#squishes his dum face

[cat-brrr]

[lubilli]

𝗸𝗻𝘆 𝗵𝗰𝘀 ➠ "cutie!"

synopsis: the hashira men when you call them cute/a cutie

ft. rengoku, giyu, sanemi, obanai, muichiro, tengen

warnings: they're all softies here 💔

r. kyojuro

• he was training while you were watching

• "you're doing so well, kyojuro!"

• he was all blushy cuz u complimented him

• he's used to compliments but it just felt different when you did it

• maybe bc you never really compliment anyone

• and maybe bc he has a praise kink

• "awww, kyojuro, you're such a cutie!" you squealed when you saw the pink dusted all over his cheeks

• his brain almost short circuited

• not even joking

• he's been complimented on his looks before.

• he's been called handsome, good looking, but...cutie? that was a new one

• "kyojuro? are you okay?"

• "yes, y/n! i am completely fine!"

• he said that while his cheeks literally looked like tomatoes

t. giyu

• you just got back from a mission looking half dead

• when giyu saw you, his face literally looked like this -> 😨

• how tf did you even manage to hurt yourself this bad..

• he DEMANDS to patch up ur wounds

• that brings you to your current situation, sitting on giyu's bed while he tends to the wounds

• you winced when he got to a certain cut on your thigh, he glares at you

• "you wouldn't be in this situation if you weren't so reckless, y/n." he scolds you

• you just laugh, "you're cute, giyu."

• it takes him a while before he realizes what you said.

• "did you call me..cute?" he furrows his brows

• "yes..because you are cute."

• continues tending to your wound even though he's literally dying inside

s. sanemi

• he's so aggressive its so hard to find him in a vulnerable state

• ur literally the first hashira to see him all calm

• when he's not screaming and yelling, he's actually really cute

• he loves cooking for you

• he's doing that rn

• "is it good?" he asks

• "it's a little salty..."

• "why can't i ever get this recipe right?!"

• he's so frustrated

• he's tried to cook this one recipe 5 times now but there's always a little too much of a certain ingredient

• you chuckle at his reaction & ruffle his hair

• "you're really cute, y'know?"

• wtf did u just say

• did u just call him cute...

• "WHAT'D YOU JUST CALL ME?!"

• those manic eyes found their way back onto his face

• he's yelling at you but you can see the pink dusted all over his cheeks

• you started calling him cute more often

• acts like he hates it but he literally loves it sm

i. obanai

• you started getting close to him recently

• you found out he actually really likes poetry

• you'll just be sitting under/on a tree and he'll be reading his lil poetry books while you're just dreaming

• you think its so cute when he shows you lil poems he really likes

• "this one reminds me of you" he points to a poem on a page

• you shift your attention from the clouds to his book

• it reads, "A faint clap of thunder,

Even if rain comes or not,

I will stay here,

Together with you."

• bro.

• you died

• why is he so cute sometimes

• scratch that, he's always cute bro

• you smiled so big, "you're really cute, obanai."

• you moved a strand of his long hair and tucked his behind his ears, seeing his beautiful heterochromatic eyes.

• he looked at you with so much love bro

• "cute?" he tilted his head

• "yes, so cute."

• he's a mess but he just nods and continues his reading

• although he literally can't focus bc ur now the only thing on his mind

t. muichiro

• you don't know how you even got close to him

• but he will NOT go cloud-watching without you now

• takes you to his favorite spot

• he just talks abt the clouds while you mess around with his hair

• sometimes braiding it, sometimes doing pigtails or ponytails

• "woah," he stares into the sky with awe

• "what happened?" you ask

• "that cloud looks like a turtle." he pointed

• you looked at it and it really did look like a turtle

• "oh and look, that one looks like a heart." he pointed somewhere else

• wtf hes so cute

• "so cute," you squish his cheeks

• he looks at you dumbfounded

• takes him 4-5 business days to process what you just said

• when he realizes his cheeks flushed pink

• he's literally never felt this before

• wtf type of witchcraft did u put on him

• you tilt your head, "what's wrong, muichiro?"

• "i don't know, but my cheeks and ears feel really warm."

• you laugh, "you really are cute, muichiro." you ruffle his hair.

u. tengen

• you and tengen are close friends

• his estate is like your second house

• started getting close to u bc ur flashy in his eyes

• then he got sent on a few missions with you and your bond grew even more

• anyways you were in tengen's estate rn

• "tengen," you frown

• "hm?"

• "my stomach hurts."

• he frowns, "should i get you a heating pad? do you want water? medicine? chocolate? massage?"

• you smile, "its fine. no need."

• "yes need. i'm not gonna let you endure your pain, y/n. that's very unflashy." he crosses his arms

• "you're such a cutie, tengen."

• he lifts a brow, "cutie? yes, i suppose being a cutie is very flashy." he nods. "now, tell me what you want—heating pad, chocolate, medicine, water, or massage?"

• "you're so stubborn." you shake your head, "but a chocolate sounds nice."

• "done deal. stay here and i'll get you some."

• he came back w some delicious ass chocolate

• "call me that more often. its very flashy."

• "call you what?"

• "cutie."

• you smile, "your wish is my command." you took a bite of the chocolate.

• he pat your head, "get well soon."

[munson-blurbs]

Hi <3 for your trope-or-treat, how about dum-dum and butterfinger with Eddie, aka my favorite dum-dum

Idiots in love/Shy!Reader/Eddie Munson

A little offended that I'm not your favorite dum-dum, but it's fine.

Warnings: fluff, a bit of suggestive language

WC: 728

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie can’t stop staring. 

It’s not on purpose; really, it’s all Mrs. Byrd’s fault. She had insisted on handing out candy after a pop quiz, calling it a ‘treat after a trick.’ You could’ve picked one of the fun-size chocolate bars like Eddie had, but no. 

You’d chosen a lollipop. 

The same goddamn lollipop that you’re currently twirling around your mouth, occasionally pulling from between your lips with a soft pop. You’re talking with Lucas, nodding sympathetically while he laments about having to take his sister trick-or-treating tonight. 

“What about you?” Lucas asks, taking a bite of his turkey sandwich. “Any fun Halloween plans?”

You shrug. “Eddie and I are gonna watch some scary movies once he’s done at the party.” Tina’s annual Halloween party is the perfect place for him to sell, but he never sticks around to hang out with people. 

“Really setting the mood,” Jeff teases Eddie, earning him an elbow to the ribs. 

You’re used to their jokes—calling you and Eddie ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad,’ saying that you two bicker like an old married couple, humming Here Comes the Bride whenever you walk into Hellfire. But it wears on you, especially given your ridiculous crush on him. 

You can’t stop thinking about Jeff’s off-handed comment, even when Eddie breezes through your doorway. He’s got a VHS copy of The Amityville Horror in one hand and a bag of snacks in the other. 

“You ready to hang out with Jody?” He punctuates his statement with his signature devil horns gesture, tossing a bag of Gummi bears in your direction before popping the movie in the TV. As the opening credits begin, he flops onto the couch and, incidentally, your lap.

“Get up!” you grunt, laughing as you try to push him off of you. “You’re squishing me!”

Eddie pouts and remains in place. “But how else am I gonna protect you from the Satanic influences?” He drops his register an octave to match his Dungeon Master voice.

“You are the Satanic influence!”

“Fair enough.” But, still, he doesn’t move; instead, he looks up at you and wistfully remarks, “you still look beautiful when you’re upside down.”

You wrinkle your nose, feeling your body heat up at his unexpected compliment. “Did you drink at Tina’s party?”

“Not a drop.” 

Given the lack of alcohol on his breath, you’re obliged to believe him. “Then stop being an idiot.”

“I’m…I’m not.” Confusion creases his brows, and he finally sits up. He situates himself next to you, bringing your legs over his thighs and forcing himself to look into your eyes. “Okay, I’m gonna do this, and I’m sorry if it fucks everything up, but…I have, like, this big, stupid crush on you? And I don’t know what to do about it except tell you, because I feel like I get weird around you, a-and I don’t want you to think that I don’t like you. Because it’s the opposite, y’know, like I really like you–”

“Eddie.” You interrupt him gently, allowing yourself to play with a lock of his hair. “Eddie, I like you, too. I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

He exhales, visibly relieved that his confession didn’t end in humiliation. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship or anything, but Jeff told me that if I didn’t tell you soon, he was gonna kick my ass.” He chuckles, shaking his head, curls dancing in front of his face. “Can I kiss you? I-Is that okay?”

You answer for him, gathering all of your courage to press your lips to his. He adjusts you so you’re straddling his waist, His hand is on the back of your head, bringing you impossibly close to deepen the kiss.“Shit,” he mutters, abruptly pulling away, “I promised myself I’d take you on a date before we, y’know, do stuff.” His cheeks go red, his cheek pinched between his teeth. 

You glance over at the movie playing on the TV, then back to him. “Does this count as a date?”

“It can if you want it to.” Eddie’s fingers brush against your arm, the slight touch sending shivers throughout your body. “Do you? Want it to count as a date, I mean?

“Yes, please.” 

His lips are back on yours as soon as you finish affirming what he already knew, grateful that he won’t have to hold back any longer.

--

[alltoomaples]

love.jpg - LN

pairing: fem!uni student x lando norris

synopsis: lando gets invested in working with cameras after you talk about your day in photography class and you two discover a new language of love <;33

type: writing + instagram au

a/n: finally writing up the very first writing for my new series until i found you. and ik i have been super super lacked in writing. you guys have no idea how much and many ideas ive got but procastination takes the most of it! im trying my best to work upon it and now that my finals are nearing, i may try to write as a stress breaker soo fingers crossed.

until next one, happy reading <;33

part 2 is out now!! check it out :))

. . . .

You came home from your last class of the semester from uni. As much as you love photography and graphic design, its definitely tiresome when being pursued as a Masters degree. But you won't complain much about it cause at the end of the day, you love what you do. And so does your boyfriend.

"Congrats on completing another semester, bubba!" Lando greets as he speed walks to you and engulfs you in a hug.

You drop your bags carefully and hug him back tight as you mourn in exhaustion. Your whole body gives up that Lando was quick to pick you up and let the both of you fall on the couch. Chuckles leave from your mouth as he leans in and kissed your forehead.

"I'm so so proud of you, Y/N/N" He says, looking into your eye, pinning your hair behind the ear as he rests his hand on your cheek.

"I haven't completed my course, Lan"

"Yet. And soon you will be my personal photographer and designer for Quadrant" Lando says very proudly.

"Well in that case, be ready to say goodbye to your bank accounts" you say, smirking at him as you squish his cheeks.

"I'll be happy to make our joint accounts"

"It's a deal then!"

. . . .

"So tell me about your project?" Lando asks as we clean dishes after dinner.

"Well, basically, we have to make a portfolio for photography class. We need to select a theme and shoot pictures showcasing that theme" you say, as you dried the final plate.

"That sounds so much fun and creative!"

"It is actually! till you finalize the theme cause that's the main brainers" you say as you place the dishes back to the shelves and lando keeps the leftovers in fridge.

"And that's what i'm here for! Let me help you with the picture and theme and stuff" Lando says, being very supportive and super excited like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Bubba, i appreciate you and your help but you'll be busy with race weekends, PR promos and Quadrant stuff. Do you really wanna squish mine on top of this busy business??" you ask, being concerned about him.

He walks over to you, grabbing your face in his and leans in.

"Let me be a part of your project. Think of me as your project buddy who also happens to be your boyfriend" Lando says, making puppy eyes which makes harder to say no to him.

"Alrighty love. You're in!"

"Wooohoooo!!! Let's goooo babyyyy!!" He does his small victory dance as he sung to HSM: we're all in this together

You laughed silently as you walked into your work room and picked up a camera. Lando eventually followed you and found you holding the camera.

"Wait- we are already starting with the work??"

"We haven't even chosen a theme, you dum dums" you say, ruffling his head which messes the small curls a bit.

"Ohh yeah. I'd suggest you to do some trial run shots, like you know, play around capturing day to day events. Maybe something will spark and voila, you'll have a theme ready!" Lando says, as he fixed his hair while looking in the mirror.

"That's actually a great idea bubs!!! I'm gonna do that now. You really do love this subject of mine, don't you??" You ask, as you really loved his input he just gave and you're quite impressed with it.

His level of creativity is something you've always loved and appreciated his talents. And isn't it just lovely to see people talk about their passions!

And this just made you think it's time to finally give him one of your passions.

"This camera is yours from today. I've been wanting to give you this as I've seen you've been very much interested in photography and something you can take along with you and remind you of me" you say, whispering at the end as you felt your cheeks heat up due to the cliché that you just happen to say which isn't a very you thing to do.

Lando stood there with the camera in his hands, in complete awe at the gesture of yours.

"Y/N! you have no idea how much this means to me!! This isn't just any camera, this is one you truly used for your good works" He says, pulling you closer to his. He makes you look up to him, leaning in close as he kisses you softly yet lovingly. Your hands make their way behind his neck, pulling him close to you.

