#maybe squashies

[walkman-cat]

i actually have to get the portfolio done today if it kills me and i will do it !!

[creepyscritches]

Almost done with a giant squishy queen blanket and I've been ogling an even squishier pattern already lmao....anyway think next one I make might be this crazy double layer weighted pattern 🤔 or maybe I'll save this for someone else???

[azurexsnake]

Wolfwood is one of those characters I want to write for so badly but every time I think I have a thought I can’t put it into words that make any kind of sense at all. Just hysterical crying in a post I end up deleting every time

[redflagshipwriter]

Mamabat- enter Jason 1/2

MASTERPOST

The air was different with Cass, now. Danny felt a little anxious as he followed her to the study after breakfast. Something about her was serious-determined-protective. 

She always felt protective towards him. That was why he'd followed her in the first place. Some ghosts lied, but they couldn't do it with their aura. He knew what she really felt for him. 

“Sit?” She asked him. She gestured at the big squashy chair. Danny did without complaint. Cass perched behind him and started dragging her fingers through his hair, relaxing him.

Man. She was good at this. Top tier mothering, right here. Danny went limp. 

“I'm worried,” Cass broke the silence. She didn't sound worried. She never really did. Her voice was quiet and serious, but still kind. Her thumbs dug into his scalp. He pushed his head back against it. Bliss. “Barbara made you sad. Because you miss your sister?”

Danny tensed. 

‘I should have figured that Batman would track me down.’

Maybe he had known, if he was honest with himself. It didn't hit him like a shock.

“Tim thinks your name is Fenton,” she added, brutally sensible as always. And yup, that was it. No point in denying it. “Declared dead. In danger?”

He sucked in air through his teeth. He wasn't going to lie to her. 

“Worried,” she repeated. 

He thought about it. He really did. Danny bit his lip. 

She was liminal. That probably meant she'd come really close to death, in at least one sense of the word. Would that mean she was desensitized to it, or extra paranoid?

…It was hard to imagine Cass over or under reacting to a possible danger. She was just so steady. But would she see him as a possible danger if she knew what he was, what he really was? 

He could feel it out before he took a plunge with the whole truth.

Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was invasive. She didn't seem to realize that she was liminal. That meant she definitely didn't realize how much she was communicating to him under her words and gestures. 

But Danny deliberately tuned into her quiet aural communication and tested the waters. “Tim is right, I'm Danny Fenton,” he said. He knew he was too tense. She would definitely feel it. But what could he do about that? He was nervous. “I… Maybe I did die.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach. He could feel the crush of grief on her heart. 

But it didn’t wash away the thudding repetition of love-protect-my darling. There was no suspicion, no guilt, no fear. It was just pain for his sake, with no calculation about how to solve a sudden problem. 

God. He wanted so badly for that to have been how his parents reacted. His eyes started to sting.

Danny sniffled. He thought it was safe to tell her. “I died,” he corrected, and he knew he was right when Cass made a little wounded sound and leaned her body into him, aiming to comfort. “Not then, but a couple years ago. I’m different now, and it’s uh… It’s dangerous to be this way.”

“Affects?” Cass asked quietly. She started to pet his hair again. “Mood? Health?”

“...Huh,” he said, because that was a sensible question he hadn’t expected. If he really thought about his mood and emotions before and after the accident: “Yeah, uh, there’s sometimes a mood thing. I might be a little more aggressive than I was before? And I can get kind of intense sometimes.”

He had thought that was basically just a reaction to having a whole bunch of new threats in his life. But would pre-electrocution Danny have been able to actually stand and fight Skulker? He had genuinely been afraid of the jocks. Maybe… Maybe he was different. Sure, Sam and Jazz were up for shooting ghosts with Fenton tech. Would he have been if he was just human? 

…He didn’t really think so.

Oof. Well, that wasn’t exactly great for his sense of self.

Cass shook him lightly. “Health?” she repeated.

Danny forced down that revelation to deal with later. He didn’t like acknowledging that he was kind of a chicken by nature, but historically, there wasn’t much evidence of bravery pre-mortem. “Uh, my heart rate is really slow, body temp is low, so I can’t really afford to go to a doctor for a checkup,” he said. “Uh, sometimes I’ve got none at all and my hair turns white.” He paused there. That was- that was enough, yeah? He was going to be honest with her because she deserved honesty from him. But that didn’t mean he had to explain the whole great beyond and his inhuman status.

“Sounds like Jason,” Cass said, after a long silence.

Danny short-circuited. “Wait, what?” He craned to look at her. “Who?”

Cass darted forward to kiss his forehead. “Little brother,” she said cheerfully. “Want to meet him?”

Uh, yeah. Danny nodded vigorously, wondering what the hell she was on about. “Do you mean he died?” 

“Died,” Cass agreed, getting out her phone and tapping away at it rapidly.

“Not like, heart stopped for a minute on the operating table and he was revived, or what?” Danny pressed.

“Dead in the ground, came back later,” Cass said. “Dead for months. Now, very crabby.”

Danny balked. “What?”

“White hair too,” she said. Then her face did something funny. “I think he dyed it recently,” she said. 

Danny huffed a laugh. “If it’s the same thing as mine, you can’t dye it.” He saw her look over his head for white streaks. He didn’t correct her line of thought.

He hadn’t thought that anything could top the anticipation of meeting Batman. But Danny had to admit the rest of the day was a wash. Apparently Jason couldn’t make it until the evening, about an hour before patrol.

Danny nearly paced a line into the carpet. He had enough energy to do that now, even without ecto. He was getting soooo much food here. A guy couldn’t even stress out for an hour without someone coming by to make sure he had fruit and yogurt or a hot drink.

He didn’t need someone to come and tell him that the much anticipated Jason had shown up. Danny knew it when he went to take a sip of cruelty-free chocolate milk (hand delivered by the most frightening child in the world) and choked on vapor.

Damian gave him a glare and snatched the drink away. “Are you incapable of drinking beverages?” he demanded. His face looked so goddamn cross but he was just worried.

Danny managed a smile. “No, went down the wrong pipe, sorry.”

Damian didn’t seem to even see the fog, so- so that meant that either he was really unobservant or he wasn’t liminal enough to see it the way people did in Amity. That was a small blessing. Danny appreciated it and he took back his drink to have something to hold onto.

That was a whole ass ghost. That was a whole ghost coming onto the property, one that felt big and mad and old. Danny smacked his lips, disconcerted. 

He, uh, didn’t know what to expect from this.

[hold-on-a-little-longer-whump]

Don't mind me, just thinking about a character recovering from an illness or injury. The danger has passed, but they're still weak and exhaustion follows them like a heavy cloud. Comfort food is brought regularly. Soft clothes. Blankets. Fuzzy socks.

Particularly, the image of them sleeping on a squashy looking couch. Maybe they kicked off the blankets. Golden sunlight bathes them in warmth, and it's heavenly. Their hair is fluffed and messy.

And their companion stops themselves in the threshold of the door, not wanting to disturb this rare moment of bliss. They're carrying a tray of warm food, and the steam catches in the sun's rays just right.

They smile. Lunch can wait.

[thatrandomwriter]

Be Right Back

Ghostface Stu Macher x Reader

Warnings: Threat of violence, underage drinking, kissing

Summary: Ghostface follows reader into the basement at Stu’s house party, but reader has an idea about who might be behind the mask

“I don’t know what you did, Sidney, but on behalf of the entire student body we all say thank you!” Stu had swooped in to walk with Sidney, Tatum and I, presenting us with flowers. He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes. He clutched his chest as if this was the most heartless action I could’ve taken. I laughed.

“Drop it, Stu,” Tatum said as Sidney looked down at the ground, but Stu was not put off.

He slid between me and Sidney, slinging an arm around each of our shoulders, “Ya know I say, impromptu party tonight, my house, celebrate this little siesta. What do you say?” I could smell his fresh cologne, feel his warmth next to me.

“Are you serious?” Sidney asked, unconvinced.

“Sounds like fun - might be good to take your mind off things?” I said.

“That’s exactly right,” Stu piggybacked off my reasoning, flashing me a grin. I felt my face heat up slightly, “If Tatum doesn’t invite the entire world, we’ll be fine. Intimate gathering, intimate friends,”

“What do you say, Sid? I mean, pathos could have it’s perks,” If Tatum was on board too, there was no way Sidney was saying no.

“You’ll be totally protected. Yo, I am so buff. I got you covered, girl,” Stu made a show of removing his arms from around us to flex them exaggeratedly.

“With Stu as your bodyguard, no-one is getting anywhere near you,” I said, and Sidney smiled.

“Come on, Sid. For me? It could be fun,” Tatum appealed.

“Okay, whatever,” Sidney caved in.

“Yeah? Cool, you guys bring food, alright?” Stu said, leaving to walk in another direction. I turned to wave goodbye, catching him doing a triumphant air guitar.

“Save that energy for the party,” I called back to him.

“I’ll be at the top of my game, don’t you worry,”

*

I was a few hours and a few drinks into the party. Stu had disappeared a little while ago, and embarrassingly, I was disappointed that he wasn’t around to hang out with anymore. Instead, I was sandwiched between Sidney and Tatum, sunk deep into the squashy sofa, someone’s legs across mine.

“I’m getting some more drinks - anyone want anything?” I asked, feeling more claustrophobic than thirsty. I was met with a general consensus that just about everybody needed another beer “I’ll grab whatever I can carry,”

Tatum removed her arm from my shoulders, and I struggled up from the sofa.

“Thank you!” Tatum grinned up at me.

“Be right back,”

I was still getting used to the size of Stu’s house, managing to open two wrong doors before I came across the basement - dark and steep stepped. I fumbled for the light switch, hand patting down the wall, until finally I felt it and flipped it on, lights flickering into being.

The fridge was impressively stocked - full of as much beer as could be crammed into it, bottles and cans stacked haphazardly, threatening to fall to the floor if I made one wrong move. I wiggled a few free, grabbing bottles by the necks in an attempt to fit more in my hands. It would be a miracle if I made it back to the party without dropping any of them, but one trip down into the spooky basement was enough for me, especially with a killer around; I would not be making a second trip if anyone ended up without a drink.

I reversed with the beers, shutting the fridge with my foot and nearly toppling over, stumbling backwards until I hit a wall. No, not a wall - a person, soft and warm.

“Sorry, guess I’m more tipsy than I thought,” I laughed, turning to see who I had fallen into. A white mask, mouth open in an exaggerated scream stared down at me. A ghostface mask. “Shit, you scared me,” Was this just a tone-deaf joke? Perhaps someone had meant to catch Sidney down here to really freak her out. Or maybe this was the real deal - I fought the urge to laugh. This could not be how I died, fetching beer at a trashy highschool party.

