#jumped from scarves 2 sweater so now i’m like. oh seems like it would be easy 2 make like. socks & hats & mittens etc

[rollercoasterwords]

how’s knitting going???

GOOD i finished the body of my sweater & it’s so comfy & cute!!! just gotta knit the sleeves & i’ll be done…had a setback today tho i’ve been using a wikihow article 2 learn how 2 knit this sweater & so far it hasn’t led me wrong but i followed the measurements it suggested for the sleeves & the first one i knitted turned out way too small…waste of like 5 hours….gonna try 2 wing it tomorrow & see if i can use a different method 2 make ones that turn out better <3

[meetthefantasticmrfox]

The Librarians

Summary: Jeremy Scalera (Jeremy sounds more natural than Janus...seriously who would name their kid Janus?! Sorry to anyone named that but you deserve better. JanICE does not count.) is the head librarian at Hawthorne Library and antisocial intellectual with a taste for being alone and silence. Logan Constell (short for constellation, not his actual last name in this fic) is strikingly similar. So what happens when these two antisocial and intelligent loners cross paths in an interview that was sure to change both their lonely souls.

Pairings: Loceit

Alternate Universes: Human Au, Vitiligo Au (Human! Janus Headcannon technically)

Warnings: Mentions of disabilities and a few mild swear words. A smidge of angst at the very end. Let me know if anything else needs to be added.

Hope you enjoy my dears!!

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Edit: Chapter 2 is here! The Librarians Chapter 2

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The Hawthorne Library was run by a bitter and short tempered know-it-all named Jeremy Scalera...He was exactly 5 foot 3 and 120lbs with a thin frame and even thinner shoulders. His skin was the color of milk chocolate but his smooth sweetness of skin was interrupted by a clash of white splotches scattering his body. Jeremy had been born with vitiligo which resulted in a crude nickname of ‘Dairy Cow’ all the way through his middle school years. This influenced him to hide as much skin as possible using gloves, scarves, and extensive wool jackets and sweaters. This wasn’t entirely odd since at the time he had lived in Minnesota and it was freezing all the damn time. Now he lived in Florida where you either were sweating or shirtless.

“Please let this be a quiet day...” He muttered as the door to the library slammed shut behind him. 

It was exactly 7 ‘o clock in the morning and the library was in need of opening. Jeremy was the only employee of the library and he practically lived there. Sure he still owns an apartment and everything, but he prefers the guaranteed silence at night with the library. His office had a small cot in it with a bathroom and a small kitchen fridge and a few counter-tops to hold his microwave, sink, and single cabinet. 

Jeremy’s morning consisted of walking down to the RelativiTea coffee shop down the street that was operated by one of Jeremy’s old classmates. One who hadn’t mocked him because he himself had a disability, Roman Sancleur had turret syndrome (is that right?). Jeremy might have even considered him a friend had they ever talked to each other than exchanging a coffee order.

“Morning Jeremy.” Roman said out of reflex. His fingers twitched every now and then along with the skin under his eyes, but that was more on the fact that Roman had had no sleep last night because he was too busy drinking coffee and teas left over from the day before and watching Disney movies. 

“Just the iced chocolate mocha today.” The librarian sighed and leaned on the counter. He always got here early to avoid the morning rush. 

Roman set a drink onto the counter already prepared.

“You’re too predictable Jerry. Why don’t you ever shake it up a bit?” Roman leaned over the counter getting a little too close for Jeremy to like. No romantic signs came from the barista, more so curiosity.

“First of all don’t call me ‘Jerry’ please, and second I like consistency. This doesn’t take too much out of my paycheck from the city and it’s tasteful.” Jeremy hissed and put a five dollar bill on the counter as he always did. The drink was actual $2.73 but he didn’t ever like change so Roman always got a pretty generous tip.

Jeremy walked out of the coffee shop without another word and entered back into his solitary space just a block away.

The head-librarian set down his coffee on the horseshoe desk in the center of the library and the jingle of his keys echoed.

“I hope I’m not intruding.” A smooth voice laced with calm sounded behind Jeremy and he jumped.

“Mother of damnation who the hell are you?!” The librarian spun around and gripped his hand on the can of pepper spray he kept on him at all times.

“I-I suggest no hostility, and I advise you keep your voice down...we are in a library after all.” The stranger raised his hands in defense. “I’m sorry to have startled you, but the door was unlocked and I assumed you were in your office.” The man was oddly calm despite the can of pepper spray aimed at him and the clearly hostile look in Jeremy’s eyes.

“My name is Logan Constell. I came to apply for a job here.” The presumed ‘Logan’ folded his hands behind his back and only then did Jeremy begin to notice his features.

Logan wore tight black framed square classes, a smooth black dress coat and a navy undershirt with a star-flecked tie across and brighter blue fabric making up the tie itself. His shoulders were broad and his chin sculpted almost so finely one could mistake him for a statue if he had been gray. 

Speaking of gray, his eyes were a brilliant icy blue-ish gray that sparked with intelligence Jeremy had never seen before. Then there was his hair, pitch black it seemed to be made of the dark matter of space itself. The lightness at which it was folded back and not a single sign of gel or any other product other than a mint smelling shampoo and conditioner. He was so put together with his black slacks and dress shoes to top everything off.

“It doesn’t make much...” Jeremy said steadily despite the rushing feeling running through his veins. He set the pepper spray down next to his coffee and Logan began to approach him which with every inch closer the head librarian’s heart beat a little quicker until it was skipping.

“I have no one to provide for but myself and my hydroponics garden.” Logan stated and held forward a piece of paper with a series of qualification statements and columns.

“I don’t need a resume...I just need you to answer a few questions.” Jeremy quickly said and slipped behind his horseshoe desk. 

“I would be happy to answer them.” Logan said blankly.

“As I would hope.” Jeremy glanced up at him as he sat down in the old roller chair with a creak. 

“Age?” He started.

“Twenty-Three years, seven months, and fifteen days.”

“Are you organized?”

“To a fault some might say.” Logan replied cooly.

“Do you have balance well on a 14 foot ladder?” Jeremy shot back.

“I’ve never tried, but I have a high pain tolerance and have been reported a fast healer.” 

“Then you’re hired.” Jeremy rose from his chair and stuck out his hand. Logan took it in a firm grip that shot sparks through Jeremy’s arm and heat shooting up his face then he let go and the sparks vanished.

“When do I start?” Logan’s eyes held the slightest hint of joyous feeling but it was masked behind the gray and blue storm.

“The library opens in five minutes which should be enough time to get your tag done.” Jeremy offered a smirk which was met with only the slightest twitch of the others lips and the flicker of those eyes casting over the librarians face.

~Time Skip~

It’d been three weeks since Logan had started working at Hawthrone and every glance or movement seemed to attract Jeremy’s attention. He had considered going to see a doctor at this point but the Library’s salary and the fact Jeremy didn’t have insurance wasn’t exactly ideal.

“Good morning Jeremy.” Logan said one day as he walked in. 

“Morning Lo.” The other responded calmly. This was about all that was exchanged by them verbally on most days.

The first three days at the library Logan had worn a simple silver band on his ring-finger then it had disappeared. Today seemed like an okay day to finally question his new employee about it.

“So...I noticed you stopped wearing the ring.” Jeremy said casually one day as he stocked the shelves. It was closing time and Logan was better at checking back in books than Jeremy.

“What ring?” Logan asked blankly, barely glancing up at the brown and tan head librarian.

“The silver band you wore the first three days you were here.” Jeremy clarified.

“I didn’t think it had any significance to my work here.”

“It doesn’t.” The conversation fell quiet for a few seconds before one of them spoke again.

“If you don’t feel comfortable with telling me it’s fine. It was just a silly question worth a bit of satisfied curiosity.” Jeremy said hurriedly as he started to ascend the ladder. The book he had in his left hand belonged at the top shelf.

“No...it’s just I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable or loose this job.” Logan rushed out.

“Why would I fire you? Or feel uncomfortable?” Jeremy asked slowly as he reached the fifth level.

“Because that ring was my tie to my ex-husband.” Logan said quietly, barely loud enough for the man on the ladder to hear.