"I love you, so much y/n/n" Lando says, almost as a whisper as he rests his nose with yours.

"and i love you, much more lan" you whisper back with a smile as you do the eskimos kiss.

. . . .

Instagram

lando.jpg

liked by carlossainz55, charlesleclerc, y/n.clicks and 3,566,962 others

landonorris: your fellow neighborhood cameraman📸

the best gift from the best <;33 y/n.clicks

view 41,06,765 comments

username1: wait Y/N gave her VERY OWN CAMERA TO LANDO!?!?

y/n.clicks: not bad for a beginner! have fun bubby🫶🏼

lando.jpg: learnt from the best ;)) will do!❤️

username2: he learnt with her?! talk about couple goals💗💖💞

charlesleclerc_: well i guess we'll say goodbye to this camera eventually. have you thought this through y/n.clicks 🤔🤔

y/n.clicks: i had a really good run with it soo if it breaks its alright, I'll get a new one 😙

lando.jpg: you two know that i can read your comments right?? hah RUDE😡

username3: i cant- 🤣🤣🤣🤣

username4: we're gonna be seeing what lando wants people to see. I LOVE IT!!!

y/n.clicks

liked by charlesleclerc_, maxfewtrell, landonorris and 1,609,992 others

y/n_l/n: handing over ceremony📷

lando 🤝 lando.jpg

tagged: landonorris

view 105,020 comments

lanndonorris: key moment of my life and career❤️

y/n.clicks: landonorris bubbaaa🥺💗

username1: i want what they have😭😭💛

carlossainz55: wow, he is growing up🥹🥹

y/n.clicks: ikr!!!🤧🤧

landonorris: you two ughhhhh🙄🙄

username2: this is sooo adorable ahhh!!

username3: thanks to y/n now we're gonna embark the cameraman lando era!

y/n.clicks: this is just the beginning of the era!!

lando.jpg

liked by ciscanorris, y/n.clicks and 2,954,755 others

landonorris: day at the bay with my bae

tagged: y/n.clicks

view 957,542 comments

username1: oh my. oH mY! OhOh MymY!!😍🤩

y/n.clicks: caption might be chessy af but the pictures, mamma mia🥵😍

liked by lando.jpg

maxfewtrell: now i get it why you ditched for golfing, you simp!

y/n.clicks: wait what!?! lando did that??

lando.jpg: 😳😳😳😳 busted?

ciscanorris: lando ditching golf?? he's soo into his cameraman era!!!🫡💗

username3: everyone say thank you y/n for getting lando a camera

username4: seriously! THANK YOU QUEEN Y/N

lando.jpg: FACTS!! thank you y/n.clicks 🫂🫶🏼

liked by y/n.clicks

y/n.clicks

liked by ciscanorris, pierregasly, olivernorris and 10,954,755 others

y/n_l/n: my favourite kind of cheese🧀 landonorris

tagged: lando.jpg

view 45,998,972 comments

username1: the caption🥹😭💖💞💗✨️

username2: them>>>>>>

riabish: LOVE IS IN THE AIR🫶🏼✨️

danielricciardo: you guys are so disgustingly adorable🫡💖

landonorris: now who's the chessier one??😏😏

y/n.clicks: landonorris still YOU🫣

landonorris: 😂😂😂

. . . .

also I'm thinking for a part 2 for this, lemme know if you're interested too :))

check out my works: until i found you masterlist | other works

part 2 is out now!! check it out :))

[aealzx]

“Hey…. How’s he doing?”

Leo’s soft voice caused Raph to look up, the concerned furrow in his brow growing when he noticed the red edges of Leo’s eyes despite the big smile. It was enough to get Raph’s brain churning about how to switch places with him, even as he answered. “I got him to eat some crackers earlier. After he watched the video he had of what happened.”

Leo’s grin turned into a grimace, and he hobbled over to climb back on the bed. “Ouf. That’s one way to do it I guess. Makes the text make sense too.” Crawling over, Leo rested the back of his hand on Donnie’s forehead, then cheek, and grimaced again. Using the tablet resting on the heart monitor stand he double checked the last time Donnie was given medication, and what, before using his portals to fetch other medication to give him.

“What text?” Raph asked, not knowing anything about texts anyone had gotten.

“A little bit ago I got a text from your phone saying ‘sorry for crushing your ankle’. Which was really confusing considering you didn’t do anything to it. So I’m guessing Donnie took your phone for a bit?” Leo responded, slightly absent as he was still checking up on Donnie’s current state.

Raph could only chuckle. “Ah, yeah. He was pretty insistent.” And after a short pause with Leo only humming in answer, Raph hunched over slightly. “Hey Leo? Can I ask for full time Nurse Nardo?”

“What?” Leo blinked, looking up in surprise. “What are you talking about? You’re doing great!” he protested, giving Raph a reassuring smile.

“But you’re not,” Raph pointed out, internally wincing since he hadn’t wanted to mention it since he knew it would make Leo retreat.

“I’m fine.”

There it was. An automatic response that was too quick as Leo deliberately moved to do something that would make him face away from who was looking at him. Raph just reached a hand over to squish Leo’s cheek and pull his gaze back over. Then just gave him a sad smile while rubbing his thumb under Leo’s rosy eye, like he’d done for Donnie just a few hours before. “No you’re not. And that’s okay.”

“It’s nothing. Dad just-... I was…,” Leo faltered, the smile finally fading as he reached up to hug Raph’s arm. “...I can do both,” he insisted weakly.

“I know you can,” Raph assured. “But I don’t want you to do both. And I would feel better if you were always the one looking after Donnie. You know he likes you best.”

Leo had to snort, but it did bring a faint smile back. “C’mon. Nothing beats Raph hugs.”

“Eh, you’ll have to bring that up with him,” Raph shrugged. He could definitely get all of his brothers to fall asleep on his own. But it was only when he was flattened by Leo that Donnie slept the longest, and best.

Leo seemed to be considering it, no longer feeling like he was failing or giving up. But Raph needed him to come to a conclusion a bit faster, so leaned over to hush blurt out. “Plus Raph really needs to pee. Please take him, quickly.”

Leo’s laugh crashed into his nose first before bursting from his mouth, and he reached his arms out while adjusting to get comfortable. “Alright, okay. Give him here before you wet the bed,” he snickered, pulling Donnie over to lean against him instead, and laughing more as Raph gave their sleeping brother a quick kiss on the temple before scurrying out of the room.

Settling back into the bed pillows, Leo dabbed Donnie’s face with the clean water Casey had left before he wrapped a cooling patch in a thin cloth so the adhesive wouldn’t touch Donnie’s skin. It actually did feel nice to be off his feet and relaxing, and he pulled his phone out to finish watching some of the surgery videos he’d started. “Dunno why you like me. You don’t have to…” he mumbled absently, knowing that Donnie wouldn’t hear him.

He was shocked when instead of silence his comment was returned by Donnie signing back to him while his eyes were still closed. [I know. Want to. My choice. Dum dum.]

Leo choked out a surprised noise, pulling his head halfway into his shell for a moment to hide his embarrassment. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he muttered quickly, peeking a glance at his twin and catching a sleepy gaze and subtle smile looking back at him. Huffing, Leo squirmed unnecessarily to get more comfortable. “Go back to sleep. I’m watching open heart surgery.”

As expected, Donnie gave a disgusted snort and quickly reached up to pull the rag on his head down far enough to cover his eyes, even though it ended up wedged against the pillow when he turned his head. No thank you. No disgusting, horrid human torture for him.

--------

Previous Next

____________________

Little bit of fluff =7=

[mistiell]

Your Arcane S/O’s Favourite Part of Your Body

Viktor

- Loves all of you dearly

- If you ever asked him to pick a favourite, he’d tell you he loves all of you equally like the sweet little gremlin he is 😩

- However, he’s secretly a huge sucker for your tummy

- If you’ve got squish, even better

- Loves resting his head on your stomach and falling asleep there

- If you’re ever insecure about your stomach, he makes sure to show you just how much he loves it

- Along with the rest of your body

- Lots of soft kisses and delicate caresses

- Needs you to know how absolutely gorgeous you are

Jayce

- Simply put, he’s an ass man

- Doesn’t matter the size, he loves it

- Pinches it when no one is looking

- Fuckin’ tease

- Uses your butt as a drum set to make you laugh

- buh dum bum ptsh-

- kinda weird but also funny as fuck

- Lays his head on it while he reads

- Falls asleep there occasionally

Silco

- He has a sort of odd fascination with your neck

- His favourite place to leave love bites, for sure

- When he’s feeling particularly soft, he’ll come up behind you and press his lips to the nape of your neck and just linger there for a moment

- Loves running his fingertips along the curve of your neck while you’re cuddling

Vi

- Your tits

- Your lips are her favourite

- She loves kissing you so why wouldn’t your lips be her favourite??

- loves it when you lick your lips

- There’s just something about you brushing your tongue over your bottom lip briefly that is just

- So good in her own personal opinion

- she also loves the feeling of your lips against her skin so like-

Jinx

- As strange as it may sound, she loves your face

- She loves the way your eyes light up when you’re talking about something you love

- the way your brows furrow and crease whenever you’re cross with someone

- The way you smile at her when she’s showing you something she made.

- the way you scrunch your nose whenever you smell something gross

- She just thinks you’re so pretty, she can’t help but stare

Mel

- Your hands

- She loves watching you write and work with your hands

- the way your fingers work just

- entrances her, fr

- Loves holding your hand

- Fidgets with your fingers when she’s nervous

- Places kisses on each of your fingertips to show her appreciation

[georgiapeach30513]

My heart is exploding with all the Squish content today! Can we hear more about Papa with all of his granddaughters? Posie, Ellie belly, Poppy, and Squish all stealing Papa’s heart -✨

Papa and his granddaughters 🥺🥺 that man raised so many daughters, you know that these four came pretty easy to him. Posie is such a big help with the younger ones, although she is closest with Mimi, she still loves her Papa and she LOVES her baby siblings.  So for age references Posie 16, Ellie 10, Poppy 4, Squish 1.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Moonflowers

Summary:  Ransom takes the girls on a hike and picnic

Pairings:  Ransom, Posie, Ellie, Poppy, Fable

Rating:  FLOOF

Warnings: None, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  700

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Papa & Mimi's Grandbabies Masterlist

"Look both ways Posie,” Ransom says calmly before his oldest granddaughter turns onto the road, “And breathe.”

“Papa, I got my driver’s license.”

“Yes, but you’ve never driven with precious cargo.”

Posie rolls her eyes but stays looking at the road, “I’ve driven with Poppy plenty of times.”

“I was referring to me,” he turns to look at her with the biggest smile, and then back to a giggling Ellie and Poppy, while Squish just plays with her feet, blowing bubbles, with screeching laughs.

“Who’s bright idea was it to go hiking,” Ellie asks, using her finger to tickle Fable’s chin.

“Mine, I haven’t got to spend time with just my girls in so long.  Look at Posie, she’s already driving.  Squish is now a year.  It’s like having my own daughters all over again.”

Ransom continues to praise Posie and her very cautious driving.  Getting to the park, she pulls out the backpack, while Ransom straps on the carrier, placing an outwards facing Fable, who gurgles and babbles to anyone that walks past her.  Her four little teeth smiling at Ellie, and Posie puts out her hand for Poppy to grab.

“Papa, you you like being around us girls?” Poppy asks him with a little skip, once her sister drops her hand.  She runs a bit up ahead, to dig around in the underbrush.

“Of course,” Squish squeals when Poppy jumps up in her face.  Her chubby little legs jumping around, and her hands try to reach Poppy.  “See, if I wasn’t with you, who would have got to witness that?”

"Mom says you’ve calmed down since she was a kid.  Said that you threatened to kills James and Carter all the time,” Ellie steals a glance towards Ransom, but quickly looks back in front.

“Yeah, well, I don’t recall any of you guys growing up with a boy that you weren’t related two.  Your mom and Iris did.”

“Story did, too,” Ellie giggles back at him.

“Yes, I know this, Ellie belly.  Let’s not bring Tweedle Dum into this,” Papa and his four grandbabies continue their trek until finding their spot to sit down for their picnic lunch, giggling over some boy that had been bothering Ellie, to which Ransom told her to throw dirt at him.

“That didn’t work with mom and dad,” Posie reminds him.

“Papa!” Ellie shouts, needing to change the subject while Fable starts drifting to sleep.  “What’s my flower?” Ransom cocks his head to the side looking at her, “Well, like all your daughters’ have flowers, and even Blade and Anders have a flower.  Mimi has one, and you have one.  What’s mine?  These are the things that keep me up at night.  And what’s Fable’s?  Papa!  Tell me so we can get it planted?”

“Do you even know what Mimi, Blade’s and Anders’ flowers are?” Ransom is stalling.  He has no idea what the perfect flower for her would.  Knowing that Poppy and Posie already have their own, and now he has to come up with two flowers.

