#the problem was I really wanted to make amends because I’m an IDIOT

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

For the prompt: malec adjusting after qoaad when Alec is the consul

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” Magnus says softly, gently carding his fingers through Alec’s hair. He’s currently wrapped up under a plethora of blankets.

“It’s not.”

“Are you planning to come out of the blankets ever again?” Magnus says, amusement laced with his voice.

“No. It’s my temple of shame. I’m going to stay here now. You can go find yourself another husband.”

He can feel the vibrations from Magnus’s laughter through the blankets and pouts. There’s some shuffling then, few blankets removed from top of him as Magnus makes space for himself next to him.

Alec can feel the warmth on his face already from the warlock’s breath.

Magnus touches his face and he leans into the touch.

“Hi.”

He opens his eyes, to meet Magnus’s golden-green ones.

For a second, Alec forgets everything else and focuses on how pretty his eyes are.

Magnus taps his forehead twice to bring him out of his stupor and he groans in response. He shifts closer to Magnus and hides his face against his chest.

“I can’t hear you, love,” Magnus replies as Alec mumbles something against his chest.

“I’m a bad father,” he pulls back slightly, a huge pout on his face.

Magnus cups his face with both his hands and kisses his mouth softly. “You are not.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“Your children believe so,” he retorts.

“My children?” Magnus raises an eyebrow in amusement.

“Yes. They hate me now so they’re your kids. You can keep their full custody.”

Magnus shakes his head fondly, gently caressing his face. “You are so dramatic. And so are those two demons.”

“Don’t talk shit about my kids,” Alec warns.

A low chuckle erupts Magnus’s mouth. “Idiot.”

Magnus drags his fingers across Alec’s back, before putting them inside his shirt and traces random patterns.

Alec’s quite okay spending an eternity here, not that he will ever have an eternity with Magnus but never mind—that’s a problem for another day.

“Do you think so too?” He asks, knowing Magnus’s answer but still needing to hear it.

“Think what?”

He sighs before removing the seven blankets as he sits up. Alec runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, leaning his head against the back of the wall. Magnus comes out from under within a few seconds.

He doesn’t push Alec at all. Gives him all the time in the world to voice his thoughts.

“Do you think I’m a bad husband too?” He asks, even if a little petulantly.

But it’s Magnus and if Alec can act petulant infront of anyone just because he wants to, it’s Magnus.

Magnus bops his nose. “I don’t think so. You are my favorite husband.”

It makes him smile.

“I am your only husband.”

“Hmm.”

Alec huffs. “How would you even know though? 400 or 800 or 1500 years, whatever age you’re choosing to be today and you’ve been married once. Your experience is of 4 months. The bar is in hell for you, Magnus.”

Magnus snorts, inches closer to him, crossing his legs, half lying on top of Alec.

“I think I have seen enough marriages in the world to know that you,” Magnus pokes his finger across Alec’s chest, “are quite nailing it.”

The thing about Magnus is that, when he speaks, when he tells you something, it doesn’t matter who you are or what you are—you believe him.

Right now, Alec doesn’t want to believe him.

He scoffs, irritation seeping his voice as he crosses the bed and stands up, throwing his hands in the air. “Really? Because everything in the past few months suggest otherwise. That I’m failing colossally.”

The amusement disappears from Magnus’s face, replaced with concern now. “Alexander, you’re not failing at anything.”

“You wouldn’t feel that way if Max and Rafe had said all of that about you.”

“They’re kids, love.”

“I quite remember the trauma my parents left me with as a child.”

Alec remembers all of that as clear as a day. Even if amends have been made. Even if Alec’s dad isn’t here anymore and he tries to not hold grudges. But there are things Alec can’t quite forget. Even if he’s forgiven his parents for them.

Absence is one of those.

He never wants his kids to feel that.

Magnus stands up from the bed and stands in front of him. “You’re spiraling.”

“I should.”

“All of this is new for all of us. It’s okay if you are not perfect at this,” Magnus assures him.

“They think I don’t have time for them.”

It had been a small thing.

No matter how busy Alec and Magnus are, weekends are for his family. Especially Saturday nights and Sunday mornings.

They had plans to take the boys to the Miami Seaquarium since Rafe had recently become obsessed with dolphins and wanted to see them. The plans been set for weeks now.

But something had come up at the last minute, another crisis that he’d need to deal with. He had to tell the boys that he couldn’t make it and they had not taken it lightly.

Max and Rafe don’t usually complain a lot when one of them has to leave due to their work. They can usually be bribed with food, toys and a hundred kisses and hugs.

And yet, they’d been pissed at Alec—told him that he doesn’t have time for them these days. Didn’t even say goodbye to him when Magnus took them through the portal, an apologetic smile on his face.

That had kind of hurt. Then as Magnus would like to call it—he had spiralled.

“They were disappointed today but they won’t hold this one thing against you,” Magnus says tenderly.

“I know they are,” he replies. “And you can be too.”

“I’m not disappointed, darling.”

It’s difficult when you spend so many years of your life having every single action of yours being measured in terms of its success and failures—the disappointment it can lead to for other people.

It’s worse when you realise that it’s not how it’s supposed to be.

When you are met with nothing but understanding and gentleness at your shortcomings.

Sometimes, Alec’s still not used to it.

“Why are you being so nice about it?” He says, not wanting to start a fight but needing it anyways.

“You don’t want me to be nice to you?” Magnus asks. “Because I like being nice to you. It’s not a hardship.”

There’s nothing but unconditional love on Magnus’s face.

It’s jarring some days that all of that is for him.

He drops the defensive stance and relaxes. “I don’t want to fight.”

“I know.”

“I’ve had a horrible day,” he admits. “And, I need you.”

It’s not just what the kids said. But the past few months have been exhausting and as much change Alec can bring, it’s still a hard battle every single day. It’s been tiring to no end.

“I’m here, Alexander,” Magnus exhales. He places his hand on Alec’s cheek, other tugging him closer by the waist.

“We never went on our honeymoon because I was so busy with work.”

“But, you did let me kidnap you for a few days for a short honeymoon. Remember?” The words bring an instant smile to his face. Magnus had colluded with his siblings to kidnap Alec for a few days.

“That was nice. We had fun,” he replies.

Magnus tilts his head, a small smirk on his face. “We had more than just fun.”

Alec chuckles breathlessly.

“And have you forgotten the part where you changed the law just to get married to me?”

“Meh.”

“Max and Rafe hate me,” he whines again.

“They don’t hate you. They’re just mad. You tell them a bedtime story and a cup of ice cream and they would be all yours,” Magnus assures him.

“That seems manipulative.”

“Well. They are quite easily bought.”

“They are,” he snorts.

“Are we feeling better now?” Magnus leans their foreheads together, their bodies flushed against each other.

It doesn’t quite feel real to him sometimes that Magnus uses ‘we’ not just as a phrase but, because it does affect him as well when Alec is feeling sad.

“Yeah.”

“One more thing.”

He pulls back, raising an eyebrow.

“You could not fail at being an amazing husband if you tried. You are everything I could never dream for myself, Alexander,” Magnus breathes against his mouth.

“I’m your favorite husband?” He says with a grin.

“Out of the ones you know of, you absolutely are,” Magnus grins back.

He throws his head back in laughter. “What happened to being nice to me?”

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 14 - Left for dead

Warnings: attack, blood, violence, being jumped/being beaten

Word Count: 1.2k (gif not mine)

Summary: Maria and Clint sort out the mess that is Shield and Clint goes to make amends for not visiting Natasha.

Masterlist.

Whumptober Masterlist.

<3 thank you for the comments - I hope you know who you are. You all get a very big hug and/or a crisp high five. <3

.

Clint knocks twice.

Maria opens the door, rolling her eyes when she sees his offering.

“Really? Kung pow chicken?”

Clint waves it in front of her face.

“Fine, you can come in,” she concedes.

“How’d you go?”

Maria shrugs, closing the door behind them.

“I’ve been working with Fury, more so than before, and I like the way he operates. He’s methodical. We think we’re getting closer to a full list. He’s been working with the WSC, but I fear Thompson knows something is up.”

Clint nods.

“Coulson said the same thing, there’s been less debriefs and we haven’t been sent on any more missions. He said it’s because of Natasha’s intel, but I don’t think so.”

Maria opens the box and the smell infuses the room.

“God I’m hungry,” she sighs, “have you seen Natasha yet?”

Clint shakes his head, guiltily.

“I don’t have an answer. I don’t know what I want from her. I know what I want for her, but I don’t know what I want for me. How I fit.”

Quieter, he whispers, “I don’t know if I’m up to helping her.”

Maria throws a pen at him.

“You’re an idiot.”

Clint rubs the spot where the pen hit.

“Ow.”

“You’re an idiot,” she repeats.

“Of course you’re not up to helping her.”

The bluntness makes him stare at her.

“What I mean to say is, that no one is up to that task. Why do you think in AA it’s one day at a time? None of the problems that lead to the addiction can be solved overnight, none of the problems that have come from her trauma can be solved in a day, a week or a year. It’s never ending. So if you help? Even a little? It all adds up. Just be consistent. This will be long, but it's not forever.”

Clint eats thoughtfully.

Her words reverberate in his head, and hold a truth he hadn’t considered.

“Yeah.”

Standing Maria offers him a drink.

He accepts and sips it, looking at the paperwork she’s compiled.

“Shrike’s dirty?” he asks, surprised.

Maria nods.

“Yeah, that one surprised me too. I liked him.”

“How do you know?”

“Money,” she sighs.

“I hate this,” Clint replies, flipping through the pages.

“Better to have them out, rather than relying on them and getting us killed.”

“I know.”

There’s a mutual silence that envelops the room as both finish eating and start sorting evidence.

.

Fury furrows his brow.

The hologram on his left flickers, then his right, and finally the one in front of him.

“This is highly unorthodox,” the one in front of him frowns.

There’s a sense of unease, and Fury hopes that none of the people in front of him are in cahoots with the Russians.

It was unlikely, but not impossible.

He presents his evidence.

The pictures of Dreykov standing and shaking hands with Thompson, and the one where they’re sitting at a table seemingly in a meeting, feel particularly damning.

Maria had done a good job making the information simple and concise, explaining the impact on the Council and all it stood for.

They’d need their resources if they were to have any chance at deposing Thompson.

Fury finishes on the plan for quiet infiltration. That each member would just… disappear and be replaced, to serve as a warning; he hoped.

The woman seated for the Oceania region nods along. She also fills in some gaps.

“We’ve long since suspected there was a mole in SHIELD,” she announces. “I am willing to back your cause.”

“Seconded,” comes another voice.

“Your motion is passed. We will provide the munitions and men you have asked for. The Raft will be set up for interrogation and imprisonment.”

Fury nods, pleased.

This was a good play, and he would tell Maria as such.

“Be careful,” the faceless woman tells him.

“We will be in touch.”

.

Clint walks the familiar route to see Natasha. The bag of donuts in his hand is a peace offering for not seeing her the past week.

Guilt presses down on him for it, but the reprieve and recalibration of himself was needed.

Now set up with a therapist, again, he knows that he can do better because he can show up for her.

It’s not an excuse. It's a fact.

Sharon isn’t on watch and a man he doesn’t know waves him through.

Clint doesn’t like it, but he hasn’t been here enough lately to know all the guards on rotation.

He continues on, wondering how she’s going.

A week had probably felt like a lifetime.

Maria had checked in, so had Coulson, even Fury; their report visits were minimalistic because of the circumstances.

Maria had said she was quiet.

He hopes it’s been okay.

He rounds the last corner and finds her sitting on the floor staring straight ahead.

He would say that she’s meditating.

She doesn’t move as he comes into view, she doesn’t even acknowledge him.

He waves to open the door, but nothing happens.

He looks up to the camera and waves again, not wanting to go back to see what’s happened.

Natasha is watching now.

Sharp eyes look on as he holds up donuts and smiles.

Clint hears footsteps down the hall. Automatically, he turns and sees it is the guard from down the hall, another man with him.

“Hey,” Clint greets.

They don’t return it.

The first lengthens his baton, the second shoots a taser, hitting Clint in the chest.

Pain and electricity alights his body as he tips forward.

He watches as it happens with a detachment, unable to react except to drop the donuts.

Natasha moves to the glass.

They close on him quickly.

The baton hits him, first in the body, then in the legs.

The second man just using fists.

They hit hard. They hit fast.

The beating is rough. Clint feels his breath taken away between blows and he curls himself up into a ball.

If he can wait...

If he can get control of one of them...

A blow to the head distorts time, and pain, never ending pain, radiates out. White, hot, searing pain.

He can’t hear their yelling.

His nose is bleeding, blood in his throat.

Natasha, he thinks idly, they’re going after her.

He hazards a glance up and sees her pounding on the glass. Her lips are moving, knuckles split and bleeding as she tries to break it.

It’s no use, he wants to tell her, it’s too thick.

But still she tries.

There’s a break as one of the men pauses. Clint has enough wherewithal to grabthe baton and pull it towards him.

He knows his ribs are broken.

Probably his face too.

His arm maybe from protecting his body.

Still he tries.

But the next blow feels like a car hits him.

He yells out.

As he fades into darkness, all he sees is Natasha yelling and punching the glass, blood on the wall, blood on the floor.

[fandomflux33]

OMG YES THANK YOU. Give her an analysis! I’ll start:

Annabeth from the Percy Jackson series:

She had to be independent from a very young age because the adults in her life didn’t believe that spiders were torturing her, and when she ran away from home at the tender young age of 7 and teamed up with Luke and Thalia and finally thought she had a new family? Thalia is killed, and Luke becomes increasingly distant after a quest gone wrong. The only parent figure in her life who might believe her, who gave her a gift (her invisible cap), and gave her her strengths and a culture to call home, is Athena, a distant, perfect goddess. Just as Luke constantly tried to prove himself after meeting Hermes, Annabeth emulated him at a young age and is constantly trying to prove herself to Athena. Having been rejected by her family of origin, Annabeth constantly needs to prove to others that she’s dangerous, useful, and valuable as a party member. Further, Annabeth wanted a quest not just to prove herself to her mother but to avenge what happened to Luke and Thalia, to say to herself: “If I’m only smart enough, I can survive anything. If I’m only powerful enough, if I only make the perfect plan, I can fix the world.” She wants to save herself and others from the suffering she endured.

But Percy Jackson is the chosen one, and she has to make peace with that this dorky, flying-by-the-seat of his pants, seaweed-for-brains idiot with no training is given every bit of power and opportunity she craved.

But Annabeth doesn’t give up, she carves out her own opportunities, and in the process, she saves Thalia. She leaves and then fights and then finally understands Luke. She makes slow amends with her father.

In seeing Percy and Grover screw up and still succeed, and how Percy and Grover are both brilliant in their own non-traditional ways, she learns that she doesn’t have to be perfect. She can joke around and be a kid sometimes. The pressures on her shoulders never relent, and she usually has to be the adult in the party, but with the help of her friends, she can survive without having to be a perfect, lonely goddess.

