it could be bad for the baby."

You could've heard a pin drop in the training room. No one made a sound, no one even dared to breathe. The shock in the room was palpable, but you couldn't be bothered to even glance at anyone other than your dads, their reactions the only two that mattered to you in this moment. 

Though you'd expected a rather explosive reaction from your parents (especially from your dad), you were met instead with blank stares. Your dads were simply staring at you and Peter in stunned silence, and their lack of a response actually frightened you more than the screaming you'd been anticipating for weeks now. The beat of silence seemed to stretch on eternally, though in reality it was probably no more than thirty seconds. You watched nervously, your hand becoming sweaty in Peter's as you waited. Finally, your Pops blinked and opened his mouth cautiously. 

"Bad for the wha-"

"I SWEAR TO GOD PARKER THAT'D BETTER BE SOME KIND OF DISGUSTING PET NAME FOR MY DAUGHTER."

Ahhh. There it was. 

Your dad had clearly broken through his frozen thoughts enough to respond, and you would've laughed if you weren't so terrified. He looked positively furious; his eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them and his face had darkened from red to an almost purple color that looked painful to say the least. His murderous gaze was hyper-fixated on Peter, and you couldn't help but step in front of your poor boyfriend in an effort to take some of the heat off him. 

Peter, evidently, was having none of that, and he frowned before pulling you backwards and tucking you into his side tightly. If you hadn't been so focused on your dad right now you might've rolled your eyes at his over-protectiveness. Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of his embrace as you took a steadying breath. 

"It's not," you responded as calmly as you could manage while your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your throat. "I'm pregnant."

Silence enveloped the room once more, and you could've sworn it was even more awkward than the first time. It must've been, because you could see Nat and Wanda ushering the rest of the team out of the gym out of the corner of your eye. You weren't quite sure if you were grateful for the privacy or more scared of how your dads would react now that you were alone.

Your dads stared at you and Peter with wildly different expressions. Steve was staring off into space and looking as if he was either going to throw up or pass out soon, and Bucky still looked as if he was about a half a second away from murdering Peter with his bare hands. To his credit, Peter was still standing by your side with the same look of determination as before despite this, but you could feel the way his pulse was hammering through his veins as he too carefully surveyed your dads' reactions.

You stood quietly, trying to be patient as you watched them, but the suspense and anticipation quickly became overwhelming and you couldn't help but blurt,

"Say something!"

Though both their gazes snapped up to your face with your plea, yet neither your dad nor you Pops said anything. You were suddenly overcome with the urge to explain yourself. 

"I know that you're probably in shock or angry or maybe both- and honestly that's completely fair!" You rambled breathlessly. "I know we're still only eighteen, but I really think everything's gonna be okay? Really, I do. And I'm so sorry about today, believe me this isn't how we planned on telling you at all bu-"

"You're not coming on the mission," Steve interrupted, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "Nor is Peter. Your dad and I will be back later, and we're all going to have a long discussion."

It felt like all the air was sucked out of your body as you watched your Pops pull your dad towards the training room exit. You hadn't been fully sure of just how you were going to tell them, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine that it would come out like this. Tears once more welling up in your eyes, your heart sank as you realized just how disappointed and angry they were. 

"I love you," your voice cracked as you called to their retreating forms, unable to bear the sight of them leaving without reminding them. They both paused in the doorway, and without turning back both muttered that they loved you too before they were gone. 

As soon as they left you immediately twisted yourself and thrust your face into Peter's chest, the tears flowing steadily as you sobbed. He wrapped his arms tightly around your shaking form, lips finding the crown of your head and hands rubbing soothingly across your back. 

"Th-they hate me now," you whispered brokenly into Peter's soft hoodie in between sobs. "They hate me Pete, they're n-never going to forgive me for this!"

Peter shushed you quietly, gentle lips kissing your hair as he began to sway you back and forth slowly. 

"They don't hate you angel," he soothed. "They're just surprised. Disappointed in the timing maybe, but they'll get over it. I promise."

"I never wanted it to go like this," you cried as you pulled your head from his chest slightly. Peter's hands left your back for a moment to come and rest on either of your cheeks. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead before retreating upwards to look deep into your eyes. 

"I know you didn't sweet girl, but it did," he said gently as he brushed away some of your tears with the pads of his thumbs. "It did and it's going to be okay. We'll talk to your dads when they get back and clear everything up. And no matter what, you and I are going to get through this together, okay?"

You sniffled softly, nodding sadly. Peter's eyes were swimming with guilt and dejection at the sight of the empty expression on your face. He didn't know how to comfort you in this situation, but it was like every molecule in his body was demanding he do so. He leaned down once more to press a loving kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips. 

You sighed, head retreating back to his chest once your lips disconnected. Sadness was still swirling in your stomach and you just longed for the feeling that being in Peter's arms brought. He seemed to understand perfectly- as he always did- pressing his cheek to the top of your head and wrapping his arms tightly around you without a word. The two of you stood there for a while, bodies entangled as you continued lightly swaying back and forth. Peter's hands continued to roam up and down your spine and your tears began to slow and dry. 

Eventually you hummed, stepping back and up on your toes to press an appreciative kiss to Peter's face. He smiled as a faint pink tinted his cheeks at your display of affection. You giggled, slightly amazed that even after everything you two had done, something as simple as a peck on the cheek could still make him blush.

"Thank you," you said quietly, looking up into his eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at you in confusion. 

"For staying with me through all that. I mean it's you, so I wasn't really worried...but my dad can be really frightening. So thanks," you half joked. 

Peter chuckled lightly as he pulled you back into his arms once more. 

"Of course angel. Told you, I'm never going to leave you. Even if your dad is super scary. You two are stuck with me now. I'm never ever going to leave you or our baby," he vowed quietly into your hair as his hands reached down to rub the small but growing bump in your tummy lovingly. "We're gonna get through this all together, as a family."

You felt tears well up in your eyes once more, but this time out of sheer love and happiness.

 Damned hormones. 

"You're gonna be such a good daddy Peter," you whispered gratefully. Hearing the slight crack in your voice, Peter pulled you away from his chest gently to wipe your tear stained cheeks once more. 

"Hey now, no more tears today," he scolded playfully as he tugged you across the room. "When's the last time you ate something? We have the whole kitchen to ourselves now, and I bet my babies are hungry!"

You chuckled lightly as you allowed him to pull you along with him towards the kitchen. All the while, he chattered happily about the new article he'd just read about the specific nutritional needs pregnant women have, and your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. You were still apprehensive about the upcoming conversation with your dads, but you were definitely feeling better. As much as their approval and involvement would mean to you, you'd come to the conclusion that as long as you had Peter by your side everything would work out alright. 

Somehow.

---------------------------

"Petey, are you sure you don't need any-"

"No! Nope. I've got this," your boyfriend interrupted stubbornly. You signed, hand absentmindedly rubbing across your swollen stomach as you watched him struggle with the latch on the new crib the two of you were setting up. 