“I’m just gonna-“ I moved to walk around him and back up to the party, but he side-stepped, making me walk into him again. Something about him seemed familiar - his height, the way he stood, his smell … I realised then exactly who it was. I had smelled Stu’s cologne when he had put his arm around me earlier, and I could smell it again, now.

“Stu?” I let out my laugh, relieved. He had a tendency to take jokes too far, this was just an instance of his somewhat unsympathetic sense of humour.

Stu shook his head, mask turning from side to side.

“Come on, I know it’s you. Let’s go have a drink,”

Metal gleamed as Stu revealed a knife from inside one of his long sleeves.

“That’s not funny, Stu,” Was this part of his joke? Would he really take it this far, or was I somehow mistaken about the identity of whoever it was behind the mask?

The person tilted their head to one side, as if he were analysing what I was saying. For a moment, we were at a silent impasse. Then, Ghostface lunged for me with the knife. Beer slid from my arms, shattering on the basement floor, and I made no effort to hold onto it as I ducked. I shoved at the body in front of me to put some distance between us. I was trapped between him and the shut garage door - all I could do was try to evade his attacks. Part of me was still convinced that it was Stu, another knew that surely he was not capable of murder. He stabbed at me again, and this time I gripped onto his arm, but the knife was aimed for my chest. I was weaker than he was, and despite all of my efforts, the knife was still closing in on me. I knew in that moment that I was not going to win this fight, so instead, I turned my attention to the mask. I managed to push his arm to the side, stepping away from it so that he stumbled forward. Before he could recover, I grabbed onto the mask, yanking it away from his head.

“Stu?” The reveal floored me. I had been expecting this, I had known it was him, but still I was shocked. Stu regained his footing, taking advantage of my shock to shove me backwards and into a wall, a real one this time, knife at my throat. I was breathing heavily, from a combination of fighting him, fear, and, ridiculously, what felt like nervousness twitching in my chest at our proximity.

“How’d you know it was me, huh?” He pushed the knife further into my skin for a second, punctuating the question.

If it was anyone else, I probably would not have figured it out, “I just … recognised you,”

“You did? Well, I have to say, I’m very flattered - what are you, a stalker?” Stu was teasing me, laughing at me, with a knife to my neck. He stepped forward, even closer to me than before, almost touching me. I could still feel my chest rising and falling heavily.

“You’re flattered?” Part of me thought that maybe playing into this attraction could keep me alive, even just long enough for someone to notice that I had been gone too long from the party. Another part was shamefully intrigued as to where this was leading.

“Of course I am - don’t you think I’ve noticed you too?” he leaned in to whisper in my ear, “Who would’ve thought a knife was the way to get your attention?”

When he pulled back, I couldn’t help but glance down at his lips, how close they were to mine. As soon as my eyes were back on his, I knew that he had noticed. My face grew hot, but something shifted in his expression, becoming less playful and more serious as he surged forwards to kiss me. I tilted my head up towards him, my eyes shutting as his lips moved against mine, fast and hungry and full of desperation. I was pressed between him and the wall, the coldness behind me a stark contrast to the warmth in front. One of his hands found my neck, replacing the knife, thumb grazing my throat in a gentle caress meant to remind me that I was still entirely at his mercy. The feeling made me groan slightly. His teeth nipped roughly at my lower lip, hard enough to sting. I parted my lips for him, and he delighted in sliding his tongue into my mouth, leaving me somehow even more breathless than before.

His hands were on my hips, “Jump up,” Stu broke away from me only for a second, as I jumped up to wrap my legs around his waist. He used the wall to hold me up, one hand snaking back up to my neck, the other resting on my hip, fingers grazing the skin just beneath my top. He used the hand on my neck to pull my head to the side, kissing down my jaw until he reached skin soft enough to leave a hickey. Stu bit at my neck, sucking soft skin between his teeth, making me wince slightly which only encouraged him. When he was finally satisfied, he looked up at me, grinning, “You’re my masterpiece,”

The doorknob jiggled, before a knock on the door made him turn away. “You alright in there? I came to see if you needed help carrying the drinks,” Sidney’s voice sounded down into to basement.

I looked to Stu. Now would be the time for me to scream for help, “All good, I think the door locks when you shut it too hard sometimes,” I said. She would never make it through the locked door in time to save me, I told myself. But Stu was kissing my neck, nuzzling into me, and I knew the real reason.

“If you say so,” Sidney said.

“Yep, I’ll be up in a minute,” I struggled to keep my voice steady, but my reply seemed to satisfy Sidney, as there was no other sound from upstairs.

“How do you know you’ll be back?�� Stu asked, finally removing himself from my neck to look into my eyes.

“I don’t, but I thought you’d want me to get rid of her,”

A smile widened across his face at my compliance, and his thumb caressed my throat once again, “Aren’t you clever?”

“Will I be back?” I asked; he was carefully evading answering his own question.

“I haven’t quite decided yet,” his hand had strayed to the knife which had been resting on top of a chest freezer, “But I’m sure you can figure out a way to make keeping you alive worth my trouble,”

[monstersandmaw]

What do you think a house or building designed by and for accommodating nagas be like? I imagine stairs would be kind of pointless? And what would their version of couches or sofas look?

My first thought was something like a helter skelter XD.

Sorry, to be more serious, I'd imagine that if it's a multi-storey building, it'd have ramps but also if the nagas are based on tree-climbing snakes, then maybe columns with grippy textures to access different levels easily. Otherwise, all on one level.

Also underfloor heating (think Roman hypocaust systems if it's a fantasy world, or just... underfloor heating if it's modern) for maintaining a good temperature for them. Or heat lamps/sauna room. Areas to allow them to shed more comfortably?

Lots of squashy soft furnishings (beanbags and padded beds (kind of like dogbeds but not degrading lol), rather than wooden dining chairs etc.)

Feel free to add more ideas in the notes, folks!

It's 11.20pm now and I've been nuked by 5 hours on my motorbike today, and also daylight saving happening XD

[hayanwulf]

Painful Flowers

Tony stared down at the scene in abject horror.

Flowers and petals pooled the entire floor of the room. The large four-poster bed had literally turned into a flower bed, comprising of flora unlike anything on Earth. Their shapes and colors were otherworldly, some colors unrecognizable even, each one of them possessing an unfathomable beauty.

And amidst it, covered in thorny vines and soft flowers, lay the cold, motionless body of Stephen Strange.

Tony had never hated flowers more in his life than he did right at that moment.

He slowly stepped in, his gut twisting into knots, senses repelled by the sweet, floral scent in the air, trying to ignore the way the petals felt squashy under his boots.

This had to be a nightmare. This had to be. Maybe if he punched himself now, he’d find himself back in his workshop, neck lying on his desk in an appalling angle that would pain him for the rest of the day; back in a world where, with just a quick call, the wizard would instantly show up at his workshop, walking out of a sparking portal with a haughty remark on his lips, his cloak fluttering on non-existent wind.

It was exactly a week ago that he had done just that.

Exactly a week ago when he had seemed fine. Or the week before that, during Tony and Pepper’s wedding. Or the week before that, when they had met up for their usual lunch date.

He had been completely fine.

There had been no outward signs. No coughing or concerning shortage of breath. No indications of a sad or downhearted mood. No traces of anything being wrong. No, he had simply been his usual self. Snarky, throwing playful banters around with Tony that they both found easy to engage in, sharp as a pencil with his comebacks, a trace of content satisfaction always wrapped around his aura whenever he was around Tony.

He could still recall the brightened expression in the sorcerer’s face when they had met last week, that small, genuine smile he had given Tony, his eyes sparkling with a special kind of attention which they didn’t seem to hold for many people in this world.

“Are you happy?” He had asked Tony, at the end of the day. “With you marriage?”

“Couldn’t imagine being happier,” Tony had replied, letting all of his contentment pour into his words.

“I’m happy for you, Tony.”

They hadn’t met after that day. Tony had sent a couple of texts, especially one about their missed lunch date on Wednesday, and had never gotten a reply. But that hadn’t raised any concerns or suspicions. Why would it have? They were superheroes, their lives were busy and unpredictable.

And now, a week later, Stephen lay lifelessly in his own bed, succumbed to Hanahaki.

Unpredicted in the most unpredictable way.

Tony dared to look down at the man’s face.

There was some scabbed blood at a corner of his lips, red-bathed flowers lying next to his head and on his neck from where he had obviously coughed them out of his lungs. Even in his frozen state, his eyebrows were a little tense, scrunched-up as though in pain.

It was very slow and very painful, Tony realized.

The thought made something squeeze painfully tight in his chest.

A blue butterfly sat on his nose, its wings opening and closing slowly. Tony had no way of knowing if it was supposed to be one of his magic butterflies, or if it had simply found its way in through some crack on the windows, allured by the fragrant flowers.

Sickening flowers.

There was a disturbing-looking thin, green vine coming out of the side of his eye. Thorns dotted the length of the vine, needle-thin and menacing.

He had wept thorny vines, not normal tears.

And it looked excruciating.

Tony hadn’t even known that was something possible in Hanahaki. Probably shouldn’t be. Probably had to do something with magic, the same magic that had resulted in all of these unrecognizable flowers Tony was staring down at, instead of normal, Earthly flowers.

“How..?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Wong sighed softly from somewhere at his right. Tony didn’t care to look as the other sorcerer spoke, his eyes unable to leave the impossibly pale, lifeless man lying in front of him.

“According to the apprentices, he locked himself in a week ago. I was gone to another dimension the entire week. When I came back it was to learn that he hadn’t been seen around the entire time. It took me hours to break the spells he put up to ward his room.” A pause, then a tentative, “He left us sometime last night.”

Tony’s eyes stung as he took a step back, shaking his head in disbelief. This couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. Nothing made sense here. “He visited me a week ago. He was fine.” His words quivered.

“Don’t forget that he.. was, a powerful sorcerer. He’s been hiding his condition for a while.”

Tony snapped his head over to Wong, glaring at him through tears. “Not powerful enough to overcome fucking petal disease?”

He vibrated with anger. Whether that was towards Wong or the unmoving man on the bed or that fucked up disease, he didn’t know.

It didn’t make sense. You didn’t just die from Hanahaki, not in 21st century where you had effective solutions for symptom management and high-tech life support, where you had access to therapy and support communities and what-fucking-not. Very, very rarely did Hanahaki progress into a terminal stage in the modern world, and those were almost always cases where the person’s unrequited love or significant other had passed away, leaving them with no way of having a closure.