“Yes, Mimi is a peony, Blade a sweet pea, Anders is ranunculi, and you are a tulip.  Mine is a....”

“Moonflower,” Ellie looks over at Posie shaking her head.  “Yeah.”

“There is no such thing.”

“Actually there is,” she turns her phone around for Ellie to see the pretty and delicate white flower.  “And since your dad put your name on the moon...”

“Oh, I like that!  My Becks put my name on the moon, so I’m a moonflower, make sure to tell Mimi.  Now, Fable.”

“Are we going to do this with all the grandkids?” Ransom asks, his body already laying on the blanket, tired and ready to take his own nap.

“Thorne has a plant,” Poppy tells him.

“Thorne’s name is Hawthorne, he has a tree.  So let’s see Fable is always smiling.  When she’s not sleeping,” Ellie gives her Papa and Squish a smile, and even Poppy crawls over to lay on his belly.  “What cha go, Pose?”

“Hibiscus represents happiness.  You wanna take a nap on Papa too?” 

“Yeah, let’s take a nap,” Posie scoots closer to Papa, who wraps an arm around her, while Ellie lays on Posie’s belly.  Her hand goes up to wiggle in Ransom’s beard.

“Love you, Papa.”

“Love you, too, Ellie belly.  My pretty little moonflower.”

Masterlist

[fallenrepublick]

Because Thrass still appears to be a big dum dum

Spare thoughts?

Yeah, valid. Haven't read the book yet... no idea what he's been up to... not.... entirely sure if I will yet. We'll see.

Have we talked about his mornings yet? His moments when the sun comes up and just barely peeks through the dark curtains in his bedroom, the one that was once heavy with a luxurious loneliness that only you seemed to be able to lift. Now though, the mornings are light, a small beam stretched across your bodies as you begin to stir.

You might have to wake him up, as he tends to sleep like a rock, poking his face and shaking him by the arm for a while despite his resistance. More likely than not, he'll try to squish you down, wrapping his arm around your waist and repositioning himself practically on top of you as you struggle and fuss at him to stop being comfortable.

"Mmm... but it's so early..." he protests lowly, making no effort whatsoever to move from his position, "And you're so comfortable..."

"We have errands to run-" you say, trying as hard as you can to make it out of his grasp without much success.

You feel his face bury itself into you more, his grasp tightening with no space left between the two of you. "Those can be done later..." he says, voice muffled as he speaks, "We can afford to take a bit of time today."

His fingers run along your skin, soft circles rubbed onto your abdomen when his hands slip just under the hem of your shirt. The touch alone is soft and gentle enough to make you begin to fall asleep yet again, exactly the thing you didn't want to happen.

"I love you..." you hear him mutter against you, "We don't have to get up... not yet..."

Turning over towards him, you allow yourself to be coddled, held close to him, warm and safe in his arms this morning, just as you've done so many mornings before. "Alright... not yet..."

[werkwerkelizaaa]

Xoxo Droplets’ Jerk Squad Band AU

So this came to me while I was listening to Yeah Right off of Evanescence’s latest album, The Bitter Truth.

Yeah I know, but hear me out:

•They were all in an after-school program for ~cultivating musical talent in troubled youth~

•Even though most of them cannot stand each other, as a whole they’re almost magical onstage

• Nate is the frazzled manager of course, constantly stretched within an inch of his life but he claims a perfect (by his standards) show is worth all the stress

• Bae writes the lyrics, handles a majority of the PR– if somebody tries to spin his words he can spin it right back on them– and I also feel he could play the electric violin for the songs that call for it (it’s a thing and it’s epic)

•Jeremy seems to be the type to have piano aggressively encouraged to him by his parents, so he’s on keyboard and composes most of the music

Imagine Bae leaning over Jeremy “No no cupcake, I know it’s difficult for anyone to keep up with my genius, but you modulate the key on the next line” and pointing

“If you don’t get that finger out of my face I will stuff this sheet music up your nasal cavity”

“...and don’t call me cupcake”

•JB takes lead guitar and does a lot of showboating, works the crowd and is usually in some sort of scandalous headline every week but she loves it

•Shiloh plays bass and provides backup vocals, he’s annoying but they keep him towards the front of the stage because his energy is infectious so we might as well put him to use

• I can see Everett having the ability to use both hands equally well, so he’s on drums and enjoys having his finger on the very heartbeat of the metaphorical system, probably dabbles in the synth too

•Pran is the one-man tech wizard and has as tiny of a presence as possible, only the most hardcore fans know what he even looks like

•[If we bring the reader into this, they were hand-selected by JB for their seemingly sweet, friendly, conflict-averse demeanor as well as their powerful voice– she didn’t want too much competition for the boys’ attention]

•[Whether her judgement is sound remains to be seen, but my money’s on not]

•[On the other hand, there’s still enough onstage chemistry between them to play it up for the fans and the press]

•They definitely squabbled over the name

• “Hear me out: Baend.” “NO” “JB and the JBs” “oh, please” “get real” “could we squish all of our names together?” “Ah yes, because none of the members of the band could ever switch out, it’s not like that happens only all the time”

• “What about ‘That Band’?” “Seriously?” “It’s no worse than anything else that’s been suggested” “Ugh fine” “wait I was being sarcastic” “well too bad we’re sticking with it now” “this is all your fault Jeremy”

each member has a good amount of groupies/fangirls. JB, Everett, and Shiloh revel in the spotlight and have a lot of overnight visitors to their respective rooms, Bae pretends he’s above all that but he’ll have the occasional “dalliance” as well which is,,, not what you’d think

Legit he sells a limited amount of ‘day dates’ to his fans at every tour stop which consists of him hanging out with them for a certain price, it’s only word-of-mouth through the hardcore base which just adds to the mystique

• Nate and Jeremy are like “gross”, but at least they have fans and at the very least that’s good for both business and their image

• Pran HATES it lol he’s just like “Why. Why.”

• “Must be a bunch of burnt out losers who weren’t hugged enough as children.”

• They all constantly diss everyone else’s outfits and haircuts, naturally

•Not the musical instruments though– except for in extreme cases– because that’s serious business

Jeremy: trips onstage

Everett: *ba-dum-tsss*

•Pran with light spotting/mic check shenanigans

•Shiloh: leans over to plug his bass in

•Pran: Points all the spotlights directly at him

•Shiloh: temporarily blinded

•Pran: evil chuckle

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

• Nate: Sound check, let’s go!

•Pran: turns it down low

•JB: Hello, world! ...it’s not working. Testing, one two three.

•Everett, offstage: Is it even turned on?

•Jeremy: uh yeah, the light’s green.

•Pran: snickering to himself in the back

•JB: COME ON YOU STUPID WORTHLESS PIECE OF S—

Ear-splitting, electronic screech

• Everyone minus JB and Pran: JB!!

Jeremy’s keyboard is absolutely pristine, and you cannot convince me otherwise

There’s not a fingerprint to be seen, he might even wear gloves while handling it just to keep it impeccable

Def makes the stagehands and assistants wash their hands and glove up before moving it, that’s not even a question

You could probably eat right off the thing, not that he’d let you

•JB has some cool pins on the strap of her guitar and has a few different guitars she rotates though depending on her mood

•Everett and Shiloh have similar stickers on their respective instruments, they still mock each others’ taste in decoration though because them

“Give us a headbang, Jeremy!”

“No.”

• Jeremy [and reader] do their best in making Nate’s job as easy as possible, which is very much needed since directing the rest of the members is worse than herding cats

Three minutes to showtime

•Everett: hey has anyone seen my drumsticks?

•Nate: WHAT 

•Nate: YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS RIGHT NOW

• Everett: Lol jk here they are in my back pocket 

•Bae: Wonnndderrrfulll, crisis averted.

• Shiloh: Everett, that’s not really funny...

• Everett: F***ing can it, freckles.

• Shiloh: :( you can it.

• JB: everybody shut up before I make you shut up

• Everett: ;) is that so?

• Jeremy: kill me now.

• Nate, offstage: I need a raise...

•[Reader once walked in on Nate aggressively rubbing at his eyes and sniffling after a particularly rough week, but he brushed it off as seasonal allergies and they didn’t press the matter at the time]

•Roommate musical chairs kept happening at every single stop until finally everyone was fed up with everybody, even the ones who usually get along, so Bae and Nate decided on getting everyone their own room while touring– they even added a clause to the contract to make sure it would happen for the divas (yes that includes the two of them)

• Credit to the amazing @gb-patch for creating the best worst guys you’ll ever love

•hey, psst. Before you go, check this out: https://werkwerkelizaaa.tumblr.com/post/648073310973952000/xoxo-droplets-jerk-squad-band-au

[softkuna]

playlist

›  𝚋𝚘𝚔𝚞𝚝𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚔𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚘

› 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚢. 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚜. 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚜. 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝.

›  𝟸𝟷𝟿𝟻𝚔

You had a shit day. You got pegged in the face with a volleyball so hard, you could practically taste the concussion as you sprawled backwards. Luckily, the medic ok’d you to keep playing. Unluckily, the whole ordeal happened right in front of a pro team’s scouting manager. The embarrassment alone made you want to hide under a rock until next season. To make it all sting just a little bit more, Bokuto and Kuroo had their own games to attend, so it wasn’t like you could curl up in Kuroo’s dorm like you might’ve before. Bokuto was only in town for a few days, too, and you were certain he’d be practicing or playing the whole weekend. So instead, you sigh as you walk onto the train by campus, shooting a text to the tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum.

🗨️We lost :( I think I broke my nose. And my careeeeeeer

  Bokuto’s fingers rapid-fire replied, followed my Kuroo’s more casual pace.

  🗯��BROKEN NOSE?!! ARE YOU OK???

🗯️Wait how did u lose? Aren’t they good luck????

💬That’s a broken leg, bruh.

💬Sorry babe. You’re not concussed, though, right?

🗨️I’m fine ^^” just pulled a hina

🗯️Hows a broken leg good luck? U cant play on that THAT SHIT HURTS 😱 😱

🗨️👀 👀 👀

🗨️Bo pls

  As you sat on the train, you quietly snorted to yourself. Bokuto was an amazing player and an even better boyfriend, but sometimes you thought his muscles squeezed out a braincell or two.

💬Saw the clip on twitter. hows your face? I’m sure its still hot

  You scoffed with a roll of your eyes. Kuroo, flirtatious as always, but your reflexive smile matched the tone of your text.

🗨️If hot = busted, then sure 🙄

🗯️HEY UR HOT 😘 😘 SHUDDUP

  By the way their texts disjointedly pieced together before coming to a halt, you knew their matches started. You locked your screen with a sigh. Whether it was the ace’s ADHD-induced impulse thoughts or the blocker’s humorously blunt honesty, the two had always managed to spike your spirits high and block the anxieties that crept over the net. Without their distractions, the day replayed in 4K across the theater of your mind. Back slumped against the seat, you could feel the heaviness of it drag you down to the ocean floor.

  But now here you were, walking to your apartment with no reprieve from the disappointment. Rather than doing your adult responsibilities like clean, cook, or generally care past a shower, you slept. It was a deep, blank sleep. The type where you know you’d wake up feeling that eerie calm in the dead of night.

    Brightness blared next to your pillow – invading your vision as it violently vibrated against your hand. A loud ring attacked your half-concious hearing, jolting your heart like a jumpstarted engine. Quick reflexes enacted before you could stop the near Olympic vault of your phone into the wall across the bed.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me… who the hell….” You tear the blankets off, shivering at the cold as you pick the device back up. Thank your lord and savior, Asahi, for gifting you an Otter Box for Christmas.

  A gentle gasp left your lips as you saw a slew of missed texts from the dynamic duo. Oh no. Oh no. You felt horrendous. Your phone lit up as a photo of Kuroo with a French fry up his nose vibrated to life.

  As fast as your fingers could, you slid to answer, “He-“

  “-LLO WE ARE OUTSIDE ARE YOU COMING OR WHAT?!” Bokuto hollered into the mic, practically blowing out the speaker with sheer vocal force.

  “Holy shit, Bo! What? What do you mean?” Cautiously, the screen was brought closer to your cheek again, ghosting about a centimeter for your hearing’s safety.

  “Don’t you check your phone, hot-stuff? We’re going for a drive,” Kuroo honked the horn, echoing through the window and phone.

  Sure enough, the string of texts was about a drive and a half-planned plan of action. Thrilled enthusiasm rippled through you. You didn’t even think you’d get to see Bokuto this visit let alone with Kuroo! Praise the scheduling gods!

  The phone squished between your shoulder and ear as hands searched for an outfit that wasn’t your hoe shorts and sports bra. You threw on Bokuto’s old Ace’s Way shirt, and on top a near ancient Nekoma varsity jacket. Both items of which were left in your apartment from a get together nearly a year ago, “I’ll be out in a sec!”