Well, the crib that Peter was setting up. 

It'd been a few months since the team had found out about the newest upcoming addition to the Tower, and you'd decided that it was time to begin decorating the nursery. Tony, of course, had offered to have someone come in to do all the heavy lifting, but Peter was insistent that he be the one to set everything up. His protectiveness over you and the rapidly growing child you were carrying had only increased as the months went on, so much so that you were lucky now if he'd even let you stand for long enough to watch him put the baby's furniture together. It was endearing, really, how much he cared for the two of you, but you'd be lying if you said that you weren't becoming a little frustrated with how little you could do to help. 

"Really Peter, I can help," you grumbled, annoyed. "I'm pregnant, not disabled."

"Of course you could help angel, but I don't need help," he grunted, eyes never leaving the mass of parts around him. "You already have to do all the work of growing and housing our baby, the least I can do is build the crib!"

"Housing?" you teased, quirking an eyebrow.

"You know what I meant," he grumbled, and you couldn't help but chuckle at his growing frustration. 

Peter was clearly losing his grip just a bit as he struggled to make sense of the instructions that had been provided with the pieces. He sighed, throwing the pamphlet down on the ground before trudging over to where you stood, leaning against the changing table that he'd put together a few days ago. 

"I've engineered web-fluid from absolutely nothing, re-built computers from scratch and yet I can't even manage to put this stupid bed together," he whined as he dropped his head down onto your shoulder in defeat. "M'gonna be a terrible father."

"Ohhh bubs," you cooed sympathetically, smile falling quickly and heart lurching at the tone of pure dejection in his voice. 

You wrapped your arms around him, one snaking around his back and the other cradling his head. Your fingers began instantly carding through his chocolate-brown locks as he nuzzled his nose lightly into the junction of your neck and shoulder. His hands wound their way around your waist too- or as well as they could with your round tummy in the way- and his own hands began absentmindedly tracing patterns over your bump.

"Peter you have to know that isn't true," you soothed, kissing his cheek softly. "You're going to be an amazing dad."

He hummed non-commitally. 

"You think you're not?" you challenged, fingers halting their dance against his scalp. "Do the thing."

He raised his head from your shoulder, brows furrowed in confusion. 

"What does that have to do with-"

"Do the thing," you interrupted sternly. He sighed and knelt down, grumbling inaudible complaints as he went. Once he was face to face with your bump he placed his hands on either side, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your stretched-out skin.

"Hi baby, it's me, your daddy," he spoke softly into your stomach, lips so close that you shivered with each breath that ghosted over your clothed belly. "I love you so much."

The baby responded instantly at the sound of Peter's voice, feet jabbing out and kicking excitedly from within just underneath where his hands lay. You felt your heart skip a beat at both the feeling the movement in your belly and the sight of the dopey smile that lit up Peter's handsome face as he felt his child's kicks. You rubbed over his hands lovingly and smiled down at him.

"See bubs? He starts throwing a party in there every time you do that. He loves you so much already, that's not gonna change," you reassured him softly. Peter's smile dropped just a little. 

"But the crib-"

"Fuck the crib," you responded stubbornly. "You are the most caring, sweetest, and most thoughtful person I know Peter. You're going to be the world's best dad."

"Whoa whoa, believe we're the ones with the mugs that claim that title," a voice chuckled from the doorway. 

You smiled fondly, eyes darting to find the sight of your Pops leaning casually against the frame of the door with your dad standing just behind him. Both had amused smiles on their faces, and you grinned widely. Even Peter smiled as he rose to his feet and wrapped one of his arms around your back to pull you into his side. 

"Okay, third best dad in the world then," you amended, grinning. 

"That's better," your dad piped up, smiling. "Now what's this I hear about a faulty crib? Sam said he can hear Peter cursing all the way from his room."

Peter groaned, tilting his head backwards in exasperation as you laughed out loud. 

"It isn't faulty, I'm just an idiot," Peter grumbled. Everyone but him chuckled, and your dad walked further into the room. He clapped a hand on Peter's back as he grinned at the younger man. 

"Normally I'd agree with you, but I know if I do Steve will bring up how Y/N had to sleep in the bassinet for like 6 months because we couldn't figure out how to put her crib together."

"You mean you couldn't figure it out," your Pops snorted from his place in the doorway. "As I recall, I was not allowed to help with the furniture because you were determined to figure it out on your own."

Bucky shrugged, seemingly indifferent to his husband's insinuation. 

"Whatever. Point is, I wanted to see if you wanted some help putting it together. Thought I might be able to give you some tips," your dad continued. Peter's smile widened, and he nodded eagerly before your dad knelt down to help try and make sense of the directions.

The discussion after the incident in the training room had gone much better than you would've ever imagined. Both your dads had been relatively calm once they'd returned from their mission, and surprisingly there had been no screaming, no crying, and no threats towards Peter from Bucky like you'd been picturing. The four of you had sat down together and had a long, mature discussion of what your plans were in terms of raising and caring for your child, and by the end your dads had even seemed enthusiastic about the prospect of being grandparents. Their involvement and excitement had only grown in the following months to the point now that you felt silly for ever having been frightened to tell them. 

And now as you stood watching your boyfriend and dad work together to put your child's room together, tears began collecting in your eyes and you felt your chest warm with feelings of overwhelming love. Steve, noticing your tears, moved to wrap his arms around you and you leaned your head against his shoulder. Rubbing your belly lovingly, you couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude wash over you for the men in your life and love for the little one that you'd all be meeting soon. 

[therealvinelle]

What if Bella got possessed by a demon in Twilight? Like pretty standard, The Exorcist type of stuff.

A lot of you anons should just head on to Ao3 instead of my inbox because whereever you went with this fic idea, I’m sure it’d be delightful. Lulzy, but an absolute delight.

Since you say Twilight, I’ll just set the timeline to the beginning of the series, when Bella has just arrived in Forks. She got possessed just before leaving, as Renée wanted to try an ouija board.

So, for the purposes of this ask, demons are real within the Twilight universe. They have to be very few and far in between, though, since humans don’t know about them and they presumably don’t care about following the Volturi law.

Bella is Reagan and the demon Pazuzu has taken up residence within her.

As happened in The Exorcist, this isn’t very noticeable at first. Bella starts saying some messed up things, yes, enough so that the other kids at school avoid her and the teachers give Charlie a call, but she’s not running down the stairs like a spider. Charlie is worried about her behavior and calls Renée about this, but he’s not dialing up any priests just yet.

Well, Bella gets worse.

Edward, for the record, was interested in this delicious smelling girl with the mystery box brain up until she started spouting profanities in the hallways at other students. Not being able to read her mind, he assumes Bella Swan is just like that. There’s no challenge, no reward, nothing to keeping her alive, his only real reason for not eating her at this point is Carlisle. Though his sheer distaste at that vulgar human who dares to tempt him so makes him resistent to drinking her blood, just out of spite. She’s not his perfect damsel with the delicious blood, and that ruins a lot of the appeal. Not all, mind, because that blood is still delicious.