Wong’s own gaze was stuck on Stephen, eyes stricken with grief and what seemed like guilt. “Then maybe his love was more powerful than his magic.”

The comment made him recoil, his stomach twisting with a complicated mix of emotions he didn’t understand, his eyes moving back to the bed of flowers.

Stephen had never told him anything. He.. they had been friends. At least.. at least Tony had thought so.

Clearly, Stephen hadn’t shared the sentiment. Because Tony had never been told about this.. this soul-crushing love Stephen had held for someone in this world. He had sat next to Tony through tedious meetings about the Accords, had shared lunch with Tony every Wednesday, had taught Tony the endless wonders of magic, had made him love magic rather than fear it, had listened to Tony rant late at night about his latest inventions..

He had fought alongside Tony on Titan, had stayed with him through pain and hopelessness and victory. He had stood by Tony’s side as the government had welcomed Rogers back to the states and he had never left.

And yet.. yet he’d never trusted Tony enough to confide in him, to tell him that he held someone so close to his heart.

No, instead he had chosen to lock himself up in his room for the final days of his life, withering away as more and more tragically beautiful flowers sprouted out of his misery.

It stung.

It stung so bad, it constricted around Tony’s heart and lungs like a python’s death grip, dug its disgusting blackened claws deep into the crevices of his soul, made it hard to breathe as he attempted to suck in a ragged breath.

Suddenly the pain morphed, and a vengeful kind of anger rose, higher and higher until it was boiling just beneath his skin. He turned his eyes to Wong.

“Who?”

Wong closed his eyes in a pained movement, shaking his head. “It is not my place to tell.”

Between one moment and another, Tony had crossed over to the sorcerer, holding the neck of his tunic in a vicious grip, eyes fiercely glaring down at the other man. “Don’t fucking bullshit me, Wong,” he spat, voice almost a growl from the ferocious anger roaring inside of him. “He’s.. he’s gone and it doesn’t matter anymore whose place it is to tell! Who did he love?”

Wong did not wither under his gaze in the least. “And what will you do, once you learn their name?”

“I will give them a piece of my fucking mind,” he snarled. “I will tell them how despicable a person they are, for not accepting his love.” For rejecting the person who would have given them an endless repertoire of affection, who would have treated them with nothing less than utmost respect, who was possibly, quite literally, capable of plucking the moon and stars out of the sky on their command.

How fucking dare they not even give him a chance?

Tony would not forgive them. He would tell them exactly what they had done, what they had turned down.

To be entirely honest, he was currently in a state of mind where he would probably just uproot their entire life and personally make sure that they would never be able to experience love again.

Wong didn’t need to know that, however.

“And what if they didn’t know?”

Tony’s grip wavered a little. “What?”

“What if Stephen had never confessed his love, as you seem to assume.”

He looked at the sorcerer from one eye to the other, feeling his own eyebrows crease progressively. “He would.”

Wong shook his head. “He didn’t.”

Tony abruptly released the sorcerer, stepping back as frustration boiled in his chest. “He would. Why wouldn’t he? If he loved them so much..” If he loved them enough to reach the terminal stage of Hanahaki, to not seek treatment in time.. surely, that meant that he had confessed his love to them?

Nobody died of Hanahaki. Nobody wanted to die — well, except suicidal people, but they didn’t necessarily go seeking out Hanahaki for that particularly. Nobody would.

Hanahaki was cruel. It was torture, the worst kind of body horror. It slowly turned your insides into flowers, pretty and fragrant and absolutely sardonic with the way it birthed beauty out of your despair, making you feel every bit of agony as you lost parts of yourself bit by bit, quite literally.

So no, there was no way Stephen would’ve wanted that. Surely, he’d have tried to court his love first before giving up so hopelessly, right?

“He had his reasons, Stark,” Wong said, and Tony couldn’t believe this. No. He couldn’t take this anymore.

What fucking reason warranted preferring to die over never getting over, nor confessing his love?

Why?

Why?

He wanted to walk over to Stephen, grab his shoulders by force and shake him, maybe slap him a few until he expelled all the answers. God, he wished he could do that right now.

‘I’m happy for you, Tony.’

He wished he had asked Stephen at that moment, if he was happy.

He wished he could rewind time. Wished he could go back to the previous week and ask exactly that. And then pin the sorcerer down in his workshop, not let him leave, plug him to a life support right then and there and bully him into accepting treatment.

He wished he could just.. talk to him.

About all the damn questions and mysteries swirling in Tony’s mind. About everything that Tony should have talked about, sooner. About why Stephen thought that his love for this person was important enough to give up his life for.

Why.

Why..

Damn it, Stephen.

His legs gave out and he crumpled to the floor, thick, hot tears streaming down his face. His hand touched the floor, and caught the silken texture of petals. He clamped his fist over them until it hurt, feeling the sickening velvet getting crushed in his grip.

The blue butterfly that had been giving Stephen company, fluttered down to Tony and settled on his thigh, almost as though trying to provide him a soothing touch with its weightless wings. One last piece of Stephen, trying to tell him, it’s okay.

It was the only semblance of comfort.

And an absolute joke of a closure.

Because he knew nothing. He had no answers, and now, he would never have the chance to obtain them.

[danrifics]

no theyre right dnp r broken up i mean did u see the squashie video they were looking at each other with pure malice!!! clearly the bitterest of exes

listen not to defend trisha but like reading something off wiki page that says that dnp haven’t said more than it was romantic at some point and then thinking oh maybe they aren’t together now with literally no other context is kinda understandable imo like she doesn’t really know anything more than that and i kinda think it’s a fair assumption on her part.

i keep seeing so many tags and tweets being like how could she not know just look at them etc and it’s like well she’s not actually looking at them too deeply in fact it literally looks like she’s not thought about dnp for a few years so i don’t know why she’d think anything of it really

[glorious-spoon]

The kiss prompt had me feeling too much like a kid in a candy store, and I couldn't pick. I managed to narrow it down to three, hopefully one of them sparks joy?

…as a suggestion.

…after a small rejection.

…because they’re running out of time.

for buddie please 🩶

:D thank you! i went for 'a kiss after a small rejection', hope you enjoy!

-

Buck has been extremely supportive of Eddie's dating woes, in his opinion. He has been a good friend about it, listening sympathetically to the post-game of every date that fizzled out and every connection that failed to manifest. After Marisol, there was Raquel, and then Marta, and María, and Janelle. Then, maybe less shocking than it would have been a couple of years ago, there was Daniel, and Liam, and Álvaro. Eddie told him about the first of those dates with a glint in his eye that dared Buck to comment, so Buck didn't.

But it means that they're currently in this weird holding pattern where Buck knows that Eddie likes men, and—maybe more relevantly—is willing to consider dating a man, and they still haven't actually talked about it.

That's a conversation that should probably happen. Buck just doesn't know how to bring it up without immediately blurting everything out, without begging Eddie to consider him as an option. And if he does that, there's no coming back from it. If he does that, and Eddie says no, he doesn't know what'll happen. The world will end, or he'll die of mortification and disappointment, or something else unspeakably awful will occur. Maddie keeps telling him that he's catastrophizing, and he knows she's probably right, but that doesn't mean he can just make himself stop.

He's working on it.

Right now, Eddie is flopped across Buck's new couch—brown leather, wide and squashy and comfortable. Natalia helped him pick it out, and he feels a little weird about keeping it now, but the truth is that the couch turned out to be a better fit than the relationship. It's big enough for the two of them to sprawl on while they drink their beers and Eddie grumbles about his most recent date.

"I mean, you know, it was fine. Whatever," he says, with a huffy little shrug. Buck loves Eddie in every mood, but there's something especially charming about him when he's being petulant like this. Maybe because it's such a contrast to the calm, in-control face he presents to the rest of the world. Buck's not the only person who gets to have this part of Eddie, but he is a member of a select group.

"So no second date?" he asks, trying not to sound hopeful.

"He said I was 'a nice guy, but he didn't feel a connection'," Eddie says, with sarcastic one-handed finger-quotes. He takes another sullen pull on his beer.

"That's not so bad," Buck offers. Eddie's dates don't usually crash and burn the way Buck's have a tendency to, or did back when he was actually trying to date. People like Eddie. He's polite and kind and thoughtful, and reserved in a way that comes across as mysterious and fascinating instead of aloof. And that's without even getting into the fact that he looks like a fucking model, but most people know that part before they go out with him. Buck has no idea how anybody could go on a date with Eddie and not immediately fall head over heels in love with him, but he is admittedly a little biased.

"Yeah, I know," Eddie sighs. He pushes himself upright and tilts his head back against the couch, cradling his beer between his palms. "I know, it's not like I really wanted a second date either. It's just…"

"Rejection sucks?" Buck offers.

"That too. Mostly I'm just wondering how long I'm going to have to keep doing this before I find somebody I can have a connection with? Like, with Shannon, it was—"

"—bolt of lightning out of the blue?" Buck asks, because that was how it felt for him, with Eddie. That moment outside the ambulance, Eddie's blinding smile and warm handshake and the way something in him cracked wide open then and never really went away.

Eddie huffs. "Kind of. But—we were friends first. We already had that connection. You know? And then one day I looked at her and I felt like—"

He stops abruptly. If Buck wasn't already watching him, he'd probably miss the way Eddie's eyes flick toward him, and then away.

His stomach feels suddenly like he's on a rollercoaster, in giddy freefall.

"Like you were seeing something completely new?" he asks. He folds his hand tight around his beer, but he can feel it trembling.

Eddie takes a deep, visible breath, then nods and leans forward to set his beer down before turning back toward Buck.

"Yeah," he says quietly, and Buck is almost completely sure that they're not just talking about Shannon anymore. Eddie's face is open, his gaze clear, but Buck knows him well enough to detect the faint hint of nerves there.

That's the thing that finally gives him the courage to do what maybe he should have a long time ago.

"Can you just, uh." He clears his throat, then sets his beer down too. "Tell me if I'm totally misreading this?"

"Yeah, okay," Eddie whispers, but he doesn't pull back. Not when Buck shifts closer on the couch; not when he reaches out to settle a hand on Eddie's cheek, and not when he leans in to press a chaste, careful kiss to Eddie's lips.

It lingers softly for a moment, and then he pulls back and opens his eyes. Eddie blinks a couple of times, then smiles, sudden and bright.

"You're not misreading it," he says, and leans in to kiss Buck again.

(for these kiss prompts)

[ktficworld]

Loving you is not easy, my dear

Pairing: Steve Rogers x desi!reader

Summary: America thinks Steve Rogers can do better and maybe, they are right.