“Oh...” There was a pause with only the sound of clicking keys and the steps of Jeremy climbing the ladder. “Well that’s nothing to ashamed of. Some people just don’t fit.” He quickly said after an extended period of time that felt longer than it should have and he reached the top and began moving books around to shelve the one in his hand.

“You’re not...going to judge me?” Logan seemed surprised.

“Well no. Who you choose to love is not up to me, and it’s not like I have anything against gays or bisexuals or any of the LGBTQ community. I myself am apart of it.” Jeremy reassured him and started climbing down slowly. The ladder rings dug into his worn shoes and hit against his old socks, further sinking into the bottom of his feet.

“Fascinating.” Logan muttered. Jeremy pretended not to hear and as silence once again claimed the room the sun began to send a orange glow over the dark gray carpeted floors of the house of books. Jeremy looked up to see the tangerine and apricot that now spilled through the windows like a waterfall to a lake. 

Jeremy didn’t stop his descend though and his foot caught on a ring, but before he could notice he slipped and fell. All the way from the seventh level down to Earth and before he hit the ground something snapped and pain rocketed through his left leg as black crowded his vision. Nothing existed except the abyss.

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AAAAAAaaaaaand that’s Chapter 1. If this chapter gets some love or I get bored then I’ll check out getting a Chapter 2. 

Until next time my Foxlings! <3 <3 <3

[certifiedbun]

One Big Happy Family

trying posting my fics onf tumblr this one is cross posted on Ao3 by the same name. DreamSMP fic where Dream are immortal siblings and are adopted by Tubbo’s family. On-Going

Chapter 1

Dream didn’t know how long he’d been walking. It’s been ages since he’s slept properly in a bed and warm home. It made him miss his old village but what could he do. He was more than 1,000 years old and he’s seen so many of his homes be destroyed and die out. But that was expected 

and it didn’t help that his brother Ranboo had to endure this with him. They knew that whenever they joined a village they’d have to prepare for when the village eventually died but it never failed to hurt. Especially since they could never stop it. They walked into a spruce wood forest where the trees were so tall they couldn’t see the sky. As they were about to settle down in a tree for the night they noticed a warm light. Moving through the trees they were careful not to make too much noise in fear of scaring away whoever was there.

Once they were close enough they came upon a wooden two story house. They shifted they’re forms into something younger. Dream went from looking 30 to looking 10 and Ranboo looked like a newborn. Dream held the now small Ranboo in his arms and walked up to the door and knocked. When the door opened a man with ram horns and ears with fluff on the insides. The man wore a suit and looked down on the two slightly confused.

“Who are you and what are you doing here? Where are your parents?” The man had a deep, hoarse voice and seemed to be looking around trying to find the boy's parents. Dream looked down and quietly mumbled something the man couldn’t hear. 

“Kid I’m gonna need you to speak up.”

“We don’t know where our parents are. I woke up in a tree and my brother was nearby.”

“Well I can’t let you two stay out here all night..Come on in.” He moved out the way and let the boys enter. Dream noticed there were more people living here. A small boy with tiny horns and floppy ears as well as a taller older man. The boy wore a green sweater and brown pants and when he saw Dream he rushed over and greeted him. The first man took little Ranboo from Dream and called for the other guy to get the crib out the basement. Called him the Captain.

The little boy tugged on Dream’s arm trying to get his attention and once he had it he started rambling.

“Hi my name is Tubbo!! What’s your name? Are you new? Do you live around here? Is the baby your brother?”

“Tubbo calm down. You’re gonna overwhelm the kid. Anyways hello there. My name’s Jordan but people call me the Captain.” The man now the Captain said as he reentered the room. Ranboo was gone and so was the first man. The Captain guided Dream to the living room and had him take a seat before leaving the room. Tubbo was playing with blocks on the floor and when The Captain came back he had a cup of tea and a sandwich. He handed both to Dream and sat down on a chair in front of him.

“Alright kiddo wanna introduce yourself now?”

“Oh..uh.. Sure. My name is Dream and the baby is my brother Ranboo.”

“Why were you out in the woods? It’s almost winter you know?”

“Yea..I don’t know why we were out there. I just woke up in a tree and Ranboo was tied to a branch.”

“Ahh.. so you don’t know where your parents are either?”

“No sir..”

“Would you like to stay with us? I’m sure Tubs wouldn’t mind siblings”

“Oh that would be great thanks!!”

The Captain smiled at the young boy and left Tubbo and Dream to their own devices. The two were building a city out of legos and talking animatedly to each other while The Captain was in the kitchen cleaning up any mess left behind from dinner. When he deemed it late enough He ushered the two boys upstairs. He read them stories until they fell asleep. Dream knew he shouldn’t get attached but this, being read bedtime stories in a warm comfy bed, it made him happy and he could only imagine how Ranboo is feeling. 

Dream fell asleep with a content smile on his face. The Captain dimmed the lights and left the room leaving the door slightly ajar. As he headed back downstairs he passed his brother Schlatt in the hall. Schlatt sighed tiredly and told Jordan that he was taking care of them tomorrow before heading to bed. Jordan quietly laughed and headed to his own room and fell asleep thinking about the two new kids of his.

Chapter 2

The next few years went by fast. Dream was now “15”, Ranboo was “5”, and Tubbo was 10.  The Captain now Dad to the three young boys and Schlatt their uncle each took turns staying with them. While one was out working the other here in the house teaching them everything he knew. The Captain taught them manners and core subjects like math, english, science, and history. Schlatt on the other hand taught them social skills, business, and street smarts. They worked well together and the boys were able to learn a lot. 

Until one winter. Ranboo had begged to be able to go outside and help the Captain. And the Captain who couldn’t say no to the little kid, let him join him. They left but soon after they did a blizzard came in. Schlatt told Tubbo and Dream not to worry, The Captain was smart and he'd come back when the storm ended. So they waited. And waited. 

And waited for the storm to stop. It went on for three days straight and when it finally stopped Schlatt didn’t hesitate to dress the boys up in their winter jackets, scarves, and gloves. He handed them lanterns and they started searching for the two. They checked for any hastily built shelters, any footprints, anything that could possibly help. But they found nothing. Not even a body. 

At least if they found a body they’d get some confirmation on them. But there was nothing. When they got inside Dream and Tubbo ran up the stairs and locked themselves in separate rooms. Schlatt could hear quiet sobs from the blond freckled boy and loud wails from the small brown kid. Schlatt knew he had to do something so he went to find a few items.

Winter had come and gone and now it was spring. The boys stayed inside and continued to build their perfect city. Schlatt was outside planting so everything will be grown in time for fall. Soon he called for them to come outside and handed them a couple of things. 

To Tubbo he gave bees. He guided Tubbo to a mini garden full of flowers and bees for Tubbo to take care of. Tubbo was instantly infatuated with the buzzy little things that flew around the tiny stubs growing from his head. The bees clearly liked him and Tubbo seemed at peace around them. He started planting flowers while playing with the bees. 

From Dream though Schlatt gave him something different. It was a large oversized green hoodie and a white mask with a smiley face on it. Dream looked at him confused and Schlatt explained that these belonged to Captain.

“But why me? I’m not even the Captain’s real son....”

“Listen Dream. Before the Captain had his military fame, he was just Jordan. Jordan the kid that would do anything for his family.”

“....”

“You deserve it. I know you’ll do the Cap justice.”

“...Thank you Schlatt.”

Schlatt helped Dream put on the mask and adjusted the mask on him. The hoodie was big on him but Schlatt assured him that he’d grow into it. After he put on the hoodie he smiled behind the mask. The spring air felt much lighter than before. Dream and Tubbo were given weapons by Schlatt and were told to go hunting. They did start out hunting and were able to get some food but were soon distracted and started to play.

“Woah Dre you’re so cool!”

“Aw thanks Tubs.”

“Your name is Dream but you can be such a terror sometimes..hm..” Tubbo held his chin as he thought about something. Dream jumped down from the tree he was in and stared at him. He ruffled Tubbo’s hair which made the younger smile up at him before saying

“I know what you are!!”

“O-oh do you now?”

“Yeah! You’re a Dreamon!”

“What’s a Dreamon? Tubs?”

“A Dream Demon aka a Dreamon!”

“Oh really? So what makes you think I’m a Dreamon?”