Though it does help when she’s pulled out of school. Edward can pretend vulgar hamburger doesn’t exist, even as he ruffles through her wardrobe for sweaters to huff.

Back to Charlie, whose daughter is now running down the stairs like the spider.

He sends her to every shrink he can afford, has all the doctors in Forks look at her, and none of them give him an answer he can believe. He’s at his wit’s end.

And this affliction, whatever it is, that’s affecting Bella, it doesn’t seem natural, not human. She speaks in tongues, sexually assaults herself (yes, this happens in the movie), growls and hisses like an animal, in every way acts like- well, whatever it is, Charlie’s ability to deny that this his daughter’s affliction is supernatural in origin is growing thin.

But none of the shrinks can help him with that, and Charlie is a “lapsed Lutheran”, so I doubt priests is something he’ll consider all that seriously. He needs occult help, yes, but from someone who will actually help Bella.

His mind turns towards Carlisle Cullen and his children, and how Billy reacted when they moved into town.

Charlie laughed off his friends’ fears then, thought it was ridiculous to believe the Cullens could ever be anything but human. He dismissed their unusual looks as just that, unusual looks, their too-good-to-be-true cover story as them being that wonderful, and was quite happy about it.

That was then, now his daughter is fast becoming proof that the occult is indeed real.

And Dr. Cullen is so very kind, excellent in his work as a doctor and above all knowledgeable.

Say that Billy was right, that these guys aren’t as human as they appear. Well, that makes them the only people in the world, in Charlie’s world anyhow, who might be able to help.

Which is how Carlisle has the town chief walk into his office, tell him his daughter is possessed by a demon, and that Carlisle has to come over and have a look at her.

Now, as I think demons would be extremely rare, we’ll allow that Carlisle with all likelihood hasn’t seen any of these before. Quite the contrary, he was once a man who persecuted women suspected of witchcraft. He understands Charlie a little too well, but is also not touching this exorcism quest with a ten-foot pole.

Except, the chief seems convinced that Carlisle himself isn’t entirely human.

What would a human doctor do?

Carlisle really has no choice here but to come with Charlie. Besides, no matter how one looks at it what Charlie said about Bella is highly disturbing, the girl obviously needs medical attention.

So Carlisle has a look at Bella, and his “ahahaha we’re all human in here” smile quickly stiffens as he finds that whatever’s going on with Bella, it is indeed not human. She’s spitting green goo, talking Latin backwards, inhumanly strong, impersonating Carlisle’s father, and depending on how closely we follow Pazuzu’s actions in The Exorcist she may have killed a man. There’s scars on her body spelling out pleas for help.

It becomes clear to Carlisle that this girl really does need an exorcism. Or something, anyway, this is terrifying new territory for him.

But he has neither any clue nor the authority to perform an exorcism, and he lacks the network to get his hands on a human priest who’ll do this. More, even if humans could help (and considering how misinformed they are about vampires, the odds of that are extremely slim), involving more humans than have already been pulled into this would not make the Volturi happy.

There’s really only one place to go where someone will have the resources to help this suffering human, and that’s Volterra.

There’s a risk that demons are like immortal children and Aro will kill her on the spot, but Carlisle, still spooked from father Cullen’s voice coming out of this 17-year-old girl in the 21st century, has no other recourse.

So he tells Charlie he’s taking Bella somewhere Charlie can’t follow, and it’s likely they’ll never see each other again, even if Bella is saved. Charlie is devastated, but the promise that his daughter could get better means he can’t refuse. Just the fact that Carlisle isn’t entirely human yet benign makes him the best help Charlie is able to get her.

Carlisle takes Bella to Volterra, where Aro puts on his best Max von Sydow impression and says “Ah, demons... I’ve seen this once before, in the memories of a merchant from Ur...”

Knowing Aro while not knowing the lore of The Exorcist well enough to know what to do about a demon possession if you don’t have a Catholic priest on hand, I imagine Aro dresses up in whatever it is that Sumerian priests wore thousands of years ago (he always told Caius those bedazzled costumes would come in handy someday, and look who was right! VINDICATION) and tricks Pazuzu into possessing one of the humans Heidi brought in instead. This human is promptly killed. Ta-da, Aro smiles to Carlisle, he solved the problem!

Bella wakes up surrounded by insanely beautiful people in an underground palace in Italy and remembers nothing. Carlisle gets the honor of explaining to this human girl that she was possessed by a demon, Charlie asked Carlisle to fix it, and now the nice man who makes jingling noises whenever he moves because he’s dressed head to toe in gold wants her to be a different kind of demon because he can’t read her mind.

Bella caught maybe half of that.

Carlisle refuses to elaborate on the “possessed by a demon” part. No, Bella, you did nothing embarrassing, no one thought you were weird. We hardly noticed you were possessed at all!

But he was serious about that last part, Aro noticed she has a special ability so he’d like for her to become a vampire.

Bella, still, overwhelmed, makes a phone call to Charlie explaining nothing at all but assuring him that the demon is gone. She is then made a vampire.

Edward arrives too late to the party, so late that the party is in fact over, as he didn’t believe Carlisle when he said hamburger was possessed by a demon. Now it turns out that the disgusting, vulgar girl was in fact a delicate flower and a damsel in distress this whole time. Except, now she’s a vampire. Woe! Theirs is a love that never bloomed.

Bella has no idea who this guy is, and asks Renata to make him go away.

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

Inferno dreams

Summary: A 23 year old girl gets the role she's been waiting to get for years. She didn't know until she got on set that she'll be working with her crush Chris. After weeks of growing clothes to each other and falling in love with out the other ones knowledge you and Chris finally express your feeling!

Chris Evans x female! Reader

Warning: fluff, friends to lover AU, implied smut

Masterlist | word count is 1.9k | Chris request are closed until I clean my inbox out | hope you all enjoy this |

Your heart is racing, palms are sweaty, legs are bouncing as you wait for that all important phone call. You've been waiting your whole life to be an actress. Many years of watching your idols on screen and learning from them how to be a good actor was going to be put to the test today. 

After what felt like years your phone rang. You jumped at the sound, quickly picking up the phone. You waited a couple of seconds so that it didn't look as if you were desperate before you picked up the phone.

"Hello." You sounded like you haven't talked in years as you said hello. "Hi, is this y/n?" The voice behind the phone asked. You cleared your throat before you answered yes. There was a brief silence before you heard the voice again. "We'll Miss. Y/l/n you got the role."

You gasped, your hand coming to cover your mouth. "Oh my gosh. No freakin way." The guy on the phone laughed. "Yep you got the role; they're going to need you on set in three days so you can start filming."

You stopped freaking out to say okay, thank you and to hang up the phone. As the call ended you let out a squeal of excitement. You got the role, you finally were an actress.