  College was difficult. Especially when each of you had gone in somewhat different directions after high school. Kuroo, like yourself, played volleyball in university. And like yourself, nearly ripped his hair out when experiencing the hell that was Macroeconomics with Professor Mori. Bokuto was scouted play volleyball professionally, popping in and out of Tokyo to visit you two. At some point along the way and a slew of confusing budding emotions later, the three of you dove head first into a lovingly symbiotic relationship. It was hard when each of your schedules were chaotic, but worked out for the best as you all strove for your own goals while cheering each other on.

  You grabbed your bag of random things including underwear, extra clothes, and some money.  You never knew with the two of them what may happen and you learned from one wild trip to Osaka that Bokuto’s sense of direction was about as bad as you’d think it’d be.

  Half jogging, you rolled your eyes to the red corvette. Kuroo loved that thing way too much. Through the window, you could see Bokuto lean across the console to open the back driver-side door for you. The grin he wore could’ve fueled the sun itself, “BABE! LIGHT OF MY LIFE! EDGE-LINE STRAIGHT SHOT! WER’RE GOING ON AN ADVENTURE,” His muscular arm stretched to you, calloused hands reaching for you to grab.

  He pulled you you between the seats for a  bear hug, wide chest nearly eating you whole. He was as toasty as always. Or maybe it was just your cheeks. Either way, you were happy to see him, “Missed you, Bo! Sorry for missing the texts.”

  “You were asleep weren’t ya?” Kuroo turned in the driver side, a hand finding its place at the crown of your hair. The lazy pique of his own lop-sided smile greeted your playful glare, which melted into a nod and a sigh. The look he gave softened at the navy-coated aura rolling off you in waves. He stroked your hair once, poking your cheek as his hand passed it, “You’re here. ‘s all that matters. Now, Hoots over here can shut up about your nose, which is… a little fucked up, wow.”

  “You don’t say?” Your expression dead-panned as Bokuto pulled back from you to examine the swollen cartilage. While you wanted them to see the game, you were absolutely glad that they didn’t. Bokuto would have barreled down the bleachers had he seen your wipe out in person. Actually, you recalled a snap from Atsumu; the camera pointed to the tile of a locker room, Bokuto’s howling in the background with a simple caption of ‘You good?’  

  Pulling away from the ace, you sat back into the middle seat, arms resting on the leather between the passenger and driver sides. Kuroo drove with his hands low on the wheel, long digits thwacking the steering wheel to a silent beat. You glanced between the two, suspicious of their matching expressions. You dared ask, “Why’s it so quiet?”

  “Are you saying-“ Kuroo began.

  “-you want some tuunesss?” Bokuto ended giddily.

  He readily tapped a button on his phone, shielding the screen from you protectively. Kuroo’s gaze darted between the dash screen and the road, waiting for whatever shitpost song Bokuto most definitely was about to put on.

  “Guys… what are you-“

  A record scratch.

  I still hear your voice when you sleep next to me.

  “You’re fucking kidding me! Turn it up, turn it up!” Your hand bulleted to the volume, body squeezing past the two to crank up Cascada’s Everytime We Touch until the windows rattled. Kuroo and Bokuto shared a knowing, toothy smirk. Bingo.

  “Forgive me, my weakness, but I don't know why

Without you, it's hard to survive!”

  Duetting with the utmost of dramatics, you and Bokuto reached for some imaginary lover escaping in the distance, opposite hand grasping near your hearts. Kuroo snickered, forever and always amused at how weirdly in-sync the two of you could be. Watching both of you thrash wildly together was probably the most endearing thing he’s seen all day.

  The silveret pumped his fists as you both scream-sang the modern masterpiece. His large hands enveloped yours with enough theatrics to shake the emotion into the chorus:  

  “'Cause every time we touch, I get this feeling

And every time we kiss, I swear I could fly

Can't you feel my heart beat fast? I want this to last

Need you by my side

'Cause every time we touch, I feel the static

And every time we kiss, I reach for the sky

Can't you hear my heart beat so? I can't let you go

Want you in my life!”

  The palm of your hands smacked into their biceps at the last lines, letting the 2000’s synth twinkle into your veins. The vibes in this vehicle were immaculate. Waves that crashed over you, drowning you earlier in the day, receded, leaving sun-warmed sands to dance across. The ones who paved the way were a sarcastic cat and overzealous owl.

  The song was coming to an end and you excitedly whipped between the two, “What’s next?! What’s the playlist?! Link it to me? Please?” You bat your eyelashes at them, Kuroo nudging his chin to the other. The ace hurriedly clicked a few buttons and opened a few apps, radiating delight itself, “Done!” Your phone buzzed with Bokuto’s link. The title of the playlist popped up, overpouring unadulterated admiration into your heart until it warmed up to your cheeks.

  Tunes To Cheer Our Best Babe Up To.

 It was silly, but on brand for the two. All of the songs were added within the last three hours by both boys. Each one of them an absolute banger.

  It was Kuroo’s idea in the beginning. He remembered all the times in high school you’d cry after an exam, near inconsolable until he’d loan you his headphones. Just a few months ago, he caught you throwing it back to the beat of some pop classic after you failed your first semester’s final exams. There’s a video of it somewhere, but he won’t admit to the sin. You know it because you can hear him hyena-laugh in the hallway every so often as Bad Boy riots in the background.

  Bokuto, with all the brilliantly rambunctious enthusiasm the world could give a single human being, added in every song he already had in his likes. All of which he sung with you on every trip until your voices hurt. He even added Mr. Brightside, reminding you of the time he screamed so loud during the chorus that he sounded like a donkey the rest of the day and into his next match. To this very day, the infamous ‘O ᴼO ᵒn ᵉ  TᵒOᵘCʰ’ could be heard in the locker rooms by each teammate in unison.

  You paused as the next song hit, mouth abruptly shutting as the two in the front recited, word-for-word,

  “Man, fuck.”

“What's wrong Bo?”

“Man, these kids, man, talkin' shit, makin' me feel bad.”

“Man, fuck them kids, bro! Look around, hoots, look at life!”

“Man, you're right”

“Mmm, you see? You see this fine bitch right over here?” Kuroo’s long fingers pinched your cheek at the red light, laughing as you jokingly smacked it away.

“Yeah, woah...” Bokuto beamed at you.

“You see these trees man? You see this water?” You snorted as Kuroo’s hand waved to four-way intersection.

“I guess it is okay.”

“Come on, man, you got so much more to appreciate, man.”

“Man you know what, y-you're right...” The words, lyrics or otherwise, still brought a childish scrunch to the ace’s handsome face.

“You damn right I'm right,” Kuroo smirked, taking even the smallest bit of delight out of his perfected timing, “I can't remember a time I was god-damn wrong.”

“Man, thanks, Demon Cat.”

“Hey man, that's what I'm here for.”

  Bokuto, half-joke-half-serious punched Kuroo’s bicep, eliciting a feral smirk as they went into the chorus. Bo’s arms crossed as he shook his shoulders to the beat. Kuroo threw down at the next red light, clapping to each beat. Just as the bass shook your heart in its chest, both players head-banged with all their might, car jerking with the force. You feared for the steering wheel and the threat of an airbag going off when both boys slam-drummed the vehicle’s surface. The sight of the two of them going absolutely feral elicited the brightest cackle from your belly.

  They really knew how to turn your shittiest days into your new favorites. And you’d definitely be revisiting this playlist.

[clintbartonswife]

Home

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader, (platonic) Steve x Reader Summary: When Steve first comes out of the ice, he learns of his fellow Howling Commando’s fates, yours being less than pretty. So, when he goes back to return the stones, he decides to be selfish. He brings you home.

Written for @buckygrantbarnes writing challenge with the prompt : Epiphany (n)- a moment of sudden revelation or insight. It’s in bold. I really tried 

Warning: brief mentions of suicide, angst, minor swearing, involves flashbacks (through Steve’s eyes) to 40s!bucky and 40s!steve

Word Count: 3.2k - this was not meant to get this long oh dear god

masterlist

“Are you sure you want to do this Cap?” Tony asked, placing the Manila folders in front of him cautiously, “You might not like everything that you read”

Steve just nodded, his eyes immediately drawn to your file, “I have to know”

He waited until he was alone that evening to look through the folders, starting with Dum Dum’s folder. By 2 am in the morning he had finally reached yours, fingers hesitating at the crisp pages. With a deep breath, he finally opened it. 

Your face beamed up at him, standing in between him and Bucky. That particular picture had been taken after their first successful hydra raid with the howling commandos, the three of you full of incomparable joy. Steve felt his eyes brimming with tears as he set the picture aside, moving onto the typed up briefing of your life. 

He knew something was wrong before he had even started, the folder much thinner than that of the other members, only a mere few pages detailing your life after the war. His stomach clenched uncomfortably at the sight, yet he continued to read. 

She continued to fight with the surviving commandos until the end of the war, where she was heavily decorated amongst her peers. Retiring from the forces, she moved back to Brooklyn, only 5 minutes away from Rebecca Barnes and her new husband. 3 months after retiring from the service she was found dead in her apartment from a gunshot to the head, self inflicted. 

Steve felt sick. Utterly, utterly sick. He had left you alone, and without him or Bucky there to help you, you had crumbled. Shoving the folder away from him, he stumbled to his feet, dashing out of his room and towards the common room kitchen to get some water. 

He ignored a few worried calls as he walked through the corridors, his mind reeling with the imaginative horrors of your death, conjuring up images of your limp body sprawled lifelessly on the floor -  

The thought made him heave, tears gathering in his eyes as he clumsily took a cup from the cupboard and began to fill it up, his usually steadfast hands shaking life a leaf as memories of his youth filled his head.

“I didn't see you here yesterday, you’re always sat here sketching at 4. Were you okay?”

Steve looked up at you in shock, sketching pad lying on his legs as he tried to formulate a sentence.

“Wha - yeah. My asthma was bad is all, ma didn't want me leaving the house. Um - I’m Steve”

“Y/N” you greeted cheerfully, seating yourself next to him on the bench, “I think we’re going to be great friends”

“Steve! Wait up!” you called, running down the street, madly weaving through the throngs of people that lined the Brooklyn streets. Steve had known you for years now, Bucky instantly accepting you into the fold.

Steve watched you approach with a grin, leant against the wall with his hands tucked in his pockets to keep out of the way of the morning rush. 

“I thought you had ditched me” he teased, elbowing you lightly in the side, “was waiting for 20 minutes doll”

You ducked your head slightly, your hair falling in your face as you laughed, “I would never Steve - you know that”

With a small nod, he offered you his arm, the two of you walking towards the theatre.

“Is Buck coming?”

“Shouldn’t you know that?” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You blanched, a blush creeping up your cheeks, “I don't have a clue what you’re talking about”

He snorted, falling next to you in line at the ticket booth with a relaxed smile.

“Yeah, because you didn't fall hopelessly in love with him when we were 7″

You punched his arm lightly, stumbling over words as you tried to defend yourself.

“He’ll ask you out any day doll, I’m sure of it”

“Steve! Help me!”

He turned around to see Bucky close in on you, tackling you to the ground before he began tickling your sides.

“Make him stop - ow! James! I’ll get you for this I swear!”

“Nah, you love me too much to hurt me babydoll” Bucky smirked, his eyes shining with admiration as he stared down at your scowling face.

Steve sniggered as he watched you turn beet red, immediately wiggling out from underneath the taller man and making a rushed excuse to leave.

“What was that?”

“You called her babydoll again” Steve smirked, crossing his arms triumphantly, “Just admit it, you like her”

“I don't know what you’re talking about punk”

“Jerk”

“It’s in Europe, they say we might have to join” you said in a low voice, squished between Bucky and Steve in a booth, a shared smoothie sat on the table.

“Someone’s got to stop the Nazis - I think we should help” Steve explained with a small shrug. “They’re bullies, they need to be stopped”

“What do you think Buck?”

“Huh - what? Sorry doll I wasn’t listening”

You sighed, narrowing your eyes at Dot who had been flirting with him from across the diner.

“Just go sit with her if she’s that bloody interesting”

“If that’s alright with you?”

You huffed moodily, Steve answering for the both of you, a scowl forming on your face as you watched him flirt.

“He’s nothing but a skirtchaser” you huffed, taking an angry sip of milkshake, “Just admit it Steve, he sees me as a sister. I’ve known him too long”

“Trust me, he doesn’t look at you like he looks at Becca. He’s just being an idiot right now” Steve said, consoling you, “Besides, they never last more than a week, you’ve got to realise there’s a reason for that”

“I’ll believe it when I see it Rogers”

“Buck you cant go” you cried into his chest, hands fisted into the material of his jacket.

“I’m sorry doll, but you know I have to. I’ll come home, I promise” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hairline as he pulled away, moving to give Steve a hug.

“Look after her while I’m gone Steve, I mean it”

“You know I will”

“And don't do anything stupid”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you” Steve smiled sadly, moving to hold your hand as you waved Bucky off.

As soon as he was out of sight you buried your head in Steve’s shoulder, letting out broken sobs as he held you tightly.

“I didn’t tell him Steve”

“I know”

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You’re being deployed?”