Now let’s talk about her flaws: Annabeth’s fatal flaw (as stated in the sea of monsters) is hubris. This fatal flaw is revealed in the most telling way- she wants to listen to the sirens and is arrogant enough to think she won’t have too much of a problem resisting them. She keeps her knife on her, has her friends tie her to the mast, and thinks it’ll be good. She almost drowns. Her arrogance also leads to her fight with the Sphinx, and her fall into Tartarus. The thing is: No matter how much Annabeth knows her enemy, no matter how many quests she aces and how strong she is, at the end of the day, she’ll never be a goddess like her mother. I believe if, at the end of The Last Olympian, Annabeth had been offered godhood, unlike Percy, she might have taken it.

Annabeth’s independence and trauma can make her avoidant of her friends and family. She doesn’t try to make amends with her Dad for a long time; she doesn’t pick up on the signs of Luke’s betrayal and anger despite him being the person she’s closest to at first. We as an audience know about virtually NObody else from her cabin (aka, her half-siblings). She’s really a very lonely character. Intelligence sometimes breeds distance, and it seems like it’s hard for her to talk with Percy or Grover about her more niche/philosophical interests, not because they won’t listen, but because they might not understand and have little to add to continue the conversation. A lot of the time she ends up talking at her friends instead of with them and then tinkering with her ideas and projects alone (Though this might be more out of storytelling necessity than anything else, a character trait born out of the burden of being the primary Lore Exposition character- she does seem to enjoy teaching others most of the time!)

Annabeth’s knowledge is her strength, but she thinks that if she knows something, she can control/conquer it, which isn’t usually the case. Because she believes this, she’s constantly hungry for knowledge to protect herself and her friends, and she can go to great lengths for her insatiable curiosity. There are two types of Annabeth curiosity: angry and determined because she needs this knowledge to survive, and idle pondering/wonder of discovery which is when she’s usually at her happiest. Knowledge is power, and Annabeth wants to be powerful.

Annabeth’s an accomplished architect at 18.

Annabeth was an oopsie baby (on her father’s end).

Annabeth is full of anger and is constantly “thinking of the best way to take a person down in a fight.” Her hyper vigilance is likely a survival tactic from her many, many layers of trauma.

Annabeth cares deeply about others, she takes the weight of the sky from Luke despite his betrayal. She sacrifices herself for her friends on an uncountable number of occasions. She’s incomprehensibly brave and will die fighting tooth and nail.

Annabeth is terrified of spiders.

Does anyone wanna share another analysis of a female character who often gets reduced to the brain cell in folks’ character analyses? :3

E.g. Hermione (HP), Nami (Once Piece), Barbara Gordon (Birds of Prey, Batman), Velma (Scooby-Doo), Haruhi (Ouran Highschool Host Club), Lisa Simpson (The Simpsons), Dana Scully (the X-files), Leslie Knope (Parks and Rec), Shuri (Black Panther), Bulma (Dragon Ball Z), Amy Santiago (B99), Katara (Atla), Cassandra Cain (Batman), Cassie Sandsmark (Young Justice), Wendy (Peter Pan), Pepper Potts (Iron Man), Lucy (Fairy Tail), Nancy Wheeler (Stranger Things), Sakura (Naruto), Jazz (Danny Phantom), April O’Neil (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles), Wanda (The Fairly Odd Parents), Sandy Cheeks (SpongeBob), Kim Possible (Kim Possible), Tiana (The princess and the frog), sometimes Marcille (Dungeon Meshi), Frankie (Foster’s home for imaginary friends), etc. so many female characters reduced to taking care of the men in their lives by fandom, analysis, or writers.

this has been discussed before but reducing female characters to the girlboss braincell holder in the name of combating misogyny in fandom is ironically also a form of misogyny

[soulmate-game]

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

[darkwaveho]

Game Night

Stranger Au

Summary: It’s family game night, Natasha uses this as a way for her family to get to know her other family.

Parings: Natasha Romanoff x Black!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, angst, fluff, brief violence, tension, hurt-comfort  

A/n: Okay, this took a little longer to get out than I would’ve liked but it’s here! also this is not proof read. 

Part 7| Part 9

You were very much apprehensive about this whole game night thing especially because of Melina and Alexei. if your daughter was going to be around them you needed to do this, you trusted Yelena the first time you met her.  she was a little bit of a wild card, but she was fun to be around. arriving at the house things got weird or a bit. the way they spoke and tried to spark a conversation felt forced and almost like an interrogation at the same time, but you ignored it all night. 

choosing to let it play out for your daughter and for Natasha. they both really wanted this, so you put your pride aside and bit your tongue on little remarks they said that rubbed you the wrong way. Natasha was too busy having fun with Jordyn and Yelena to catch them, but you don’t blame her, and you could stand up for yourself if you needed to. you needed to breath; you need air away from this environment for a moment, so you volunteer to clean up the bowls of ice cream. Melina and Natasha make a move to stop you, but you insist. Natasha can tell you needed a breather. she pulls Melina to the side as you walk into the kitchen with the dishes. 

“She just needs a minute maybe you can bond with her?” Natasha lifts her eyebrows slightly. she was serious about her families getting to know each other better. Melina nods her head and takes Alexei with her into the kitchen.  things ultimately go smooth in the kitchen you find yourself even sitting in the kitchen in deep conversation with the two Russians. until something catches your eye. it’s the look Alexei gives you every now and then. you weren’t going to let this slide, if he had a problem then he needed to say it and be upfront with you. there was no need to play nice at the moment since you were both away from the others.  

“Are you okay Alexei?” you challenge him by tilting your head.

“I have a question for you y/n.”

“What’s your question Alexei? I’m guessing it’s a pretty heavy one by the way you’ve been mentally going back and forth on if you should even ask the question.” 

 “If you truly loved my daughter. My Natasha than why did you leave her for something she said out of anger? Hm?”

“Alexei!” Melina quietly scolds him for his questioning while sending you a look of apology on his behalf.

“What? I’m just trying to understand here. She proceeded to leave even when she knew Natasha was going to be a mom?”

“Fuck you, you’re an idiot you don’t even know what you’re talking about. You want to talk about love? Let’s talk about it, if you truly loved Natasha or Yelena than you wouldn’t have been a goddamn coward and turning them over to a fucking predator!” you harshly whisper the last few words not wanting to alert the others in the living room.

“Oh, yeah just keep throwing that back up in my face. We already made amends about that.” He casually shrugs off. “I’m talking about you just throwing my daughter away and treating her like someone off the streets instead of your wife.”

“I think that’s enough Alexei! Y/n, I apologize on his behalf he doesn’t think before he speaks.”

“Doesn’t look like he thinks at all to me, but it looks like you’re not against his remarks.” you look back to Melina silently hoping she didn’t feel the same as he did. you are proved wrong when she gives you a tight lipped expression. “Don’t worry about it I’ll just leave.” you forcefully push your chair out not bothering to stick around for the continuance of this conversation. When you make it back into the living room you waste no time gathering your things. “Jordyn let’s go; Jordyn let’s go right now.”

“Whoa, wait. We just started this game, I thought you were gonna stay a little longer.” Natasha asks you curiously. she knows something is off with you maybe meeting Melina and Alexei wasn’t a good idea right now for your anxiety. “Yeah, well things changed.” is all you reply back to her.

“What changed?” you disregard her question “Don’t worry about it. Um it was nice seeing you again Yelena.” you give Yelena a sincere smile.

“Why are you leaving so early? I wanted you on my team for charades.” she whines at the thought of having Natasha as her partner. she was a great spy but was horrible at the game. “I’m sorry, maybe next time.” you say with a hint of sadness in your voice. you would have loved to be on her team, but things didn’t play out that way. “Jordy, say goodbye to Yelena.” while Jordyn goes to say her farewell Natasha softly nudges your arm to get your attention. 

“Y/n, come on we were having fun what happened?” 

“Look, maybe we can do this another time without that idiot speaking of things he doesn’t know about.” 

“What did he say?” You shake your head not wanting to cause a drift in her newfound relationship with her family. You don’t think he deserves forgiveness for what he did to them, but you bite your tongue for Natasha.

“Jordy, let’s go.” 

“Okay, wait she wanted to stay the night and have a sleepover with Yelena. I think it would be nice for her to know her more.”

“I don’t think I want Jordy staying here over night” you turn your gaze towards Alexei and Melina. “What, why?” She asks curiously. “Jordy, I’m not going to ask you again.” Jordyn grabs her jacket and says her goodbyes before you lead her out of the front door not even bothering to say goodbye to anyone else. 

While quickly walking down the stairs you notice Jordyn’s sad face. She really wanted to stay. “What the hell happened?” Natasha looks towards Melina and Alexei she knows they had to have said something ignorant to you for you to leave in a rush like this. “Nothing happened, I spoke the truth and that woman couldn’t handle it.” 

“What did you say?” 

“Just that she tossed you away like trash.” 

“Why would you say that? She didn’t toss me away I was being a shitty wife to her.” 

“Why are you letting her put all the blame on you? Hm?” 

“All I wanted to do was to have a nice night with my family, I wanted my daughter and my wife to know you guys better, but clearly, I hoped for too much. that you could be a decent human being for just one night without something stupid coming out of your mouth.” 

“She’s not even your wife anymore Natasha! she left you! and she calls the shots when it comes to your daughter, I’m just saying it’s not fair! I can’t even believe you married someone like her she’s weak!” The sound of broken glass and loud voices ring the living room. Natasha was grabbing and throwing any wand everything she could at the Russian super soldier. her ruined her night, yes this was mainly about Jordyn and you getting to know them more, but this was also time for a Natasha to have with you and Jordyn as a family. time she never got with just the three of you. 

“Okay, Natasha calm down please we can just do another game night. you don’t need to get yourself so worked up about it.” Natasha releases a shaky breath. “No, I will not calm down! You have no idea what she’s been through, you don’t even know her to make assumptions about what happened in our marriage. For you to call her weak and spineless when she’s been my strongest support system, hell my only support system makes me fucking sick to my stomach!” Natasha stalks towards Alexei again but Melina intervenes. Natasha points her finger in Alexei’s direction “don’t ever speak like that about her again matter of fact don’t address her unless she speaks first.” 

“I will fucking kill you” Yelena takes the opportunity to tug Natasha away this was getting out of hand now far from a family squabble. “Sister c’mon let’s go cool down yeah?” Natasha complies as Yelena leads her away from the living room until Natasha frees her arm from Yelena grip. “Where are you going?” Natasha is searching for something in the other room she doesn’t answer Yelena until she comes back out in the hallway with her cellphone. “I need to call my wife.”

-------

You finally reach the car when Jordyn finally speaks up again. “I wanted to stay with Yelena, mom. Can I please?” She gives you her best puppy dog eyes that you normally can resist but for some reason you don’t have it in you right now to deny her. You inhale and exhale deeply turning back to the front door as you can faintly hear shattered glass and raised voices, yeah you were definitely not letting your daughter spend the night here. At least not now, not until you know them better, but did you even want to know them better? Aside from Yelena of course you finally leave your mind to reply to Jordyn. 

“Maybe another day munchkin, when it’s just you and her okay?” Jordyn give you a question expression but doesn’t say anything only nodding her head in agreement as you strap her in the booster seat. you’ve only been driving for a few moments until your phone starts ringing. you don’t answer you know its Natasha calling you about what happened. you were going to continue to ignore the call until Jordyn’s voice. 

“Mama’s calling.” you sigh not only did you not want to answer this call, but you couldn’t ignore the way Jordyn’s eyes lit up every time she saw Natasha’s name on the screen. you press Bluetooth button to accept the call. “What is it, Natasha?” your voice was calm, but Natasha definitely felt the anger in your calmness. 

“Listen, Jordyn really wants to have that sleepover maybe we can just take it back to the compound?” you sigh after everything that occurred the insults, the accusations you just wanted to go home and nap. 

“Natasha I already said I don’t want her around the-” she cuts you off before you get the chance to finish. “No, not them just me and Yelena.” she patiently waits for your response. You glance back at Jordyn for a moment thinking about how much she looked forward with spending time with Natasha and now Yelena. “Yeah...okay” Jordyn let’s put a sound of excitement at you letting her have the sleepover. 

“Okay, how far are you? You can swing back here and I’ll-“  you cut her off mid sentence. “I’ll just meet you at the compound.” 

“Alright, that’s fine make yourself comfortable and when we-“ you cut her off again. “I’m not staying Natasha I’m only dropping Jordyn off.” Natasha sounds like she may about to protest against you not staying for at least a few games but your mood had drastically changed. “I’ll just meet you at the compound, okay bye” you quickly hang up before she has a chance to respond.

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

You pull up in the driveway of the compound and turn the engine car off. you meant it when you said you were just going to drop Jordyn off. you sit in silence until you turn around to check on Jordy. “You alright back there munchkin?” she was facing the window waiting for you to let her out of her booster seat. “Yes, Can we go in now?” 

“We’re gonna wait for Mama and Yelena to get here and you can go in with them.” she pouts a little. “What about you?” 

“I’m going back home.” 

“Why?” You take off your seatbelt to fully face her. “Mommy’s not in the mood to play anymore.” 

“Why?” 

“I got upset about something and that made me not want to continue with game night.” Jordy opens her mouth to speak but you cut her off. “You better not ask me why again.” You say it playfully and she laughs knowing that was exactly what she was going to do. “Don’t worry about mommy, okay? Just have a good time with mama and Yelena.” She stares at you for a moment just to confirm that your actually okay. “Okay.” You nod your head and turn back around. “Okay.” It’s not even 3 minutes later that Jordy is calling out for you. “Mom.” 

“Yes, Jordyn.” 

“I have to pee.” You weren’t going to tell her to hold it no matter how much you didn’t want to go inside the tower. You sigh getting out of the car and helping Jordy out of her seat. You send a quick text to Natasha to let her know that you would be taking Jordyn up to her apartment. You had a spare key that you never used. making your way into the building you spot Sam first. You weren’t close with the avengers at all, but you and Sam really hit it off. “Is that who I think it is?” 

“Hey, Wilson” he brings you into a warm bear hug. And does the same to Jordyn. “Hi, Uncle Sammie.” You stifle your laugh at her nickname for him. It was cute but you were sure to tease him about it. He glared at you after pulling away from Jordyn. “What are you two doing here? Nat’s out.” 

“Yeah, we had game night at Melina’s and Alexei’s” 

“Oh, how did that go?” You shake your head not wanting to get into things in front of Jordyn. “I’ll talk to you about that later. I just came to drop Jordyn off, but she has to use the bathroom.” 

“Alright see ya later Jordy, I can’t wait to kick your butt in Mario kart.” 

“You wish.” she says in return. you love how competitive she is. you lead Jordyn to the elevator and make sure to say your farewell. “Bye uncle Sammie.” you were able to catch his annoyed looked before the doors closed. when you make it to Natasha’s floor you exit the elevator and let Jordyn inside. “You need help Jordy?” she shouts a no as she runs towards the restroom. you laugh but quickly get distracted by the movement against your lower leg. you gasp in surprise as you bend down. 