You felt like crying and screaming at the same time. There were no words to describe how you felt in that moment.

-

Those three days passed bye with flying colors. On the third day you got up nice and early wanting to look like a million bucks. You ate breakfast, had a nice long shower, did light make-up, and dressed up in some pretty decent clothes. You packed a few clothes because you'll be spending about two month on set. 

You left your home around 10am, driving to your new job. The music was cranked up in your car despite it being beginning so early. If people saw you they would've thought you were crazy. You were just super excited.

You arrived on set about an hour later. You parked Your car and got out to grab your luggage. As soon as you shut the trunk a smiling woman with brown hair and a clipboard in her hands, came up beside you. You smiled at her a little confused. "Hi."

"Hi y/l/n, I'm Maria and I'm going to be your assistant. I'll be showing you around and things. Would you like to see your trailer?" She asked in a sweet voice. "You nodded while picking up your two bags. "Lead the way."

Maria led the way to your trailer. When you arrived she opened the door for you and let you walk in. "I'll be back in about an hour so we can go on set and meet the director. Your script is on the couch so you can read it. If you need anything you can just call me."

Maria smiled before she waved bye to you. She shut the trailer door and you took a seat on the couch with a huff. I'm finally here you thought to yourself. You smiled as you picked up the script flipping through the pages. This was going to be fun, you just knew it.

-

You've been reading your script over for an hour when you heard a knock on the door. You rose from the couch and opened the door to see Maria. "Time to go."

You nodded before you stepped out of the trailer and followed her. You both walked a short way to the main set and entered. The place was buzzing with people, it kinda made you nervous but you kept following Marie.

"Here's the director, steven." Maria stopped in front of a man who was talking to someone else. "Oh my lead actress y/n, it's nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand and you happily shook it. "Hi." 

Steven looked over his shoulder flagging someone down. "Y/n I'll like you to meet Chris." You turned to look at Chris who you thought was just a random guy, but when you saw that it was Chris Evans, you gasped slightly. Luckily he didn't catch that and stuck out his hand. "Hi y/n, I heard so much about you."

Holy shit! He knows your name… stay cool.

"Hi Chris." Your hand stayed enveloped for longer than needed which made you pull away as you felt your face heat up. You turned to Maria seeing her smiling, her lips pressed together. She definitely saw what was blossoming.

"Well set starts in a few minutes. While we wait you two can get to know each other. Steven and Maria walked away leaving you two alone. You placed your hand in your pocket, looking down at your feet. "It's very nice to meet you." You Mumbled as you looked up at him before looking back down at your feet. Chris smiled seeing how shy you were. "It's nice to meet you two y/n. I heard this is your first time acting, that's very exciting." 

You laughed, "yeah, it is. I've been waiting to be an actress for a while now." Chris nodded, "well you're here."

You and Chris talked for a while. You both talked like you've known each other for years. Your shyness soon faded and you were full on talking to him. 

Chris was already liking you. Your laugh made him smile harder than he was before, Your voice was soothing, everything about you made him feel good. He wasn't going to deny his crush that was growing. He's never felt this way about a woman.

-

Set was soon called and you and Chris soon started acting together. You loved Chris's acting just as much as he liked yours. Your chemistry was felt by everyone on set, Steven was quite happy about that too.

Around 10pm, after many hours of working, the set was done for the day. You left to go to your trailer. You didn't notice at first but Chris' trailer was beside yours and he was waiting to tell you goodnight.

When you saw him you smiled. "Hi Chris." 

He smiled as he stood up from his trailer steps. "Hi y/n. Um I just wanted to say goodnight to you." He walked up to you placing his hand on your shoulder. "You chuckled softly as you looked at him. "Well goodnight to you too."

Chris winked at you before he walked off to go in his trailer. You did the same. Once you were in your trailer you plopped yourself in the bed with a smile. Yep, this was fun.

-

As the weeks went on you and Chris grew closer and closer to each other. He took you out for breakfast and lunch some days, he always helped you with your script, and he always said goodnight to you. You were falling more and more in love with him every second and it was getting to the point where it was hard to keep it in.

Chris felt the same way. He couldn't help but tell his family about you. He was always so energized when he spoke about you; everyone knew it was a matter of time before he asked you out. 

Scott always teased Chris about it which pissed Chris off but he knew he deserved it for not telling you how he felt

--

You were sitting on the steps of your trailer after a night of filming. Chris was just returning when he saw you. "Hi y/n! Whatcha doing?" He came and sat down beside you. "I can't go to sleep." You said as you looked at him.

Chris nodded, "yeah there's days like that."

The both of you stayed silent for a second before you spoke. "Do you want to go inside my trailer and watch some disney classics?"

Chris eyes widened at your proposal. "Sure." You smiled before you got up and opened the door for you and Chris to walk in. You grabbed your laptop and sat down on the over size bed. Chris stood like a lost puppy, not quite sure what to do. You patted the space beside you, "come on sit."

Chris did as you said, sitting beside you. You started up your disney plus and you and Chris debated on what you'll want to watch. After a couple minutes you both settled on Lilo and Stitch. The movie played quietly as you both laid and watched.

Throughout the whole movie you felt Chris glancing over at you. It made you flustered and shy like the first day you met him. You tried your best to ignore him.

An hour later later the movie ended. "Wow that's great like it was when I was little. What do you think ch-," you stopped mid sentence when you saw Chris out. 

You felt kinda guilty that you brought him over. He was probably tired and still decided to keep you company. Saint was the world to describe him.

You hopped out of bed and placed your laptop on the floor near your luggage. After that you grabbed a throw blanket and draped it over Chris before you crawled in bed and got under the blanket. You kept your distance from him the whole night thinking he wanted it but Chris didn't.

The next morning when you woke up, Your head was buried in his chest and his bulky arms were wrapped around your waist. You frowned as I tried to figure out how you got there. Chris stirred awake as you did. He was very aware you were in his arms.

"Good morning y/n." His morning voice was raspy sending shivers down your spine. "Good morning Chris." Chris chuckled as he looked down at you. You smiled softly at him. Before you could even think straight you placed your lips on his. God they were as soft as you imagined they'll be. 

Chris couldn't help slip his tongue in your mouth. You moaned softly as you cupped his face. The kiss got heated, so heated the clothes were stripped off and love making was made. His body against your body, his moans mixed with yours, and his burning desire to pleasure you was too much to comprehend. He made you feel so good, like you were the only woman in the world. He didn't stop until he pleased you like you should be pleased.

When you both were done he laid down beside you chest rising and falling. You looked over at him seeing a messy haired Chris. "That's so good. I- I have no words." 

Chris chuckled as he looked at you. His massive hands came to cup your cheek. "I wanted to do that for a while now." You smiled as he continued. "I wanted to show you how I felt about you, how happy you make me, and how these past few weeks you changed me." Chris ran his thumb over your cheek bone, looking at you with his baby blue eyes. 