Warning: heavy racism(seriously, I'm not using this word lightly), angst, hurt/comfort, trolling, protective!Steve, reader gets her revenge on the racist bastards 😈

A/n: posting after so long. Already know traction is going to be shit but I'd really appreciate if you reblog this. I'll try to keep it short(I failed💀)

Tags: @sunshine-on-my-mind @slutty-daddy-pedro

This wasn't supposed to happen.

You weren't ready to get dragged through the mud just yet.

You and Steve have been dating for a year. You were a regular software engineer. Wandering around on the internet, to help fellow programmers with their problems. Little did you know, that none other than Tony Stark was there for help under the disguise of 'toiletdistroyer'; frankly, you should have known by this username, but oh well.

So, you caught the billionaires eye and he offered you a job on the spot. And of course, you took it, much to your parents dismay and happiness. With tears filled in your eyes and aachar, parathe stuffed in your tiffin. Of you went to America.

You didn't meet the captain for a good month and honestly, even if you had. You wouldn't have given two fucks about him since you were stressed to the brim with work and moving in.

You slowly met every avenger. Tony was the first, of course. Then it was Bruce Wayne Banner as you worked on the technical part of a bio-tech project he was developing. He was good but was shy and mostly kept to himself. Afterwards followed, Natasha, she was sassy and perfect. You liked talking to her about girl shit and somehow, she took a liking to your weird ass and you befriended black widow.

Next up, was his best friend. Bucky. He caught you wandering outside the stark building because you came too early and so he joined you and the birds chirping. He was cute and funny, but not your type. Thankfully, he wasn't interested and quickly friend zoned him.

Then you met him.

You whistled as you sauntered into the lobby. Clocking out early from your shift and cherry on top, it was Friday. You were going to have a fun weekend. Talking with your parents, watching kdrama and being gleefully single.

Your whistle was disturbed by something squashy yet hard coming underneath your foot. You retreated your foot and glanced down with furrowed brows. It was a brown leather wallet. With a sigh, you bent down and picked up the lost wallet.

You opened the wallet to see the identity of the abandoned wallet's owner and your eyebrows disappeared into you hairline as the stupidly handsome face of the captain appeared in front of you. He must have dropped it in a hurry.

Your eyes darted around as you bit your bottom lip. The sane thing to do would be to go to the reception, hand her the wallet and go your merry way. But he might still be around and also, the receptionist looked too bitchy for you to deal with. So you went for the less sane option, of course.

You took a deep breath and glanced up at the ceiling. "Hey, Friday. Is Captain Rogers still in the compound?"

"Yes, miss. Shona. Captain Rogers is in the parking lot." The robotic voice of Friday said from above.

"Thank you, Friday." You said and deeply sighed. Yes, you could do it. No need to be nervous. What if he's Captain America? You ain't a criminal. With that peep talk, you rushed to the parking lot.

You almost tripped while trying to find Steve in the parking lot but in the end, you found him. He was swinging his leg to climb on his bike when you shouted to get his attention.

"Captain Rogers! Captain Rogers!" The man stopped mid-way, setting his foot back on the ground as he turned around and you almost died at the sight of him. He was wearing blue jeans, white T-shirt and blue jacket, making his sapphire eyes pop as some blonde hair strands falling over his forehead. Oh, girl. Get a grip on yourself!

He was startled by your incessant shouting as he looked at you with his doe yet alert eyes. "Yes, miss. How can I help you?" He asked, ever the gentleman and you internally sighed in relief that he didn't call you ma'am.

You waved his wallet and said. "Your wallet. I think you dropped in the lobby."

His eyes widened as he patted his pockets and a sheepish look appeared on his face. "Ah, I think I really dropped it. Sorry." He said and walked up to you.

You gave him his wallet with a smile and bit your lip when your hands touched. Fuck, were you on your pms?

You peered at him through your lashes as he checked the insides of the wallet and promptly shoved it in his jeans back pocket.

He glanced at you and with a shy smile, said. "Thank you, miss."

"Oh, no problem. You can call me shona." You didn't know what divine energy of confidence came over you as you extended your hand for Steve to shake.

Steve looked at you funnily but shook your hand nonetheless. "That's not your real name, is it?" He asked timidly after the handshake, his touch lingering on your hand as you unwittingly savoured the feeling.

You beamed at him and shook your head. "Nope."

"Then, what is it?"

You told him your name and the smile on his dashing face faded away as he looked down. You could not blame him, most people had the same reaction and that was why you gave your nickname, not actual name.

"I'll probably butcher that." He muttered sadly as he scratched the back of his neck.

You chuckled and waved off his concerns. "It's alright. Most people can't say my name. Only few special people have made it into a special group who can pronounce it outside India." And it was true. Only few people were able to say your name without getting their tongue twisted, including Natasha.

Steve raised an eyebrow. He bent down, close to your face and whispered, in a husky voice. "And what are the requirements?"

You hummed as you pretend to think with your finger on your chin and said, dramatically. "A lot of dedication and practice."

Now it was his turned to be amused as he leaned even closer and asked. "And what will I get if I get into this special club?"

You were caught off guard as you spluttered out. "Um, what do you want?" And you also had kdramas to binge for fuck sake.

"A dinner sounds good." He said with a lopsided grin.

You gave him a thumbs up and said. "Perfect! Now I need to go. I have a weekend to enjoy, bye." You said and rushed out without a second thought or glance at Steve.

When you sat down in the metro was the time when your dumb mind actually processed his words and you froze In your seat. Wait! Did he just ask you on a date?

He did, in fact, ask you on a date.

After he learned to say your name. You two went on a date and you knew you were doomed. Those blue eyes had effectively captured your heart as you slowly fell for him.

And who won't? He was so soft, affectionate, caring, supportive. He was perfect. You didn't know what he saw in you. You were so... Regular.

But whenever you would say this to him. He would look at you all offended and ask why not? You were beautiful, intelligent and his sunshine. And you melted everytime he said that.

You told your parents and you had to make your mother take an oath that she won't say anything about your relationship to any of your relatives as she just couldn't stop giggling. Thankfully, she kept her oath.

You also officially got introduced to the avengers. Bucky and Natasha already knew about it and everyone was happy for you and Steve. Yeah, Tony did throw a tantrum about how he didn't figure out your budding romance and how Rogers whisked you away from under his nose. His words, not yours. And he also earned a slap to the chest by Pepper for that.

You both decided to keep your relationship private. Steve did not want to make a circus of his relationship in the media and you also wanted to lay low. You wanted to take the Katrina Kaif route, one day you're single and the next day, poof! You are married.

But the Cosmos had another plan.

You didn't know who it was, a reporter or a fan. But someone captured you and Steve in a not so platonic way. You were sitting on his bike, one hand occupied with an ice cream and the other, draped over his board shoulder. He was holding you by the waist as you both kissed. Ice cream long forgotten as you both were smiling into the kiss. But someone had posted it on social media and overnight your very private relationship was in front of the entire world to judge ans comment about.

You woke up to a cold bed and your phone exploded with texts and calls, ranging from judgmental relatives to your friends from India and America to the entire avengers team.

You furrowed your brows at the slew of messages and calls and decided to call Steve but instead his phone blared in your shared room, making you sigh. What the fuck was going on?

You scrolled through your contacts and paused when Natasha's name appeared. You hovered over her number hesitantly before calling her. Just after two rings, she answered.

"Hello, Natasha. What is going on and where is Steve?" You asked her in a sleepy voice and scratched your head.

On the other side of the line, Natasha sucked in a sharp breath and replied with unusual franticness. "Shona, somebody leaked a photo of you two and now the world knows that you both are in a relationship. Steve's in the living room, come here quickly and don't open your social media!" Natasha cautioned.

"Wha-" You didn't even get a chance to comprehend her words before she hang up the call. You glance at your phone incredulously. You sat up straight when your brain finally processed the given information. Your relationship was public. Your Katrina Kaif moment was ruined even before it materialised, ugh! So unfair.

And telling you not to open your social medias? It was like telling a child not to eat the candies from the jar. You bit your lip and opened the hellhole called twitter. And the number one trending hastag was:

#CaptainAmericaisdatingwho?

You tapped on the hastag and was instantly greeted by the picture of you and Steve. Your eyes widened as you took in the picture, whoever clicked it had good photography skills as you looked decent in it. You scrolled down and made a decision you would later come to regret, started reading the reactions of the people.

He is dating an Indian? Why? Did he not find any good girl in here? Insane.

If they have a child, what would be their skin color?

She probably put him under a spell or something.

Wait! She works for Stark, meaning this is a work-place relationship. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

Captain America is taken😭😭😭 why God! Now I need to find someone else to obsess over😭😭😭

Look how she's eating. Like, get some manners girl! 👇

You looked down to the image attached. You were eating rice with your hand and winking at the camera, granted it wasn't the neatest sight but eating food with hands made it taster(yeah, fight me on it!).

That was it, you could not take it anymore. You burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter as you giggled at the comments, doubling down in your bed.

Tears gathered in your eyes as you laughed your ass off on these racists misery. You knew damn well that you would face some form of racism whether you dated Steve or not and it was funny to see them whine like anyone gave a shit.

You scrolled some more laughing at the whiny racist and the memes people made along the way. However, one comment caught your attention as you halted to read it.

Why isn't Steve dating her?

You looked down at the photo and your heart dropped, all your happiness fading away. You stared at the woman's photo for what felt like ages as you observed her porcelain skin, her blonde hair and her perfect figure. She was the epitome of an American woman.

You looked at Sharon's perfect face and could not help but echo the poster's thought. Yeah, why wasn't he dating Sharon? Why was he dating you? A regular girl while he was captain fucking America! He could have anyone he wanted. A model, an actor anyone he wanted and he wanted you? Why?

Much to your detriment, you scroll past it and onto the next comment which said:

So, she's the ugly one in the relationship 🙈🙈🙈

The comment plunged into your soul like a rusted dagger as your breathing becomes a shallow pounding in your ears. You glanced forward, where the full length mirror was sitting and stared at your reflection with critical gaze.

You brought a hand to your face, it was so dull. Your eyes had dark circles and were puffy. Your lips weren't plump enough. Your eyes weren't big enough. Your body wasn't curvy enough. You only had brains. No, you didn't! You weren't special, anyone could do your job with enough practice. You were nothing out of the ordinary.

You were snapped out of your destructive thoughts as your phone was snatched out of your grip. You whipped your eyes to the perpetrator and a very furious Natasha glared back at you.

"What did I tell you about not checking your social media?" Natasha asked, enraged as she waved your phone in her hands.