“Oh- Hmm….I don’t know...heh…. You just are!!”

Dream and Tubbo laughed as they walked back to the house. Inside Schlatt was cooking and the house smelt of cinnamon and apples. While the home felt slightly empty without the Captain and Ranboo, everything would be fine. Maybe it was because Dream had the Captain’s stuff but in his head and heart he knew they would both show up again.

Dream slept peacefully that night after months of restless nightmare filled sleep. They would both come home. He knew it.

??? 

“Captain? Where are we?”

“I don’t know Ranboo… Stay quiet though..”

They awoke in a small room that didn’t have any defined doors. Ranboo stayed off in the corner trying not to do anything because the Captain didn’t know his truth. He didn’t want to scare the Captain and there would be a lot to explain afterwards. The black obsidian walls reminded him of the pillars he saw back home but this space was much tighter and cramped than he liked. 

The cold hard obsidian made the Captain shiver and reach out to protect the small boy in his care only to find himself in shackles connected to the wall. Ranboo however had no restraints. Maybe it's because their captors didn’t see the boy as a threat and if they didn’t see him as a threat the Captain could use that to escape. 

He gestured for Ranboo to come closer. Ranboo shuffled over to his adoptive father and looked up at him, surprisingly calm. Ranboo knew he could probably escape easily; he had been in much more challenging situations than this before. He listened carefully as the Captain told him to find a way out and get help. The lanky boy nodded and stood in a corner, his white half against the wall hidden.

Ranboo kept his eyes shut while trying to stay as hidden as possible. The door opened and Ranboo prepared to make a break for it but was stopped in his tracks. Their captors grabbed Ranboo by his collar and left the Captain screaming in the cell alone.

[mermaidxatxheart]

His Fire to Her Ice

A/N: Alright, so this is my second post, at the behest of @glide-thru. Let me know what you all think. I love love love love love feedback, tell me your favorite parts, what you liked, what you didn’t. Hopefully, there’s more of the former than the latter. Here we go.

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Genre: Innocent healing fluff

Warnings: None, I don’t think. Maybe some language, but I’m not sure since kids are involved in this one. Oh, angst, lots of angst, hinting at past troubles and experimentation. 

Summary: Its movie night at the Avenger’s Tower and everyone is flying in. Y/N is one of the newest members, having been recruited by Steve. She’s still uncomfortable around other life forms for reasons that will become known. She hasn’t gotten much attention and love throughout her life; so when Bucky shows her that she doesn’t have to be alone, she gets a little freaked out.

Word Count: not as long as last time, falling in around 2, 796

Additional A/N: I literally wrote this in a day, so I hope it doesn’t suck too much.

“Lang, you know you’re not supposed to use the Avengers line for anything other than an emergency, right?” Natasha Romanoff asks, walking around the coffee table and kicking his feet out of the way. 

“This is an emergency. Cassie wanted to see it and the theater was sold out.” Scott replies, putting an arm protectively around his daughter. 

An enlarged ant is walking around the Avengers’ Tower living room, Cassie’s pet. The Black Widow takes her seat on the floor in front of Cassie and starts talking to her about school and friends. Clint’s kids scramble onto the couch behind her, join in and talking and laughing with Cassie. 

“Hey, Lang, this better not start chewing on the furniture.” Tony Stark says, gesturing to the ant as he moves into the kitchen. 

“He’s house trained, mostly. Relax, Stark.” Scott says with a wink at his daughter. Cassie giggles as Natasha pulls a tray of pretty nail polishes closer. 

“What one do you want, Cassie?” Natasha asks and you feel a twinge of envy. You can’t even remember the last time someone painted your nails or wanted to hold your hand. People have been afraid of what you’re capable of for as long as you can remember. It’s a lonely way to grow up, but you understand the need to be kept separate since you can’t control it. 

The blizzard blows around outside, almost as if it can feel you sitting in here and is trying to get in. In direct correlation, you’re getting colder, like the ice in your veins was trying to escape out the window, to join its brethren outside. It makes you ache, your hands hurt and your toes cramp, no matter how many layers you put on. 

“Where’s Rogers?” Natasha asks, spreading a paper towel out on the coffee table. Cassie slides onto the floor and places her small hand flat on the surface. 

“He has to go pick up the Manchurian Candidate,” Tony says with a roll of his eyes. It’s been a tough year, him getting used to having Bucky around, but he’s coming to an understanding, you think. At least, he’s been less hostile. 

“I don’t understand why Barnes won’t just stay in the tower,” Clint says, stuffing a bag of popcorn in the microwave. 

“Freedom,” you say from your armchair. Natasha looks over her shoulder at you and you have to resist the urge to shrink back into the shadows. She isn’t glaring at you, but you’re still getting used to being a part of the Avengers, and that includes joining in conversations. 

“I don’t understand. He’d be free here.” Sam Wilson says, making a plate of nachos. 

“In a way, sure.” you don’t want to offend Tony, this place is amazing and he’s been kind enough to let you live here, even after the trouble you’d caused a while back. 

“In a way?” Tony repeats, looking over at you. 

“This place is amazing, but it’s also a fortress. You have a ton of security measures and monitoring systems. Every time a door opens in this place you know about it and who went through it. After what he’s been through, having another person watching over his every move, even a friendly person, would seem like he’s traded one owner for another. I can understand wanting space and be alone.” you say as a massive thud from the roof shudders down the walls. You jump in your seat and look up. 

“You’re in his seat,” Sam says, looking at you. 

“Thor gets his own seat?” you ask and Natasha snorts. 

“No, Loki. He’s spoiled, what can we say?” 

“Understatement.” Bruce Banner says, walking into the kitchen. 

“And who invited him?” Clint sighs.

“I did,” Thor says from the entryway. You stand up and move towards the only other armchair but Bruce sits in it first, talking to Tony over his shoulder. You clench your mittened fists but move to sit at the far end of one of the couches. 

Thor brushes snow from his hair and pulls off a jacket. “There better be enough popcorn” he warns and moves into the kitchen. 

“Relax, Point Break, there’s plenty. We aren’t heathens.” Tony rolls his eyes. 

“T’Challa is here,” Natasha says, looking at the com-watch on her wrist. 

“Are we going to have enough space?” Bruce asks. 

“We’re just waiting on Rogers and Barnes,” Sam says, coming to join everyone in the living room. 

“Where’s Wanda?” Scott asks, glancing around. 

“She’s in her room. She’s exhausted from studying.” Tony says as the elevator doors open again. You wish she would come out and join you, if anyone can understand what you’ve been through, Wanda would have the closest idea. 

“We picked up Peter on the way.” Princess Shuri calls as she walks in with her young friend, followed by her older brother, the King of Wakanda. 

“Oh, thank god, I was so worried,” Tony says sarcastically, setting mugs of hot chocolate along the counter. 

“Hi, Mr. Stark. Thanks for letting me come. This is gonna be so much fun.” Peter Parker says, taking two mugs and handing one to Shuri, their fingers brushing in the exchange. 

“I’m not sure I had a choice,” Tony replies dryly, but you know he loves having Peter around. 

Despite the roaring fire, you’re still freezing, your sweatshirt and sweatpants are doing little to warm you up. You reach into one of the baskets next to the couch and pull out the heaviest blanket you can find. You pull it over your legs and tuck them up to your chest. Not for the first time you find yourself watching the easy way everyone has of moving around each other. And you’re jealous. The way they don’t think twice about bumping into each other, skin brushing against skin. They don’t have to wear a barrier on their skin to keep everyone around them safe. They have it so easy, never having to think twice about even brushing past another body. Even Wanda, the Scarlet Witch, can control her powers. They don’t seep out of her without her wanting them to. She has complete control. While you, a feather-light touch and it infects the recipient with ice, it spreads through their body and in a short time, they’re dead. 

Doesn’t matter how much you will it not to happen, how hard you plead with your own body to behave, it leaks out of you like air out of a balloon. It wants to get out and so no matter how hard you try and keep a lid on it, it gets out. So, you’ve isolated yourself, wrap yourself in sweaters, gloves, and scarves to keep as much of your skin covered as possible. But even that is no guarantee that it will protect the person sitting next to you. Especially with the wintry weather raging outside. You can’t even be sure that you aren’t causing the snow storm outside. Having never had the courage to test your powers, you don’t know your limits, but some days a pressure builds in your head like carbonation behind a cork, and you’re afraid a Nor’easter is going to erupt from your skull. 