"Yeah I've been wanting to do that too." You ran your fingers in circles over his chest as you tried not to get nervous.

"Y/n." You looked back up at Chris's eyes. "Yes?" 

"I was wondering if you'd be my girlfriend?" He said looking at you. You laughed, "of course you don't even have to ask." You leaned in and kissed him with a squeal. 

You never thought in a million years you would be kissing the one and only Chris Evans but you were a damn you were so happy about it.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

I'm working on two request rn!

@chris-butt @princess-evans-addict @patzammit @bval-1 @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @raveviolet @rynabarnesrogers-reading @enn-j @london-dreamer71 @harrysthiccthighss @captainamerica-is-bae @la-cey @weirdowithnobeardo @lovepeacefood @baby-i-am-fireproof @denisemarieangelina @evans713 @smyfmj @thereisa8ella @rororo06 @keiva1000 @ughitsnic @adriannajackson123 @marvelnaturalock @notyourtypicalrose @dummiesshort @onetwo3000 @hhiggs @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @a-little-counter-esperanto

[muggle-born-princess]

Update and Upcoming Projects~

Hello, hello~! It’s been so long since I last made an update, haven’t I? O: Anyways, I just wanna say that it’s now been 1 month since I've been living in Texas and so far, there have been a few ups and downs. First off, I’m living off the countryside, so you can guess what creatures I’d been running into lately. XP Secondly, I still wanna say that I am very sorry if I've been acting slow or been inactive lately. Lots of work to do in and around the house.

As for artwork and other projects, I just wanna say that as always, I am taking my time doing them as much as possible. Thankfully since my BF now has a new job working Mondays-Fridays, I’ll have all the free time to take care of myself. :)  Speaking of taking care of myself, I had to back away from a few areas that were making me out to be a toxic and shitty person. ^^; One of them unfortunately being the Miraculous Ladybug fandom. More on that later.

All in all, while yes I may still be slow, I will be also working on a few projects here and there. My goal this spring/summer is to actually get back on track and be more active on every social media I have. Even if it’s something pretentious like Twitter, but that’s where I share my art, so what’s the damage there besides politics? =P I’d often been meaning to focus more on original content instead of fanmade stuff since I wanna learn to expand myself a little out there with my own creativity and see what I can bring to the table.

And now onto Miraculous Ladybug…

I figured that now is the time I go on an indefinite hiatus from it. I’m really sorry to anyone who has followed or watched me only for Miraculous-related content, but as of now, I don’t know how much longer I can take from it. The fandom has caused more harm than good with rabid Love Square shippers, character bashing, and not to mention, 

an actual fucking su**de! 

Yeah as you can say, it really did fuck a lot of people, including me. Once I get down to finishing S4, that’s when I will call it quits for now. 

“But wait, what about your @pro-bee-sisters blogs and your AUs and fics?”

Those will not be canceled thankfully, but they will either be also on hiatus or still be a WIP. It honestly depends how my schedule and my day goes. In fact, I still plan on doing fanwork for the show since I have a lot of ideas for it, but for now, I’m gonna have to take a break from the show until the fandom either A; learns to chill the fuck down (Highly doubtful, but still) or B; begins to die down slowly as possible

I do, however, have three posts I wanna post ASAP. Two of this blog and one on Bee Sisters.

Upcoming Miraculous AUs/Fanfics

A Character Analysis on Zoe and Why She Doesn’t Work

My Real Thoughts on Chloe and Zoe

Also, I've realized that I now have 9 unread asks in my inbox and I do wanna say I am so sorry if you submitted a question and that I did not answer it. I’d been real careful attempting to answer what I think of them and how I respond to it. I will get to those ASAP, but before I do, I just wanna make one thing clear:

DO NOT ASK ME ANY QUESTIONS THAT INVOLVE MY PERSONAL LIFE! 

As I said before in my old post, something asked me a very personal question regarding me on Discord and it was extremely shitty of them to do. I’m not usually one to call out people online unless they’re a dangerous threat (i.e. PAAITB is a good example), but what this person did to me was absolutely unacceptable and rude as fuck; and I will not tolerate it. 

Therefore, that is gonna be my only rule for now on. If anyone else breaks that rule, I will permanently close all asks. 

And lastly, please remember that I AM NOT exclusively Miraculous related! I have other fandoms too~ My other ones include:

Disney

Dolls (MH, Barbie, Bratz, RH, MyScene, EAH)

Nintendo

Mortal Kombat

Total Drama

Studio Ghibli 

YOU ARE ALWAYS FREE TO ASK ME QUESTIONS ABOUT THOSE FANDOMS AS WELL! I WILL HAPPILY ACCEPT THEM!

Please also follow me on all my other social medias:

AO3

Art Blog

DeviantART

Fanfiction

FurAffinity (HEAVILY NSFW! MINORS DNI!)

Instagram

Newgrounds (HEAVILY NSFW! MINORS DNI!)

Twitter (HEAVILY NSFW! MINORS DNI!)

Wattpad

Have an awesome day everyone~

[tennessoui]

So I love your keeping up with the Skywalker/Kenobis au😍!!! It's adorable and it makes me so happy to read aaaand I wanted to ask what you think Satine's reaction is to Obi Wan basically getting himself a husband two kids and a dog like 2 months after she's left him? Like if they randomly ran into each other and Obi Wan is with his whole family and is carrying Leia, while holding Luke's hand and Luke is holding the dogs leash, while Anakin is I dunno monologing about something as he usually does

hi!!!! thank you so much for the prompt i love it <3 I thought a really long time about this prompt because I kind of knew what I wanted to do but I also didn't want to throw satine's character under the bus to accomplish it because i think from what Obi-Wan's told us about his marriage she's completely justified to want a divorce, so she's not necessarily a jealous ex in this snippet. But she's sort of angry, which i feel is fair!! i also (for reasons we will hopefully see tomorrow) changed your 'two months' to '3 years', so this happens 2 years after the Skywalkers move in, which is one yearish after the divorce! mostly because Something Else happens about 2 years after the Skywalkers move in and I have an ask cooling in my inbox asking about That that i want to answer tomorrow and these two felt like they fit together

(big sigh)(2.5k)(this is Obi-Wan's POV so its a bit pretentious and also a bit sad)

It’s a very strange thing, what the body remembers but the mind forgets.

“Obi-Wan?” A tentative voice asks from his left, and he knows that voice intimately. That voice had been at one time the most beautiful sound in the entire world. That voice had been what he heard before going to sleep, what he waited on tenterhooks to hear upon waking. He’d heard that voice cry, scream, laugh, gasp, moan--he knows that voice, and for a second his body responds the way it always has to that voice.

Butterflies erupt in his stomach and he turns to look at Satine for the first time in almost three years.

“Satine,” he says and clears his throat and tries again. “Hello there.”

She smiles delicately, as if she’s unsure of her welcome. Obi-Wan’s never seen Satine shy, but he supposes he’s never seen how she acts around her ex-husband.