“Yes, well I -” You cut him off with a hug, knowing how much he wanted to get in to the army, until the reality came crashing down.

“What am I supposed to do? What about your asthma? Your pains? I - I should join the nurses, see if I can go with you. You’ll - you’ll need someone who knows how to help you”

“Y/N no, I promised Buck -”

“You cant leave me here alone Steve, I cant be in Brooklyn alone”

“Who are - wait - Steven?”

“It's me”

“But you’re massive! What happened to you!”

“I joined the army” he chuckled, a sad tinge to his voice

“Why’re you sad?”

“They’re not deploying me. They have me on a dance troupe instead, something about selling bonds”

You pulled him into a hug, withholding a sigh of relief, “Well, I guess I’ve found my new job, eh?”

You snuck off stage with Steve, ignoring the cheers of the soldiers as you consoled him, smiling at Peggy as she approached.

“Tough crowd? That audience contains what was left of the 107th -”

“Wait, the 107th?” 

Steve was up in a flash, you and Peggy following close behind.

“Sir I just need to know one name, Sargent James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th, please”

“I’ve written more of those letters than I’d care to admit today - I’m sorry but the name does sound familiar”

You choked down a sob as Steve asked what the plan was to save the POWs, your hand absentmindedly clutching his as you tried to ground yourself.

“I cant believe I let you come” Steve breathed exasperatedly, watching as you put your show helmet back on, a determined look in your eye.

“Hey, I’ve been training her, she’s pretty good” Peggy smiled, handing you a pistol and holster, as well as a stolen machine gun.

The plane leered to the side slightly, Howard shouting apologies from the front.

“I’ll have you know I beat your accuracy on the shooting range, Rogers” you teased, attaching the thigh holster as you steadied your breathing, getting ready to drop into enemy territory.

You fought brutally, following Steve’s every move as you made your way through the hydra base.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Get the prisoners out, I’ll carry on looking for Bucky”

“Are you sure -”

“If he sees you here you know he’s just going to act tough, we need to move quickly”

You snorted in agreement, taking the cell keys and splitting off from him, shooting down the last few guards before entering the room.

“Who are you?” 

“Here to save your asses”

“I asked you to keep her safe!”

“I did! She’s fine isn't she?”

“She is standing right here! And yes, I’m joining and there’s nothing you can do about it, okay?”

“Doll, I just don't think -” “Bucky if the dame wants to come along, let her come” Dum Dum interrupted, “She saved us back then and she seems capable enough”

You smiled smugly, raising your eyebrow at Bucky as Steve watched on in amusement.

“You’re not gonna back down from this are you? God my ma’s gonna kill me”

You cheered at his acceptance, pulling both Bucky and Steve into a hug.

“The three musketeers back together again”

“I wish it was under better circumstances”

“don't we all”

“Bucky I’m fine! It was the right move, if I hadn't have gone in there then the turret might have taken Gabe and Pinky out!”

“You almost got shot!”

“We’re always almost getting shot!”

“But normally I have eyes on you - I can look out for you” “I don't need you to babysit me James! I can do it!” “Well I cant! I lost eyesight on you and you weren’t answering me doll - I - you can’t do that -“

“You don’t seem that bothered when the others leave your sight! You’re being hypocritical Bucky -“

“I LOVE YOU GODDAMNIT”

Everything went quiet, a shocked gasp escaping your lips at the epiphany.

The men cleared their throats awkwardly, the two of your voices carrying back to the camp. Steve, however, sat back in his seat happily, glad that his friend had finally taken the leap. 

Everyone was sat quietly as Jaques fiddled with the radio, trying to hack into the Russian network.

Steve was sat opposite the two of you, watching as you had a hushed conversation. You were sat in between Bucky’s legs, your back leant against his chest. You tilted your head upwards to talk to him, small giggles escaping your lips as he pressed light kisses all over your face.

The rare peaceful moment was cut short as the channel took hold, harsh Russian cutting through the cold air, bringing with it the beginnings of the next mission.

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that we were cornered and I needed to get into the control room!”

“Jesus babydoll, are you trying to give me a heart attack”

“I can handle myself Buck! How many times do I need to prove myself before you realise that? I can fight my own fucking battles”

Bucky cut you off with a growl, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder, muttering something about your dirty mouth.

“We’ll be back in a bit Steve”

“Try and keep it down this time” Steve teased, earning a shocked curse from you as you began to scold him.

“Steven Grant Rogers, how very dare you -”

“Stevie you’ll never guess what!”

“Did he do it?”

You turned around to Bucky, a massive grin on your face.

“He knew?”

“Of course he knew, who do ya think helped me pick the ring?”

Delighted, you hugged Steve, thanking him.

“He was getting cold feet, thought it was too soon” Steve teased, “all I had to do was remind him you’ve been in love since you were 14 - he’s been carrying that damn ring around since the last big town”

“I love you big idiots”

Bucky chuckled from behind you, his arms encircling your waist protectively, chin resting on the top of your head.

“Just a few more bases and we can go home” Bucky promised, Steve nodding firmly.

“Just a few more”

You stared blankly at Steve, his words falling on to deaf ears. Blindly, you started towards the edge of the cliff to look at the train track where he had fallen, Steve’s hands preventing you from getting too close.

“He’s not gone. He’s not”

“I’m sorry, I reached for him. He was right there and I-“ Steve’s voice broke off into sobs, your arms mechanically hugging him. You were numb.

“It’s not your fault” you murmured repeatedly, “not your fault”

Only two weeks later, the group had found the main hydra base. Steve had tried talking you out of coming but you needed the revenge, the alcohol not cutting into your grief.

You moved through the base with conviction, unbridled fury coursing through your veins as you cleared corridors of hostiles by yourself, movements brutal and unforgiving.

“He’s on the jet - missiles - I need backup”

You watched as Steve kissed Peggy, a small smirk pulling at your lips, before you continued clearing the way to the control room.

“I’ve got to put her in the water”

“Steve - no. You can’t do that to me, please”

Peggy tried to come up with an alternative route, but Steve was sure it was the only way.

“Y/N I’m so sorry”

As Steve stepped on the platform, one glance at Bucky confirmed what he had to do.

When he had first remembered you, he had cried for hours in Steve’s arms until he eventually worked up the courage to read your folder. He had gone silent for a few minutes before letting out the most heart wrenching sob Steve had ever heard.

He was inconsolable for quite a while afterwards, quite similar to Steve when he had found out, unable to imagine you in a place that dark.

“3, 2, 1”

A hesistant knock sounded at your door, bringing you out of your daydream. You cursed the interruption, reality crashing back down around as you realised you were back in the States and they were gone.

The person knocked again, more firmly this time. You opened it with a fake smile (one you had mastered recently), to be met with a familiar set of broad shoulders.

”Steve?”

Your voice was shaky, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek.

“Oh god I’m going insane aren’t I - you - you died. You’re both dead. Who - why are you doing this? It’s not funny!” You wept, scrambling backwards.

“Y/n-“

You froze at his voice, hands beginning to tremble.

“No, no”

Your crying increased as you pressed your hands to your ears, sliding down the wall until you were hunched over, rocking back and forth slightly.

“You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead” you mumbled.

“Y/n I’m here, it’s me. I’m here doll”

Warm arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace, “shhh. Shhhh”

“Is it - is it really you?” You asked, hands clawing at his shirt, “Steve, Steve it’s you?”

“It’s me, I’m here” he said, voice cracking with emotion.

“But - but - the ice. You crashed Steve. You - you - you died! You both died!” You had to pause, choking on tears, “you both left me. I had to come back here alone, you know I didn't want to be in Brooklyn alone”

“I know, and I’m so sorry doll. I’m so sorry. But I came here to take you home, with Buck and I”

“Oh - I did it didn’t I?”

“What?”

“I’m dead”

“No. You’re not dead, but you did-“ his voice broke off, tears falling from his eyes as he tried to finish his sentence, “I know what you’re thinking of doing”

“Oh”

“I’m from the future, there’s no easy way to put it. The ice froze me, kept me alive. I read it in your notes”

“Bucky’s alive in the future too?”

“The fall didn’t kill him”

You gasped, filling in the gaps yourself.

“Oh god, we - we basically handed him to them!”

“But he’s alive, he’. Please let me save you doll - come back with me. I know it will be different but -“

“Yes, please don't leave me again Stevie I cant - not again - I cant”

The blond just nodded in understanding, helping you to your feet.

“Is there anything you need to get?”

You shook your head, your engagement ring still shining on your finger as you grasped the two sets of dog tags around your neck.

Steve tilted his head to the side questioningly.

“Rebecca wanted Bucky’s, I couldn’t say no to her. I got to keep yours though - you can have them back if you want?”

“No need” he smiled, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand, “Let’s go”

You fell to your knees on a metal platform, Steve’s hand still resting on your shoulder.

“Steve what did you do?”

You ignored the unfamiliar voice as you looked up, eyes frantically searching for Bucky.

“Steve -”

You whipped around at the sound of his voice, “Buck”

You launched yourself at him immediately, the two of you crumbling to the ground in a messy embrace. Tears ran steadily down his cheeks as his hands ran over your figure, as if solidifying that you were really in front of him.

“Your hair is so long now” you giggled tearfully, stroking your hands through the silky strands, “and you have a beard!”

He laughed ruefully, searching your face quickly before burying his face back into your neck.

“I missed you babydoll” he whispered into your skin, tightening his arms around your waist, “I’m so sorry for everything”

Frowning, you cut him off, gently moving his face in front of yours and pulling him into a sweet, tender kiss.

“You have nothing to be sorry for James, nothing at all”

He looked down at your intertwined fingers, eyes drawn to the ring.

“You kept it”

“There was never gonna be anyone else Buck -”

“I know”

Averting your eyes from Bucky for a few seconds, you gestured for Steve to join the hug, your family unit complete.

“The three musketeers back together again” Steve smiled, leaning forwards so all three of your foreheads were touching.

“Punk”

“Jerk”

“Idiots”

[anthonyed]

Part 1: Nice Fingers

Relationship: Bucky/Tony, Bucky & Steve

It was an offhand comment, is what it was;

"Nice fingers."

But oh dear, did it sit and stir and stir in Bucky's head like a damned blender.

First off, Tony didn't mean it like that. It wasn't a come-on or whatever.

It was a regular evening spent in the workshop where Bucky plays fetch with the bots while Tony does his thing and the only difference that day was that Tony had needed an extra hand that wasn't mechanical.

Something was stuck in the gut of one of his fancy motorcar and Tony had called Bucky for help.

"Need a hand here, snowflake. If you don't mind."

And Bucky hadn't mind. Simply, marched to his rescue, wiggled his fingers into a tight invisible tube and yanked out the wire for Tony.

"Alas! Thank you."

And it could have ended right there. Just. Ended. And Bucky would have slept in peace.

But Dum-E helpfully thrusted a dirty towel for him to clean up and Bucky accepted it gratefully and began scrubbing the grease off of his right digits when Tony commented;

"Nice fingers."

The thing was, oh the absolute wicked thing was, Tony wasn't even looking!

At least he wasn't when Bucky's head snapped up and oh, Bucky's head snapped real fast and hard alright.

And he wasn't looking.

He was squinting at the dismantled engine until Bucky had probably burned a hole into his skull because then he turned, and the bastard, he fucking winked.

Why fingers?

Why wink?

Those are the two main questions going around in circles in Bucky's head like a fucking whirlpool and it has been four fucking days since he heard it.

And it apparently has driven Stevie insane because he's trying hard not to punch the door down to Bucky's bedroom right now.

"What!?" Bucky yells from inside the cocoon he'd made for himself with his comforter and blanket.

It's muffled but Stevie can go fuck himself.

"Can you come out?" Comes the angry boom.

God, Bucky wishes valiantly he was still scrawny even if not so sickly. Nobody should be allowed so much power. Especially Steve Rogers.

"Fuck off!" He yells back, dreaming of a smaller Steve. Small enough for Bucky to squish him into mush.

"Come out!" Steve barks and Bucky immediately jolts upright.

It's an unfortunate reflex reaction to Cap's command voice. A fucking pathetic misfortune.

"Whaddaya want?" Bucky demands, yanking open the door.

Whatever Steve wants takes an abrupt backlog to the incredibly judgemental once over he gives Bucky.

"Jesus," Steve lets out. "When was the last time you showered?"

"None of your business," Bucky hisses, stomping back to his bed.

He knows how he looks.

Well, not really. But kinda.

The sad end of the sour blanket trailing behind him gives sufficient idea.

He's un-showered, with haphazard greasy hair probably made worse by all the cocooning he'd done, which he's still walking in - yeah.

He gets it. He's a fucking disaster.

"What happened?" Steve asks, voice considerably softer.

Bucky glares at him. He'd rather the yelling. "Nothing. What happened with you? Why're you here?" He snarls.

Whatever kindness that had possessed Steve immediately evaporates at that remark. He scowls.