“That’s such a pretty color, peanut,” Scott says, taking Cassie’s hands in his and admiring the paint job on her nails. You watch the interaction, unable to even imagine what that touch would feel like. And yet, you crave to know. You don’t want to be cut off from humanity, you want to be held, hugged, loved by someone. Your entire body aches for contact, hand against hand, body against body, kisses, hugs, for crying out loud, you’d settle for a high five at this point. Just something to keep you connected to humanity. 

The elevators open one more time and you realize you’ve been lost in thought for at least five minutes. So much for staying connected. 

There’s a rustle of clothing and shoes being removed and then Captain America enters, wearing a blue sweater and dark jeans. His beard is longer, fuller than the last time you saw him when he was convincing you to come to stay here. He spots you bundled up on the couch and waves as Sam greets him. You wave back, but you’re pretty sure he didn’t see the gesture in time. 

A second body follows him in and you’re suddenly thankful for the ice flowing in your veins, preventing you from blushing. 

James Buchanan Barnes. 

He’s beautiful, in a familiarly tortured kind of way. He stands just about as tall as Steve, dark black hair that is long enough to pull most of it back into a man-bun. The scruff on his face wasn’t as full as Steve’s but it still looked good, although it covered up that insanely sharp jawline. 

A mug appears in your vision, cutting you off from staring at Bucky some more. You twitch, looking up to see Steve holding it. 

“Thanks,” you say with a smile, taking it by the base. Steam curls off the top but you know that won’t last long in your hands. 

“You know, if you’re cold, we can always turn up the heat.” He offers. 

“Oh, no, it’s okay. I’m always cold.” You say. Sure, they know about your powers, but you aren’t entirely sure they’re aware how dangerous it is just to be around you. Although, as everyone starts to sit, they leave the space next to you open, so maybe they do know. 

You look down at the mug. The steam is gone and you take a sip. It’s cold now. If you hold it any longer it will turn into frozen hot chocolate. So, your layers aren’t going to be enough today. Maybe it’s a good thing that no one is sitting next- 

Bucky claims the last seat, wedging right next to you. Maybe it’s not too late to sit on the floor. You lean forward to set your mug on the coffee table and slide to the floor, but he’s captured your blanket under his legs. He smiles at you apologetically and rests his metal arm on the couch behind you. Your leg tingles where he is pressed against yours and you look down at it, confused. You’ve never felt anything like that before. 

“You’re so cold, are you okay?” he asks quietly. You nod as Tony turns on the movie. The tingling spreads up the side of your body wherever his contacts yours and you’re a little alarmed. It shouldn’t be leaking out of you this fast. 

“Bucky-“ you whisper, trying to scoot away when suddenly the tingling in your leg becomes more intense, like pins and needles. You’ve fallen asleep on your hands plenty of times before, and getting the blood flowing back through your veins is always painful, but this is worse. He looks at you curiously as you try not to disturb anyone while you pull away. He realizes what you’re trying to do and a disappointed acceptance crosses his face. 

“I’m not going to go crazy, you don’t have to move,” he says quietly. You stop and stare at him for a second, trying to catch up. He thinks you’re worried about him becoming the Winter Soldier? 

“What? I’m not worried about that. I know you wouldn’t-no, I’m worried about you. I-... touching-“ 

“Will you be quiet over there?” Clint throws some popcorn at you and you snap your mouth shut. “I can hardly hear.” 

“Well, turn up your hearing aid,” Natasha says, throwing a piece back at him. Bucky digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He opens a new message and typed something out. 

What’s the matter? 

You look at the phone, hoping you’re a quick enough texted to type it out before you ruin his phone. You pull off your mittens and flex your fingers for a second before taking it from him and typing as quickly as you can, dropping it back on his leg like it’s going to explode. 

I can’t control my powers. The ice makes people sick. I don’t need your death on my conscience, too. 

He picks it up and looks at it, his blue eyes reading over the words. He tilts his head, thinking about it. 

I’m used to ice. I’ve been frozen and unfrozen for 70 years. I’m sure I can handle some more. Also, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I tend to run really warm. 

He hands you his phone again and you skim over the words. He pats the back of the seat but you’re hesitant to sit back. He pulls back his phone and typed something else before showing it to you. 

Trust me. 

You worry your bottom lip before making the decision to trust him. He scoots over an inch towards his best friend to give you a little more space. You ease back in against his frame, trying to limit the contact, but he was everywhere. 

His arm remains behind you and you can feel your frost spreading into the metal and your embarrassment rising. He gives a small sigh of contentment and shifts you closer to him so there’s more of you against his side. 

You tense, looking down at where you connect. “What is that?” you ask, careful to keep your voice only loud enough that he can hear it. He looks down, confused. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m not doing anything.” he frowns. 

“I feel....” heat. It pulses in your leg, radiating like a fire. You look at him wide-eyed, but he doesn’t seem to understand. “Excuse me.” you shove the blanket off your lap and flee to the bathroom. 

Once the door is shut, you lean back against it and squeeze your eyes closed. Never, in your life, have you ever felt anything like that. It’s no wonder you didn’t recognize the feeling at first. Warmth has never been available for you to enjoy, your body only giving cold, never taking anything in. For your body to retain heat, even for a few minutes, it must have cost Bucky dearly. 

You press your fists to your forehead. Steve was going to hate you for killing his best friend just when they were starting to find a sense of normalcy. Time to face the music. You take a deep breath and open the door back up. Bucky is on the other side, hand raised to knock. 

“You’re okay,” you say, surprised.   

“Of course I am. Are you?” He holds out his hand to take yours, but you back up a step automatically. “Y/N, I promise-“ 

“Bucky, it’s not you. God, you...” you drop your face. “I’m so sorry.” 

“For what? I really don’t think we’re on the same page here.” 

“The ice should be almost to your heart by now,” you say quietly. “I’m surprised it’s not already.” 

“I don’t feel any different. I was finally feeling comfortable, but then you got up.” he chuckles. 

“Steve hasn’t warned you?” 

“He was supposed to warn me about you?” He quirks an eyebrow. 

You cast a look around and pick up the hand towel. Without even trying, ice crystals spread across the terry cloth of the towel. Within seconds, the hand towel was frozen solid. 

“That’s what happens when I touch someone. When I touched you, even through clothes. It’s racing towards your heart as we speak. Technically, you should already be on the floor.” you hand it to him and he takes it. 

Where his fingers touch, the ice starts to melt. “Maybe not.” he starts and almost just as fast as it froze, it was already defrosting. “Maybe, I’m warm enough to melt it before it gets there,” he says, tossing the towel in the sink. 

“That’s not.... it shouldn’t be...” 

“Possible?” he finishes for you. “And yet,” he takes your hand in his before you can pull away. “I’m perfectly fine.”   

“N-no, it’s going to kill you. Bucky, please-“ you try to pull away, so unused to being touched, it’s scaring you, even though it’s something you desperately want. But only because you know he’s going to be the one paying the price for it. 

The warmth is spreading up your arm now and in spite of the underlying pain from the cold being replaced with heat, it’s surprisingly pleasant. 

“See? It’s alright.” he starts to back up, pulling you with him. 

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

“We’re going back to watch the movie. If we don’t, we’ll never hear the end of it from Steve.” He turns, still holding onto your hand and leading you back to the living room. He sits first and moves the blanket, pulling you back down next to him. He drapes the blanket over your lap and pulls you back against his side. 

You know this can’t last, this much exposure to your ice can’t be good for him, but he feels so good and you haven’t been comfortable in so long. 

It’s selfish of you, you know it is, but as long as he insists you stay close to him, you’ll oblige. 

Tags

@glide-thru @dsakita

@i-dont-want-to-be-called @thefridgeismybestie @everythingisoverrated @ellaenchanted91 @its-just-krys 

[broromantic]

Such a Sweet Tooth

My Gift for Stridercest Secret Santa!