He surreptitiously glances to where Anakin and the twins are standing in line at an ice cream truck. It had been a nice day, so they had bundled the kids and the dog into Anakin’s car and gone to the city park with loose ideas about kite flying. Perhaps a picnic.

Perhaps twenty yards from the parking lot, Leia had spotted an ice cream truck from her perch on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, and the twins had successfully convinced Anakin to make a quick pit stop on their way up the park’s central hill. It had been a very easy sell. The sweet tooth is most definitely inherited, and nothing Obi-Wan really shares, so he had taken Chewie and gone to sit on a near park bench, graciously pretending not to hear Anakin tell his children to let the old man rest.

That had only been five minutes ago.

“Would you like to sit?” Obi-Wan asks politely, gesturing to the part of the bench he’s not taking up.

“If you have the time,” Satine responds just as politely. Obi-Wan wonders if this sort of false veneer of courteousness is putting her teeth on edge as much as his.

Do you remember how you left? Would you like me to recall the amount of things thrown by you, or would you like to do the honors? He imagines saying.

Only if you would be so gracious as to recite the long list of things you called me, he can imagine Satine responding.

That sort of conversation would be better than this. More honest. It’s a strange hurt, to realize you’re lying to the person you used to think you’d always be truthful to.

“Oh,” Satine says when Chewie immediately starts sniffing at the hem of her dress. “Is this...your dog?”

Obi-Wan fights the urge to wince. He had. Well. He had been quite against getting a dog when they’d been married. Or a cat. Or anything, really. He had vehemently protested the idea of a pet.

Of another living thing in their house.

“Ah,” he says. “Yes. His name is Chewie.”

Satine pets him with just the right amount of pressure to have Chewie tilting his head eagerly for more. “Chewie?” she asks incredulously. “I always figured we would have to name any dog or--child after some sort of literary figure.”

Obi-Wan pretends he doesn’t notice her hesitation. He has to pretend he doesn’t notice her hesitation. “I originally wanted to name him Dante,” he admits instead. “Leia compromised down to Danny, but I just couldn’t do that to the poor dead man.”

“Oh,” Satine says and then she’s quiet. Obi-Wan can just imagine the sort of things running through her head. He would deserve all the mean-spirited barbs she could throw at him now. He reminds himself that he understands that.

I hadn’t thought you knew how to do that, he imagines her saying. Compromising, I mean.

Or, does the dog hair everywhere drive you as crazy as you used to say it would?

Or, perhaps worst of all, how much has your library of dead mean kept you comfort these last three years?

Instead she gently strokes the dog’s head and refuses to make eye contact with Obi-Wan.

“You look well,” he says, breaking the silence first. He thinks she’s probably put in enough work in speaking first for a lifetime.

“Thank you,” Satine responds, tucking a piece of her ash blonde hair behind her ear. Obi-Wan catches a glint of a ring on her finger from the action. He doesn’t know if it was purposeful or not, doesn’t blame her either way. It’s been three years. Their lives are their own now. There’s always going to be those years where they...converged, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure he regrets them. He might never regret them, no matter what he thought shortly after the papers were mailed in.

After all, he’d never have met the Skywalkers if it wasn’t for the divorce.

“You as well,” Satine says, crossing her ankles. It’s her version of a fidget, Obi-Wan thinks fondly, and then wonders if he’ll ever forget that sort of information.

He smiles. “Yes, I’m...well.” He coughs and glances over to the ice cream truck. Leia waves at him from where she’s curled into Anakin’s chest, very near the front of the line. Anakin and Luke are looking at Obi-Wan with almost the same expression of pinched worry. Anakin most probably because he knows who Satine is. Luke because the boy has gotten quite possessive of Obi-Wan’s attention in the last few months.

Obi-Wan smiles slightly to let them both know that he’s fine. “I’m very well,” he tells Satine, turning back to her.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” she says, and it sounds like the most honest thing she’s said this entire time.

“Thank you,” he responds, and that’s the most honest thing he’s said today too. He knows she won’t understand exactly what he means, but it feels nice to say it anyway. Thank you for the years we were happy. Thank you for leaving before we could really start hating each other. Thank you for the divorce. Thank you for the Skywalkers.

There’s very loud footsteps on the pavement and then suddenly a blond blur is clinging to Obi-Wan’s knee.

“Obi,” Luke says very reproachfully.

Obi-Wan automatically fixes the boy’s fringe. “Yes, little one?” he asks, very, very aware of the way Satine’s posture has shifted from almost relaxed to preparing for battle.

“Daddy wants to know if you want anything. He says they have those pop--pop--cycles that you like.”

Obi-Wan switches his attention away from Luke so that he can raise a very scathing eyebrow at Anakin, who shrugs as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He had most certainly told Anakin that he was fine and that he didn’t want to spoil his lunch. Sending Luke over had not been a friendly check-in. It had been an invasion.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin’s son. “I don’t want to spoil my lunch.”

These words seem just as foreign to Luke as they did to his father, because he squints up at Obi-Wan before shrugging and clambering up into Obi-Wan’s lap.

“Who is she, Obi?” he asks, not quietly at all.

Obi-Wan sighs. And then resists the urge to sigh harder when he catches sight of Satine’s pinched face.

A thousand conversations rush back to him.

“My career has to come first, Satine.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“A child? At my age?”

“It’s Obi-Wan, not Obi.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, dear. Our lives would change. Fundamentally. We’d have to compromise, we’d have to figure out a way to be there for them whenever they needed it. I know people manage. But would we?”

“Don’t--”

“I’m sorry, darling. I don’t want children.”

“Don’t call me Obi.”

He understands perfectly why Satine looks as if someone has just fed her half a lemon. He does.

She’s run into her ex-husband at the park and settled in to have a civil conversation with the man, only to see that he owns a dog (which he had been against when they were together), has a child (Luke isn’t his, of course, but he can understand the confusion), and lets that child call him one of his most hated nicknames.

“Obi?” she asks, which is probably starting out small, something he is very grateful for.

“Who are you?” Luke asks more forcefully, gripping onto Obi-Wan’s shirt with his little hands. Of all the times for the boy to decide to speak up to strangers--

“I’m Satine,” Satine answers graciously. And then, “Who are you?”

“Luke,” the boy says, far less graciously. “Obi lives with us.”

“Us?” Satine asks, mostly to Obi-Wan. “You mentioned a...Leia earlier?”

“My sister,” Luke interrupts before Obi-Wan can, perhaps, explain the situation. “We’re twins.”

“Twins!” Satine gasps in a way that’s most definitely pointed and directed at Obi-Wan. “Obi, I hadn’t known you had twins!”

“I…” Obi-Wan starts to say that he doesn’t, but the twins have started shooting him very hurt looks every time he corrects strangers on the fact that the twins aren’t actually his. He’s mostly stopped correcting people now because Luke and Leia’s betrayed expressions are really, quite frankly, works of art.