"Oh I don't know. Maybe the fact that you'd been missing team dinner three nights in row and that Tony's giving me looks like I'd kidnapped you and stuffed you somewhere he can't find?" He shrugged, pocketing his fists, marching to the closed window.

"Or the fact that this place rank like a fish market?" He yanks open the curtains, turning around to face him.

Bucky definitely snarls this time, scuttling away from the sunlight.

"I don't know, Buck, why don't you tell me?" He asks with a too wide smile. Too calm tone that makes Bucky shows him his teeth.

Steve rolls his eyes and orders Miss Fri to dim 40% of the light. Then he waits until Bucky's done blinking and gotten used to it and he tosses a new shirt he pulls out from the drawer. And a pair of pants. And an underwear.

"Go shower," he orders.

"You're not my ma," Bucky grouches.

"You're damn right I'm not. You know what would've happened if she was here." His stupid voice follows Bucky until he slams the bathroom door shut.

He scrubs himself raw muttering curses at suds and soap and the tiles lining the wall. Then he pulls the towel, pats himself dry and walks up to the mirror, sees his face and his hand up his neck and everything comes to an abrupt halt.

He blinks, focus zeroing in on his flesh hand. It's the same hand Tony had commented about.

And he puts it up the mirror, until his palm is collecting mist beneath it and he stares.

The towel slips down to the floor, but Bucky disregards it for his fingers.

He flexes them. Then he straightens them.

Then he pulls them away from the mirror and he inspects: palm side up, palm side down, flexed, fisted, extended, adducted and abducted.

"Are you drowning in there?!" Steve's stupid loud voice shocks Bucky into his senses.

"Jesus Christ," he exhales, heart racing a mile as he looks at his hand one more time -

"BUCKY!??"

"I'M COMING YOU MORON!"

The moment he steps out; all dried up and freshly, albeit hurriedly clothed, Steve barely spares him a glance, stuffing chips into his face in front of the TV.

"Is that what you say to the ladies?"

"What?" Bucky blurts, arm paused mid motion into throwing the wet towel at Steve's head.

The punk grins, all chips and teeth, and with an overly high pitched tone, he moans, "I'm coming, you moron."

Bucky slams the wet towel with extra force to the back of his head.

[more-miserables]

Here We Go: Yates and Ginger on the Run

Hi this is actually @cubeswhump editing on April’s blog. That’s why there’s a title, and why it’s so bad. 

So this is a collab with moi, Cube. We’ve had this planned since even before April’s first whump fic.

Warning for abuse, death, institutionalized slavery, vomiting, trauma response.

The life of a runaway was far from glamorous. Ginger remembered daydreaming while he scrubbed endless floors and windows, picturing himself living with Yates in a calm, peaceful woodland, cradled every night by the soft ferns and leaf litter. 

The city wasn’t calm or safe. Ginger didn’t stop running for a long time, hauling Yates along, until they were both gasping and red in the face. They dipped into a dark alleyway and Ginger ripped off his collar right away, grinning. It felt liberating. He tossed it away gleefully. 

“Get rid of yours too,” he told Yates. 

Yates didn’t react. His eyes were blank, though a steady stream of tears were pouring down his flushed cheeks. Ginger went to remove Yates’s collar himself, sighing. Yates didn’t fight him off, but he whimpered. 

“Look, you can keep it if you really want to. You just can’t wear it, or it’ll be obvious we’re runaways.” He balled up the collar and stuffed it into Yates’s pocket. 

They camped out in the alley that night, curled together under a nest of old newspapers - and that’s where they stayed for the next few days. Yates stayed in his weird catatonic funk, so it was Ginger who had to find them food and clothes and some sort of housing. It was harder than he’d thought. He knew so little about the outside world now. He learned to hang around market stalls, snatching at their displays and then running off with whatever loot he’d managed to grab. 

He couldn’t properly treat his burned palm now. He couldn’t even wash it properly. It soon grew more painful than ever, weeping through the grubby bandages. Then Ginger woke with a fever, and he couldn’t drag himself up to go find food. Yates snapped out of himself enough to cradle Ginger’s burning head in his lap, stroking his hair. 

Ginger peered up at Yates’s pale, grubby face through the fever haze. How would Yates manage if he died now? Maybe Stanley really was dead. Maybe they’d lock Yates up. He didn’t know if pets who committed crimes were refurbished or incarcerated. He pictured Yates stuck in prison all alone, crying for him. He couldn’t die. He could fight off anything. He had to. 

The first time Ginger heard it, he was emerging from a dream where he was being chased by something bulky, heavy. Clomp, clomp. It continued when he woke up but softer. They huddled together frightfully, but the sound became smaller and smaller.

When it came again the next night, Ginger dared to look, and blanched when the figure looked back. It was gone the next night, but the night after that the clomps paused much too close to their hideout. And then they resumed, coming right toward them.

“What is that?” Ginger gasped. 

“Maybe it’s the police,” Yates said shakily. “Because I’m a murderer.” He gave a little sob. 

“You’re not. Stanley just fell,” Ginger declared. 

“Shh!”

The footsteps stopped right in front of them, and a bright light shone in their faces. When Ginger dared give his fiercest glare through his fever-flushed face and squinting, he met big, blue eyes and shimmering glitter.

"Aha! Thought so," said this odd girl, long, black hair nearly touching their faces as she bent right over them. 

“Go away! I… I’ve got a weapon,” Ginger lied as savagely as possible. 

“Do you?” Yates gasped. “Where’d you get that?”

Ginger sighed heavily. 

The snort was too loud for the girl. She set her phone down on the dirty ground, its flashlight shining toward the sky, and sat right in the alleyway with them in her clean jeans.

"Hiya there, Tweedledee and Dum." Her accent was on the brink of familiarity but impossible to place, and nothing like those of Stanley or Ivy or anyone at the facility. "Don't make those faces. We're comrades."

“Those aren’t our names. You must be mistaking us for someone else,” Ginger said. 

Her face changed to something between a laugh and a grimace. "Righto. Mister and Mister fifty-sixty-ten?"

“That’s… not quite our number,” Yates whispered. 

“Shh!” Ginger hissed. “Don’t tell her.”

She paused, tilting her head, then rolled back the sleeve of her big coat.

"See this?" she asked, tapping on one of the big, green serpentine creature wrapping all around her forearm. The sparkly nail touched upon a segment covering her inner wrist. Ginger rubbed his eyes, trying to see clearly. His vision had been wobbly for a while now. She pointed the flashlight at it. 

He frowned. “There’s nothing there..?”

"'Xactly. Numbers aren't forever, love," she said, the bright light dancing around as she pulled her sleeve back down over the tattoo.

“You mean you were one of us?” Yates asked. 

"Bingo," she said, pointing at him. "C'mon, up up. You can get warmed up at my place while I make a few calls, yeah?"

She paused, head tilting to one side. She added, "You're probably not too keen on trusting a stranger, one of your own or not, but Little Red here ain't lookin' so hot, and I don't think you've many options." 

“He isn’t,” Yates said desperately. “I can’t get his temperature to go down. Can you really help us?”

"Yep, sure. You able to walk, Little Red?" She stood up, shining her phone at him. The light also illuminated the height of the platforms of her weather-inappropriate shoes, and it was clear what the clomping was.

“I dunno. Haven’t tried in a couple of days.” Ginger shakily got to his knees, and Yates helped him up the rest of the way. 

"You got it?" she asked.

“I think so.” He paused. “Why’d you wear shoes like that? They look uncomfortable.” Neither Yates nor Ginger had shoes at all, their bare feet cut and filthy. 

"Uniform, of sorts. I don't feel like carrying an extra pair of shoes to put on when I'm done with work."

“What job makes you wear shoes like that?”

"Tell ya later," she said, unzipping her jacket and tossing it to them. Despite the chill, she seemed fine in the tank top underneath. "Anyway, I'm Jamie. You guys got any name preferences for yourself?"

Yates opened his mouth, but Ginger shook his head quickly. Maybe Stanley’s “accident” had been on the news. They didn’t want to be tied to his surname. “Not anymore,” Ginger said. 

She seemed more cautious when they entered a neighborhood, looking at the windows of all the houses. It was nothing like Stanley's neighborhood, junker cars in tiny driveways and people shouting with open doors.

"Well, that's something to think about. You've got plenty of time though."

“We shouldn’t be out in the open,” Ginger hissed. He was still trying to look threatening, though that was difficult to pull off when he was leaning heavily on Yates just to stay standing. 

"No duh, but we don't have much of a choice," she muttered, pulling out a smartphone and typing away on it. "My house isn't far from here."

“Who are you texting? You’re not turning us in, are you? Is this a trick?”

"Can you read? Genuine question, I know lots of us can't. I'll show you the conversation, I'm just telling my mate we're havin' company." 

“I… a little bit. He can’t.” He pointed at Yates. “I’m not good at… being us.”

She held the phone out to Ginger, showing a text conversation with someone called Vivi:

Get bread read a green bubble, and then, And strawberries.

The following white bubble said: I'm already on our street. Needy cunt.

There was another white bubble with a later timestamp, seemingly unrelated to the previous exchange: Bringing some blokes over.

Green: Wtf - followed by a crying face emoji.

White: Chill, they're cool.

“What’s this word?” Ginger asked, pointing to the Wtf message. “There’s no vowels. Why doesn’t it have vowels?”

"Acronym or anagram or something. Each letter stands for a different word, in this case it means 'what the fuck'." 

“Oh. She doesn’t seem too pleased that we’re coming.”

"She's shy, not angry. She'll just hide in her room," Jamie said, pocketing her phone. And she walked down an empty driveway, not allowing them much time to process this response. 

“This is your house?” Ginger asked. He sounded relieved but breathless, his face waxy pale and sweaty. 

"Yep. Mi caso- casa, su casa," she said, trying the doorknob before patting her pockets for the key. She swung it open and kicked off her shoes very loudly, both thumping against a stained wall. She was about the same height as Yates now, possibly smaller if she washed out her hairspray. 

"Hey Vivs!" she yelled to no one in sight. Ginger winced at the noise, closing his eyes against the bright light. Everything hurt. 

"You guys wanna shower?" she asked, and gestured toward the bathroom. "You should prob'ly get cleaned up and then we'll see what we can do about that fever. We prob'ly have some pyjamas that won't fit too terribly." 

“I wanna sleep,” Ginger muttered. It was getting harder for Yates to keep him upright. 

"Uh, sure." She gestured for him to follow as she walked into the tiny living room. The furniture was surprisingly nice, and the TV looked gigantic against the wall. 

"So, do we know what's causin' the fever and general… drowsiness? I haven't heard you coughing or sniffing." Her voice never seemed to lose volume, just as loud as she disappeared through a doorway. 

“I think he has an infection,” Yates said. “He’s got a terrible burn and we couldn’t get it properly treated.”

She appeared again with two glasses of water, setting both on the silver coffee table that was squished in between the sofa and the stand the TV sat on. "Can I take a look?"

“No,” Ginger muttered, looking uncomfortable. “It’s gross.”

"Don't you want me to put somethin' on it until we can have it properly looked at?" 

“Well… The bandages could use a change.”

She paused. "Would you be more comfortable if I gave your buddy the supplies so he can do it?"

“Yes,” Ginger said quickly. “I need him to do it.”

She disappeared in a different direction this time. Cabinets opened and closed with thumps.

"Viv, what shit do I use for an infected burn? Hey, where are bandages?"

Footsteps, this small girl impossibly loud in her bare feet. "What do I use for an infected burn and where do I find it?"

The response, if there was one, was inaudible but after some more thumping, Jamie emerged with a tube of antiseptic and bandages. "One sec, I'll get you soap and water. Oh, a towel too. Vivien says to wash first and pat it dry, then…"

She went on as she disappeared into the kitchen. Yates tried to follow her and Ginger stumbled, not expecting the movement. They ended up in a heap on the carpet. 

"No, I'll get a bowl! Wait!" She reached toward them as if to just yank up two grown men, but she stopped herself. She straightened out and offered a hand instead. 

Yates went to take it, but then Ginger bent over and puked on the carpet. Yates’s face crumpled and he quickly positioned himself in front of Ginger, hunching over him protectively. “I’m sorry! It’s not his fault. He’s been vomiting for the past few days.”

"Uh, yeah, that happens." She was suddenly a bit quieter, smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Yeah, I'm gonna… can I help you get him on the sofa?" 

“Please. I can’t… I don’t think he can stand anymore.” Yates was near tears. “He’s been like this for a while and I hate that I can’t do anything. He tries to push himself for me but then this happens.”

The corner of her lip twitched. "I get that."

She knelt down and gripped Ginger under his arms, dragging him up. Her brows knitted together, teeth grit, but she managed to frog march him to the sofa and forced him into a sitting position. Yates sat beside him and held his shoulders when he started slumping forwards. Ginger was barely conscious now, his eyes glazed and half-closed. 

The hours were a blur, soap and antiseptic and coaxing painkillers and water down Ginger's throat while he was still pliable. Jamie was all over the place but the faceless Vivien never made an appearance. By the time they’d finished, Ginger was asleep - or unconscious. 