Casual, winter, sickeningly sweet DirkDave under the cut 

Or, you can read it on AO3 Here

Dirk sprawls on his side of the bed, eyes fixated droopily on the bright computer screen, typing a letter a second. Occasionally reaching for something out of the tiny grocery bag on the windowsill. Pulling out a candy bar, unwrapping it and holding the stick between his teeth while he pulls off the wrapper and drops it beside him on the other side of the bed.

On your side of the bed.

Gross.

You wrinkle your nose in barely restrained disgust as the cellophane lightly crackles at it joins the other numerous wrappers, piled on the dip in the mattress where your body would be resting right about now if Dirk wasn’t busy being a mindless slob. He chews on the bar, pushing it in his mouth with a fingertip as he continues to lose himself in he’s working on.

You pad over to the bed and sweep up all the wrappers into your arms and dump them on the floor, too fed up to care about the mess. You’ll make Dirk clean it up later. Climbing into bed, your shoes clatter to the floor and crunch the wrappers as you shove them off. Laying on your side with your elbow propping you up as you wrap around and stare at the computer screen. Chinese characters fill up a Google document and Dirk seems to have paused writing something out when you entered as the pinyin to characters prompt him with a list of choices.

“Mm, sup,” you offer. He doesn’t answer pressing  ‘3’ for the third transcription option. One character jumps in, and the prompt highlights the rest of the pinyin. He seems to read the choices slowly and then press 2. It fills in two characters, the list changes again.

In a fit of annoyance at your neglect, you reach right over and press 5, regardless of the options. Satisfied to get a reaction of of the other boy, even if it just a click of the tongue as he glares at you from the corner of his eye. You just shrug like it wasn’t your doing and throw your arm back to grab at the candy bag, not so much as taking a hold of it as more like throwing it off of the precarious perch of the top of the headboard. The bag slides off your shoulder upon impact and spills it’s bounty onto the mattress between you and Dirk as he watches.

You offer him a sheepish smile in apology and pick up a pink starburst, unwrapping it neatly and popping it into your mouth. If you’re lucky enough to get him back into a good mood, he might fold something out of it later.

The sweetness saturates your tongue and you almost want to spit it out again, it’s so overwhelmingly sweet. It almost makes you sick to think that Dirk has only been eating such things for the entirety of today. Shut up in his room while you wander about. Pacing enough to make him yell through the door while you think of something to do. You wanted food, but you know it’s out of boredom. But now you can’t help but sympathise with the terrible growling of your stomach after your swallow the last bit of nauseating sweet.

“You need actual food.” You suggest to Dirk and he clicks his tongue again.

“What, you mean like your intent to take me to a diner and chow down on ridiculously greasy burgers, stuffed with fries? I saw you type ‘Jeffrey's’ into Yelp.”

“The fuck. When did-”

“The mirror when you were sitting next to the vanity.” Dirk sighs and looks at the time before putting the laptop down between his legs and sitting up. Letting out a relieved breath when his back cracks satisfyingly. “Alright, fine. Treat me,” he says. “And we’re sharing the shake and fries.”

You whine in response. “Diiiirk, but you don’t like the strawberry malt.”

“Daaaaaave,” he mocks “I don’t want to have an entire cup to myself.”

Sighing exaggeratedly to show your displeasure at the arrangement, he produces an unexpected gesture in compensation. Leaning in and nuzzling your cheek, murmuring a little “Please and thank you,” as he does so.

You give in. Reaching down to lace your fingers into his and craw off the bed, tugging him along. With a little huff of laughter, he follows, scooting across the covers, carefully lifting his legs over his laptop setup. Tugging back on your hand, he uses you as a support to stand up.

You only let go of him so you can fetch some coats and scarves from the closet down the hall. Pulling out a fuzzy peach sweater, knit with white Xs and for Dirk a grey snow jacket, hood lined with black fur. Then the one red cashmere scarf you both fight over to wear. One day you hope that another one would come your way, but even with the whining and complaining about taking turns, no one seems to step up to the purchase.

In the end, you guess the ritual of quarreling has become too much of an expected and even cherished event, that it would be kind of a shame to amend the issue.

As if on cue, Dirk suddenly leans into the doorway from the room and shouts, “Call dibs!” Not even needing to specify on an item. It’s your turn to click your tongue.

“You can’t call dibs if I’m already holding it!” you yell back. Footfalls near your position and you almost subconsciously widen your stance to brace for the surely impending fight.

But instead of starting a round of roughhousing and childish squabbling, Dirk seems to relent and slump against your shoulder, arms dangling aimlessly at your sides.

“Can I have it on the way home, though?” he asks into the junction between your shoulder and neck and you can’t help but shiver from the sensation of the breath ghosting across your collar and the press of his jaw. You respond with a quiet, “Mhm,” and quick nod just to keep the shaking out of your voice, wishing you could peel away and put the clothing on already.

He reaches around to pluck the coat from your arm and slip it on and you pull the sweater over your head, heavy but soft. The scarf pinched between your fingers as you tug the lining of your cuffs and bottom down. Dirk takes this moment of vulnerability to snatch the scarf right under your nose and you let out a tiny wail at his betrayal.

“Oh relax,” he chides and oh. The cashmere is draped over your shoulders as he starts to wrap it up, giving a little tug at the end and it tightens snugly around your neck as well as forces you to take a step forward to prevent you from losing balance or be choked.

Right where he wants you.

Ever so slowly, his lips brush against yours. Hovering, teasing and you just can’t take it. Quickly grabbing the tall collar of his coat and kissinghim. He isn’t at all surprised by this and even laughs a little as you pull back with a nip to his lower lip, goading him into chasing you.

When he leans in again, a warm, smug satisfaction begins to bubble, but it pops into miffed embarrassment when he merely gives a small peck to your cheek.

“C’mon, can’t stand here all day,” he says and lets go of the scarf so he can pry your hands off his jacket, the fists of collar loosen and drop. He turns you around and leads you to the door, slowly falling into step beside you and slipping an arm around your waist by the time you’re at the threshold.

“Keys?” you ask once the door is opened and the cold blast to your face isn’t pleasant, but isn’t intolerable either. He nods and gives you a nudge to go on out while he locks the front up. You stand on the porch, dragging the scarf up over your nose and rubbing your hands together as the faintest breeze blows by. Tiny piles of snow pile up on the corner of the steps and you can’t help but wish for a little bit more. Maybe to have a fight or make a fort with; to indulge in childish romantic antics.

Another time. With Dirk’s arm returning to its rightful position around your waist, you sigh and press closer, falling into step as you descend the steps and walk out into the frosty air.

“Hey Dave, think it’ll snow while we’re getting food?”

“Maybe…”

[hey-kids-want-some-avengers]

Twelve days of Christmas: day 2. Early presents.