You didn't want Natasha to be proven right so you scoffed and replied. "Telling someone not to do something will only make them do it more. Haven't you heard of reverse psychology, agent?" You snarked and Natasha shook her head in displeasure.

"You coming with me?" Natasha asked.

You paused to think and then shook your head. "Let me shower first. I feel dirty and sleepy."

Natasha nodded thoughtfully and said. "Okay, I'll stay here."

You whined in protest but quickly shut up after receiving a steely glare fron the black widow which would make even the toughest villians pee their pants. You showered, taking extra long as you got distracted by your thoughts yet again. And made your way to the living room with Natasha in toe.

And you heard it before you saw it. The annoying voice of one of the most famous conservative journalist as he said that Steve Rogers could do much better, that this relationship wasn't going to last and that he wished it won't last long.

The last part made your stomach churn in uncertainty.

The pattering of footsteps alerted the other avengers of your arrival. Tony and Steve were standing next to each other as they talked in hushed yet aggressive tone.

Tony looked annoyed than ever as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. While, Steve? Steve looked like just one poke and he would snap. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were ablaze as he stood taut.

Both of the man's gaze snapped towards you as Steve's face softened and he rushed towards you, blocking your view to the TV as Tony hastily turned it off.

"You finally done sleeping, sleepy head?" Steve asked affectionately as he caressed you cheek.

You hummed absentmindedly and forced a smile on your face. "Slept like a baby." You said and the air was so thick with tension that it was strangling you more than your own mind as no one dared to talk about the elephant in the room.

Eventually, Steve cleared his throat and said in a whisper. "You already know what happened but don't worry, I'm with you." And pulled you into his embrace. Yes, why are you with me, Steve? What do you like in having to deal with all this drama when you could date any white woman and keep the peace?

You tried to reciprocate his hug but it was a half hearted attempt as you were fixated onto something else.

"Yeah, don't do anything stupid." Sam said when you and Steve parted. His face was empathic and knowing and your heart broke at that. Still, you gave him a half smile.

"Hey! That's my line!" Bucky yelled in offence, making Sam scowl at him.

"You don't own a sentence, Buchanan." Sam countered.

"Don't call me that and I would copyright..." They kept bickering but you tuned them out as the seed of doubt started sprouting in your consciousness.

📷

But it only got worse. The hate just didn't stop and everyone was piling up on you. Indians did come to your defence, questioning the racism and the unrequited hate you were getting.

But some were also interrogating you. Why were you dating captain America? Why were you flying so high? That he may just be using you and would leave you for an American sooner or later. This sentiment was also shared by your relatives.

Your parents were on your side but you could sense that seeing you get attacked was upsetting them. You put up a brave face in front of the world but you were crumbling down from the depths of your being. You were falling down an abyss and no matter how hard you shouted for help, your mind didn't let up its torment.

You didn't tell the avengers or Steve because they was already so stressed out dealing with all this fiasco. He was so distraught that he didn't even notice you withdrawing from him. He didn't notice how you slept on the edge of the bed instead of in his arms. He didn't notice that you avoided mirror like a plague. He didn't notice how you were drowning in your minds stupid tricks.

That was until it boiled over.

It was a quiet evening. You were walking back to the compound after running some errands. Apparently, Indian species were hella expensive and hard to find in there so you shopped for them by yourself. And it was also because you liked these non-eventful and tranquil moments that you had reserved for yourself.

You were absentmindedly trudging forward as the compound just entered your peripheral when a shout jolted you out of your trance like state.

"Go back to your country!"

You whirled around, only to come face-to-face with a regular white man. Seriously, he didn't even look like a Kevin or intimidating, just run of the mil white guy, very easy to blend in the crowd.

You raised your eyebrows and exclaimed. "Excuse me?"

The man tutted and took a step forward, you taking a backward step. "Didn't you hear me? I said, go back to your country."

"This is getting old. Try something new." You said with a bored voice and crossed your arms on your chest.

"Seriously, first you take our jobs then resources and now our hero? Just because you don't have anything in your country, doesn't mean you should come running to us and mooch off of us." He ranted with a grunt.

"Why? You wanna date him?" You eyed him from head to toe. "To my knowledge, Steve is straight and even if he wasn't. I don't think he would date someone like you." You snided.

His jaw ticked as he took a step forward. "You don't deserve him!" He spat.

Yes, you don't deserve him. Your mind supplied as your grip around the shopping bag loosened.

"He deserves better." Yes, he deserved better.

"You are nothing." Yes, you were nothing.

You were so hypnotised by your minds scorching affirmations that you didn't see the approaching threat.

You yelped as your back hit an electric poll, grocery bag falling on the ground. The man lunging forward for an attack but before he could even lift his hand, a punch from his left side shoved him away and he landed on the ground with a pained grunt.

You let out a shuddery breath as you slowly glanced to your left, your whole body trembling with fear. Your eyes landed on Steve standing there, panting heavily as his knuckles were painted crimson, by whose blood? You didn't know. His eyes were ablaze and his face was murderous as he began charging towards the whimpering man on the pavement.

This snapped you from whatever demons were holding you as marched towards him and shrieked. "Steve, stop!"

You stopped in front of him and wrapped youur hands around his. He halted in his steps, his face instantly softening as he unclenched his fists and dropped his offensive stance. He cupped your right cheek and you spluttered out a sob.

You glanced down at his bloody knuckle and coked out. "Steve, let's go."

He glanced behind you at the whining man and then nodded. He tucked you in his embrace while your gaze never left his knuckles. This was all your fault. Because of you, he almost lost control of himself and if he would have done something then you would have also smeared his name. Maybe it was good to end things.

📷

The room was pin-drop silent, only the sniffling of you and Steve and the clinking of the first aid kit being shut closed reverberated through the walls. Steve had started to talk as soon as you left the man writhing on the cold sidewalk but one finger of yours on his lips and he shut up, accepting your silent plea of solace. But you couldn't push back the inevitable any longer.

You lifted up the first aid kit and set it inside one of the cabinets in the bathroom. When you came back, you sat down on the coffee table ahead of Steve and peered at him through your lashes, your heart breaking when your gaze landed at his pretty face. You would miss him.

It was Steve who spoke first. He intertwined his bandaged hand with yours and softly said. "I'm sorry, you are suffering so much because of me and I'm sorry I wasn't able to protect you."

Swallowing, you looked down as tears beaded your eyelashes and muttered out. "I think we should break up, Steve. It's not working out." Saying those words was like stabbing yourself in the chest with a scorching knife.

Steve instantly stiffened and his grip on your hand grew tight as he refused to let you go. "Why?" He asked and before you could reply, his bitter laugh made your head snap upwards as he shook his head.

"Why am I asking this? This should be pretty obvious to me," He sniffled as few tears slid down his cheeks. He glanced at you and you had to bite your lip to hold back your own tears as his pained and misty eyes stared into yours. "Is there nothing I could do to change your mind? To make you give me a second chance? Do you not love me anymore?"

The last part was like a slap to your face as you furiously shook your head and yelled. "I love you with all my heart, body, mind and soul. I love you more than anything in this world, more than I could ever articulate."

"Then why are you leaving me?" He asked in a whisper.

And the flood burst gates open as you broke down. "BECAUSE I DON'T DESERVE YOU."

Steve immediately placed you in his lap as sons wrecked through your body. "Why would you say that? You deserve the world, doll."

"No Steve, no! You are Captain America and I'm nothing. You are gorgeous and I'm ugly. You are perfect and I'm not." You cried into his chest, selfishly seeking his warmth.

Steve jutted your chin upwards and gazed down at you with soft offense. "No, honey. I'm not perfect, I betrayed Tony, I have done so many things that I regret. I have cried in your arms multiple times and you have seen me vulnerable." He said through his own tears.

"But you are so pretty. You should be dating a model or an actress, not me."

"Who like me for being Captain America? No way and," He held your face in his palms and continued. "You are the most beautiful, most intelligent, most amazing woman I have ever met. I won't trade you for anyone."

"Then why I doesn't feel like it, Steve? You asked in a defeated whisper. "Why can't I see myself the way you see me?"

"I can help you look at yourself like I look at you. Please just, don't leave me. I can't live without you. We can survive this storm." He murmured softly kissed your sore eyes.

Your lips quivered as you brought your hands to Steve's face. "I want you, Steve. I want you so much but holding you feels like a sin."

"And holding you feels like a dream. A dream I thought I would never have," He said quietly and gently pressed his forehead with yours. "Just give me another chance. Give us another chance."

"Okay." You replied. Your sobs had ended and draped a heavy blanket of fatigue over you in their farewell as you melted into Steve's hold and Steve snuggled in you more. You didn't know when he placed you on your bed or when you fell asleep in his arms. You let yourself fall into his bliss as all the demons left you. Because in this moment , Steve was yours and you were his and that was all that mattered.

📷

You yawned as you got out of your slumber. The bed was cold again as Steve was nowhere to be found. Again.

Maybe he realised you were right and moved instead of kicking you out. You sniffed a little and turned around, so you were facing the front of your room. But your face instantly scrunched up in bewilderment as you took in the sight.

There were polaroid pictures hanging from the ceiling by a white thread, all facing away from you. You scratched your head as you tentatively got out of the bed. How the fuck did someone hang these and you didn't even stir? Was this from hydra?

The last thought made you gulp as you gingerly reached out for the first picture and pulled it close to read the text written on it with a marker.

Do you remember the time when you handled the toughest project alone?

-Tony

"Huh, what?" Now you were even more confused as you flipped the glossy paper and burst out into a fit of laughter.

It was a picture of you handing Tony a golden toilet trophy like you were handing an Oscar with a megavolt grin as he was rolling his eyes but still, he begrudgingly received the award.

You wiped off a tear from your eye and refocused back on his question. You hummed to yourself as you took a trip down the memory lane. It was a very important biotech project and there had come a point where the connection between the software and hardware had broken and no one could figure why because everything was normal and nothing seemed faculty. It turned out to be a software issue as the code had malfunctioned and needed to be rewritten in a more efficient manner.

You led the team who did that and boy were those days exhausting. Overtime, frustration, failure after failure and of course the moral of the team going down. But you managed to keep the team together and pulled through. Providing excellence.

You smiled a little at that memory. You weren't that useless.

Sighing, you stepped forward to the next picture and read the text on it.

Remember when you got hit on and Steve scowled?

-Natasha and Wanda

You turned the photo around, showing you, Wanda and Natasha. You and Wanda were eating a leftover cake while Natasha was drinking wine straight from the bottle.