And then Yates was stirring, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. When did he fall asleep, and how long? It was almost pitch black save for a light from the hall.

After a quick check that Ginger was still breathing, he heard it: mumbled voices from down that hall. He carefully moved off the sofa, silent in his bare feet, and crept towards the noise and the light. He peered through the crack in the door. 

"Just- okay," Jamie said, trying to control her volume as it started to rise. "If you're goin' to be fookin' useless, just give me David's number."

"What's she saying?" This voice was unfamiliar, and effortlessly quieter than Jamie's. "Jamie, what's she saying?"

"She thinks a phone call will put her safehouse in danger. She's worked with countless o' us and she's too chickenshit to take on a pair that's got in a bitta trouble. What? Murderer? Marianne, that's blimey unfair to call him that! Just give us David's number!"

Yates started shaking at the word. Murderer murderer murderer. Was Stanley dead then? Did people know about it already? He hadn’t really meant to push Stanley - or he hadn’t planned it, at least. When Stanley had been ranting and raving about how he was going to split him and Ginger up, something in Yates just snapped. Stanley was hovering right there, tantalisingly close to the perilous staircase. He pushed without thinking. But he’d still pushed. He was a murderer. 

"Jamie, they'll hear you! You're so loud!"

"Mar, just… Vivi, can you go check on them?"

"No fear!"

Yates was trying to stay quiet, but murderer was still spinning in his head. A little whimper slipped out before he could stop it. 

There was a beat of silence that seemed to last for hours. 

"Hold on, gimme a sec. And you better not fookin' hang up."

The door opened slowly. A girl with a puff of frizzy brown hair and gigantic eyes stared from the bed, but she faded to the background. The girl standing before him was almost unrecognizable with her black hair lying limply and makeup washed off; no contouring giving the impression of high cheekbones, eyebrows and eyelashes almost nonexistent at a glance for they were so pale. But the voice was unmistakably Jamie.

"Hey, so you heard that. That's fair, it is your business, but… this prob'ly wasn't the best way to start the discussion."

“You promised you wouldn’t turn us in,” Yates gasped. He felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out, and he gasped frantically. “You said you were on our side! But now they’ll come for us and split us up.”

"No one's turnin' anyone in. Come sit down, you look ready to faint."

“I h-heard you say it. You called me murderer,” Yates whispered. 

"No, I was sayin' that you're not, I know the kinda circumstances…"

“We’ve got nowhere to go,” Yates said, starting to sob frantically. “I don’t know what to do!”

"Listen, listen. There's people who help us when we escape. There are places for us to stay. And I'm tryin' to get you to one of these safehouses so you'll be safe."

“You promise?” Yates wept. “You won’t split us up either?”

"No way. Vivien and I met in a safehouse, didn't we?" Jamie asked, and the frizzy-haired girl gave a jerky nod. "They're fine, way better than what we left. No owners, none o' that shit."

“Will they help Ginger’s hand?” He gasped. “Oh, I said his name!”

"Ginger?" She raised her invisible eyebrows, snorting humorlessly. "I was interchangeably Blondie and Bimbo. Yeah, they'll help him. They'll have all the right medications." 

“I don’t think he likes his name much. He says we can choose our own now,” Yates said. “But I don’t think that’s allowed.”

"Come in, sit," she said, practically forcing him to sit on the bed, as Vivien retreated from the room. "Who says it's not allowed?" 

“Everyone…” he mumbled. “Everyone in training and Stanley and Ivy.” Yates wasn’t too good at this lying low business. 

"So? You're not pets anymore. I named me Jamie."

“Why Jamie?”

"Dunno. Felt right. Not too girly, not too boy-ee, short and simple, straight to the point." 

“Did your owners name you first?”

"One, not owners. Slave drivers. Two, kind of, as I said earlier. Not a proper name, just…" She pulled a face, and put on a deeper, plummy voice. "''Come here, Blondie!' 'Don't drop that, Bimbo!'"

“Stanley called me by his surname. He could be so kind to me,” Yates mumbled, fingering the collar still in his pocket. 

The phone on the bed vibrated. Jamie picked it up and looked at it as she talked. "Tell me, Curls. Should a human have possession of another human?"

“I…” He winced as his head throbbed and he reverted back to the phrases drilled into him in training. “That’s none of my concern. I just have to work diligently and follow orders.”

"Why? Why do you have to do that and not, say, Stanley? Think about it, I got this schmuck's number." 

“Schmuck?” He didn’t recognise that word. Was it bad?

"I don't know the origins but yeah, it's derogatory. I like to think of it as a mix o' shit and fuck but there's an m, so I dunno."

“You have his number?” Yates started shaking again, biting his lip. What did she mean? He’d had a number before, him and Ginger. Was this David one of them too?

"Yeah? His mobile? He's this big money agent of sorts, he's not so bad actually but ya know, rich people." 

“Sorry, yes, of course. It just… started to feel real,” Yates mumbled dazedly. “And you’re sure he’s good? He won’t turn us in?”

"Nah, he has a huge network for pet lib. Uh, pet liberation. He helps us get free. He doesn't run a safehouse, he's too much in the public eye so he'd get caught, but he, like, funds a bunch and I think his son runs one. If I ring him he'll know where to place you." 

“Can’t we just stay here with you?” Jamie was the first person to treat them kindly since… well, as long as Yates could remember. 

"You can come and visit, I'd love that. We're mates now, right? But you guys need medical care, therapy, shit you won't get here. Plus I work nights six days a week and Vivien, much as I love her, won't be a great hostess to you two." 

“But we can visit? Definitely?”

"Yeah, and if David tells me where you are I'll visit too." 

Yates smiled; it was very weak, but it was his first real smile in days. 

It was almost peaceful - almost - with the orange-pink light of the rising sun filling the room, a steaming cup of watery hot chocolate in his hands, a cartoon playing on the TV, him and Ginger getting a good night of sleep for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. The anxiety was still there as Jamie murmured to an unseen stranger on the phone, occasionally peeking out of the kitchen to check on him, and the uncertainty surrounding Ginger's fever and bandaged hand. 

Jamie came out at last, the rectangular outline of her phone in her baggy pyjama pants. She grinned and gave him a thumbs up, perching on the arm of the couch. 

“Is it all fixed?” he whispered, hardly daring to hope. 

"Yep. Says he'll be sendin' someone promptly, his words. Hopefully you get someone fun, my Marianne was such a fussy grandma." 

“I don’t think Ginger would like fussy people.”

"Let's cross our fingers, bud." She crossed her fingers for him to see. "But you won't be placed with anyone bad, I promise."

“Okay…” Yates still didn’t look too sure. He stuck close to Jamie, following her around like a puppy. He jumped violently when there was a soft knock on the door sometime later.

Jamie glanced toward the door, and over at Yates. 

"Think that's your ride."

[dontcallmecarrie]

One Step Forward...

just realized that while I have quite a bit on Tony’s time in college for BDEL, it’s pretty general so here’s an attempt to remedy that. Bear in mind that there’s a timeline squish going on, otherwise things won't make sense.

. 

Tony looked around the enormous lecture hall with wide eyes, practically vibrating in his seat. He knew he stuck out like a sore thumb, but he didn't care: his shiny new student ID was burning a hole in his pocket, his messenger bag was a near-clone of his neighbor’s, and in the next few minutes he’d start on the next chapter of his life. 

This was the first time he’d set foot in an institute of higher learning, for the express purpose of learning. Sure, he still had to lay low, since Tony Stark was still #1 on America’s Most Wanted Missing Children [even if his twenty-second birthday came and went months ago, take a hint already Howard], and living with someone still getting used to the world after an involuntary ice nap, but...for the first time in his life, he could let loose. 

Could finally poke at some of the things he’d been itching to try with like-minded individuals, could research and leaf through theses and journals without having to sneak around anyone who might be curious as to what a ten-year-old was doing with a textbook on fluid mechanics.

Child prodigies were easy to pick out; enterprising college students, though?

When everyone was broke and scrambling to stand out, especially in a university big enough for some of its courses to have upwards of 300 students, while also having some cool-sounding research going on? 

Nobody’d look too closely at some freshman asking too many questions. 

That’s what he was counting on, anyway. 

The professor strode up to the podium, and Tony straightened up in preparation for his first day of college.

.

Mistakes were made.

Many, many mistakes were made.

.

Tony walked out of the latest round of exams with a bounce in his step, already thinking about whether or not he’d be able to make it to the guest lecture in time to find a seat...only to pick up the dark muttering of some of his classmates. 

“Ugh, that was brutal and I think there was a typo somewhere in there because how—”

“—had like one slide covering it during lecture, why was it—”

“—an I’m going to fail, this stupid class is going to tank my GPA, fu—”

Some were almost in tears, some were fuming. More than a few were bleary-eyed, clearly having pulled an all-nighter cramming for the test that made up a good chunk of their grade.

Tony tried not to feel too guilty about wrecking the grading curve because he had no doubt he’d aced it, and had done the extra-credit question too just because he could and it’d seemed like a fun thought exercise.

Then he checked his watch, bit back a curse as he clutched at his messenger bag, and started to jog towards the building he’d seen on the flyer about public health talks.

.

Culver University had several of the typical crypids for a college campus: that one bookstore five minutes away with just about every book under the sun, that hole-in-the-wall restaurant that somehow managed to avoid getting written up for health code violations, that one professor who was always listed on the roster but hadn’t been seen since the first day of class.

However, not three months into the new academic year, a new cryptid was being added to the roster: Caffeine Rush Undergrad. 

.

If Tony hadn’t known just what the hell he was doing, he would not have managed to secure a space for his research project. As it was, his obvious interest and experience in computer programming had been a plus, so even if he’d had to bullshit his way out of declaring a major while also convincing everyone he knew what he was doing— it was worth it. 

He now had a bench dedicated to his work on cloud computing, and even if Culver didn’t know his end goal was getting JARVIS even more mobility than before on top of seeing what else he could do with what resources he now had at hand, well...this place was a goddamn candy store, alright?

Also, as a bonus he was now a familiar face to several departments he hadn’t quite gotten around to checking out, including a free pass to continue arguing with that one philosophy chair whenever office hours were slow and his code was compiling.

.

Caffeine Rush Undergrad had a name, presumably.

However, when looking at short freshmen and transfer students and seeing the only one in the room who looked actually excited about the upcoming exams, well...it was hard to remember to ask. 

. 

Tony met Bruce Banner and Betty Ross after he found some of their publications, and his glee at discovering that they were working on something a few wings away from his own bench was...something. 

Not explosive, because he knew better than to attract the wrong sort of attention, but something. 

Sure, they’d eyed him suspiciously at first, but after seeing he knew what he was doing and that he had no interest in stealing their research, they got along swimmingly!

Well, at least they didn’t treat him like a younger sibling the way Foster and Selvig did, anyway.

More like a second set of eyes, and even if Tony didn’t entirely get the finer points he was able to follow along well enough. Kind of like the way Bruce was a great rubber duck whenever he shared what he was doing with JARVIS, even if he sometimes seemed more than a little amused by the comparison. 

.

Caffeine Rush Undergrad was like a goddamn puppy, all wide eyes and running around all the damn time, leaving behind towering stacks of books whenever he went to the library and sneaking into lecture halls for classes he wasn’t even in just to ask the speaker questions later.

It was impressive. And exhausting, and intimidating, especially when word got out that Caffeine Rush somehow had managed to secure a research position in one of the most competitive programs on campus.

...and then he disappeared after the Green Incident, which only cemented his notoriety.

.

Tony had two coffees in hand, one for Betty and one for Bruce, and nearly dropped both the moment he glimpsed General Ross in the hall, headed towards—

Oh.

He turned on a heel and ducked into the nearest office he could find, before Howard’s old golf buddy could spot him and risk putting two and two together.

.

“You didn’t tell me your old man was Thunderbolt Ross.” Tony said as he passed over a cup of now-lukewarm coffee. His voice wasn’t accusing; he was better than that. But his hands were this close to shaking, and there was a tension he couldn’t shake because he’d foolishly, naively assumed he was safe here, why had he—

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked, eyes sharp and damn it he was slipping if some civilians could see it. 

“Nothing.” Tony plastered on a smile, and shoved his cup in his direction as he mentally readied himself as to what he’d need to do now because if his mom hadn’t picked up chatter then they were okay, but...

Oh, right. 

Geez, seeing Ross had really shaken him up. But his family was safe, and he had a plan and a story and he could bullshit with the best of them, he just had to get a grip.

Deep breath, steady hands. DUM-E was pressing against his leg in his messenger bag, while Butterfingers was a comforting weight in his jacket pocket. He could handle this. 

“Nothing,” he repeated to their disbelieving looks, “it’s just that my mom was a... Vietnam protestor. She broke a lot of shit, and... may or may not have several warrants with her name still out there.”

He hated lying to his friends, but his family was on the line. Uncle James was still living with him, his mom didn’t need any more stress than she already had. 