“Hi, Liho.” you lightly scratch her head, and she purrs in return. you haven’t seen her in a long time. not since your split with Natasha. “You missed me? Is that it?” she meows at your words, and you take a quick glance towards the kitchen. you pick her up and search the kitchen cabinets for her food but come up empty handed. when Jordyn returns from the restroom you ask her if she knows where Liho’s food is. 

“Mama keeps some of the food in her room.” you frown. “What? why?” that was odd normally it would go in the closet in the hallway or a cabinet in the kitchen. “Cause sometimes mama lets me feed her on my own. that way I can get the food without standing on the counter like last time.” you whip your head around to face her abandoning Liho much to her dismay. “Like last time?” Jordyn’s eyes go wide with her slip up. it was supposed to stay between her and Natasha much like everything else those two get up to “Stay with Liho until I go get the food.” you stop outside Natasha’s bedroom door. hand hovering over the knob. you’ve been here a couple of times counting the past and present. you get it over with and turn the knob. 

walking inside the room you spot the cat food by the window on the floor. you walk over to grab it and stop your movements when you take in the scenery of your environment. it’s the same as you remembered it. she hasn’t changed anything in this room. you smile when your eyes land on the photos she has on her desk. the one that captivates you. it’s an early shield photo, you’d given her a camera one year to capture moments that you couldn’t in public and she made sure to take advantage of that. next you spot the picture frame of tickets. you took her to see swan lake. you knew her history with ballet, but you wanted to show her the beauty in it. to show her it could be meaningful on a much better level than what she was taught to use it for. looks like your words stuck with her because she framed them. 

“I kept them.” the sultry raspy voice sounds though the room. “Jesus!” you jump in surprise from the voice.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” you shake your head and wipe the corner of your eye, your tear almost fell. almost. “It’s fine, I didn’t mean to snoop or anything I just came to get Liho’s food.” you give her a forced smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. Natasha curses herself for even speaking up but she had to. she’s been silently watching you discover the small mementos of your relationship this whole time. Natasha steps further into the room pushing herself off the doorway. “I don’t mind you snooping, I have these things out in the open for a reason.” she wasn’t ashamed. should she be? was this pathetic of her for holding on to memories and the past after she fucked it up? seeing the way you looked when you spotted them proves her intrusive thoughts wrong. you slowly nod your head and hand her the cat food. you’re cautious enough to clear your throat before speaking again.

“I should go.” Natasha curses herself for maybe pushing too far with the happy moments. she grabs your hand as you turn to leave her room.

“Stay. Play a few games and eat pizza with us.” she ducks her head to catch a glimpse of your irises. “Please?” she also puts on her best puppy dog eyes that was only reserved for you. “Fine, but only for an hour or so.” she puts her hands up not going against your stipulations, all that mattered was that you were staying. “Great, now you can prepare to get your ass kicked in every game we play.” you playfully glare at her as you exit her bedroom. speaking of butts Natasha couldn’t take her eyes off of yours at the moment. she doesn’t know if this is helping her or hurting her. knowing how close you are and how she can’t touch and hold you the way she used to. she might have to break those rules and jump on a leap of faith tonight.

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

“Natasha, I swear if you hit me with another red shell.” 

“What, that’s not me.” Jordy’s laugh draws your attention. “Jordy was that you?” 

“Noo, it was Yelena.” she gasps at her niece for snitching on her. “Okay, I did throw them, don’t be mad I was trying to hit Natasha with them.” 

“Whose idea was it to race at rainbow road anyway?” you hated this place especially when you get a power boost, and you fall off the bridge.

Natasha and Jordy speak at the same time. “Yelena’s.” 

“Excuse me for picking a place that’s pretty. It’s more interesting than Moo Moo Meadows” Jordyn takes offense to Yelena’s insult. “I like Moo Moo Meadows!” 

“Of course, you do short stack.” she still didn’t care for the nickname.

“While you two are arguing over Moo Moo Meadows, looks like I’ll be taking first place.” Natasha gloats a bit too soon when she’s hit with a blue shell stopping her from passing the finish line.  “What the.” her jaw drops seeing your character pass hers. you smile at her. 

“You cheater.” 

“Oh yeah, call me a cheat because you have a big head.” 

“Whatever.” she drops the controller on the couch and goes to the kitchen. you giggle at her being a sore loser and decide to go check on her. “You still pouting in here or have you calmed down?” she scuffs as she looks in the fridge and looks over her shoulder at you.

“You want a beer?” 

“Sure, why not” you nod your head and walk further into the kitchen area.

“So” she turns around handing you the beer and takes a seat next to you

“So” you mirror her reply, both of you not knowing what to talk about when the topic isn’t Jordyn. she savors this moment, there was no need to rush all she had was time. time with you. “How have you been? anything new going on?” you smile at her for breaking the awkwardness. 

“Not really, no” she narrows her eyes. “You sure? not even about that new job.” she shifts her eyes to the ceiling. how did she know about that? 

“How did you know about that?” she shrugs her shoulders. 

“I know everything remember?” Nat always kept tabs on you. she had to, when you stopped being an agent and you didn’t want to be in the field anymore your source of income was the next main factor. Of course, Natasha would gladly pay for everything you needed but after the break-up you didn’t feel comfortable with just being taken care of financially like that. She stood firm on paying for the bills in the house even if she wasn’t living there anymore. the only way she would be able to give you money was if she said, “For Jordy.”  Natasha liked to make light humor of the situation by calling it child support to get you to take the money. It’s not like you didn’t try going on job interviews. none of them fell through. that was until you came across a help wanted sign at a daycare center. this was perfect for you and your anxiety; it seems like the total opposite to other people, but you remember your recovery time and how much Lila and cooper helped with healing. it’s only part time but it was something to do other than just sitting around the house doing errands until it was time to pick Jordyn up from school. 

“Of course, you do you creep.” your words hold no malice behind them as you flash her your smile. “You wanna talk about creeps, remember when you kept hovering over me at the base.” you gasp. “Hey, that was different. I was assigned to shadow you.” she playfully rolls her eyes and mimics your words. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that a thousand times and I still don’t believe it. you just wanted to be nosy.” you scuff at her accusations. “I was not being nosy.” 

“You weren’t even a little bit curious about the Russian trader?” your face falters with the title she’s decided to use to describe herself. “No, I just wanted to know Natasha.” you shrug your shoulders at the end as if your words wouldn’t have an effect on her right now. Natasha had to hold herself back with everything she had in her, you know giving her praise was only going to lead to her pouncing on you. she leans forward a bit in her seat, wanting to be serious with you in this moment. 

“I know I was sort of a bitch at times, but I really wanted to know you more as well.” your lips quirk upwards slightly. “Yeah, I figured.” you laugh at her frowned expression and place your hand on top of hers on the table. 

“But I wouldn’t say you were being a bitch; you were processing everything that happened. That couldn’t have been easy so don’t apologize for it. you’ve come a long way and....I’m proud of you.” she lurches forward pulling you into an unexpected embrace, this time you return it with the same energy she puts out. she slowly leans away from you. “I’m proud of you too.” but still close to your face. seem like you both gravitated towards each other, maybe it was the memories or the words you two just said but you find your lips nearly grazing hers until a loud shout of victory pulls you out of the trance. bringing you back to reality, you shake your head, clear your throat and stand from the chair. “It’s um, it’s getting late, I should head back home now.” you leave the kitchen without another word or glance to Natasha. She was going to kill Yelena for unintentionally ruining the moment. Natasha follows you into the living room just as you were saying your goodbyes. 

“Have fun baby, and don’t stay up too late.” you kiss her cheeks. “Okay, mommy.” Jordyn replies and returns your kisses. 

“It was nice seeing you again Yelena, hopefully we can hang out soon.” you turn to Yelena holding you hand out for her to shake. she stares at your hand for a moment before pulling you into an unexpected hug. what was with all the hugging today? but you won’t complain. “You’re family, you get hugs not handshakes.” she smiles and you return it. nodding your head before turning back to the last person standing by the couch. “See you around Wilson.” 

“I’ll call you later so you can fill me in.” he whispers it lowly in your ear. he didn’t forget about how distraught you looked when you walked into the building. you nod your head in agreement before heading out the door. you didn’t even say bye to Natasha. you were a little embarrassed that you let your guard down in the kitchen. Natasha stands there watching the door after you left. she’s only snapped from her mind when a loud annoying voice slithers through her ear.

“Don’t just stand there Romanoff, go walk your wife to her car.” she slaps the back of Sam’s head before rushing down the hall to the stairwell to catch up with you. she was way past the point of waiting for the elevator. she made it just in time before you fully made it to your car. “Hey, you know it’s dangerous to walk around outside by yourself.” you turn around smirking “Outside the Avenger’s compound? I can handle myself Natasha.” she shrugs her shoulders. “You never know, anything is possible and honestly, you’re lucky I’m not trailing you back to the house.” she’s laughing but you know she’s dead serious about that. your safety would always be a priority to her especially after what Ward did to you. when you actually started moving around and being active in the world again Natasha was very stern in keeping you guarded. keeping you safe. 

“Well as you can see..I’m perfectly fine.” she rolls her eyes at you and your sarcasm. Natasha can’t believe she’s even missed this tone. all she got in return was either anger, sadness or a monotone answer that she’s much too familiar with. 

“Hey, about what Alexei said.” you show signs of protesting against her, but she holds your hands. stopping the words from leaving your lips. “I just want you to know that you’re not weak. you’re not spineless, and that I couldn’t have asked for a better wife.” this time it’s you that launches forward bringing her into a hug. she sinks further into the side of your neck the longer you hold each other. 

“Thank y-” when you finally pull away from her you don’t have the time to fully react. your breath hitches with the feeling of her lips against yours. you get lost in the familiar territory which causes you to kiss back. Natasha relaxes when you sink further into the kiss. maybe she got carried away because it leads you to shoving her. she’s apologizing before you can even speak. 

“Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to.” that’s a lie, she definitely meant to do that and so much more to you. this whole day was just taunting to her, it was only a matter of time before she broke. she steps forward trying to defuse the situation, hoping things could go back to how they were a few minutes ago. but the damage was done. 

“Why would you do that?” you step back stumbling closer to your car door, your fingers lightly grazing your lips. she takes a step forward. “No, stay right there.” you hold your hand up stopping her movements. you quickly unlock your car door getting inside. “Y/n, wait can we talk about this?” Natasha lightly but frantically knocks on the glass. you part your lips not having an answer for her. did you want to talk about what just happened? your phone buzzes in your pocket you pull out the phone Skyler’s name pops up on the screen. Natasha being the nosy person she is. she takes a quick glance at the screen and make a noise of annoyance. mumbling under breath about how she picked the perfect time to call. 

“I have to go, enjoy the rest of game night. I’ll call and check in with Jordyn tomorrow.” you don’t answer the call, it wouldn’t feel right, not after what just happened. you start the car ignoring Natasha’s pleas of talking through this and you drive off. Natsha stomps her way back into the compound she doesn’t get far before she’s met with Sam, he was just waiting on her to give him details on the farewell. “So.” he waits expectantly. “I fucked up...I think.” she releases a frustrated breath and rubs her face. “How?” he pulls a face not seeing how she could’ve messed things up when you two were talking for so long you didn’t even realize he was in the living room playing with Yelena and Jordyn. 

“We kissed.” 

“Holy shit! how is that a bad thing? that’s good.” 

“No, That’s bad. she was angry with me for doing it. and then that bitch called her phone before we could talk about what happened. I don’t know maybe I read into things too much. just being around her earlier at the restaurant and then at Melina’s and then being here. it just felt-.” 

“Like home?” 

“Yeah....Like home.” she gets choked up as she releases the words. Sam doesn’t hesitate to bring her into a hug. Did she push too far? maybe so but Natasha was done playing coy. she was done playing nice. she was done standing by. this was the time to add on the pressure. now that she’s had a taste of you after so long nothing was gonna stop her from feeling your lips again. nothing was gonna stop her from creating more memories with you. Hopefully Skyler can put up a good fight.

[silvermistanimelover]

Just a Little Snip

So on the previous update from Jojo on Linked Universe, I ended up writing a little snippet. :) I am such a sucker for the Champions. Revali watched as Link—Wild, he was Wild, now—ran away from the four heroes. He knew that look. The way his shoulders tightened and his fists clenched hard enough to draw blood. He shared a look with the other spirits. “He’s doing it again. He’s blaming himself.”

“He’s been so good lately, too.” Mipha looked like she was in pain. “He was so happy.”

“We all knew he would fall back into self depreciation at some point.” Urbosa reached out a hand towards Mipha, looking like she wanted nothing more than to scoop Wild up into a hug.

“Come on, Little Guy. You can’t keep beating yourself up like this.” Daruk reasoned, despite the fact that Wild could not hear them.

Revali’s jaw was starting to ache. As much as he disliked Link before The Great Calamity, the child the hero was now was someone entirely different. He could not blame this boy. He was innocent. He hurt and cried and suffered all because they couldn’t hold their own when it counted. Really, they were all hypocrites. Link wasn’t the only one that had a problem with self-hate.

“Why…” Wild whispered softly, catching their attention. “Why can’t I protect anyone? I thought… this time it’d be different.” He fisted his hair in his hand, pulling painfully at the roots. “But it did nothing. I couldn’t save him. I just…” Abruptly all his anger left him, and they could do nothing as they watched him sigh in utter defeat. “I just made a bigger mess in the end. The Captain was right… and so was the smith. I didn’t help. I… I’m not a hero.”

“Yes you are.” Mipha snapped, tiny green flames bursting from her foot in her anger. “Don’t you dare—”

She cut herself off when startled blue eyes landed upon her. Slowly, as if in a trance, Wild’s gaze landed upon each of them in turn. “Wh… what?”

“Can you see us, Link?” Urbosa asked softly, and the boy—and by Nayru, he really looked like a lost frightened child with those wide teary eyes and that hopeless expression—slowly nodded.

“U…Urbosa?”

“That’s right, Little Fox.” She slowly reached out, hand resting on his shoulder. If she was as surprised as Revali was that it didn’t phase through, she didn’t show it.

“I… I don’t understand.” His eyes flitted between each of them, as if he was afraid they’d disappear the moment he looked away.

“We’ve been with you.” Mipha smiled. “Always.”

“You really think we’d leave you alone?” Revali huffed. “You didn’t fail us, idiot. We all share that failure. The Blights got us, and the Guardians got you. There was nothing more we could do—we fought to the death.” He snorted lightly. “Can’t try much harder than that.”

“Come on, Little Guy.” Daruk smiled. “You can let it go. Stop blaming yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t measure up—it was just that the enemy was too prepared.”

“He’s right.” Urbosa agreed. “If Ganon hadn’t had those Guardians, we would’ve stood a much better chance.”