Early presents. A/N: Christmas shopping with these dip-sticks and a early present. _____________________________________________ Pairing: Wade Wilson/Peter Parker Warnings: all characters are 18+, bad language, sexual referencing but nothing actually sexual happens. ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ He's used to the cold, Queens was always cold, so it doesn't really bother him when he walks all the way home from work, or to the store, even when the wind is icy and a little blustery. It just doesn't phase him. Wade however? It phases him. He can't stand the cold in the slightest, and it's almost laughable. He wears four layers when it drops below fifty, and Peter's fine with a hoodie. That's probably the main problem Wade's had since moving in with Peter, he just hates the weather. Sure, it'll get warmer, and sure, it's especially cold right now, it's almost Christmas, but god, he's never seen anyone hate this time of year more than Wade. "It's too fucking cold," he whines, slumping down further onto the couch that Peter has spent the better part of ten minutes trying to pry him from. "It's not that bad," Peter assures, giving Wade's arm another tug. He's wearing a long sleeve shirt and hoodie over that, there's no way he can be cold, especially in the house with the heat on. "Come on, we'll be inside anyways." "Nope, sorry doll face," he said, shaking his head. He's always so stubborn. "Wade," Peter sighs, long and drawn out because he's so damn frustrating. He’s lucky he loves him. "Come on, we're running out of time, I need to get Tony and Aunt May presents. I haven't even gotten you a present yet, so I know you haven't gotten me one either, let's go." "Petey, come on, we can do it some other time, when it's not so damn cold." "it's almost Christmas, it's just going to get colder.” Wade groans far louder than necessary and gives Peter a big doe-eyed look, sticking his bottom lip out. He really hopes he doesn't expect this to work, because even when Wade /does/ look cute, he's become quite the expert in saying no to him. "Maybe you can warm me up, sweetie-pie?" He says with a grin, and he looks ready to take a bite out of him. It's really no wonder why Aunt May had been so skeptical of them dating, let alone moving in together. He's eighteen though, and he loves Wade, even if he doubts it sometimes himself. He rolls his eyes efficiently, on queue and shakes his head, letting go of Wade's arm. "Not a chance," he says easily, watching Wade pout. He's going to get him out of the house though, he's determined. "You're evil," he says with a huff. Peter pays it no mind. "I'll cuddle with you when we get home if you get off your ass and come Christmas shopping with me." That sparks interest, and he squints at him, almost like he's expecting Peter to lie or laugh at him and say it's a joke. "Oh really?" "I said I would," Peter says with a little chuckle. He knows Wade too well, and it makes negotiation too easy, not that he's really complaining. "You drive a hard bargain, Petey," he sighs, like he's really weighing the options. Peter already knows he's won, so he just cocks his hip, watching him with mild amusement. "I could just stay home, sleep... stay warm." "Uh uh," he says, unable to keep his grin off his face anymore. "But, you're a sweet lil thing and I do like being able to hold you, and kiss you, and anything else that might follow. You know, early Christmas presents and all that." Peter rolls his eyes again, shaking his head. "Knock it off," he says tiredly. He's pretty well used to it by now. This is just how Wade is, and he'll never admit that he actually kind of loves it. It's an okay part of their relationship, really. "Yeah, yeah, okay," he chuckles, smiling. "let's go then, before I freeze to death or really regret this." So eventually Wade is actually up and ready to leave and they head out, cramming into their shit car. The heat works, but it takes a while, so he listens to Wade whine the majority of the ride there. Once they're parked at the mall he's thoroughly cold himself, though he seems to have a much easier time keeping his mouth shut than Wade. "Come on, you need to help me pick something for them," Peter says with a grin as he shuts off the car and steps out. He's awful at picking presents, he really is, and he's hoping Wade is better at it than he is. Or at least more helpful than he's been so far. "yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he says dramatically, but he can hear the smile in his voice. Sarcastic bastard that he is. Wade climbs out with little grace, practically tripping over himself in the process. Peter thinks it's a bit of a mystery how Wade hasn't nearly killed himself on the ice yet. He burns himself making toast. He wraps an arm around Peter's middle, gentle but still firm enough that they can share body heat. "How're you not freezing?" "I'm used to the cold?" He offers back, looking at Wade with a confused face. "No one gets used to the cold, Petey, don't lie to yourself." Peter snorts out a laugh as they push through the doors. It's considerably warmer just inside the door and Wade sighs loudly, maybe slightly too sexually. Luckily no one seems to notice. "Wade," Peter hisses, smacking at his arm, because God, he's embarrassing. He just laughs, nudging Peter back playfully. "Calm down, no one even cares." He glares back anyways. He doesn't care, Wade still strives to make Peter squirm. "We're getting food before we leave," he says after another pause. "Fine, but not until we're done shopping, okay?" "Fineee," Wade groans, leaning into Peter for emphasis. He drags him to some nice little shop with clothes and nice smelling candles and stuff, because it's as good a place as any to start looking for Aunt May. There's a lot of pretty dresses and things he could imagine she'd like, but he's really not sure. He always wants to spoil her, it's the money that gets in the way. "Heya, Petey?" "Hm?" He looks at him as he twirls one the lave scarves around his index finger. "I don't know him as well as you, I'll admit, but I'm fairly sure you aren't gonna find anything for Stark in here," he says with a little shrug, holding up one of the tiniest dresses he can find, all lace and soft looking fabric. Peters eyebrow actually twitches as he gives him a long look. He really isn't joking. "I'm looking for Aunt May, not Mr. Stark!" He says, his eyes are wide and he's honestly kind of wondering why he ended up with this moron. His face is hot, is he blushing? He feels like he’s blushing. "Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense," he says with a sigh, though he looks vaguely disappointed. "Maybe we can get the dress for you instead?" "Fuck off," he mumbles, scanning the isles. He doesn't know where to even start. He's awful at shopping on general, it's even harder for women. "Can I help you gentlemen?" Says some lady, leaning over the counter. She has a thick accent, Texan maybe. She's pretty, her hair is thick and blond, pulled up in a ponytail, though it's clearly been bleached. She's tan, curvyand tall. She looks nice and slightly intimidating. "I hope," Wade mumbles, flashing Peter a grin. He just glares back. ”No, uh, I don't think so," Peter says awkwardly. He probably could use her expertise, but he's way too awkward and he would rather avoid talking to her, really. She seems to disregard him completely though and comes around her desk. "Lookin' for a sister? Girlfriend?" Wade's chuckling madly behind him, letting him suffer the attention and bombardment of questions. God, he hates him sometimes. "Uh, no," he says, but he sounds uncertain even to himself. "Hmm? Who is it for than, sugar?" He hopes dearly that this doesn't bite him in the ass later and have Wade never, ever let his inevitable skip ups go. "Uh, my aunt? My mom, really." She perks up, and she looks far too excited. "Ooh! Cute!" She squeals, bouncing on her heels. "Come over here, I'll show you some of our newest additions to this line, we just got some new perfume and sweaters in!" Wade hangs back, looking at thigh highs and other skimpy looking outfits. He's pretty sure he's doing it to make the situation worse for him, but who knows. Peter couldn't care any less about their new perfume or stupid sweaters. Did she even like perfume? She always just smelled nice. It's not like he payed attention to that stuff. "We've got these four new perfumes, and they're in such cute packaging, ya know? They're limited edition, so only for Christmas!" He tries not to show how much he really, really, doesn't care. He made a mistake coming in here, apparently. Women were so difficult. Eventually, after what feels like quite literally a century, she's shown him every possible option in perfume, lotion, makeup, clothes and anything else he could possibly think of. He doesn't want to buy anything of the stuff either, though now he feels generally compelled to. "Gonna get her some panties?" Wade says in his ear, which when the hell did he even come over here? He jumps back a little, smacking him in the chest. "Shut up, asshole." "I'm helping you," he says incredulously, looking offended. He shakes his head. "Imma leave you behind, you're the worst." "No you won't, you love me," he says with a grin, draping himself over peter like he does so often. He gives the girl behind the counter a long look, and he's not sure it's not some bizarre attempt at dominance. She does look uncomfortable, either from Wade's odd display or something else, he can't really be sure. "Lucky for you." With a decent amount of awkwardness, Wade gets him to leave the store, though he really does feel obligated to buy something at this point. "How about we go somewhere that'll actually have good presents?" "And you're the expert now?" Peter asks with a little grin, pulling Wade's beanie down over his eyes. He wishes he wouldn't hide so much behind his clothes, but he knows he's uncomfortable as it is, and the less attention drawn to himself the better. Wade grins widely, tugging the hat back up so it's on his head properly again. "I am, actually," he says matter of factly as he grabs Peters hand and tugs him towards another shop. The mall is getting kind of crowded at this point, and they're weaving through people as he tries his best not to trip over himself and into his boyfriend or someone else. "Oh yeah?" He says through a laugh as Wade pulls him to the side quickly. He stumbles a little at the sudden force behind it and almost ends up against the wall or in Wade's chest but he catches himself. "I'll prove it," Wade says smartly, ruffling Peter's hair a little. He hates when he does that. "Okay, I'm waiting," he teases back but Wade doesn't even looked phased. He wonders vaguely, if he isn't so bad at shopping. It wouldn't surprise him really, Wade is good at a lot of weird things. He drags him almost instantly to the store right next to them where there's loud music playing overhead, some rock band he's never even heard before and the lights are bright and multicolored. The walls are lined with bizarre things, men's dress wear, sunglasses, bongs towards the back, and a long line of shoes all the way from Converse to dress shoes. He thinks there's probably a reason that he hasn't ever been here before. "Boom," he says proudly, like he solved everything. Really, Peter is just more confused. "What the hell is this?" "Where you're gonna find Stark a present, honey-buns," he grins, licking his lips quickly. "Showing me a shop is different than finding a present," he says flatly in response. "Here I was thinking you were some expert." "Did I say I was done?" He raises his eyebrows in silent expectation. Wade bounces into action then, jogging over to one of the shelves in the back, he's like a wind up toy that never winds down. It's tiring just watching him. "Alright, okay, so get him a stupid dress jacket-thingy," he says waving his hand vaguely at the stuff as peter catches up. "This one." He grabs it off the hanger and peter nods mutely. He could see him wearing it. "Then just get him a snazzy ass pocket watch. Boom, done." "Okay, not bad," Peter admits, amused. He's taking this way to seriously, it's both hysterical and kind of cute. "I mean, unless he needs a pipe and a huge ass, neon-pink bong..." "Okay, just stop." Wade chuckles and buys the stuff, refusing to let him see the price of anything and then he's towing him around like a rag-doll again to several other stores after that. Eventually they're each carrying a pretty damn huge bag of stuff for Aunt May and Tony alike, and Peter is about ready to go and get something to eat himself. "What do you want to eat?" Wade waves a dismissive hand at him in response, making a face. "Food can wait, we have one more stop to make." "I already got plenty of stuff," he assures with a laugh. "Not quite." "Okay, what else do I have to get?" "Come on, you'll see." So peter follows him blindly, confused. Wade let's go of him when they're in front of one of those stupid jewelry stores, and he almost laughs and tells him the joke is over before he thinks that a nice necklace or something might be kind of perfect for Aunt May. "Alright, smart." Wade grins a little, looking all too pleased. "I know." "Let's hurry so we can go eat?" "It'll just take a minute, everything is already picked out," he says, shrugging as he walks in. Peter follows quickly, catching up and wrapping an arm around Wade's. "You picked something for her?" "No." "Then how do you know?" Wade doesn't answer, just goes up to the counter where the lady smiles brightly and hands him one of the pretty and expensive looking boxes all of the rings and brackets are held in. "Because I picked it for you, obviously," he said, turning to look at peter. "We aren't shopping for me, Wade," peter says, rolling his eyes. Seriously, why couldn't he be secretive like everyone else's boyfriend on planet earth? "Well, I was," he says, pouting as he started to undo the wrappings and open it up. "Well don't show me!" "I kinda have to, Pete," wade says with a laugh. "Normal people wait until Christmas!" The lady behind the counter is starring but she's smiling, so he guesses she's used to this stuff. "Well, one, I'm not normal," he says, and Peter just shakes his head, unamused. "And second, I can't wait any longer, so you're just gonna have to deal with being engaged before Christmas." "What?" Wade just kind of grins. "you heard me." "Wade--?" He gets down on one knee before Peter can even react or form a sentence, opening the little box with a small, silver band inside. And wow, okay, he's gonna pass out. "Marry me?" "Shit, you suck so much!" Peter screeches, and yeah, he's already crying. Wade snorts. "Yeah, I know. So uh, marriage or?" "Fuck," Peter squeaks, covering his mouth with his hands. He pretends like he doesn't notice how much he's shaking. "Yes, yes!" The lady giggles, hopping up and down a little as she gives a small little round of applause. Wade gets up then, still grinning widely and smugly, Peter wants to punch him and kiss him at the same time. "you such so much," Peter breathes, tears still pooling and spilling over. His heart is beating out of his chest, he thinks he might have an aneurism. "I hate you." "No you don't," Wade says, kissing some of the tears from peters cheek as he fits the ring over Peter's finger. "There, now you're mine." Peter sniffles, smiling down at the ring. "And now you really owe me lunch."