You remembered that night. You were minding your own business and not touching alcohol since you didn't want to wake up with a pounding headache. when a guy suddenly materialised next to you and ordered a drink for you without even asking and began flirting.

You smoothly pulled yourself out of that situation and gave the drink to Natasha but Steve had witnessed the whole interaction and he looked like he wanted to sucker punch that poor dude. He was teased relentlessly about it for a month.

Now that you thought about it. You were hit on multiple times on multiple occasions. It was a game of sorts between you and Steve. Since your relationship was private, it was amusing to see people ask you or Steve on a date. You always relished in watching girls flirt with Steve because he would always get uncomfortable and nope out of there like his life depended on it. It was fun because no matter how much they flirted with him, you knew that the man was yours.

You chuckled and caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. You weren't that bad looking.

You walked up to the next polaroid and snatched it closer.

Remember when you comforted me when everyone was sleeping?

-Bucky

Your eyes filled with tears as you flicked to see yours and Bucky's image, it was clicked during lockdown when everyone stressed a lot about cleaning everything. You were pretending to sing with a cleaner bottle in your hand as a microphone and Bucky was using a broom as his guitar.

With a reminiscent smile and you thought back to that one stormy night when Steve was out on a mission and everyone was sound asleep.

You being the insomniac that you were started trudging towards the kitchen for some late night snack but stopped mid-way when you heard whimpers coming from Bucky's room. You went inside without asking but saw him crying alone in his bed. He was so resistant to your comfort and even yelled at you for intruding on his privacy: but he was right about it. However, he caved in the end and cried his heart out while you held him. Then you both watched anime and ate chips. Sleep was nowhere to be found that night.

You bit your lips as you went to the last and final picture, that was dangling before the door.

Remember why I love you?

-Steve

You burst into tears as the realisation dawned on you that it was he, who did all of this. To make you see yourself through his eyes and everybody's eyes. And no, you didn't remember why he loved you because there were too many moments and reasons to remember all that once.

Warmth bloomed in your chest as you finally looked at the picture and it was just like your relationship. Sweet and simple. With you both in the bed, hair messy and lazy smiles on your faces. It was a morning selfie that you taken sporadically on his phone.

You loved him. You loved him so much and you wanted to be with him till the end of the line. Because even if you were just a regular jane, you loved him and he loved you and that was all that mattered.

In your whirlpool of emotions, you didn't register the the bedroom door clicking open and Steve walking inside. It was when his strong arms enveloped you, did you got out of your reverie and glanced at him, teary eyed.

You hugged him back and wept louder in his chest as he rubbed your head. "I love you. I'm sorry for telling everyone about what you were going through but I thought it would help, please stop crying."

You slapped a hand over his lips and cried out. "Shut up. You lovely little dork. I love you. You did nothing wrong in my eyes."

With hope twinkling in his eyes, he removed your palm and asked. "So, will you give us another chance?"

"Yes! This one incident won't make my problems go away in a snap but I want to be with you and learn to love myself like you love me." You said through a smile and leaned to kiss him when-

"What about the trolls?" Tony's voice made you shriek in surprise as Steve gave him an exasperated look.

"Really, Tony?" Steve said with displeasure.

"Yeah, really asshole?" Natasha said and slapped Tony on the head.

Tony scrunched up his face in indignation and said. "But I need to know. She's not used to the attention and hate. And she can't even deactivate her social media because she is one of our representatives from tech."

This made a bulb go off in your head as you held up your plam and said. "Don't worry, Tony. I'll have it handled. Plus, we didn't really publicly announced our relationship, did we?"

Steve narrowed his eyes at you but you just grinned at him devilishly. Time to troll the trolls.

📷

You softly closed the bathroom door as you stepped outside, your white saree grazing the floor. You looked ahead and your jaw went slack, Steve was his blue powder blue shirt and black pants and his blonde hair practically glowed in the golden light of the evening. He looked so gorgeous that you just couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

But then you realised his intense stare on you and you quickly looked down, heat raising to your cheeks. "Stop, staring, it's creepy."

Steve let out a throaty chuckle and said. "I can say the same thing about you."

You opened your mouth to reply but the Bucky's exasperated voice interjected with a grunt. "You both can do this later. Now, come on before the sunsets and the light is gone." And harshly thrusted his phone in the direction of the door.

You chuckled. "Alright, let's go." Steve held your hand as you both walked outside the compound and into the evening sun. After, finding a place where the background was greenery instead of a concrete jungle. You perched on his Harley. Your hand snaked around his neck as his came down to rest on your butt while he stood in the middle of your legs and both came forward to kiss each other.

Bucky clicked the picture but Steve didn't let you go until the need for oxygen became dire. You smiled bashfully and wiped your mouth as you finally got off his bike and went to the very unimpressed Bucky.

He shoved your phone into your hands and ran away before he had to endure any of your pda any further.

You shrugged it off and looked at the photo. Thankfully, it was good and you gave Steve a thumbs up before posting it with a caption:

I corrupted the golden boy and I'm not sorry 😈

Steve also posted the same picture but his caption was more modest:

My love ❤

And. It. Blew. Up, again.

The haters and racist started whining again. Sane people supported you both and laughed at the haters, going as far as making memes. You were trending again, many famous people also came out of the woodworks and congratulated you both which made you roll your eyes.

You didn't care about the public thought of you. You wanted to troll the haters and you successfully accompanied that.

However, it didn't end there. As your devil incarnate friends decided to add fuel to the fire by posting pictures of you and Steve being all over each other with a complimentary middle finger emoji. And apparently, everybody had one.

Either you two were pervs Or your friends were nosey as fuck. Natasha and Bucky agreed with the former assumption.

Bucky posted you both kissing on a picnic.

Natasha of you sitting in Steve's lap.

Sam posted a photo of your head resting in his lap.

Heck, even Peter posted a photo where Steve was kissing your temple.

There were many more but you that was enough for the day as you switched off your phone and tossed it on the bed side table.

"I just wish, no pray that my parents don't see any of these pictures or I will be having an interesting phone call with them. The relatives are still blasting my phone but I ignored them as always." You rambled to Steve as he slid under the covers.

Steve let out a raspy chuckle and said. "I don't think they haven't seen it yet as we're all over the, well everything."

You groaned and pouted at Steve because he didn't need to always tell the truth but as soon as you locked eyes with him you melted in his oceanic blue gaze. He pulled you into his comforting arms and you happily obliged.

"Steve, now that the whole mess is kinda resolved. What's next?" You asked as you gazed into his sapphire blue eyes.

He hummed and gazed back at you. "What's next? Good question, but I don't think you want to hear the answer to that. Would ruin the fun. " He whispered and leaned down to kiss you before you could question him further.

[veritas-scribblings]

best friend - @jartylusmicrofics - words: 1,047

When James arrives at Regulus’s house, Barty flings the door open and stares at him, suspiciously. There’s a quality to Barty that James always finds unsettling. Maybe it’s the dangerous, slightly unhinged glint in his eyes. Like he’s a little bit unstable. A little bit chaotic. Like there’s almost nothing that Barty would not do.

He looks at James now as though he knows all of James’s secrets, and James really wouldn’t be surprised if this were true. Barty always just seems to know things. Whether he has shaken the information out of someone, whether he follows James around, whether he has a network of spies…or whether he is just that good at deducing things. James isn’t sure, and he honestly wouldn’t put any of them past Barty.

‘Greetings, you absolute fucking cunt of an idiot.’ Barty barricades the door, leans close to James and stares him down, like the proximity will give him some crucial information. ‘Declare your intentions!’

‘Step aside, Crouch,’ James says, rolling his eyes. ‘It’s fucking freezing.’

Barty cackles. ‘You better be on your best behaviour, or I’ll tie your tongue to the eaves and fucking hang you from them.’

This is truth. Barty would do that.

Warily, James creeps around him and into the house. The last thing he needs is to get into an argument with Barty. Regulus doesn’t necessarily mind the arguments and Barty typically relishes them, like baiting James is his twisted little hobby all in the spirit of ‘a good time’.

‘Gentleman calling,’ James says with a playful smile, entering the lounge. It’s warm inside. There’s a fireplace crackling, two mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table with an open half-eaten tin of biscuits.

‘Gentleman? You’re no gentleman. Gentlemen wouldn’t just invite themselves over.’ Regulus lays on the squashy couch, his head propped against a cushion, a book hovering over head suspended by a levitating charm. He gives James a small, reassuring smile. The softest of smiles—mostly reserved for James alone—which reminds James that underneath all the thorns and the acid resides an inner hidden Regulus that’s all sensitive and gentle.

Regulus leans up for a kiss. Kissing Regulus still fills James with butterflies, makes him dizzy, giddy. It’s a warm, heady feeling that rises from the pit of his stomach and overwhelms him. Regulus is soft in all the right spots, smooth skin that James loves to run his hands over, smells faintly of vanilla and coconut and lemongrass from the soap and lotion he uses. James cards his fingers through Regulus’s hair and gently coaxes Regulus’s lips to part, and—

Barty drops down onto the couch next to them, jostling Regulus, who makes a disgruntled sound of displeasure. He throws an arm around Regulus and tips his head onto Regulus’s shoulder.

‘Hands and tongue where I can see them.’ Barty’s gaze is hard, that unhinged glint a spark in his eyes. He stares James down like he’s egging him on, and then, without warning, licks Regulus’s neck. ‘Mine, Potter. You ask before you taste.’

It had taken James over a month to get past the impenetrable wall of Evan and Barty, the hardest endeavour of James’s short life. Barty had been utterly relentless. He was always there, over Regulus’s shoulder, staring at James with an expression that implied he’d like nothing more than to flay James alive. By Regulus’s side, ensuring they would not be alone. Making lewd comments. All hands and arms and lips and tongue and teeth, all over Regulus.

And it’s not that James is jealous at all, because James is reasonable like that (though finding out that Regulus and Barty had had ‘a thing’ back in their fifth year had initially not done well for James’s not-jealousy), it’s just that Barty has always been dead-set on not allowing James to plant any sort of roots.

And Regulus has always accepted this as perfectly normal behaviour for one’s friend.

It had started many arguments and many fights in the early days and had very nearly come between them before they were even ‘them’. It occasionally still does, but for the most part these days, they’ve reached a middle ground. James likes to think that he’s more understanding and more accepting now. And that at least now, Barty no longer wants to kill him and James no longer has to worry about going to sleep one night and simply not waking up.

‘Do you mind?’ James snaps.

Barty is very nearly in Regulus’s lap, and due to the close proximity between Regulus and James, very nearly in James’s lap. He curls a lock of Regulus’s hair around his finger and gives fierce, intense smile that’s sharp and daring in the way that Barty is sharp and daring.