“But… you’re all gone… because of me.” Wild’s voice truly sounded like a scared little boy, and Revali let out a gentle crooning sound on instinct. The others shot him a strange look, but he ignored it, grateful his feathers hid his mortified flush.

“We all knew what we were in for when we agreed to this.” Revali argued. “Link. You are a child, now. I don’t care how old your body is, you don’t hold the blame for anything. You never did.”

“Except for that bokoblin camp you blew up. You do hold blame for that.” Mipha amended, earning a watery laugh from Wild.

Revali felt some of his feathers smooth down at the sound. “Beak up, hero.” Wild’s startled gaze found his. “Have faith; not in the divine, but in yourself. You saved Hyrule. And you also saved us.”

“Twilight will be okay.” Mipha smiled softly. “I’ll make sure of it. Oh, but you won’t be able to use my Grace for a while, so please be careful.”

Fresh tears ran down his face, and Revali lurched forward as the hylian’s knees buckled. Somehow, he was able to catch him, and the boy curled himself into the Rito’s pristine feathers. As the young hero sobbed, unrestrained, Revali couldn’t help but think that just this once, he’d let his feathers be ruined.

“Idiot hatchling.” He muttered softly as he started to preen Wild’s hair. “You’ll never be alone.”

[foxymoxynoona]

DRABBLES

I want many but I'll throw some out there for you to choose

Amended JK with his newborn baby, getting to experience being a baby dad for the first time.

Penguin!Koo and Rana...possibly having a bub? 🥺 I just know Jungkook would be a fretful mess and Rana cool as beans (though imagine the role reversal)

And new potential drabbles -

Spaceship captain reader x alien Hoseok + soulmates = 'I question fates decision sometimes, you know?'

Fae Lord Jimin x human reader = 'you will not touch her'

God of death Taehyung x Goddess of memories reader = 'because death is eternal'

Ok, I'm going to wind up writing a few of these but I'll keep linking back to this post so you get credit for your ideas 😉 But the first one is ready!

TITLE: Regretful Eternal & Yours Characters: God of Death Taehyung x Goddess of Memories Reader + 'becaues death is eternal' Word count: 4990 CW: general discussions of death, afterlife, sad regrets, memories of sex, some language

“Taehyung!”

The God of death closed his eyes and let out a deep, weary sigh as his name echoed in that voice down the corridor. He hazarded a glance at his collection of KAWS stuffies lined up on the back shelf of his office. He’d been told the familiar cartoon characters with Xs for eyes were “macabre,” “weird,” and “juvenile.” Maybe the last god of death relished being a soulless dark villain but Taehyung liked having some personality, thanks. He’d been doing this for hundreds of years now since the last guy vacated. He wanted his office space to reflect that he still had some of his personality left; go ahead, crucify him for it. The stuffies were not going to help him with the obvious storm headed his way.

“Taehyung,” that voice snapped once again, now standing annoyingly in his doorway. Hard to believe he’d once orgasmed to the sound of that voice saying his name, though decidedly less sharp and more moany than the way you said it now.

“Yes, my darling?” he drawled, turning slowly to face you. 

“Fuck off with ‘darling,’ I’m not your scribe dropping pens in front of you for attention,” you scoffed, rolling right into, “Four. Four souls were signed off by you in the past mortal hour as headed for the rebirth loop without my approval. You can’t just forget my signature–”

“It’s a very easy signature to forge,” he snickered, recalling the way he used to sign your name. With his tongue. On a very intimate part of your body.

Not that he wanted to remember that or anything, but it was better than remembering anything else.

Rage left you stuttering incoherently for a moment –he could remember other times he made you do that, if he cared to– before you shouted, “Well it’s not your job! And if you don’t cut that shit out–”

“You’ll what? Go above my head?” He grinned. “I’m the god of death, darling, there is no above me.” You’d once told him how classy and romantic it was for him to call you that.

He still knew precisely how to push your buttons. His ego about his title, slightly higher than yours as the Goddess of Memories, had always been a splinter in both your professional and private relationship. Blind fury welled up inside you that he’d resort to such a taunt, but you channeled that into the one place you could get him: bureaucracy. 

Because it actually was a problem if he was sending anyone for rebirth for whom memories still lingered in the world. It was your job to make sure that didn’t happen. One baby born who looked oddly like someone else could be chalked up to “strong genes” or “uncanny coincidence” but if it happened too much, you wound up with people asking too many questions, and then the system could break down completely, there’d be mass panic, the Fates would fire you all and your own immortal souls would be disintegrated into nothing. The world could only handle so many accidents, really only one major and obvious reborn soul, and that spot belonged to Keanu Reeves –all because Taehyung had lost a bet to Charlemagne centuries ago, the idiot.  

No, you would not specify which one was the idiot.

Ok, fine, it was both.

“Don’t make me go to the Fates,” you countered, because while they might be sideways in heirarchy, they were in fact the only ones who could pluck the strings to fix the mistake that was either Taehyung’s existence or promotion. 

Taehyung rolled his eyes but lacked a witty comeback.

It left you space to notice the tablet propped on his desk with the signature screen open.

“Oh my Titans are you fucking doing it right now?!” you cried, diving forward at the same moment he did. He grabbed for the tablet but he’d pushed back too far in his chair when he wanted you to notice his manspreading and hopefully trigger a memory of his dick (it did not) and his fingers barely brushed the device as you pulled it away. Sure enough, a quick scroll higher showed it was the sign-off for another rebirth, one neither reviewed nor approved by you. “These have to go through my department! You can’t just rebirth everyone! What the fuck is your problem?”

He knew his eyeroll would infuriate you as he insisted, “I was just about to forward this one over to you.”

“Like fuck you were.” You ignored his insistence and opened the file up onto his wall screen. You crossed your arms and watched the life moments play before you, realizing quickly that these were the highlights and lowlights of an old man’s life as marked by Taehyung’s team as “life defining.”

“You nitwit,” you scoffed, “You’re looking at the highlights and lowlights to determine eligibility?”

“Don’t doubt the skills of my team–”

“I’m sure they’re great at your job, but they can’t do mine. Get out of the chair.”

“No. You can sit,” he said, leaning back and motioning to his lap.

“It’s been two hundred years, give it up already.”

His face slid into a scowl, “Give what up? My chair? Not on your life.” 

“I don’t have a life. All I do is work,” you scoffed, quickly masking the personal complaint with the addition, “Because somebody’s been fucking it up and making more work for me.” You waited. You gestured for the chair.

With a sigh, he slapped a button on his desk and demanded another chair, “make sure it’s smaller than mine.” A moment later his assistant sprinted in, pushing it along. They settled it by Taehyung, bowed, and then fled.

“What happened to Tiff?” you asked, referring to Taehyung’s previous assistant who’d definitely been trying to seduce him and, you suspected, probably succeeded.

“Fired her. Used too much teeth,” he shrugged. You didn’t even get a word shouted before he snickered, “I’m kidding. I don’t fuck subordinates. She quit. Said it was too depressing down here.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, that seemed to happen a lot. You worked in two of the most depressing departments of the entire Underworld, after all. Staff turnover was high. That was a thing Taehyung had enjoyed about your relationship, that you got it, both the stresses of the job, the loneliness, but also the joy of a well-managed passage at the end of a mortal life, the beauty of rebirth or release, the two of you waxing poetic about eternal cycles– 

Not that he was interested in remembering that. He grinned, recalling instead the way your nails had traced red shapes into the skin of his back as he split you open–

“Stop that,” you huffed.

“What? Something bothering you?” he smirked, knowing full well that as the Goddess of Memories, your access to any memory recalled –especially right in front of your face– was yours to witness. Not always with your permission. Taehyung in particular had always been very good at getting under your skin and into your mind. Which led to some pretty mind blowing orgasms but also–

He snickered under his breath, like he knew he made you think of something good. He snickered like he didn’t understand the pain that came in the end. You don’t think he ever did understand that. God of Death and all that. No sentimentality about The End. Just a fact of eternity.

Despite your annoying thoughts, you were typing, searching, scrolling the whole time, peeking into interactions that jump out at you here, scouring school days and dates and days both good and bad at work. The man’s life had largely been one tragedy after another strung together by mundanity, but not the kind of tragedies that left a lasting impression on anyone except the one enduring them. No remarkable news coverage that sparked an author. No car crashes that changed someone’s outlook on the fragility of life. No major work accomplishes that inspired his colleagues. He’d been laid off and wound up in a retail job where he remained just mediocre enough to not get fired. When he retired, no one noticed.

“See?” Taehyung said, gesturing to the screen. “There’s nothing. He died without leaving a mark on the world in any way. Literally no one remembers him. He didn’t even have a nurse at the end who–”

You shake your head, “You don’t know anything about memory. You just know…”

“What?”

“Sex and death,” you say, brushing him away with a flick of your hand. “The impressions we leave aren’t always obvious. A face can linger in someone’s mind for the most innocuous reason–”

“But it has to reach a certain threshold to disqualify them from rebirth–”

“I know the rules, Taehyung. I’m good at my job.”

“I know you are,” he grumbled. You ignore the almost compliment and continue to dig. You start to look in the corners of the deceased man’s life, at the people who bought things from him off Craigslist, at any stores he went to frequently enough to become a familiar face. He donated to the Humane Society regularly, but only money, not time. His primary care doctor had died a few years before and he’d bounced around since then. He bought his prescriptions off the internet. He lived in an apartment but paid his rent by check and his landlord couldn’t recall the old man’s face, just was angry when he discovered the man dead after he was late on rent because there’d been no loved one to haul away the old man’s things which delayed his ability to clean and relist the apartment.

“Give up?” Taehyung asked. “There’s nothing.”

“There’s always something, at least something that delays– you can’t just send people to rebirth directly–”

“There isn’t always something and you know that as well as I do,” Taehyung argued. You hated that he, too, was awfully good at his job. Which made these forged signatures even more infuriating because it wasn’t like him at all! Usually he respected the system, considering he’d help build it!

Was he seeing someone again and it had him distracted? He was rushing through work to go see them? That made sense, it had been a long time, so far as you knew, and when Taehyung went into something, he went all the way in…

You looked and looked for something that wasn’t there as Taehyung grew increasingly frustrated before he finally reached forward and tapped the screen to bring up the signature form again, the waiver for you to officially sign that would release this man’s soul back into the queue for rebirth. How long it might wait there was the call of another department based on your needs and the priorities of other gods and departments. 

“There’s nothing,” he said to you, but quieter this time. While he loved to tease and antagonize, his goal wasn’t actual embarrassment; he could read you like a book, annoyingly fluent, and predict you’d be frustrated not to “win” with this man. 

You let out a deep sigh and conceded only, “This doesn’t happen as much these days.”

“Hm.”

“Fewer tenant farmers crawling off to die alone in their huts and get eaten by wildlife,” you mused. “Fewer towns wiped out by invaders down to the last child. The internet has changed things, people have the chance to make meaningful connections even beyond their daily circle–”

“Yeah but anonymously,” Taehyung countered. Skatá, he missed having these deep arguments with you. “Real name and real face: memories have to include those to send you to the after–”

“Do not preach at me about the rules! You of all people!” you shouted, pushing back from the desk in a huff. Then, because you’d been thinking about it lately, you insisted, “We ought to change the criteria. Memory… souls should be able to live on in memory for more than a face or a name. There are so many other ways to leave your mark on the world. There are so many other meaningful moments and connections–”

“If those moments were meaningful enough to allow someone to recognize your soul, they’d be remembered. The rules don’t need to change–”

You rose from your chair, demanding, “So people should be condemned to the repetition, to going back to that damned plane of mortal existence over and over again until they can pull of some connection in that lonely and quick-to-forget world that convinces us they’ve done enough to earn their eternity?”

“It’s not a punishment! It’s just… another chance.”

“Don’t you think it feels like a punishment? Can you really imagine having to do it all over again and again–”

“They don’t remember,” he insisted. 

“Exactly. It’s hell. It’s inhumane–”

“Forgetting can be a mercy,” he countered. 

For a moment you were both silent. You didn’t want to understand what he meant. You didn’t want to assume it was about you, even though you, too, could read him like a book.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, gesturing as he added, “Besides what’s the record for repetitions, twenty? That’s not so bad.” He’d always admired your deep love for the people, your ‘bleeding heart’ for the mortals, so to speak. It was a thing you had understood in him and he in you, that you could deal with this final moment in their lives, one mortals couldn’t decide on as blessed or tragic but often caused pain and suffering to those who lingered either way, and recognize the importance of your work and also recognize how unknown it was to the both of you. 

“Isn’t that worse? They have to start all over, nothing to guide them better this time, no comfort that if this one doesn’t work out, they’ll get another chance, no warning that eventually they won’t. No hint that all they need to do is connect or leave something behind and they’ll be free of their mortal shackles– I mean look at all the stories they invent trying to make sense of it all!”

“It’s funny,” Taehyung grinned. Trying to be funny, because he’d slipped thinking fondly about your passion and devotion to your work and hadn’t resumed thinking instead about your tits quickly enough. There. Now he was smiling, thinking about them. “Look if you have a proposed update to the criteria, I’m happy to read it.”

“Magnanimous of you.”

He wanted to lure you back to talking about the impact of human technology on mortal connection but a sudden glint in your eye had you pull yourself back into the keyboard. 

“I’m an idiot,” you murmured, pulling open a separate database. 

Taehyung’s brow furrowed as he leaned closer to see what had suddenly captured your enthusiasm. 

“Ah…” he sighed as you trawled the ‘Regrets’ database. He had done a cursory search for any regrets of the man’s… but he had not done a search for any regrets about the man. 

“This should be a part of every review –and it is if these files come to my office first,” you mumbled. Yes, you were aware he was leaning in a way where he could watch your face instead of the screen. Just like you were aware he kept remembering things completely inappropriate for the workplace. “Also please get laid so you don’t short-circuit every time I’m in the room.”

“What, you think you’re special?”

“Apparently the scent of my shampoo is. Or is it my perfume? You seem uncertain.”

He snorted derisively and looked to the screen at your sudden cry of victory. There, on the screen, an elderly woman who had pined for the man when he was young but never told him. He had died unaware, but she’d carried that longing for him in her heart until it had morphed and solidified into a solid, life-long what if? She’d married and pursued a successful career in novel writing, still published something every few years to this day. Her first novel had recently been reprinted, including its dedication in the beginning:

To my first love and the last time I let fear hold me back. Thank you for inspiring me to always think of what could be and to take the leap for the things I want. And thank you for that piece of bubblegum when I skinned my knee in fourth grade. You were a swell chap, Glenn.

“Ha!” you crowed, pushing up from the chair for the last time. “That’s enough! That book is in print right now with that dedication.”

“It could be any Glenn–”

“But it’s not,” you insisted. “Pull up her file, her memories of him are still there, she’s still living, and she’s no doubt told others the story if she even kept the initial dedication to him. Rebirth denied, eternal freedom granted.” You crossed your arms, gave Taehyung a smug grin, and sank back into the chair to watch and make sure he correctly marked the file. Yes, it was barely passable, you knew that. Yes, he could probably overrule you if he wanted. The woman was likely he only one to remember the man enough and she’d be dead within a decade too; his soul could easily wait that long in the queue and then be rebirthed without any issue. But for right now he had technically passed.