[darknessontheedgeoftowndyke]

Cats and Scarves: A Short Story

It’s always cold first thing in the morning, so Eleanor is sure to bundle up with her scarf and sweater, as she downs her coffee and struggles with the key to lock the door. Her car takes a while to wake up, and she curses under her breath, checking the time on her phone. 8:47. She’s trying to get to the new pet shelter, to volunteer- it’s not really a job, but it’s a start, and working in movie theatres isn’t going to work out forever. She backs her car out of her driveway, checking the road for ice, then deeming it safe as she slides a CD into the player. She’d better not be late.

The shelter is warm, is the first thing Zaire registers as she steps inside, pulling her coat out of the way so it doesn’t jam in the door. There are a couple of people already there, silently looking at their phones. So much for Zaire’s hope to make friends. It stinks less than she expected, and the walls in the office are adorned with photos of dogs and cats. Zaire smiles. She’d love a dog, she’s always been a dog person. Suddenly the door opens with a suction-like noise, as wind desperately tries to overwhelm the office, and someone else comes through. They’re almost smothered in a huge scarf and sweater, and Zaire can tell they’ve now noticed the temperature, because the scarf is hesitantly pulled off and stuffed in a bag. Then the new arrival sinks down onto a waiting chair, picking at their nails. Without the scarf, Zaire can see that the newcomer has long, dirty blonde hair, messy but beautiful. Maybe this would be more interesting than Zaire thought.

A tall vet with hair cut in a blunt bob enters through a door at the back, immediately capturing everyone’s attention. Including Eleanor, there are four people, and the vet stands in front of them, gaze sweeping over them. Eleanor feels self conscious and resists the urge to pull back her hair. “I’m Amy Pinnock,” the vet announces, her voice firm but kind, “Are you all here for the volunteer positions?” Eleanor nods along with everyone else, and Amy looks satisfied. “Alright then,” she says. “Follow me.”

The first day is more introductory than anything, though Dave is asked to clean out a litterbox, which he does so somewhat resentfully. Zaire feels a surge of annoyance. It’s not a nice job, but he knew what he was signing up for, didn’t he? The other two volunteers are introduced as Daisy and Eleanor, who is the one with the beautiful, messy hair that Zaire can’t stop staring at. Her own hair has been pulled into a messy bun, which she usually does so she doesn’t have to deal with it. She has the kind of hair that is always tangling, no matter how much hair conditioner she uses. Eleanor smells of grapefruit and lemon, and it makes Zaire feel a little dizzy. She can’t afford to get distracted, especially on the first day, but it’s hard to ignore someone with the kind of presence Eleanor has. Inescapable.

After a week on the job, Eleanor gets used to the smell, the constant threat of having your eye scratched out by Penny, a tabby cat who had been rescued recently, and even getting up early. She starts getting friendly with the other volunteers, learning that Daisy wants to become a full time veterinarian, and Dave has never had a pet due to his parents having allergies. The one person she doesn’t know much about is Zaire, a girl with eyes the colour of grass, and hair that is always pulled up and out of her face. She isn’t secretive, but she doesn’t exactly volunteer information, she’s friendly enough but always seems to escape under Eleanor’s gaze. She feels drawn to Zaire, more than she’s ever felt anything before, and the need to know her properly is starting to eat away at her. Finally on Friday, the end of the second week, Eleanor and Zaire end up working late, cleaning cat dishes. At first they keep up a mild chatter of small talk, then eventually it fades and they work in a silence that feels magnetic- anything but wrong. There’s a pull between them, and eventually Zaire pulls out her phone to check the time, and her wallpaper catches Eleanor’s eye. “Shrek?” She asks, a smile tugging at her lips. Zaire looks over, and Eleanor expects her to shrug and go silent, but she smiles, too, pocketing the phone. “I have this weird thing for the Shrek movies,” she admits, and Eleanor feels excited for this bit of information. She doesn’t want it to end, so she asks, “What movie is your favourite?” Zaire smiles again, and it lights up her eyes. “I don’t know. I think Shrek offers more on self acceptance and friendship, while Shrek 2 is more about love and the risks you’ll take to save it. And, well, Shrek’s 3 and 4. Not that newsworthy, in my opinion. I guess both the first and second have different things to offer, and are great in different ways. Do… you like Shrek?” Her voice goes a bit quieter when she says this, as if she’s scared of the answer. “Absolutely,” Eleanor replies. “You know, I’d never really analysed it before, like you did. It was interesting.” Zaire smiles, scrubbing a bowl. “What’s your favourite movie?” Eleanor doesn’t have to think long. “Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. Aside from being bloody hilarious, it really opens a new door in the series.” She feels confident admitting her Potter obsession, not only because Zaire is a self-admitted Shrek follower, but because the air around them feels peaceful. She’s surprised when Zaire admits, “I’ve never seen Harry Potter.”