‘Barty,’ Regulus says with a sigh. ‘Quit being a dick and play nice.’ He doesn’t push Barty away, just adjusts his arms so he can resume reading around him, leaning slightly into James as he does so.

‘Fine,’ Barty huffs. ‘Hey Potter, I got a new piercing. Wanna see?’ He grabs the collar of his partially unbuttoned shirt and drags it down to reveal a silver barbell through his nipple. ‘It’s still healing, so it’s stills sensitive. Go on. Touch it.’

Ever since they graduated, Barty has been inking and poking holes in his skin. He has a bar through his eyebrow, a long bar through the top of his ear, two little studs just below his lower lip. He has a little cartoon snake tattooed on one wrist, Regulus’s initials on the other (in Regulus’s handwriting, James noted). A rose on the back of one shoulder. And one night—that one night that James swore would only be that one night—James found something written in Latin in the crease where his thigh meets his groin.

James would be lying if he denied almost damned near dying when he saw that one.

‘I also have a new tattoo,’ Barty says. ‘You wanna try to find it?’

‘Barty.’ Regulus lowers his book and elbow’s Barty in the side, though this does absolutely nothing to wipe off the shit-eating grin Barty is wearing.

‘What?’ Barty reaches over, curls another lock of Regulus’s hair around his finger. ‘I’m playing nice. Aren’t I playing nice, James?’

[waytooinvested]

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 15

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once they were outside Kara steered them confidently to a cosy little cafe a few blocks away, and insisted on going up to order while Lena sat down on one of the saggy sofas tucked into a back corner. It wasn’t somewhere she would normally have gone into, or even really noticed to pass it on the street. It was a little down at heel, the couch wearing threadbare in patches and some of the paint peeling around the windows, but they had a huge bookshelf filled with an assortment of tatty paperbacks and board games, the whole place smelled welcomingly of fresh coffee and newly baked cakes, and Lena found herself relaxing back into the cushions much more readily than she would have somewhere more upmarket.

In here it didn’t seem to matter that she was still wearing her harness-rumpled theatre t-shirt and sports leggings, or that her hair was a little bit sweaty. It felt like somewhere you could just flop down onto the shabby furniture and be yourself.

It was kind of perfect.

A couple of minutes later Kara was back, a massive mug topped with mounds of fluffy cream and studded all over with mini marshmallows in either hand.

‘What is that?’

‘It’s the deluxe chocolate special, and it’s medicinal, so no complaints.’

Kara plonked one of the mugs down in front of Lena, then took her seat beside her on the squashy couch, knee crooked up onto the cushion so that she was half turned towards her.

‘So… do you want to talk about what happened up there?’

Kara’s expression was all gentle compassion, but Lena found herself unable to meet it. She looked down at her drink instead, nudging the marshmallows around with the edge of her spoon so that all the pink were on one side, all the white on the other, just so she would have an excuse not to look up and meet Kara’s eyes.

‘You don’t have to if you’d rather not tell me. We can talk about something else.’

‘No, no it’s not that. Honestly I’m just so embarrassed. I can’t believe I reacted like that when I knew perfectly well I wasn’t in any danger – it was completely irrational.’

Kara was quiet for a moment, scooping cream from her own hot cocoa while she considered Lena’s words.

‘Did you know that I’m claustrophobic?’

‘I- no. I didn’t.’

‘It’s not something I really tell people if I can help it, but yeah, I am. More so when I was younger. I used to have panic attacks all the time when I first moved in with the Danvers’. It got better over time, but I still feel it sometimes, in elevators, or small places I know I can’t easily get out of. It’s not rational, but my body doesn’t care, and it feels impossible to just logic my way out of it while it’s happening.’

Lena thought of all the times they had shared an elevator. Kara had always seemed perfectly composed, and she wondered what signs she might have missed that she should have been looking after her friend in those moments, rather than casually flirting with her. She wished she had known before so that she could have been more supportive, but she also understood this being something that could feel intensely private, and was touched that Kara was willing to open up to her about it now. It made her want to offer the same in return.

She put her mug back down on the table and turned to give Kara and the conversation her full attention.

‘Do you mind me asking- do you know why it happens? Did something trigger it for you, or has it always been that way?’

‘Not always. It started after an accident I was in as a kid – I was in a car that went off the road and ended up in a ravine. Somehow I wasn’t hurt at all by the fall, but the doors were crushed in pretty badly, and I was trapped in there for- I don’t even know. It felt like years to me then, but I know it can’t have been all that long really – a couple of days maybe. Not long enough for dehydration to become a major danger anyway. I was definitely there for at least one night though, because I remember it being so so dark, and being sure that there were Things right outside trying to come in and hurt me. I was so afraid and so sure no one was ever coming to rescue me. It was not long after my parents died, though I don’t know where I was going or who was driving me, because I can’t remember anyone else being in the car with me or how they got out when I didn’t... I think I’ve blocked a lot of the details out honestly. I just remember how scared I was, and how trapped I felt, and sometimes that all comes flooding back out when I least expect it.’

‘Oh my god, Kara, that’s horrific. I didn’t know…’

But of course, she had known.

Lena had done her research on National City’s resident Kryptonian years ago, and unlike her true identity, the story of how she had come to Earth was hardly a well kept secret. She knew that Supergirl’s pod had gone off route and ended up stuck in the phantom zone for years with the thirteen year old Kryptonian sealed inside it, entirely alone with the knowledge that her whole planet was dead and there was no one left to come and save her. She had just never fully made the connection that that had also happened to Kara – her Kara. Potstickers and trivia Kara. Sunshine smiles and long hugs and ‘I will always protect you’ Kara. She couldn’t bear to imagine her young and afraid, alone in the dark and unable to move from the small space she was trapped in. The story had always been awful, but when it was Kara’s, it was unimaginable.

‘I’m so, so sorry you went through that... And I also cannot believe that you told me a couple of months ago that you “didn’t really have any trauma”.’

Kara exhaled a soft laugh, in spite of the serious subject matter.

‘When you put it like that it does sound kind of ridiculous to claim. I guess I just try not to think about that time in my life too much. I was fostered not long after that, and they were brilliant with me. I got this new wonderful, loving family and a big sister who looked out for me even when we fought, and I was so lucky compared to so many other kids, especially ones who lose their parents at that age. It’s not easy finding a new family as a teenager, and I could so easily have ended up lost in the system, but I didn’t. I think part of me always feels like I can’t complain about any of the bad stuff because I know how good I had it in so many ways.’

‘Well I definitely think that you have every right to complain because I can’t even imagine how awful that must have been for you on top of losing your parents so young… But I also know what you mean. With the Luthors I grew up with immense privilege. I was raised in a mansion, got the best education money could buy, and physically I wanted for nothing. I thrived in a lot of ways, and now I’m a billionaire in my own right, so I never really felt the right to claim a tragic backstory. But… you know my birth mother died when I was four?’

‘Yes. She drowned, right?’

‘She did. I was there.’

‘What?’

‘When it happened. I was with her. It’s one of my earliest memories.’

Lena closed her eyes briefly while she gathered the courage to tell the next part. It was one of her darkest truths and she almost couldn’t bear to let the words out into the light of day, but Kara had shared her own painful past, and Lena wanted to reciprocate in kind no matter how much it might hurt. She opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and continued.

‘I saw her out in the water and I knew that something was wrong, but... I just watched. Silent. I could have screamed or run for help, I could have gone in and tried to rescue her myself, but I didn’t do any of it. I just stood there on the bank and watched my mother die, and ever since I have been trying to come to terms with what I did… I still see it in my dreams. Her swallowing water, struggling to breath, and me watching and doing nothing. What kind of child would do nothing while her mother drowned before her eyes?’

Lena’s eyes had flooded with unwelcome tears, and Kara pressed a wodge of paper napkins into her hand, holding onto her a few moments longer than strictly necessary.

‘That must have been so horrendous for you to witness, and I am so sorry that you went through that. But Lena, you were four. You were so, so little, you couldn’t have known what was going to happen.’

‘She was dying. How could I not have known?’

‘Because you were a baby. At four you barely grasp the concept of death as a thing, let alone that it could ever happen to your parent. Parents are invincible, permanent things to four year olds, there was no way you could have understood. I was thirteen when I lost my family, and I still felt like one day they’d turn up and tell me it had all been some huge mistake after all. What happened to you and your mother was an awful, horrible tragedy, but it wasn’t your fault, and the last thing your mom would have wanted was for you to spend the rest of your life blaming yourself for it.’

If she was being objective about it, Lena knew that Kara probably had a point. Developmental psychology might not be her field, but she knew enough about the maturation schedule of the human brain to understand that at age four she couldn’t have been at a stage where she could fully comprehend what had happened to her mother, let alone have the capability to form a rational plan to rescue her in the few minutes it had taken for her to die.

But Lena’s guilt over her mother’s death and the years she had borne the burden of her own inaction were too big and complicated a thing to simply set down, or even acknowledge aloud that maybe they hadn’t been entirely justified. So instead she confessed a related but less intimate truth – one that was the most she could manage to offer up in this moment.

‘I’ve been deathly afraid of drowning since then. Of course, with the Luthors fear was something you overcame as quickly and quietly as possible lest it be used against you later, so I was enrolled in private swimming lessons when I was five, and even ended up swimming competitively for a brief period before I was allowed to quit to focus on fencing... but I still hate deep water.’

‘So… is the fear of heights more a fear of depths? Because it reminds you of deep water?’

‘I think that’s where it started. I have this vivid memory of a family trip somewhere in the Luthor jet – I’m not sure where, but it can’t have been long after they took me in. Lex had made me this model airplane with a fully functioning propulsion system so he could teach me how a plane stays in the air, and I was excited to be flying for – not the first time, but the first time without being a newly orphaned child on her way to live with strangers. And I really did enjoy it at first. Lex was in his best big brother mode and didn’t even seem to mind when I accidentally broke his plane, he just distracted me by pointing out the view from the window. He talked about it like it was our own private play set that we could reach out and touch if we wanted, and I thought flying was going to be my new favourite thing. Only then the land ran out and there was nothing but blue water as far as I could see, and I started to worry that our plane might fall out of the air the way the model had, and if it did we would all end up down there in the water and I wouldn’t be able to swim back to shore, and I would drown just like my mother. Of course I knew exactly what that looked and sounded like by then, so I could imagine it only too vividly... I always hated flying after that, for all I’ve done so much of it. It isn’t just that though. As an adult I have had some… bad experiences with heights. I would have died several times over if Supergirl hadn’t been there to catch me.’