It meant something to you that Taehyung let you have this.

“Yeah but…” 

“But what?” you pressed.

“But isn’t it just kind of… sad? He doesn’t even know he still mattered to that woman,” he said. His movements slowed as he dragged the tablet closer and backed out to the correct form. “He died not knowing she felt anything about him at all, or that he had any impact on anyone. Is that really the spirit of success here?”

You fell silent. Taehyung had written those rules; or some of them, the newer ones, since he’d taken over so long ago. 

“I just mean,” he continued, “is this the worse punishment? We send him on to eternal freedom, he can see the homage that gave him that release, and in death, this is all he has to show for it. So now he has a regret that he didn’t know this, and maybe his life could have been completely different if he’d known.”

Carefully, you pointed out, “It doesn’t mean it would have been. And you forget how lonely and despairing so many people are. This might be comforting. It’s not like he didn’t know he had no one and nothing at the end. He had the birds he watched from his window and a few TV shows he kept up on. Nothing in his memories indicates he wants to try again.”

“Because you wouldn’t.”

“Of course not! That world seems damned terrible for most of the people in it! Look how hard some people have to fight just to exist, much less make friends and pursue their passions and make any big mark on the world. Their life systems are focused on all the wrong things. They’re so busy telling everyone how to live and what they’re allowed to do and caging it all in with money–”

“Yeah Capitalism was really a victory for the Act of God and Karma department, huh? It always feels like those fuckers went overboard but then you see what the mortals do to each other and...”

“It’s fucked up,” you agreed.

“You and I, we really have the best departments,” he suggested. 

“We… do,” you agreed slowly, because there was camaraderie behind the way he said it and you didn’t know why the sudden shift in mood.

“But sometimes… sometimes the act of The End is what makes you realize that you do want another chance. How many final moments have we seen where people begged for it? How many times are those final moments focused on regret? Sometimes people want another chance!”

You blinked at him. You, like so many times before, pretended not to see the memories slipping through the sieve of his mind without either his or your permission –evenings spent in bed yes but also mornings waking up in each others arms; holidays basking in the sun on the beaches of Naxos; arguing over a dinner you made and he would clean up because you had talents that complimented each other; a reason to stop working so damn much, even just to canoodle in his office when something so tragic came across one of your desks that you needed a physical reminder that you were safe, that he was safe, that you had in each other love and support and acceptance. How blessed it had been for you, known to cry at work as you sorted through memories or the absence of them, to find that Taehyung could soothe your heart, but also that he too felt the sorrows that came with the job. You were not alone.

But you ignored those memories, and those thoughts in yourself, because you knew a memory wasn’t a choice. A memory happened. It’s why they were the pure system by which eternal death or rebirth hinged on, because a memory didn’t equal a truth, but it was the fabric of that ephemeral thing, the soul. Your soul consisted of your own memories, of as many lives as you led, which you were free to parse and peruse in the freedom of eternal death, but only once your soul left some piece of itself on earth, in the souls of others. An unearthly form of reproduction, you could say. And you, the two of you, managed the process to keep those frail humans from losing their minds because four identical people were running around, a single fragmented soul now going to confuse and terrorize other souls also afraid of fragmenting, afraid of being incomplete or unwhole. Humans were obsessed with being whole and ‘normal’ and all sorts of boring things, when really they should be concerned with challenge, passion, enthusiasm, and joy.

At least that’s what you’d written in your Masters thesis that had landed you this title. It had gotten you laughed out of a few offices but Taehyung had poured over it multiple times as his fingers lazily roamed your bodies, asking questions as he fed you grapes dipped in honey, moaned about how he loved your mind as he made love to your body–

Memories were not choices, they just were. Taehyung, like this novel writer, was not driven to act by the presence of any of those memories, other than being a cocky asshole about the raunchy ones. That was itself a choice, and it told you everything you needed to know in a clear way, unlike this veiled could-be metaphor.

“Well you’re the God of Death,” you pointed out. “If you think there’s a flaw in the system, you fix it. I don’t know, add a clause that if the person dies with regrets– no, we did that–”

“Yeah, we did that,” Taehyung said. “People are still freaked out about ghosts even though there haven’t been any new ones since I took over and ended that one. Freaky as shit! You think rebirth is bad…”

“Well add the clause. You’re good at dragging things out,” you snorted. You hadn’t meant it to be mean, not really, but it was clear from his face he took it as such. Quickly you added, “I just meant because death is eternal. You’re the god of… The End. The fork in the road.”

“And you’re the goddess of what, holding on until you get distracted by something else and forget?”

“Hey now,” you glared.

“The goddess of letting your feelings alter what you think actually happened.”

“Taehyung!”

“Confirmation bias.”

“Stop that,” you scoffed. You grabbed his hand and pressed his finger to the thumb scan, approving Glenn’s lonely soul for the relief of eternal death, a place where finally his soul could choose for itself when to wake, when to slumber, when to dream, or when to be no more, as a rock or a star or a blade of grass or Nothing.

“There. Now we’re done, ye God of Ego.”

“Ego,” he repeated. “Ego?”

“Well why else are you skipping me and sending these souls back to try again? Admit it, you don’t want to admit that I can see the things you miss about people. You only look at the highs and the lows and you miss the significance, the importance of all those moments in between–”

“I do not–”

“You got so busy you thought a weekly fuck and a nice dinner on our anniversary was enough,” you continued without entirely meaning to. “Do you know why humans remember the things that go wrong on vacation more than the things that go well? Because manufactured connections are false. Picture perfect is a lie. The memories are smooth and they slip away. They aren’t real. Just like we apparently weren’t–”

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit. We were plenty real until you got distracted by Neptune and his glow up. He just got bigger because of global warming, Y/N! He’s still the same Poseidon who cums salt and has crabs skittering through his hair–”

“Gods, you are so jealous! Nothing happened with me and Namjoo– I mean Neptune–”

“Oh, he told you to call him Namjoon, huh?” Taehyung gave his chair a hard shove towards the desk and stomped away. 

“Nothing happened. That’s not why we ended.”

“Yeah, you’d remember,” he scoffed.

“You remember too,” you insisted. “I see it in your memories.”

He glared and stormed closer, “No, you don’t, because I don’t think about it because it’s not important.”

“Ouch.” You recoiled.

But his face took on a desperate look as he pleaded, “It’s not important because the fact we ended was the worst part of our relationship. Being with you– the good things were so much more important to me. Are so much more important to me. That’s what I’m saying. You were right about Glenn but I think you were wrong about us.”

“So…” Your brain was scrambled. You tried to think through this sudden confession and couldn’t. “But…”

“I want a second chance,” he said. And crossed his arms and lifted his chin.

“Because of…” You looked at the tablet, as if it would explain to you why this sudden change of heart.

“Because I don’t want to be that novelist and regret never admitting that to you.”

“You just miss the sex,” you tried. He’d successfully knock your feet out from under you. This was not how you had expected this workplace confrontation to go. 

“You know that’s not true.”

“You think about it all the time–”

“Well there’s a lot of sex to remember,” he grinned. “But I know you see the other memories I try to block out by remembering the sex.”

You did. Because the most joyful and the most painful memories were always the strongest, the easiest to track and feel. And many of your memories together now inspired both joy and suffering. 

He wasn’t alone in that.

“I…”

“It’s ok if your answer is no,” he said, with that crooked smile beneath the soft eyes that had always stolen your heart. He could be so smug and headstrong and stubborn but no one had ever loved you or admired you or humored you the way he had, that wasn’t just a memory, it was the truth.

“You have to stop sending people to rebirth without running them by my department first,” you said, lifting your own chin and leveling a serious look at him. “You don’t know everything. Stop pretending like you don’t need me.”

“I do need you.”

The sentence that stopped your heart –or, you know, would have, if you were a mortal with a beating one.

“I need you to help me improve this system,” he said, suddenly scratching at his hair and looking to the side. “I know I’m not perfect and the world is changing so help me with that. You see the things I don’t see and um, I’d rather you help than just not say anything until it’s too late.”

“Ah.”

“You know, at least give me the chance to fix them.”

“It means you have to actually listen.”

“Yeah, I know.” He glanced at you, eyes going wide, youthful in his ageless face. 

“Good. It’s good that you know that,” you said. And tried not to look at the memories bubbling over in his mind but it was impossible to miss them, because they were strong, and they were about you, and the regret and hope were honestly enough to nearly make you sick. It wasn’t helpful that they mirrored your own.

“So…”

“I’d be happy to work on the proposal with you,” you conceded. “Over dinner and drinks. On Friday?”

He grinned and nodded, “Yeah, over dinner and drinks on Friday. At your place or…?”

“In a restaurant, Pluto. Or Hades. Or whatever you’ve got on your door plate right now.”

He drew close and took your hand and grinned, “Nah, babe, you know you’ve always been allowed to call me Taehyung. That’ll never change. You’ve been calling me that all day anyway.”

“Have I–? I thought for sure I–” But you had. Oops. Old habits died hard, and Taehyung was just such a pretty name and, ok, maybe it had always left you a little smug to be allowed to call him that private name–

You cleared your throat and straightened your shoulders to gather yourself, “Then I will see you Friday. You pick the restaurant.” You darted away, loosening your hand, a bit flustered by how strongly he could still affect you when you let him. “And Taehyung… make it a good one.”

“Only the best this time. Good enough for eternity, I swear.”

“We’ll see,” you said, and quit his office, hoping in your heart that would be true.

[egcdeath]

ways to say i love you without saying “i love you”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: you and steve explore love languages

word count: 5.1k

warnings: fluff, a little angst because of miscommunications, reader & steve being idiots, good intentions but terrible delivery, mentions of other characters

author’s note: this fic has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for so long. this fic is like, ancient. this fic was almost destroyed because it was briefly in the library of alexandria. when i reopened the document with this fic, there were mold spores growing on it. (p.s. steve’s love langauge is acts of service, and the reader’s is quality time)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Prologue

Steve was a multitasker. You knew this well. Perhaps too well.

That never seemed to bother you before, but if the man who was supposed to be taking a serene nature walk with you checked his goddamn flip phone one more time, you were completely sure that you’d lose it. 

You paused your story about your obnoxious coworkers for a moment, stopping in the middle of the gravelly trail you two were making your way down. 

“Steve, seriously, are you even listening?” you griped, ushering him towards the side of the pavement as a man on a bike flew by. 

He guffawed a bit at this, “of course I am. You just said something about…” he paused, and you gestured with your hands for him to continue. “Okay, sorry,” the blush on his face was becoming more and more apparent.

You involuntarily scoffed, rolling your eyes as you did so, “I’m glad to know that whatever you’re waiting for on there,” you gestured to his pocket, “is more important than spending quality time with your girlfriend, who, must I remind you, took time off to be here with you.”

“Nothing is more important to me than you, I’m just on call. I’m probably going to get called to go on a mission any moment now.”

“Steve!” you huffed, “you literally just got back, like, two hours ago. Can’t someone else go? Tony? Vision? Anyone?”

“I might’ve volunteered myself-“

“You’re unbelievable, Steve. Are you getting tired of me or something? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague ever since I moved in with you. If I upset you, or you’re gonna propose to me or something, can you just tell me?”

“I promise you it’s not personal at all,” he reached for your hand and gently held it. “Everything’s just been crazy. I mean, these Hydra bases have been popping up left and right. Just give me a little grace, okay? I don’t get upset with you when SHIELD starts making you work those ungodly hours.”

You opened your mouth to debate him, but surely enough, the canny and familiar ringtone of Steve’s work phone interrupted you before you could even begin. 

“Okay… Yeah. I’ll be there in thirty.”

You frowned at Steve as he spoke on the phone and shook your head disapprovingly, “unbelievable,” you muttered, storming in the direction of your home. 

——

Steve was no fool, he knew when he messed up, and he was more than willing to take responsibility for such. Now was one of those times. He knew that he should’ve been making more time for you. He was well aware that he shouldn’t have gotten defensive when you pointed this out. 

He just had no idea how to apologize.

You weren’t exactly making it easy for him either, taking much longer hours in an attempt to avoid him. While he could understand your frustrations, it became a little more difficult everyday for him to properly apologize to you in a way he felt was meaningful.

Eventually figuring to use your avoidance as a tool, Steve devised a plot to make an apology for you so considerate, so superb, that you could never be angry with him again. A plot that included a several course meal, all concocted by himself. 

He could imagine the look on your face as you came home from work, shocked, but the good kind of shock. Pleasantly surprised that your sweet boyfriend had put in such a huge amount of effort to say sorry. 

He couldn’t help but imagine the scenario: you would relax into your seat at the table after Steve pulled out the chair for you, hum in content as he poured your favorite wine. Moan happily at the taste of a homemade and rarely prepared salad dressing, before complimenting the melt-in-your-mouth entree he had spent an unknown amount of time laboring over. Finally, you’d gush over the dessert that Steve hadn’t had the chance to cook in years, tell him that he worked far too hard putting everything together, especially for a little argument. Steve would scoff, tell you you’re being too kind, and you would pull him in for a red wine and dark chocolate flavored kiss. 

The thought of you, your genuine and warm smile after a long day at work, and an even longer week worth of unspoken tension between you both, was enough to keep Steve motivated through the hours he spent preparing your meal.

He greeted you at the door like an excited puppy as soon as he heard your keys jingle. Sure, work had kept you a bit longer than he’d expected, and your food was likely a little cool by now, but he was excited to make amends. 

However, you did not seem to share the same enthusiasm as Steve. 

“Welcome home, gorgeous. Come sit,” Steve nudged you into the dining area, and you sluggishly followed, exhausted from a tiring day of training new agents.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired, pulling out a chair that you didn’t even attempt to sit down on. 

“I had a really long day. I kinda just wanna get to bed,” you shrugged before rubbing your creased temple.

Steve internally cringed at the thought of all of his hard work going to waste. For some reason, he’d not envisioned this less pleasant outcome before. “Sweetheart,” he began in a nearly whiny tone, but you weren’t in much of a mood to be persuaded.

“I’m sorry. Weird things were happening at work that I don’t care to get into now, and honestly, I’m not even that hungry,” you reached out and gave Steve’s hand a little squeeze. “But it all looks and smells so good! I Promise I’ll warm some up tomorrow for lunch.”

“I-,” he paused, “please. Maybe you could just take a few bites of everything. It took me a really long time to get everything prepped and ready.”

You frowned at the plea, feeling a bit guilty but almost… satisfied at the same time. Steve struggled to make time for you because of his work, and now he was getting a little taste of his own medicine. 

“I really am sorry. But hey, now we’re even?” you offered with a playful wink, slipping away before you gave your partner a chance to respond. You truly didn’t have the energy for a four course meal that night, let alone another argument. 

——

Wanda was silent for a moment as she sipped from a mug of coffee, watching you with a suspiciously focused look on her face. 