“What? No way! You must’ve at least seen the first one?” “Nope. My mum thought it was too dark when I was a kid, and then I just never felt compelled to check it out. I tried reading one of the books, but it didn’t make much sense. I think it was the Order Of the Phoenix?”

“Of course it didn’t make sense, it’s right in the middle of the series!” Eleanor laughs. “You need to read it in order!”

When she stops speaking, it all feels quieter than before.

“Maybe I will then,” Zaire smiles, reaching for a hand towel, at the same time as Eleanor. Their fingers brush, and Eleanor nearly jumps. Is this normal to Zaire? She doesn’t know if the tension and chemistry is one sided. When they’re finished with the last of the dishes, Zaire wishes Eleanor a good night, and leaves to catch the late bus. Eleanor makes her way to her car, and sits in the seat for a moment, going over everything that just happened. She smiles to herself, shakes her head, and turns the keys to get the engine started.

It’s two days before Zaire gets to see Eleanor again, and she passes the time listening to poppy, bright music and checking facebook, where she and Eleanor have recently added each other as friends. When Monday finally rolls around, you wouldn’t have known anything had happened on Friday, save for Eleanor and Zaire’s private smiles. By the end of Zaire’s shift with Daisy, Daisy starts talking about a party she’s hosting, and invites Zaire along. She adds that all the volunteers are invited, which puts a new batch of butterflies in Zaire’s stomach.

The week leading up to Daisy’s party is relatively calm, and Eleanor feels a tingle in her chest when she hears Zaire saying she’ll be at the party. On Saturday night, she goes through her drawers and wardrobe, eventually settling on a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. The volunteers are supposed to change into hospital scrubs during shifts, and she’s hoping to come across as gay as she could. Which is how she dresses generally. At six thirty, she went into the kitchen and grabs a six pack of muffins, then gets in the car and makes her way to the address Daisy had sent.

Zaire is early to the party, and despite Daisy insisting it’s fine, she feels awkward. She’s wearing a green dress, nothing fancy, but nice enough. She’s also brought a bottle of sparkling grape juice, as she isn’t a huge drinker, and the bottle sits alone on the table. Daisy has gone off into the kitchen, leaving Zaire alone, also. She wants to help Daisy set up, but she’s already told her she’s fine with her just waiting. Maybe she just doesn’t want to make conversation with Zaire. Regardless, she is stuck sitting on a lavender coloured couch, with her phone.

When Eleanor gets to Daisy’s house, people have already started drinking, even though it’s only 7 at night, and Zaire is seated in between Dave and a giggly brunette. She doesn’t look unhappy, exactly, just out of place. Eleanor wipes her hands on her jeans, seeing Zaire’s dress. She looks beautiful. Eleanor walks over to the couch, ignoring the nervous feeing that arises, that always arises around large groups of people. It’s not what you could call a small party. “Hey,” she says, trying to sound casual.

“Hey,” Zaire replies, a small smile appearing on her face.

“Um,” Eleanor says, and Zaire frowns a little. “Are you okay?” “I’m- I just-“

Zaire gets up and shows Eleanor to the back door. No one is out there yet, so they have the cool and quiet night to themselves.

“Hey,” Zaire says, in a tone that Eleanor has never heard her use.

Concern.

“What’s up?” She scans Eleanor’s face, and Eleanor is surprised to feel a tingly feeling in her chest, despite her anxiety. And then, oh god. Zaire is seeing her freak out. She turns away, embarrassed, and Zaire takes her arm, gently. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re okay,” she says softly, and Eleanor forces herself to look back at her, and tries to breathe normally.

“Hey. Hey. Just take, take one breath in, and hold it in for three seconds.” Eleanor complies.

“Okay, now let it out slowly, for three seconds.”

She does, her heart already beating a little more normally.

“Now do a little kind of sigh, to push it out more, but gently.”

After a few more breaths, Eleanor’s head feels dizzy, and she looks for somewhere to sit. Zaire sits next to her on the grass, and Eleanor suddenly remembers, somewhere in her mind, that it’s winter, and Zaire just took her into the freezing cold air, stayed out there, despite only wearing a dress, and helped her. The realisation is still sinking in when she sees Zaire shivering slightly. She wants to kick herself, why didn’t she bring a jacket? She could have offered it to her. Instead, Zaire lies back and looks up at the sky. Eleanor follows, her head softly hitting the damp grass. The sky is going dark, as it does around winter, and stars are starting to appear- just a few, so excited that they can’t wait for the sky to go completely dark. Too excited to shine.

It's quiet, but comfortably so, and Eleanor can hear every breath Zaire takes, every move she makes. She rolls her head on her side so she can look at her. Her voice comes out unexpectedly.

“Why do you always tie your hair up?”

Zaire looks surprised at the question, but replies. “It’s just easier to deal with, I guess. It’s a bit… wild.”

“I wanna see.” Eleanor wasn’t planning on saying those words, but the second they’re out she realises it’s true. She does want to see it. Zaire rolls onto her stomach to look at Eleanor. “Really?”

Eleanor nods.

“You’re sure?”

“God, how bad is it?” Eleanor asks, and Zaire laughs. Then she sits up, straightens her back, and starts to pull the tie from her hair. Eleanor is in awe as the dark locks tumble down around her shoulders, lively and, as Zaire said, wild.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Zaire asks, finally looking up at Eleanor. “Too wild?” A shy smile, bright eyes, and that wild hair.

“I.” Eleanor wants to say something, anything, but words are failing. She’s overcome by Zaire’s beauty. All she wants is to reach over, pull her in, and meet her lips with her own. She shakes her head. Not worth the risk. She swallows and replies, “It’s lovely.”

 After the volunteers’ first month at the shelter, Zaire sends Eleanor a message. It’s late, or early, depending on your view, and she can’t sleep.

“Hey.”

Her phone makes a buzzing noise.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Me neither… you wanna talk?” “Sure.” “Can you believe it’s been a month since we started volunteering?”

“I know, it feels like forever. Especially when I’m cleaning up cat pee.”

“How come you’re volunteering if you hate it so much?”

“I don’t hate it. And I don’t know. I wanted to meet more people, I guess.”

“And what do you think of the people you’ve met?”

Is that flirting?

“You’re cool. I feel like I’ve known you a long time. Daisy’s cool, but I don’t think she likes me much.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know, she just seems to act weird around me. I don’t know, maybe she’s just like that.”

“Did you know she has a thing for Dav?”

“*Dave.”

“Really?” “Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“What about you?” “Not my type.”

“I mean, are you seeing anyone?” “No. How about you?”

Zaire’s heart beats hard as she awaits Eleanor’s answer.

“No. I was talking to this girl a while ago, but it didn’t work out.”

“Oh.”

“I have to go to sleep now, but it was great talking to you J see you tomorrow.”

 It’s on Wednesday that Eleanor finally says something.

“Hey, Zaire,” she calls, trying to be quiet so she doesn’t scare the cats. Not that Penny got scared of anything.

“Yeah?” Zaire comes over to where Eleanor is crouching, feeding the cats.

“I was wondering. If sometime, you wanted to, I don’t know, get a coffee or something? Or just hang out? Um, yeah,” she finishes pathetically.

Zaire is smiling when Eleanor finally looks up.

“I’d like that. Yeah.”

 ONE YEAR LATER

Zaire’s phone goes off, the opening lines of All Star. She checks it, and sees a text. “Nearly there! :)” Zaire smiles and puts the phone down as Penny nips at her toe. She and Eleanor have adopted a few cats, including bad-tempered Penny, who, as it turns out, just needed some love. She didn’t think she was a cat person, but she’d fallen in love with them.

The door is suddenly pulled open, as Eleanor rushes in, her scarf making her almost unrecognizable, like the first time Zaire saw her. Zaire smiles at the memory, and Eleanor dumps shopping bags on the floor, and meets Zaire for a kiss. Zaire closes her eyes, smiling into it, her arms around Eleanor’s back, holding her. Around them, she hears a cat meow and feels another rub up against her leg, and she’s never felt so content.

 The End.