Also? It wasn’t actually a lie. Technically, his mom was a kidnapper. Jury was still out on the treason charges, though, because enough people counted her as a whistleblower that Howard hadn’t been able to get those charges to stick.

Bruce relaxed, but frowned in concern. “You recognized Betty’s father from that?”

Tony didn’t hide how awkward he was feeling now, after the fact. Especially because it was the truth, in a way. If only even weirder.

“There’s a strong resemblance going on, and he...mayormaynothavebeenlookingforherpersonally.”

Misleading? Yes. Did he regret it? Nope.

Betty shared a look with Bruce, then looked at the doorway and blanched before surging forward and shoving him behind her desk.

Fortunately, Tony knew enough to roll with it and so ducked and curled himself the best he could just as the footsteps got louder and General Ross’ voice came from the doorway.

“Oh, almost forgot— Banner? What are you doing here?” 

Bruce’s shoes had a very distinctive squeak whenever he shifted his weight nervously. Tony’d noticed it before, but never quite like now.

“Hello, General Ross—” He started, before Betty cut in.

“Dad? I wanted to tell you this in person. I have a boyfriend.” She must have gestured or made a face, for the choked noise coming from Bruce’s side of the room and how did he get himself in these situations, seriously?

[rivalsforlife]

"Eventually Miles said, “Do you want to know when it happened, when I realized it, or when I came to terms with it?” / “You have three answers?” / “Technically four. Don’t be a hypocrite, you rejected me even though you were in love with me —”" and the rest of the scene if you want to haha, not a lot fits in the ask box :P

Alright!! I’ll do... most of the scene haha, there is one part of the scene I really want to point out, so I’ll once again put this under a keep reading so I don’t take up all this space on people’s dashboards...

Okay!

So basically this part of the scene existed because... I kind of wanted to touch on Miles’ perspective throughout this entire fic as well as a handful of headcanons for Miles and also so that I could fit in a bunch of narumitsu fluff in there somewhere, since my notes for this chapter were pretty much to just shove as much fluff as possible to make up for the rest of it. 

In some ways I’m kind of regretting talking about Miles’ perspective because that reduces some of my flexibility for possibly rewriting this fic entirely from Miles’ perspective OR the handful of jumbled scenes that could potentially form a sequel someday... but honestly writing has been like pulling teeth lately so who knows if that will happen at all. Either way I’m sure I’ll be able to get it to work somehow. (Also kind of... directly pointing out what Miles was feeling when it probably would’ve been a better decision to leave it implicit but WHATEVER TOO LATE NOW --)

“When did you fall in love with me?”

Miles didn’t say anything, and Phoenix might have thought he fell asleep again if it weren’t for his breathing. It didn’t line up with what Phoenix had learned from experience, when Miles fell asleep.

Eventually Miles said, “Do you want to know when it happened, when I realized it, or when I came to terms with it?”

“You have three answers?”

when you’re Miles Edgeworth emotions are waaaaay more complicated than they need to be huh. Since this scene was just Dumping Ground For My Headcanons they for the most part tend to line up with what I think most of the time, buuut I might go into more detail a little later.

“Technically four. Don’t be a hypocrite, you rejected me even though you were in love with me —”

Phoenix shushed him by clapping a hand over his mouth, except he missed in the dark and slapped Miles’ nose instead. “Whoops! Sorry. Okay. Give me all four.”

aww see they can laugh about it now like Miles didn’t cry for several hours after the rejection :’) 

“I should have guessed,” Miles sighed. He used the hand not currently squished against his side by Phoenix’s entire body to hold Phoenix’s hand, guiding it down from his face and holding it against his chest.

This is me trying to find a way to write affection in a way that isn’t totally awkward... uh so basicallyyyy I am not a very affectionate person and I don’t think Miles is particularly big on physical affection most of the time, so when I write him trying to express affection I typically go for subtler things... like hand-holding and such, because I think even that much would be a pretty big deal for him when it wouldn’t be for some other people.

Pretty much every time in this fic he initiates any form of physical touch (which is pretty often because he is attempting to Court Phoenix (ba dum tshhh)) it’s something that he’s deliberately thought through and deliberately initiated, as opposed to like... Phoenix who does it more unconsciously. (And of course not all of Miles’ initiation of physical affection is strictly romantic, I like to headcanon him making an effort towards platonic physical affection as well towards his friends + found family members... just putting this here to cover my bases so no one thinks every time Miles puts his hand on someone’s shoulder he’s flirting with them haha that’s NOT what I was going for, more that he’s aware that lots of people enjoy physical contact and see that as a way of expressing affection, and he’s trying to get better at expressing affection, and Phoenix happens to be one of those people he is expressing affection to, in both the platonic and romantic sense.)

(That was a very long paragraph for literally one sentence about affection hahahaha...)

“Well, I am fairly sure I had a crush on you in fourth grade.”

“No, you didn’t. I had a crush on you in fourth grade, I changed my whole career for you because of it. You were in love with your law books.”

“I told you I ‘liked’ you and you started talking about girls.”

“O-Okay, sorry I didn’t know about bisexuality when I was nine, give me a break here.”

I waver back and forth on whether Miles had a little baby crush on Phoenix in fourth grade or not, I guess when I wrote this I was feeling that way! Anyways this line is referencing the flashback part of chapter 3:

“Do you like anyone, Miles?”

Miles blinked. “I like you.”

Phoenix’s face reddened. “N-No, I meant like-like. You know, like a girl.”

Miles looked at the ground, and his face was red as well.

this fic would have been over with SO MUCH FASTER if Phoenix actually knew what he meant there -- 

My interpretation is pretty much always that Phoenix had a little baby crush on Miles in fourth grade, but it wasn’t until he got older that he realized that it was a crush and not just pure idolization -- which was definitely part of it too, and I could probably write thousands of words on how baby Phoenix’s idolization crush on Miles when he was younger shaped some of their interactions throughout the trilogy but I’m not going to get into that now. I thiiink I said in this fic somewhere that Phoenix didn’t realize he was bi until he was in his teens, so baby Phoenix just thought that Miles was His Best Friend Who He Wants To Hang Out With All The Time And Hold Hands With And If Miles Were A Girl Phoenix Would Want To Kiss Him, and at some point adult Phoenix remembers this train of thought and goes “... wait.”

As for Miles, in the universe of this fic he figures out that he’s gay pretty young, probably largely influenced by Larry talking constantly about girls while Miles complains to his father “I don’t know why Larry’s talking about how pretty [girl of the day] is, I think Phoenix has a nicer smile” while Gregory tries to pretend his laughter is him choking on his dinner. And I think Gregory was an excellent father who loved and supported his son, and probably talked about it a bit with him and made sure Miles knew he was always loved and supported no matter what and --

Anyways, there’s that.

The next paragraphs are mostly them talking about the situations where Miles did fall in love with Phoenix (Turnabout Goodbyes) and then realized it (after Farewell, My Turnabout/ when Phoenix fell off the bridge) then kind of... repressed it until post-canon because he didn’t think he was ready yet and they weren’t really in the right place. I don’t have much to say about it because it’s all pretty straightforward stuff...

Then Phoenix deflects Miles asking about when he fell in love, because Phoenix is still struggling a bit with expressing his emotions this way haha. Also because he was in denial for a really long time so he can’t quite pinpoint exact moments aside from “the moment Miles stood up for him during the class trial”, but much like Miles he’s probably had multiple realizations of love throughout his life.

My personal headcanons though is that Phoenix genuinely thought he was just helping out a friend throughout the trilogy... and then sometime during disbarment, possibly during one of those Europe trips, he realizes “oh crap I loved him the whole time”. Obviously in this fic Phoenix doesn’t realize he’s in love with Miles until the cherry blossom petals scene at the end of chapter 4 and then can’t quite articulate that feeling as love rather than more general attraction until the end of chapter 8 after reading Trucy’s note. (Where the last psyche-lock breaks!)

What I DO want to talk about though is this line at the end of the scene:

“It doesn’t matter when I realized it,” Phoenix whispered. “What matters most is that we’re here, together, now.”

No one’s pointed it out so idk if it was too subtle or too obvious that it didn’t need pointing out, but it’s a callback to this line in chapter 4:

Edgeworth stared at him with an unreadable expression, almost curious. “Well, you don’t have to say anything,” he said. “What matters most is that I can be here with you now.”

It’s a very slight difference in the last part of the dialogue, but an important one!! 

I had an interesting conversation with my best friend a while ago... long story short her brother was in a relationship for a long time with this one woman then they broke up and now he’s engaged to a different woman, and they dated for a shorter time than the first. And my friend says that she and her family knew that this was a different relationship and that she was “the one” because the way they talked about doing things was different -- more of a “we’re going to do [x]” rather than “she and I are going to do [x]”. This probably isn’t really a real thing so like... don’t use it to judge relationships around you... but I thought it was pretty neat.

So in the conversation in chapter 4, Miles says “What matters most is that I can be here with you now”, which is still like exceptionally romantic, but it still sees the two of them as separate entities -- whereas Phoenix in chapter 9 saying “What matters most is that we’re here, together, now” sort of phrases the two of them as more of a unit. ... not that they’re not still separate entities with their own lives outside of just each other of course but you know. you know. just having some fun with sentences!

Anyways that’s what I really wanted to talk about... I hope you enjoyed!!

[cagestark]

The first time Tony takes Peter to a formal, very public, event as his much younger boyfriend/date.

It’s a terrible night.

Peter isn’t sure how he expected any different. The gala is in celebration of Stark Industries wrapping up their most recent Stark Expo, an event that raised nearly one billion dollars for medical research in the four months it ran. Peter had been much more comfortable there among the different showcases. In his second year at MIT, some of his classmates had been present, presenting their research projects. Peter had been offered a spot but given it up—let other students have the position, ones who weren’t already guaranteed to get funding for their projects because they were in love with a billionaire.

The expo—fabulous. The gala—stifling. From the moment the limousine doors opened, cameras have been on him and Tony, especially interested in capturing images of them together in their first public event as boyfriends. Pepper had been meticulous when she briefed them over the etiquette for tonight right down to the matching cufflinks they were meant to wear (“But no matching ties—you’re boyfriends who coordinate, not Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum.”).

Inside the gala, it’s like Peter is the cufflinks. He is a fancy piece of decoration on Tony, a tasteful element that really ties the whole goddamn look together. Tony introduces him to everyone they encounter, but few do more than rake their eyes up and down him. Their faces are anywhere from mocking to distasteful.

After an hour, Peter breaks away with a firm hand on Tony’s shoulder and disappears over to the bar. The man serving drinks asks for identification, and even after he provides it, the old bastard on the stool next to him asks, “Are you old enough to be drinking that, sonny?”

Peter takes the drink outside to wander the lawns of the estate. There’s a fountain, a great hulking thing big enough to swim in, made of marble and lit up with fairy lights, bubbling away.

After two sips (and the second is the most begrudging sip he’s ever taken), Peter dumps it into some well-manicured bushes and leaves the glass on the low fountain edge. Alcohol sucks. Galas suck. Feeling like he’s fifteen instead of twenty-one? Guess what, it sucks.

Suddenly there is the swish of footsteps on the grass behind him. Peter hunches over instinctively, unprepared to face any guest from the party, but then he catches the faintest scent of Jean Patou cologne and relaxes. He gives Tony a smile that is mostly sincere.

“Resorted to heavy drinking already?” Tony asks, hands in his pockets, nodding his head toward the empty glass on the balcony railing. “Just a head’s up: it doesn’t make the conversation in there any  more tolerable, and you’re way more likely to throw up on a lady’s dress and be saddled with the dry-cleaning bill.”

“That was here when I got here,” Peter lies. “What are you doing out here? They’re going to miss you.”

“Not as much as I missed you,” Tony says. He pulls Peter against him, the young man’s back flush against the front of his expensive tuxedo. They are nearly the same height, but Tony’s chin fits perfectly on Peter’s shoulder while they stare into the fountain. “You’re unhappy. What will make you happy? Do you want to leave? I can have Happy come with a car.”

“You’re too sweet to me,” Peter murmurs.

Tony kisses his temple. “I’d just do anything to make you happy, Peter Pan.”

Peter smiles. “Anything?”

Tony hums.

When Peter takes the man’s wrists and pulls him into the fountain, Tony has to scramble to keep his balance. The water is frigid, and the sound Tony makes is higher than Peter thought the man was possible of making. They stand knee-deep in the cold water, socks squishing in their leather suits.

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” Tony gasps, laughing. “Pepper is going to kill you if the press catches wind of this. Stark and Sugar Baby go for a midnight swim. I can read the headlines now.” He shrugs off his jacket and leans over to toss it out onto the grass. Loosening his tie, he gives Peter a roguish grin. “How much do you want to bet that we can convince at least one socialite to join us when they come to investigate the noise?”

Peter scoffs, undoing his cufflinks. “How are your investments doing so well when you have such poor intuition? You’re on, old man.”