“Wanda?” you prompted, seemingly snapping her out of whatever trance she had found herself in. 

“Oh my God, I know exactly what you guys need,” she just about blurted, reaching across the café table to grab your hand. 

“Were you reading my mind?”

Your friend didn’t respond, but the devious smirk on her face was enough of an answer. 

“What happened to telling me before reading me?”

“You just looked like there was a lot on your mind. And absolutely no way that you’d tell me,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Of course I was gonna tell you! Why else would I ask my friend in a cute relationship to meet me for coffee?”

“Because you like me?”

“No, never that. I just needed advice,” the two of you shared a laugh for a moment.

“Well don’t waste your breath. When Vis and I had a rough patch, we just had to learn each other’s love languages. You’d be surprised just how much that synthezoid values those acts of services.”

“And you?”

“I’m a words of affirmation girl myself,” she shrugged. “You should find out yours, and try to figure out Steve’s. I guarantee it’ll be helpful in the long run. I can send you guys a test, if you want?”

“Oh god no, please don’t tell him that I told you about us. Actually, I didn’t even tell you! You were digging around in my brain, and I don’t appreciate that. Just do me a favor, and don’t share this with anyone, okay?” You paused dramatically, then leaned in to speak to your friend in a whisper, “but send me that test when you get the chance.”

Gift Giving

“A little reality-warping birdie told me you’ve been having some relationship problems,” Tony said teasingly once Bruce left the conference room, leaving him and Steve alone. 

Steve paused for a moment, trying to decide whether he should lie or fess up to the allegation. “How did she know?” Steve finally responded, standing up and pushing the chair he was sitting on behind him. 

Tony shrugged dismissively, “I don’t ask these kinds of things. I just hear in passing that the geriatric is having a hard time and tune in.”

Steve shook his head slightly, rolling his eyes to mask his clear embarrassment. 

“Well, is it true?”

“We’ve just been having the occasional… rift. A little more than occasionally.”

Tony nodded, fake pondering the situation, “well, I always know what I do for Pep, at least after I tell her I’m getting rid of the suit. Go buy her something nice. Really nice, like jewelry, or a purse if she’s into that kind of thing. I would say a car, but I know that Social Security check isn’t getting you too far. You know what? Put it on the company card. My treat.”

Steve wanted to scoff, turn his nose up at the offer like it was a terrible idea, but it really wasn’t. Maybe a material surprise was the way to win you back. He made a soft ‘hmph,’ noise as he mulled it over. “That’s definitely not your worst idea. Thanks,” he gave his teammate a soft smile before collecting himself and heading out of the conference room. 

His first stop after work was some local jeweler. Steve threw on a (not very) inconspicuous outfit before entering the building, where he browsed for a good hour, searching for something that he believed you’d like. After looking at more jewelry than he had ever cared to see in his life, he decided on a necklace with a thin golden chain with a decent sized diamond hanging off of it. It was a little pricier, and you’d be able to tell— but he hoped it would help the gift mean more to you. 

——

When you arrived home late that night, Steve was sitting in the living room waiting for you. It was almost daunting, the sight of him sitting alone on the couch mostly in the dark, only the television illuminating his face. He kind of reminded you of a parent waiting to confront their child who just snuck out, or a concerned friend seconds away from staging an intervention with you. 

Walking past the room, you peeked your head through the doorway, and observed the flat, small box in front of him on the coffee table. 

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he greeted, standing up so he could greet you with a hug and grabbing the little box as he did so.

“Is everything okay?” you probed, speaking into Steve’s shoulder.

“Of course. I just wanted you to know how much I love you, and that I’m sorry for not having as much time for you as I should,” he pulled away before holding the box out for you. 

You hesitantly took the box and opened it, letting out a gasp when you viewed the delicate looking gold necklace. 

You were having mixed emotions, because it was clearly beautiful and you were grateful to the gesture. But you knew that this must’ve been expensive, and that it was so unlike Steve to have done something like this. Your frugal, Great Depression era guy wasn’t exactly the most material. 

“I love it,” you gushed, admiring the jewelry. 

“Can I put it on you?” Steve asked, and received a nod in return.

Steve set the box down on the table and lifted up the necklace, bringing it up to your neck and focusing on clasping it in the back.

“Babe, how much was this?” you blurted, not even being able to filter the words before they left your mouth. 

“Hmm? That doesn’t matter,” he dismissed, then stepped away from you to admire your clavicle. 

“It just feels weird letting you spend so much on me.”

“It’s a gift, though. You’re not supposed to think about those things,” he hummed, pressing a chaste peck to your nose. 

“Steve, I got you a Nespresso for Christmas and you wouldn’t stop complaining about how expensive it was. I love it, I really do. It’s beautiful and I’ll always think of you when I wear it. I just think that maybe we should have the same standards for each other,” you stood up from your seat and sidestepped him. “I need a shower.”

Steve watched you walk off, letting your words simmer in his thoughts.

That was the last time he would take relationship advice from Tony. 

Words of Affirmation

This conclusion probably shouldn’t have taken you this long, but you were almost completely sure that this would be the love language to win Steve back over. You felt bad for some of the occurrences between the two of you lately, with sour exchanges and sweet moments that turned bitter on a whim.

In all honesty, you were concerned that Steve doubted your love for him. And if his love language really was words of affirmation, this would certainly convince him otherwise. 

You sat at your desk the night before Steve departed for a two-week mission, trying to write a nice message for him. You tapped your pen on the stock paper in deep thought as you tried to figure out the best thing to say. 

I’m sorry for arguing so much with you lately. You and everything that you do mean the world to me, even when you get on my nerves. I love you more than anything and that will never change. 

The words looked cramped and unkempt on the little note. Your handwriting got messier as you went. You groaned at it, crumpled the paper, and tossed it in your trash bin. Time to start over again.

I’m sorry for arguing with you. I love you a lot. Can you stop picking up your phone when we’re spending time together?

You groaned at the passive aggressive tone of your message. That certainly wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Straight to the bin it goes.

I love you so much so don’t die on your mission or I’ll be pretty upset. Be safe out there xx.

The tone was even more off now. You needed to think of something that would really make Steve remember you while he was gone. For a second, you considered snapping a nude with a polaroid and attaching it to the letter.

I’m sorry that things have been so bad nasty for us lately. I promise that I love you, despite our ups and downs. Nothing will ever change that. I’ll miss you more than you know while you’re gone. Make sure you call me every day, my love. 

A little cheesy, but you signed off with your name regardless, and contentedly looked at your work. The spacing looked correct, the tone wasn’t harsh, and you knew for a fact that Steve would appreciate it.

You stayed up a little later than normal, waiting for Steve to get home and change out of his ‘work clothes’ so that you could slip the note into his utility belt. 

You folded the note to a small little square and set it beside an granola bar in a pocket you’d assumed he frequently used. Content with your work, you laid back in bed until your partner slipped in bed beside you, and sleepily cuddled into you until you were both unconscious. 

—

Around two weeks had passed since Steve had seen you last, and he had decided to stop by the office and finish up paperwork before coming to see you. It had been radio silence on his end, despite the note in his clothing that clearly requested daily contact. Part of you wondered if Steve had seen it at all.

Steve had just finished signing the documents when he finally noticed it, reaching into a sparsely used part of his belt to have a quick snack. His hand landed on a folded piece of paper, and he cringed as he unfolded it, the letter becoming clearer and clearer as he did so. He wondered just how long the message had been waiting for him. 

He read your sweet words with a frown on his face, the guilt from not opening it sooner overriding the sweet feelings that he would otherwise have. He grabbed his phone and considered texting you, but abandoned that thought altogether. 

“FRIDAY, any idea where Y/N is right now?”

“I was told not to share any information about Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers.”

“Whose orders?” Steve pressed.

“Hers,” the bot quipped back. 

Steve groaned aloud. He was really in for it tonight.

Physical Touch

“Have you tried touching her more?” Thor casually queried. The water that Steve had just consumed nearly flew out of his nose, and his cheeks reddened instantly. 

“Pardon?” he asked, looking away from his friend instantly. 

“I understand that you and Y/N have been having troubles lately. Perhaps she does not feel held by you. Maybe she wants you to show her off in public, to hold her hand, hug her,” he suggested. 

Could Steve even be blamed for going there? He was having a chat with a god of fertility. Who wouldn’t think the same? 

“Stark’s gala tonight. Show the world that she’s yours, and I guarantee that she’ll love every moment of it.”

——

You were confused. Really confused.

The night began with some simple touches, hand holding as you entered the building, a casual arm around your waist as you chatted with donors and politicians you hadn’t seen in months, a playful match of footsie under the table while waiting for food. But it came to a head when Steve had decided to rest his hand on your ass and grope you in the midst of a conversation.

Now, in any other situation, you would welcome this affection. But both you and Steve had never been a fan of PDA, and this was a bit too far. 

As subtle as you could manage, you pushed his hand away, offering him a sour look as you did so. 

“Excuse us,” you told some rich old man in an artificially sweet tone before ushering Steve off to his office for a bit more privacy.

“What was that about?” you questioned, sitting down in the padded chair behind Steve’s desk, and running your fingers over your necklace in a bit of a nervous tick. 

“What do you mean?” he retorted, standing across from you at the desk and setting his hands on top of the clear table.

“Why were you groping me in front of people? That’s really... unlike you. And it made me uncomfortable.”

Steve frowned genuinely, looking down at the table in embarrassment. “I’m really sorry. For making you uncomfortable. It sounds ridiculous but I was just trying something new.”

“Apology accepted, but are you sure? You weren’t like, jealous of those guys or something? You know you’re the only hundred year old I have eyes for,” you set your hands atop of his and squeezed.

Steve chuckled at this, the flush of his cheeks only highlighted more by the laughter, “it’s just that, uh, Thor told me I should try showing you off more. Or something like that.”

“So you groped me in front of our guests? That’s silly. And a little unprofessional,” you glanced over at the cork board on his desk sitting next to his desktop, and amongst the neatly arranged scratched out to-do lists and random reminders, you couldn’t help but notice the creased paper of the note you’d left for his mission. Your chest warmed when your eyes fell upon it. 

“When did you find this thing?” you asked, pointing to the note. 

“I meant to say something, but when I found it, FRIDAY said you didn’t want to talk to me. SO I was going to bring it up when I got home, but you were still working. After that, I kinda… you know-”

“Forgot?” you finished with a hearty laugh, “It’s fine. You’re such a dork. C’mere so I can get my own groping in,” you chided, grinning to yourself when Steve wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. 

Acts of Service

Steve was quietly folding your laundry in your bedroom when it finally occurred to you, but when it did, it hit like a ton of bricks.

Steve’s love language was acts of service!

Things suddenly began to make sense to you, the way that he initially attempted to apologize by spending hours cooking one meal, how he consistently worked to make your life as comfortable as possible, and his great insistence to do house chores, despite you being more than capable.

Steve set down a stack of folded sweatshirts by your calf, snapping you away from your brief retrospective daze. If that really was the case, and Steve’s love language truly was acts of kindness, you had to come up with some sort of plan to communicate to him just how much you cared about him in a way that he really appreciated.

Luckily for you, you were a quick thinker. Before you even knew it, a week filled with random acts of kindness before he was off on yet another mission was quickly hatched.

——

You were up at the ass-crack of dawn. Really. Steve liked to get up earlier than the sun in order to run, or train, or whatever the hell it was that superheroes did. You were seriously regretting your decision to wake up around the same time as him in order to do some favors for him in the morning. 

By the time Steve was back from his run, his favorite coffee was brewed and cooling, and you were in the laundry room at the dryer, preparing to give Steve a warm towel after his shower.

Despite the three mugs of coffee you’d just downed, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep your eyes open. It didn’t help that your eyelids felt like they weighed fifty pounds each, and the warmth of the dryer next to you was providing you with just enough comfort to drift off.

And drift you did. In fact, half an hour later, you’d missed the frantic calling out for you from your boyfriend as he searched for you around the apartment. 

You finally awoke when he shook your shoulders, his amused voice bringing you back to consciousness. 

“What’s going on here?” Steve grinned, pushing some hair out of your face. 

“Mmm,” you began, “Iwantedtogetawarmtowel,” you slurred sleepily and incoherently.

“Even with super hearing I couldn’t decipher that. Let’s get you a mattress, okay?” Steve hoisted you up like you were nothing, and carried your half asleep body all the way up to your bedroom. 

The next thing you knew, you were buried under your favorite comforter and propped against a mountain of feathery pillows. A gentle forehead kiss and an incomprehensible sentence about calling off of work for you later, you were back in a deep sleep. 

So much for warm towels.

—

You were going to do better this time. That’s what you told yourself as you strolled through the grocery store, the same store that you hadn’t shopped in since moving in with Steve, as he preferred to do the shopping himself.

Equipped with a short paper list and sheer determination to make the trip as short and accurate as possible, you gathered all of the groceries that you believed were necessary— just enough to restock the fridge, and fill some gaps left in the cupboard. 

Your time at the store was indeed brief, as you found yourself in the checkout lane after just twenty minutes (you definitely weren’t going to brag about that to Steve later. Definitely not), and back home with just enough time to unload the groceries, and further prep yourself to go to work. 

You’d honestly forgotten about your trip to the store by the time that you arrived home, up until you found your boyfriend arm deep in your pantry, hellbent on finding… something.

“Can I help you?” you poked with a laugh, coming up beside Steve and peeking over his shoulder.

“I’m just… Did you happen to grab any protein bars while you were at the store?” he asked, pausing his search to look back at you.

“I don’t think so. Why? It’s not like you need any more protein,” you teased, squeezing a bicep to demonstrate your words.

“They’re pretty convenient when I’m out in the field. Don’t worry about it, though. I’ll just swing by the store and grab some before my mission tomorrow. Actually, I should probably go now. Y’know, before I forget,” Steve was already grabbing his car keys from the counter by the time his sentence was finished, leaving you to fight off your disappointment at your minor grocery store failure.

You looked at what you now knew was an insufficiently filled pantry and pinched the bridge of your nose. You had seriously underestimated the ins and outs of shopping for a super soldier. 

Well, third time’s the charm?

—

After this week, you would never complain about waking up early again. You were now up at an absolutely ungodly hour, scrambling eggs, flipping pancakes, and spreading jam on toast for a sleeping, unsuspecting Steve.

You placed the plate on a sturdy wooden tray, poured orange juice and an extra glass of water, and set a nicely folded napkin, along with utensils, next to the items.

You hoped that the scent of bacon wafting up to your bedroom would eventually pull him out of his slumber, and seeing how bacon was the only thing left to finish cooking, you took a little break. 

A round of Candy Crush turned into two, then three, and goddamnit, why can’t you beat this fourth level! You got so wrapped up in your mobile game that you didn’t even notice when the scent from your kitchen became slightly rancid, and when you rushed over to the oven to check on your now extremely burnt bacon, the smoke detector wailed.