Lena paused, her eyes meeting Kara’s. She wanted to say thank you for all the times she had saved her without her realising who it was, and for making her feel so much safer flying than she ever had before, despite what seemed like near constant assassination attempts. But she couldn’t, so instead she settled for:

‘But not this time. This time you saved me.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far. You’d have got down fine by yourself eventually, I just helped a little.’

‘You did more than help a little. Seriously, Kara. Thank you. You’re my hero.’

Kara gave her the softest, sweetest smile then, and the moment between them felt so intensely pure and open that Lena found she had to break it or she would do something stupid.

Like cry.

Or lean over and kiss Kara.

She looked back down at her hot cocoa instead, its cream now dripping down the sides of the mug, and took a messy sip, trying to bury her swelling emotion in chocolatey escapism. She stayed like that for several slow, sugary swallows, until melted marshmallow was adhering to her lips and she felt she had regained enough composure to meet Kara’s eyes again without doing something she shouldn’t. She tried for lightness instead, as if they hadn’t just had the most intense, honest exchange of her recent past in the corner of a chintzy little coffee house.

‘So. I think it’s safe to say that I shouldn’t come with you next time you do this.’

Kara must have realised that Lena needed to be done with the deep conversation, and switched gears without missing a beat to match the joking tone of her comment.

‘Darn, really? I was going to suggest we try base jumping next week.’

Lena gave a theatrical shudder.

‘You know what? That sounds like it would be a great sister bonding opportunity. You should get Alex to go with you.’

‘Oh, that is a FANTASTIC idea.’

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Bruce and odd duck! just kind of having a snuggle

Your house, Bruce thought to himself, was the definition of organized chaos.

Books, papers, knick-knacks, squashy furniture, blankets draped here and there within easy grabbing distance regardless of where you sit. No garbage or junk really, but no discernable organization system. Or if there was one, it only made sense to you.

But it was cozy. Undeniably cozy. It reminded him almost of the way he pictured Hobbit Holes in his head as a boy. Or maybe, if he were feeling particularly whimsical, he'd say that maybe it looked like one of the rabbit holes in your head.

He looks down at you, where your head rested against his heart, comfortably pinned between him and the back of the sofa. And smiled tenderly when you look up at him sleepily, "Still okay?" he asked.

You hum wordlessly and Bruce leaned down kissing the top of your head. 'Like a cat," he teased, "As soon as you get warm you get sleepy."

"I can sit up-"

"Please don't," he chuckled. "You looked so tired, sweetheart." Bruce had tried a couple pet names- things that weren't Doctor. And the only one he'd found so far that hadn't made you crinkle your nose in distaste- even if you didn't shut him down as quickly as you'd smack down someone else.

"Long week," you murmur. Finals, and edits, and Lois and Clark arguing with each other and both coming to you to complain about the other- because it was kind of like confessional, talking to you. You could know a thing and never bring it up again.

"Poor thing," he hummed, rubbing your back.

"I know I'm not really saving the world on anything-"

"Doesn't make it not exhausting," he said fairly. He wasn't 100% sure what you'd been doing but. When he'd showed up to ask you if you wanted to come to dinner with him while he was in town and you'd looked tired and run down, he didn't care about dinner. He just wanted to feel like you were taken care of.

"Why did you-"

"I was here to mess with Luthor," he said. "And get some dinner with my favorite Doctor."

"Are you hungry? I can order-"

"I already did when you dozed off- I was just trying to figure out how to get up without waking you." He chuckled and squeezed you tighter for a moment.

"I told you I'd sit up," you remind.

"They're not here yet- I ordered from the one of the top of your stack. The chicken thing."

You yawn and rub your eyes and pulling yourself up at the knock on the door to let him go "Sounds good."

[coffeecoloredpages]

Meet Me Halfway Ch 1 Pt 8

By Wordwyrm on ao3

Professor McGonagall hurried down the length of the table to where Sirius and the other boys sat, stopping behind him and Remus. “Mr. Lupin,” she waited until Remus had twisted around to meet her eye. “I will need to see you in my office before you join the rest of your classmates. Follow me, please.” Remus nodded and swung his legs over the bench, following McGonagall out of the great hall ahead of the rest of the students.

James nudged Sirius from behind, “what could he have done to get in trouble already?” He whispered. “Dunno,” Sirius muttered back, but I ‘spose we can ask him when he gets to the common room. Come on, we’d better hurry before we lose our prefects.”

Sirius, James, and Peter followed the crowds of students exiting the great hall, and quickly located the Gryffindor prefects ahead, joining their housemates as the prefects lead them through the halls. Up moving stairs, through corridors, and finally to what seemed to be a dead end at the end of a hall. There was a large painting of a voluptuous lady on the wall, and she looked down expectantly at the two prefects leading the way. “The password for Gryffindor tower right now is ‘diebus fatalibus.’” The tall girl at the front paused. “Remember it, but do not write it down. We don’t want the other students knowing what our password is. If you forget it, you’ll be stuck out here until someone who does remember it comes along.” With that she turned and faced the painting. “Diebus fatalibus,” she spoke clearly. “Correct,” the woman in the portrait responded, as her frame swung forward, revealing an archway into a warmly lit room behind.

Passing through the arch, Sirius found himself in a large, round room with an inviting fire crackling in a massive fireplace to his left. The room was filled with squashy red couches and armchairs, gold and red pillows littered throughout. His feet sank into the plush red and gold rug which covered most of the worn wooden floor. Across from the archway a set of staircases wound up to the right and left, respectively. The prefects the boys up the right staircase and to their dorm. Sirius gazed around the room that would be his home for the next seven years. The same sort of rug covered the floor here as it did in the common room. Four beds, two against each opposite wall, stood surrounded by red curtains and were covered in what looked like gloriously warm comforters. Sirius spotted his trunk at the end of the second bed on the right, and immediately flopped heavily onto the soft mattress of his bed, sighing contentedly.

“Where’s Remus?” Peter’s squeaky voice asked from the other side of their dorm room. Sirius sat up. “McGonagall wanted to see him in her office. D’ya know what that might be about? You’re friends with him, right?”

“Yeah, but we only met a few weeks ago. He came with me and my mum to go school shopping. Is he in trouble, do you think? Maybe your cousin from the train told on him?”

“Nah, that can’t be it,” Sirius responded. “I’d be there too if that were the case, for punching Snivellus.” He paused for a moment as a thought occurred to him. “How will he find our dorm room? And who will tell him the password? The prefect said the only way to get it was from someone who knows already, he might be stuck outside all night!”

“I’m sure McGonagall will help him get to our common room,” James reassured Sirius, “but I don’t know how he’ll know which dorm room is ours…” A mischievous glint came into James’ eye at this. “Can you two keep a secret?” Sirius and Peter both sat up, curious, and nodded eagerly. James knelt in front of his trunk and pulled out something made of silvery fabric. The way it moved made Sirius think of a river. James shook it out, revealing a large cloak.

“This,” he announced proudly, “is my invisibility cloak. Well, my dad’s cloak technically, but he lent it to me for the school year. Made me promise not to tell my mum too.” Sirius gasped, and came over to take a closer look. “I’ve never seen a real invisibility cloak before. Some of the books in our library at home talk about it, but they're very rare, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” James responded proudly, “this ones been in our family for ages. My dad says he got it from his dad, and so on. Look,” he swung the cloak onto his shoulders. The fabric shimmered briefly, but as it settled James’ body disappeared, giving the illusion of his head floating unattached. James laughed at the shocked faces of his friends. “With this we can wait outside the portrait without getting caught and make sure Remus doesn’t get stuck outside. There’s plenty of room under it for the three of us.”

Peter looked unconvinced. “But the professors might be able to sense us still, right? I don’t want to get in trouble on my first day.”

“Don’t worry, Petey,” James reassured. “My dad used this loads when he was here, and nobody ever caught him, not even ol’ Dumbledore!” Peter still looked unconvinced, but nodded and joined Sirius and James under the cloak. Together, the three boys shuffled carefully out of their dorm, down the stairs, and through the portrait hole.

They didn’t have long to wait. From around the corner they heard Professor McGonagall’s stern voice. “Go down this hall and through the portrait hole. The password, I believe, is ‘diebus fatalibus.’ Your dorm will be up the right hand stairwell. Goodnight, Mr. Lupin.”

(this is only a small bit of my fic, read more on AO3 username Wordwyrm)

[ginisbetterthanfirewhisky]

Written for @hinnymicrofic 's prompt #24, Hobby

Word count: 418

Harry impatiently scanned his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook. His essay was due the next day, and he had to finish it before the scheduled Quidditch practice.

"Hey."

Harry gave a little start as someone stood in front of him. It was Ginny. Her long hair was tied into a messy braid and she had stuck a large, feathery quill behind her right ear. Harry couldn't help notice that she looked really, really pretty.

He sat up straight, pulling his large stack of books towards him to make space for her to sit beside him on the large, squashy couch.

"Hi, what's up?"

Ginny tucked a loose strand of flaming hair behind her ear as she sat on the couch. "I just wanted to tell you that I won't be able to join the practice today. I have my career advice session with McGonagall scheduled this evening."

"Career advice? I didn't have mine till May. I had Umbridge lurking in McGonagall's office during my session."

"Ugh, why?"

"Does she even need a reason? She kept clearing her bloody throat in that ridiculous way 'til McGonagall asked her if she needed a cough drop."

Ginny laughed. "You'd already decided by then, hadn't you? That you want to become an Auror?"

"I did, but I wasn't too sure. I don't think I'm sure now either. I'll need an 'O' in my Potions and Transfiguration NEWTs for them to accept me. Either way, the Ministry isn't exactly happy with me anyway, is it?"

"Eh," she said dismissively. "Why would they even reject you? You have more talent and grit than most of the current Aurors put together."

Harry tried not to blush. "What do you want to do after school?"

To his surprise, Ginny turned pink. "You won't laugh, will you?"

"'Course I won't."

"I was thinking– maybe… you know, I was thinking of trying out for professional Quidditch. I know it's stupid, more of a hobby, and I need to choose some realistic caree–," she said in a rush.

"You're rambling, Gin," said Harry. "I don't think going pro is unrealistic for you," he said sincerely.

"Really?"

"You're the best chaser I've ever seen. You have a great aim and you don't panic easily. You're really passionate about it. It's much more than a hobby to you. You'll do great as a professional player. Any team will be lucky to have you."

Ginny smiled a beautiful smile that made Harry's insides flutter like an overdrive snitch.

"Thanks, Harry."