“Obi-Wan!” a voice interrupts him to his right. It’s a familiar voice, one that he’s heard as he falls asleep, one he’s heard first thing in the morning, one he’s heard cry and yell and gasp and laugh, one he thinks to himself might just be one of the most beautiful sounds in the entire world.

Without his permission or even his consent, butterflies erupt in his stomach and he turns from Satine’s rigid expression to Anakin’s slightly manic grin.

“Anakin,” he says, standing immediately with Luke cradled in his arms.

“We got you the red popsicle because Luke never came back,” Anakin says, thrusting the icy treat forward as Leia tries to clamber on the bench to hand Luke his own chocolate-covered cone.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says, all thoughts about his appetite for lunch pushed out of his mind by the size of Anakin’s smile. “That’s very sweet of you.”

Anakin ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck, his face turning red like Obi-Wan’s popsicle. Obi-Wan thinks he’s never been this hopelessly endeared in his entire life.

“I should be going,” Satine says suddenly, standing up. Obi-Wan is a bit ashamed to realize he has forgotten her in the wake of the arrival of the Skywalkers.

But he knows he should not leave like this. They deserve more than this stilted sort of interrupted conversation.

Gently, he sets Luke on the ground despite the boy’s protests and chases after his ex-wife.

“Satine, wait,” he pants as he catches up with her.

“What, Obi-Wan?” she asks, voice strained and eyes a bit wet. “What else do you want me to see? What else is there left? I get it, alright. I get it. It was never you--it wasn’t--it wasn’t that you didn’t want pets or kids or--or all of it. You just didn’t want them with me. It was me. All along.”

She turns away, wiping frantically at her eyes. Obi-Wan isn’t sure if he’s ever felt worse.

“No,” he insists, reaching out to touch her forearm, painfully aware of how public they are right now. “No, you’ve got it wrong. It’s not...it was never you. It’s just…”

He pauses and tries to find the words to describe the past three years of his life. That first year of despair and hopelessness and isolation. And then the way Anakin and his children had crept into his life like a summer sunrise in the dead of winter, unexpectedly and then slowly and then all at once.

Obi-Wan shrugs helplessly, at a loss for words. There’s no way to describe something like that to someone who hasn’t experienced it. “It’s just…them.”

Satine takes a few moments to breathe before she turns to face him. She’s smiling and it looks mostly like a grimace, but he’ll accept it as more than he deserves.

“Oh Obi-Wan,” she says, laying a hand over the hand he has on his arm. “You always had so many rules.”

Obi-Wan fights the urge to bristle, reminding himself that Satine has the right to say anything she wants to him today and the amount of hurts they’ve dealt each other still probably wouldn’t be even.

It takes him completely by surprise then when she hugs him. He hugs her back automatically, blinking stupidly further into the park.

“I’m glad you’ve found your exceptions,” she whispers to him as she pulls back with a sad smile.

“Satine,” he says, but he doesn’t know where he’s going with that and falls silent. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, leaning in to press a featherlight kiss to his bearded cheek.

“Glad to know I can still make you speechless,” she tells him wryly.

“Always,” he promises her, and she laughs. Obi-Wan is suddenly struck with a sort of gut-wrenching realization that she used to be his best friend as well as his wife. He had lost both in one fell swoop.

“I think I just put you in a world of trouble,” she smirks, tilting her head back down the path. “Your partner doesn’t look very happy.”

“He’s not my--” Obi-Wan starts to say and then decides fuck it. He shrugs. “It was nice to see you again, Satine. I hope. I. I really am glad that you’re doing well.”

Satine smiles and squeezes his hand once before letting go. “You too, Obi-Wan. You too.”

When he gets back to his family, Anakin is staring intensely down at his shoes, while Luke and Leia are glaring just as intensely up at Obi-Wan.

“Who was that?” Leia demands immediately.

“Satine,” Luke relays to her, as if the word means one hundred terrible and tragic things.

“An old friend,” Obi-Wan corrects. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I just...I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Did you?” Anakin asks, strangely intent as he looks down at Obi-Wan’s face.

“I did,” Obi-Wan tells him. It sounds like a promise. Yes, seeing Satine had been a peculiar twist of fate, but it had felt like a goodbye. To her. To the last vestiges of their marriage. To the man he had been when he had been in love with her.

The realization feels like it should hurt, but it doesn’t. Instead of ruminating on it though, he holds his hand out to Luke’s sticky fingers. “Shall we?” he asks, as Anakin falls into place on his other side, Leia held firmly in his arms. “It’s a fairly large hill, are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Yes!” Luke insists enthusiastically, all thoughts of the blonde woman his Obi had been talking to immediately forgotten.

“Perhaps by the time we get to the top, we’ll be prepared for lunch,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin wryly. The other man laughs, but his eyebrows stay pinched. Obi-Wan has the strangest desire to kiss them smooth, to lean over and kiss Anakin’s face until he’s blushing and laughing and light as he knows he can be.

But it’s very obviously not the time and place. Such a step forward needs both a proper time and place. After all, you may have multiple loves of your lives, but you only ever kiss each of them for the first time once. And Obi-Wan is pretty sure he’s only got the two; he’s not looking to mess this one up.

[stolen-pen-name23]

Hey, I love your writing! How about "please talk to me" or "why don't you care?" with Obi-Wan and Anakin for the prompts?

Ahhh thank you so much!!! You're too sweet!

"Please talk to me" and "why don't you care" from these angst prompts. Note: I'm not going to close my inbox, but I'm going to be traveling for a few weeks so if you send me a request, I won't be able to get to it for a while. Plus, there are still quite a few prompts in my inbox I'm working on.

Anyway, here ya go!

---

Anakin hated it when Obi-Wan got like this.

Quiet.

He was never quiet, save in sleep or meditation — two thing he hadn’t been partaking in as much anymore. Any other time, he always had some observation or quippy remark to make. But not now. Now, he sat silently at the kitchen table, staring at his tea, lost in one thought or another.

Anakin knew that when Obi-Wan got quiet, something was wrong. Not that his stubborn old Master would ever express that outwardly. It drove Anakin mad.

Anakin slid into the chair across from Obi-Wan. “They’re going to ship us out again soon,” Anakin started.

Obi-Wan hummed.

“It feels like we just got back home.”

“I suppose it does.”

Anakin frowned. His attempts at conversation were not going well.

“Is something bothering you?” Anakin asked.

“It’s fine, Anakin.”

Anakin could feel frustration swelling up in his chest. What was bothering Obi-Wan? Was it something he did? Surely Obi-Wan would have told him if he did something to upset him. He had had no problem doing that in the past, but now… now tensions between them had become more taught. Anakin wasn’t sure if he was the problem.

“Are you mad at me?” Anakin asked tentatively, feeling like a youngling at the question.

“No.”

“Then what?”

“Just drop it, Anakin.”