You grabbed a kitchen towel and waved your arms like a madwoman near the smoke detector, the shrieking eventually stopping, but not before Steve was halfway down the stairs.

“Y/N, where are you? Is everything okay?” he nearly shouted, racing down the stairs and barreling through the smoky kitchen to find you. When he reached you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and began to pull you out of the kitchen. 

“Steve, relax. Everything is okay. Except those pieces of bacon,” you rubbed your now sweaty palms on your pajama pants before breaking away from him to crack open the kitchen window. 

“Christ, what happened? And why are you up so early?”

“I was trying to make you breakfast in bed,” you admitted, rather embarrassed by the dramatic scene you’d accidentally created. “Sorry,” you muttered.

Steve wrapped his arms around you once more, this time in a reassuring bear hug that left your cheeks pressed to his chest. “Don’t be. I really appreciate this, and everything else you’ve done this week. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“I guess,” you mumbled into his shirt. 

“Besides, everything else looks delicious. And you tried your best for me while trying something new. I think that’s really sweet of you.”

“Really?” you pried, looking up at him.

“Really,” Steve confirmed.

“Well, I think it would be really sweet of you if you went back to bed and got all cozy so I can take care of you.”

Steve chuckled softly, pressed a little kiss to your nose, then nodded, “yes ma’am.”

Quality Time

Steve had been in a bubbly mood since getting back from his mission, and for no particular reason. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy that your partner was happy, but feeling like you were out of the loop was slightly concerning.

Before you could let your thoughts run too wild, you decided to pop the question during one of your evening walks. 

“Okay Steve, what is going on with you?” you asked, veering to the side of the trail when a biker rode past you. 

“Nothing big. Nothing too important. I’m just out of service for the next three months,” Steve said casually, playing it cool. 

“What?!” you paused, your brows raising and eyes widening in surprise as you searched his face for sincerity. “You’re serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

“Steve!” you gasped happily, nearly roaring out his name in excitement. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I was going to tell you before wining and dining you, but you beat me to it. So…?”

“…So I’m happy to have you back. I may need you to negotiate some time away from work for me in the next few months, then. I don’t wanna miss this preview of stay-at-home-dad-Steve.”

“Hey, don’t push it.”

“Oh, I’m planning on pushing it.” 

Epilogue

The sun was beating down on you, but the soothing breeze that flowed past your checked blanket every so often provided a pleasant antidote to the summer heat.

You’d truly picked the best day for a picnic.

Despite spending a good amount of time with your partner, the last month and a half had truly felt like a whirlwind. You casually started looking for a forever home, found yourselves making plans for an early retirement, and you had a new, sneaking suspicion that a proposal was on the horizon.

In the midst of it all, Steve had suggested that the two of you take a midday tryst at your local park and throw yourselves a little picnic. Of course you obliged, because when your greek god of a boyfriend suggests going on a spur of the moment date, you agree.

You now watched the nearly cloudless sky with pure, unadulterated feelings of content and joy while Steve set a slice of cheese on a cracker, leaning over your body to feed you. As you opened your mouth, Steve paused abruptly at the soft vibration coming from his pocket. 

Steve resumed as if nothing had changed, popping the cracker into your open mouth and letting his phone continue to ring.

“Don’t you wanna get that?” you questioned.

“It can wait,” Steve stated nonchalantly, slipping his phone out of his pocket and pressing decline with absolutely no hesitation before tossing the device to the edge of your blanket.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been waiting to hear those three words.

-------

a/n: this could’ve been solved in like 20 minutes by sitting down and taking a love language quiz together

[luimagines]

In lieu of what happened yesterday with Wolfie... may I raise you with Bunny Legend?

He despises the form. Why, of all the things he could have been, had to be a bunny? A tiger or even a dog would have been better than that a fluffy, weak... pink mammal! It's not fair that Twilight get a cool one instead of him, which is completely stupid since he is one of the oldest, and far more seasoned in salt of the group. On top of that, how dare he stealing your attention like that!? How is he supposed to make a move if Twilight is always hanging around you as Wolfie? He wants you to be the only one to hear how he feels about you...

...And, maybe, is also because he is terrified of you turning him down, the ache in his heart would be worse than a stab with Twilight watching him get rejected...

But this is why he have been named as the "Veteran" and not something else; he has dealt with a lot of situation before with far less objects at his reach to help him, but he always manages to get through it. He's very cunning and is quick to think on his feet...

...Or at least, almost all of the time he is. Erring is most common when you aren't at your most calm, isn't it?

Legend admits that he acted out of desperation: you had him at his wits end! But it's hard to feel frustrated with himself when you are nuzzling your face on top of his head, little squeaks of happiness and a high pitch voice while you baby talked to him, gussing about his very soft fur and really cute vest. You even called him handsome! You never do that when he is in his human form, you don't even spare him a glance when he rolls his sleeves, making a big of a show of flexing his arms, stretching out and pushing out his chest and arms back, all so you can see how muscular he, too, is. But the only thing you do is oogle at Twilight-- as if he isn't enough of a menace to him-- and that idiot of Mr. Captain when they wrestle together, shirtless. He just wants your pretty eyes on him, those plump lips, cherry from how you are bitting them, shamelessly devouring the two men with your gaze...

...Ugh, just pay attention to him, okay!? He will shower you with all the love and adoration you deserve and more! So please, direct that intensity to him, and only him.

A poke to his furrowed brows broke him out of his mind. Legend cautiously looks up at you. He mentally kicks himself as he is met with your worried eyes, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel any type of negative emotions, so that glint spurred him on rubbing his furred cheek on your free open palm, wanting to change the expression out of your face. It seem to work, you opened your eyes more and even giggled a little before scratching under his chin with two of your fingers.

"Got lost for a second there, buddy?" You whisper. Even if your tone was soft, the vibrations travelled from your chest pressed against the back of his small form engulfing it in a warm and pleasant feeling.

Legend closed his eyes and let all of his weight rest on you, not that you minded, of course. Being the sunshine that you are, you giggled cutely once more and tugged him closer to you, to the point of almost being curled around him. It was a rare sensation; he felt protected for once instead of being the one providing said feeling, he must admit that it was quite comforting, but Legend will forego ever feeling like this again in exchange of you being safe forever, you will always be his priority.

"Hmm..." you pecked his head. "Y'know, you remind me of someone that I like a lot"

His long ears fell flat on either side of his head as his heart stilled.

Like a lot...?

You... already have someone that you hold dear?

You seem to miss how his body grow stiff between your arms as you continued in drowning him in affection. What used to be a delightfull experience, now, it hurts him more than any wound he have ever sustained in his life, more than any burn from fire lizards or the cold, prickly bite of exhaustion of his tired body as he dragged himself through every and more corners of Hyrule.

Your hands played with the small tuff of fur on his head, but Legend's mind was far too gone to properly feel the touch. In its place, his heart dropped and shattered, somehow still beating as he felt the fastening Thumping in his stomach. How foolish and naive of him, to ever believe that he got an opportunity with you. Even the people that you two are travelling with can barely stand him, and they are supposed to be the same person.

Is he really that despicable?

"It's actually funny."

Funny how stupid he is, isn't he?

"He came back a few nights ago, very upset."

Well, that guy clearly doesn't now a thing about suffering. He isn't the one getting his heart demolish while in the arms of the love of his life like him.

You pinched the tip of his left ear and softly lifted it up. "He came back with his hair the same shade of pink that you have! In my opinion" you lean down a Little, as if you were about to share a secret "He looks very cute like that. A shame He will never let me say that to his face..."

Pink? Like the rose tinted glasses he have been wearing all this time-- Uh? Hair?

Are you... Please, don't give him hope like that. He can't take another loss in his life, because if you don't mean it, he would be devastated for good.

He felt your body shifting a little before you let go of him to instead hook your hands under his armpits, slowly lifting him up then turning around his body so now the two of you can be face to face. His tiny nose twitched as you leaned in a poked the tip of your own nose to his pink one, rubbing a little before you leaned back again. Legend layed his pawns on top of your chest, eagerly following your movements when he saw you opening your mouth to continue, he didn't want to miss anything that you are about to say:

"He is a big dork, with an even bigger ego. Very handsome too and... Ugh, Legend, why you have to be such a cactus all the time?" You finished with a tinge of frustration in your voice.

In a normal scenario, he would have argued about that last statement, but he couldn't because of two good reasons: one, he is still in his dark world form, it would be very weird if this bunny you found in the Forrest acted as if it was personally insulted by your words. And second...

You actually like him.

Him, With all of his flaws and bad attitude, you still found and assigned a space in your heart for only him, Legend.

Just as how down he got, his spirit raised up again with vigor, his heart soared from the dark pit of grief that held it a couple of minutes ago taking its rightful place at the peak of the shrine dedicated to your whole being. He didn't even noticed that his skin was ice cold until a burst of heat shot from his feet to the tip of his ears that acted as a catalyst as he threw himself towards your chest, his body felt light as a feathe, he tried his best to fight off the desire to laugh or shout out this waves of overwhelming energies.

Oh, how your chuckles were like the tunes from the most rich instrument in the entire universe being played by the goddesses themselves, more revitalizing than any potion or fairy pond.

"Do you think I should say something, buddy?" You returned his hug.

Legend furiously nodded his head, not think if it will appear weird that he could understand you. You squeezed the tiny bunny between your arms before putting him at arms length:

"Thank you, buddy. Somehow, now I have the confidence to talk to that prickly bitch--"

"--A PRICKLY WHAT???"

...Uh oh.

Even the common noises of the Forrest fell silent at his outburst.

Legend didn't had a second to try and amend his mistake as, suddenly, his vision was thrown into a spiral; everything looked blurry and the wind on his fur was a clear indicator of how hard you launched him away from you. He felt slightly proud at you quick reaction time but...

...No amount of fur can soften the crash on the hard forrest floor, just his luck that he didn't fell on the conveniently batch of dry leaves right beside him. It hurt, not as how bad his heart was hurting, but painful nonetheless.

He just really hopes you won't tell the group about the weird, pink bunny that can talk, or else he won't ever heard the end of it from Sky and Twilight.

-----------

AND IT'S DONE CKSKFJEJCUC IT TOOK ME A LOT OF TIME JUST TO SAY "Legend tried to pull a Twilight and got yeeted out of existence"

I think that Legend has self esteem problems! With what happened in A Link to the past, it's hard to overcome a whole nation hating your guts when you only wanted to help.

You really just said "If no one will provide me with Legend simpage, I'll do it myself"

I'm grinning so much right now. I ended up biting my lip a bit harder than I intended to because I almost screamed at the end when he finally spoke up.

The whole time I was like "But Legend can speak? Why is that not- Oh that's why."

Also, describing how Legend tries to peacock as he stretches to catch the Reader's attention *chef's kiss*.

[the-iceni-bitch]

Killing Floor

Pairing: dark!Mr. Freezy x dark!fem!Reader

Words: 4389

Summary: You run into Robert Pronge one night and end up tangled in a scheme together.

Warnings: DARK so, so dark, please do not read if these type of fics upset you! non-con (erring on the safe side), dub-con (for sure), very graphic violence (m to f and f to m), death, gore, explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, hate-fucking, cavalier use of a handgun), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: My first dark fic! It got away from me for sure but I enjoyed it. Please, please be mindful of the content you are consuming though, this could very easily be upsetting! Because of this, I’m only gonna tag my fellow Freezy hoes here, as I haven’t updated my taglist doc to include dark!Fics.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

You eyed the Mr. Freezy truck warily as you carried your garbage to the dumpster behind your apartment building. This was the third time this week you had seen it outside your place, and it was setting you on edge. There were hardly any kids in your neighborhood, so you didn’t know why it was hanging out here.

You cursed under your breath as the truck moved to the mouth of the alley, blocking your exit. You pressed your back to the wall behind the dumpster, right as a man exited into the alleyway from the bar underneath your place to smoke a cigarette.

A massive man in a white uniform stepped out of the back of the ice cream truck and walked towards the smoker, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves as he made his approach. He asked him for a cigarette before pulling a silenced pistol out of his jacket and shooting his target three times in the chest.

You schooled your breathing as you watched him drag the body to the back of his truck, trying to remain as still as possible. He stormed back into the alley to search for the shell casings, turning his back to you as he collected them.

Your legs were starting to cramp from your crouched position, and as hard as you were trying to stay still, it was getting difficult. You tried shifting your foot, but your ankle rolled in your heels and you let out a hiss. The killer straightened up suddenly at the sound, cocking his head as he turned toward you with a sneer on his face.

“Is that a little kitty I hear?” He jeered as he walked toward you, his voice thick with a Boston accent.

You stood up from your hiding place, preparing to make a run for it. He saw you tense up and lunged at you, wrapping a massive hand around your throat and pinning you against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs and cracking your skull against the bricks.

“Nice try, sweetheart, but I can’t let you go just yet.” He pressed his body against yours to pin you, his other hand brushing his stringy hair from in front of his glasses. “You have got horrible timing. To think I almost got out of here without getting a look at you, kitten.”

You just glared him as he moved his hand down from your throat to dip inside your blouse, grinning as he pawed at you as he buried his face in your shoulder, grinding his crotch into you.

“Think I’m gonna have a little fun with you before I let you go. You’re being so good and quiet.” He panted against your neck. Suddenly he stilled and drew his face up to look you in the eyes. “Why haven’t you called for help?”

He had relaxed just enough to allow you to move and you drove your knee between his legs at the same time you shoved your hand into his jacket and drew out his pistol, whipping it across his face and sending him sprawling.

“You cunt!” He spat, bloody spittle flying from the corners of his mouth as he moved to charge you again, stopping short when you pressed his gun to his temple. “Oh, you stupid little bitch.”

“I’m the stupid bitch?” You growled at him. “You wanna tell me what the fuck a Gambino hitman is doing so far outside of their territory?”

“Shit.” He hissed between his teeth as he eyed you warily. “You’re with the Genoveses?”

“That’s right.” You said, drawing back the hammer on the pistol. “Now answer my question.”

“Alright, alright!” He raised his hands in supplication, showing you his palms. “Fella in my truck has a father who owes Marks a good chunk of change, and y’know, he needed a little incentive to pay off his debt.”

“Marks gave you the ok to take out this hit? The mans getting bold.” You snorted, releasing the hammer as you pulled the gun back. “Lucky for you, I feel like leaving this to the bosses to figure out. Get the fuck out of here.” He stood up warily and reached for his gun, which you pulled back with a tut. “No, I’m gonna hold onto this for now. Maybe I’ll give it back later.”

Mr. Freezy growled as he brushed off his uniform and stalked back to his truck, grumbling under his breath the whole time. You just winked at him as he drove away, heading back up to your apartment to call this in.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

  You saw him again 2 weeks later at a sit-down. Marks came to make amends to your boss for overstepping, hoping to find someway show his remorse for sending his man into the Family’s territory without permission. You were perched on a stool in the back of the room when the two men entered, and a small smirk teased your lips.