“Please,” Anakin said. “Just talk to me, Obi-Wan. You know you can talk to me.”

“I am talking to you,” Obi-Wan said, lifting his gaze from the steaming mug in his hand to Anakin.

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Fine. What do you want to talk about?” Obi-Wan relented.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“You can believe whatever you want to believe Anakin.”

“I believe something is wrong.”

“And you are free to do so.”

Anakin huffed. “Stop avoiding the question.”

“Stop asking,” Obi-Wan challenged.

Obi-Wan sipped at his tea and remained passive — the mask of indifference proving to Anakin that he felt anything but. Anakin’s pulse quickened and he felt heat crawling up his neck, reddening his skin.

“Stop trivializing this, Obi-Wan!” Anakin snapped.

“I’m not trivializing anything. There’s nothing to trivialize!”

“Force, why can’t you even pretend like you care about something for once? Do you just not care about anything? Is that it?”

Obi-Wan looked like he had been slapped across the face.

It was in that moment that Anakin realized that maybe he had gone too far this time – pushed a little too hard in an attempt to get a rise out of him.

“How could you say that? How could you think that of me?” Obi-Wan’s voice was low, almost threatening.

“Master I-”

“You presume that I do not feel things because I do not react the way you do to every tragedy that befalls me? You think I am but an emotionless droid wandering around the galaxy? You believe I feel nothing after… after everything? Do you truly believe this?”

“No, Master, I don’t believe that. I didn’t mean–”

Obi-Wan raised his hands. “Stop Anakin. I don’t want to hear it right now. I’m going to bed. You should too.”

Obi-Wan promptly stood up and retreated to his room without even a parting glance Anakin’s way.

Anakin would not be going to bed. At least not here. Why stay in a cramped apartment with his broody former Master when there was a senatorial apartment with a warm bed and someone who was definitely not broody lying in it?

“I’m headed to your place,” Anakin said into his comm.

“I thought you were staying at the temple tonight, Ani?” Padme replied.

“I changed my mind. I’d rather stay with you.”

“Alright,” Padme said softly. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Anakin replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just want to see you.”

“Alright, Ani. I’ll see you soon then.”

Anakin grabbed his robe and tore through the halls of the temple until he was spilling into the streets of Coruscant. Cold air nipped at his skin, but he didn’t care. His annoyance, his anger, kept him feeling warm.

He should probably take a speeder. It would be faster. But he needed to burn off some energy and a brisk walk through the smog-soaked streets promised some reprieve from the worst of his rage.

The sights, the sounds, the smells of Coruscant all flooded his senses. He did his best to filter it out and focus on his destination, but a storefront was playing the nightly news and the headline passed through his unstable filters.

“Next up on evening news: A planet in distress. It has been one year since the assassination of Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore.”

Anakin’s heart skipped a beat. He immediately backtracked and stood in front of the holo, unable to look away and unable to hear anything else but this.

“With the Death Watch regime now in power, will Mandalore finally take a side in the Clone War? Tune in tonight for predictions from our expert analyst.”

Anakin’s thoughts raced back to the argument he had with Obi-Wan not even an hour ago.

Every tragedy that befalls me.

One year.

Oh yeah, Anakin messed up.

He fumbled around for his comm and flipped it open. “Padme, I’m so sorry, I can’t come by anymore. I need to go home.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong?” Padme asked suspiciously.

“Nothing. I just need to clear something up with Obi-Wan. That’s all.”

“What did you do this time?” she groaned.

“I’ll tell you about it later, I need to go.”

“Alright, love. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Anakin turned off his comm, turned on his heels, and ran.

He tore through the temple just as he had torn out of it. He ignored sideways glances and zeroed in on the pathway to their quarters. The door slid open at his command and he bounded over their threshold. Despite just covering a great distance to get here, the distance from the threshold to Obi-Wan’s room felt greater still. Still, he willed his legs, now tired from his sprint through Coruscant, to carry him to Obi-Wan’s room.

He did not bother knocking. If he did, Obi-Wan would refuse to see him and he needed to see him.

The room was cloaked in darkness, but city lights cascaded on Obi-Wan’s body through the window like artificial moonbeams. He was still as if in sleep, but his breathing was hitched and ragged and anything but restful.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked cautiously.

“Not now, Anakin,” Obi-Wan muttered softly.

“No, I–” Anakin faltered. “You don’t have to talk to me. I came to apologize.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

Anakin turned on a lamp and Obi-Wan squinted at the warm glow. His eyes, Anakin noticed, were red-rimmed and bloodshot. His hair was a mused and greasy mess.

“May I sit?” Anakin asked.

“If I tell you no, you will just sit anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that more than anyone.”

“So can I sit?” Anakin asked, trying not to let impatience creep back in.

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “You may sit.”

Obi-Wan pulled himself up into a sitting position and moved sideways, allowing Anakin to sit beside him.

“Anakin stop,” Obi-Wan said quickly before Anakin could get all the way on his bed.

“What?” Anakin asked worried Obi-Wan had suddenly changed his mind.

“Take your muddy boots off before you get in my bed. Force who raised you?”

Anakin let out a sharp laugh. He relaxed. If Obi-Wan could scold him like that, then what existed between them was not entirely broken.

“I hate to break it to you, Master,” Anakin said. “But you had a significant hand in my upbringing.”

“Where did I go wrong?” Obi-Wan said, his half-smile an olive branch.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Anakin said. He pulled off his boots and settled in next to Obi-Wan. “You did okay.”

Obi-Wan’s half-smile lingered for a moment longer before fading away.

“Master, I–” Anakin started. He made himself gentler, softer, smaller — everything Obi-Wan needed him to be — everything he was not. “Master, I need to apologize. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

“It’s fine, Anakin.”

“It’s not. I shouldn’t have pushed you and I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

Obi-Wan averted his gaze and remained silent.

“I know you care,” Anakin said earnestly. “I know you care about the Order. The war. Your men. I know you care about,” now Anakin’s breath shook. “I know you care about Ahsoka even though she’s gone. I know you care about me and… and I know you care about her.”

Obi-Wan remained silent for a while and Anakin fought the urge to ask him to say something. That’s how they ended up here in the first place.

“It’s been a year,” Obi-Wan said.

“I know,” Anakin said. “Well, I didn’t know, but I saw it on the news, and I… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s been a year and we’re still in this bloody war and she’s dead and he’s still…” alive.

Obi-Wan didn’t need to finish the sentence for Anakin to know what he meant. He blinked back tears, stubbornly refusing to let them fall.

Anakin sighed. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. The words felt lame and altogether too small to cover the true meaning behind them. But he was not Obi-Wan. He had no words of wisdom or comfort to offer — only apologies and quiet condolences.

“I know, Anakin.”

“Is there something I can do?” Anakin asked, feeling useless.

Obi-Wan finally turned to him, and Anakin could feel the loneliness, the sadness, the exhaustion rolling off of his former Master.

“You can stay.”

So he did.