Lombardo liked bringing you to meetings as a distraction. Most of his comrades assumed you were there for eye candy, just the latest piece of tail the boss was wetting his dick in, too stupid to care about. But the real reason he kept you around was for protection. He loved the look of surprise that came over his enemies’ faces when you pulled out your garrot.

“Great to see you Leo!” Lombardo said warmly, moving to give the man a kiss on each cheek before sinking into his chair, gesturing for Marks to join him. “Y/N, grab us some wine sweetheart. Does your man want any?”

“No, I don’t like my men drinking while they work.”

You moved to open the wine when a massive palm wrapped around your upper arm.

“This is the bitch I told you about, boss.” The killer seethed as he wrenched you around viciously.

“The fuck are you doing, Pronge?” Marks hissed, giving you a chance to grab the corkscrew and press it to Robert’s throat. “Benny, I apologize for my man’s behavior, he’s been foaming at the mouth about some broad getting the best of him and it’s made him a little erratic.”

Lombardo just laughed as Pronge released you with a duck of his head. You kept the corkscrew where it was, watching a thin trickle of blood run down his neck.

“Let him go, Y/N.” He said with a wave of his hand, and you moved to open the wine, pouring two glasses and bringing them over to the seated men. “My girl has a tendency to elicit that type of reaction. It’s one of the reasons I keep her around!” He gave you a pat on the ass as you headed back to your stool, your eyes trained on Robert Pronge.

He was glowering at you maliciously as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and his forearms flexing as he clenched his fists. You heard him growl from deep in his chest when you gave him a conspiratorial wink.

“You see my problem Leo, we can’t have Gambinos moving through our territory with impunity, as much as we can sympathize with the need to collect a debt. Fortunately for you, the boss is still soft on you fellas, so we’ve come up with a solution I think will work for everyone.”

“Ah, Benny, I can’t tell you how happy that makes me! Of course, whatever you need.”

“Excellent! We’ve got a little problem with one of Big Mike’s nephews. The kids an idiot and has been making some waves that are making it increasingly difficult to manage our operations, I’m sure you know the type.”

“There’s one in every family.” Marks said with a shake of his head.

“That there is. Anyways, Funzi wants us to deal with the kid under the radar. I’d normally send in Y/N on her own to take care of it, but as great as she is, the kid is surrounded by morons all the time. We also have a disposal problem. Funzi wants to make it seem like the kid ran off with some bitch, hopefully avoid a war, and we’ve heard that your man Pronge here is a disposal expert.”

“Oh, fuck no!” Pronge exclaimed. “I’m not working with this cunt!”

“You’ll do what I order you to do, or I’ll fucking end you, now shut the fuck up!” Marks roared at Robert, making him wince as he leaned back against the wall. “He’ll do it.”

“Glad to hear it.” Benny murmured, his nostrils flaring in anger as he gave you the signal to relax. “Let’s drink to our friendship while we let these two hash out the details.”

You stood up from your stool with a deep sigh as you moved towards your new partner. The man looked like he wanted to murder you, and you just gave him a wicked grin. He seemed to relax as you went over the plan with him, not really offering any notes, just grunting in acknowledgement as his eyes roamed over your body. You managed to come to a grudging agreement and made plans to meet in two days to carry everything out.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

  You had been waiting outside the club for 10 minutes when Pronge finally parked his sedan across the street. He leered as he walked towards you, eyes drinking you in. You looked extremely different than the last time he saw you, relaxed in a flowing dress that stopped mid-thigh and plunged almost all the way down to your navel.

“You always dress like a whore on the job?” He grumbled as the two of you headed to the entrance.

“Sure. You always dress like a clown?” You asked, wincing at the painful pattern on his shirt.

“Fucking bitch.” He muttered under his breath, not quite low enough that you couldn’t hear him.

“That’s right.” You said, your eyes roaming around the club as you looked for your man. “There he is.”

There was a group of young men in a booth at the back. The leader bent to snort a line of coke off the table before screaming for more drinks.

“What a fucking moron.” Pronge said from directly behind you. You could feel the suffocating heat of his body against your back as you stretched your neck. You sensed his eyes boring into you, searing over your bare flesh.

“Wait for my signal.” You muttered as you moved towards the dance floor, winding your way through the crowd smoothly until you positioned yourself in front of the mark’s table.

Pronge moved around the edge of the dancefloor as he kept an eye on you, you even danced like a slut. Your eyes were fixed on the mark as you gyrated to the music. It didn’t take long for the idiot to notice you. Your hands wandered all over your body as you swayed drunkenly, tracing the curves of your breasts and running over your neck languidly before dropping to your hips and teasing the hem of your skirt higher on your thighs.

He felt his dick starting to get hard as he watched you move, fighting the urge to pull you into an alley and fuck you until you couldn’t talk. His bitch wife had been refusing to put out for months, but ever since he first saw you in that alley, you’re all he could think about. He just wanted to shove his cock in that smart mouth of yours and shut you up for good. He had dreams about wrapping his hands around your throat as he ruined your pussy, marking your tits with his teeth as he split you open.

Fuck, he was so hard it hurt. He did his best to school his thoughts as he watched the mark move to join you. He felt himself tense as he watched the moron slot himself behind you and grind against your ass. His hands roamed over your torso until he was cupping your breasts, squeezing them softly as you dropped your head back against his shoulder with a moan, arching into his grasp.

Robert lost his patience and stormed towards the bathroom, slamming the door open as he strode inside. His did his best to control his breathing as he checked the stalls for occupants. He heard your laugh coming from the corridor and he scrambled to conceal himself, perching on top of a toilet and closing the stall door as you entered the bathroom.

You were giggling breathlessly as the idiot mouthed at your neck. He ripped the sleeves of your dress down your arms until your tits were exposed, and you sighed as your nipples pebbled in the air. Your mark bent to run his mouth over your chest sloppily as he fumbled with his belt.

Pronge lowered himself to the floor gingerly, splaying his palm on the stall door and pushing it open slowly. Your eyes shot open and did your best to swallow a hiss. Something must have tipped off the mark, because he straightened suddenly and turned around.

You growled at Robert and wrapped your arms around the mark’s neck before he had a chance to raise the alarm, squeezing hard enough that his oxygen was cut off. Your eyes bored into his as you choked the man, bringing him to his knees as you crouched behind him, your body curled tightly around his. Pronge’s cock was pressing painfully against the front of his pants as he watched you work. Your dress gathered around your waist and your makeup smeared all over your face as the muscles in your arms strained with the effort of strangling the man.

He finally stopped fighting you, and you moved to grip his head at crown and chin before wrenching your arms in two different directions, snapping his neck. You dropped the body to the floor and stood slowly to glare at Pronge, your nostrils flaring.

“You’re supposed to be in the alley.” You seethed as you pulled your dress back over your shoulders, moving to check the hall for any alarm.

“You moved faster than I was expecting.” He hissed, climbing one of the toilets to open the small window to the alley. He gripped a pipe running over the ceiling and lifted himself up enough to shove his legs through. He moved his hands to brace against the sill as he slid through the narrow opening, his broad shoulders just barely able to fit through the frame. He dropped into the alley and looked around, ensuring there were no witnesses.

It was only a few seconds before you were shoving the body through the window for Pronge to catch. He couldn’t deny he was impressed. You were stronger than you looked to be able to lift all that dead weight through a window 8 feet off the ground. He caught it easily and hauled it to the Mr. Freezy truck, shoving it in the back before moving back to the window.

He came back to find you with your legs dangling from the window as you slid through. You dropped softly on the balls of your feet, being careful not to roll your ankles as you landed in your stilettos.

Robert was leering as you strutted past him, your hips swaying suggestively as you made your way to the truck, wrenching open the doors and stepping inside. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, pulling out slowly as you worked to wrap the body in plastic sheeting.

The two of you reached the warehouse in a little under an hour. Robert backed the truck into the loading bay and threw it in park before moving around to open the dock doors. He opened the back doors of the truck and tossed the body over his shoulder as you stepped out.

“Just head straight through.” He instructed you. You gave him a nod over your shoulder as you headed in. He grinned wickedly to himself as he watched your ass swinging back and forth in those heels, moving to follow you.

You found the old slaughterhouse easily and lowered a hook over the drain in the floor as he came to stand behind you, close enough that he had you on edge.

Once the hook was low enough, you moved forward in tandem. You ripped the plastic sheeting off the body as Pronge moved to wrap the hook and chain around the ankles. Once everything was secure, you stepped back to raise the chain.

Robert was still watching like a hawk. You did your best to ignore his eyes on you as you stood with one hip cocked, one heel tapping impatiently on the slanted floor.

Once it was at the required height, you stepped forward to drain the body without an ounce of hesitation, pulling a hunting knife out of your bag.

He growled from deep in his chest as he watched you work, leaned against the railing surrounding the killing floor, his cock starting to harden again as you stepped back, wiping your blade on a handkerchief.

“Almost forgot, Pronge.” You said, digging your hand in your purse and pulling out a pistol. You grinned at the panic on his face before flipping the gun in your hand so the grip was pointed at him. “This is yours.”

He took it from you warily and shoved it into the waist of his slacks, eyes still boring into you as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“We’ve got some time to kill sweetheart.” He murmured as you moved to walk past him, heading back towards the loading bay.

Just like that he was on you, one giant hand wrapping around your throat as he slammed you against the wall, your head cracking against the concrete and your teeth snapping together painfully. You brought your knife up whip fast and pressed it to his throat at the same time he drew the gun from his waistband and pressed it to your abdomen.

“You’re just turning me on even more, kitten.” He leered at you, slipping the gun down the curve of your hip and drawing the hem of your skirt up your thigh with the barrel. He brushed the edge of his hand against your panties, groaning at how soaked you were.

He brought his other hand down and shredded the thin fabric easily, tucking the ruins in his back pocket before digging his fingers into your hip, gripping you hard enough to draw bruises. He sneered at you as he slipped the gun between your legs, running the barrel between your folds and teasing it against your clit, making you arch into him with a hiss.

“God, what a fucking slut you are.” He chuckled as he slipped the cool metal over your sex, your arousal soaking the steel as you writhed against it. “Acting so stuck up, and here this cunt is begging for me. Maybe I should fuck you with my gun, would you like that?”

He pressed the tip of the barrel against your entrance and you spat in his face, pressing the knife further into his neck and giving a mock sound of sympathy as a drop of blood welled at the tip.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, fucker.” You ordered him, grinding yourself into the steel as another round of arousal seeped from your pussy as it clenched around nothing.

“Oho, you bitch. I’m gonna fucking ruin you.” He growled menacingly at you as you slipped your hand under the buttons of his shirt, popping them open one at a time at an agonizing pace as you kept your blade trained on his jugular.

“Promises, promises.” You tutted, the coil in your abdomen growing tighter and tighter as you dug your nails into Robert’s chest, drawing a moan from deep in his throat.

He pressed the gun against your clit violently and grinned as you fell apart. Your legs trembled as you release gushed over the now-warm steel. You bit your lip as you gave a low moan, your cunt fluttering as came down from your high.

“That’s right, whore.” He withdrew the gun from between your legs and brought it up to his face, running his tongue over the barrel and moaning at the taste of you. He tossed the weapon aside carelessly before bringing his hands up to wrench the sleeves of your dress over your shoulders, until it was pooled around your ankles.

“Just fucking look at that.” He murmured as his eyes raked over you. “No wonder the Genoveses keep you a secret.”

He brought one hand to dig painfully into your breast as his other slipped between your thighs. You removed the knife from his neck before slashing it across his chest in a quick motion, making him hiss as you ducked your head to drag your tongue over the wound, moaning as the metallic taste of his blood hit your tongue.

His backhand sent your sprawling, your teeth cutting the inside of your cheek as the knife flew out of your hand. You laughed darkly as you straightened back up, spitting the blood out of your mouth as you watched him strip off his clothes.

“I’m gonna split you open and break you apart, cunt.” He spat as he stalked towards you. His body had an air of menace about it, thick corded muscles stretched over his frame that was covered in scars. “And you’re gonna fucking thank me.”

You groaned as he pounced on you, his mouth moving to trace your breasts hungrily as his fingers dug into the small of your back. You sucked in a harsh breath and wrapped your fingers in his hair painfully as you felt him sink his teeth into you and he moaned into your soft flesh. He moved his teeth over your tits in a vicious trail, marking you with them.

“Fuck.” You hissed as a particularly deep bite had him drawing blood.

He wrenched himself up to glare at you and wrapped his hand around your throat tight enough that it was cutting off your oxygen.

“I don’t wanna hear another word out of that mouth of yours.” He growled, pressing you against the wall again. “I’d shut you up with my cock, but I wanna wreck that hole between your legs first.”

He slapped his swollen tip against your pussy once before spearing into you. He grinned wolfishly as he felt your throat vibrating under his hand and he bent to scrape his teeth over your jaw.

“God, this whore pussy is so fucking tight.” He growled into your ear. “You’re squeezing me so hard, you gonna cum already?”

He felt you stiffen for a beat and then you were quivering around him, a thin whine escaping from your tightened throat as you raked your fingers down the muscles of his back, drawing deep gauges with your nails.

He slammed your head against the wall hard enough to draw blood as your release seeped over his cock, leaking down the inside of your thighs as you fought the urge to pass out.

Robert released you suddenly, his hand leaving your throat as he pulled out. You only had a second to suck in a breath as he spun you around, tilting your hips just a bit before slamming into you again. You pressed your cheek against the wall as he plunged into you brutally.

You let out a series of small whimpers as he pinched your nipples harshly, tugging at them and pulling your tits away from your body. You fought the urge to yelp when he slapped them, making your pussy clamp down on his cock as he fucked into you.

“What a good little slut you are.” He hissed in against your hair, smearing his face through the blood seeping from your head wound. “Yeah, you love the feel of my big fucking cock inside you?”

The only answer you could give was a low moan, followed by a gasp as he wrapped a hand around to pinch your clit.

“That’s right bitch, cream all over me. God you’re fucking cock drunk, aren’t you?”

You just whined as he tweaked your clit one more time and you came apart, your legs giving out. Robert wrapped a hand around your thigh and drew it up to pin against your waist as your body quivered against him, your pussy milking his cock as your eyes rolled back in your head.

“Fuck.” He whispered as his cock twitched inside you and he sank his teeth into your shoulder as he came, blood welling into his mouth as you cried wordlessly and he shot his seed into you, coating your canal in thick hot ropes that seeped out over your thighs.

He kept fucking you through it until he started to soften, then shoved you against the wall violently, pulling away and spitting your blood out of his mouth.

He watched you closely as you turned around, doing his best to keep from hardening again as he looked at you. Your hips and thighs were covered in bruises that were sure to darken even more over the next few days. There was the trace of his hand over your neck that you were absentmindedly running your fingers over. The side of your face where he had slapped you was starting to swell, a shallow cut running along your cheekbone. Blood was leaking from the corner of your mouth and your chest was covered in angry bite marks, some of them bleeding.

You wiped your hand across your face as you stared back at him, wincing. He didn’t look any better. His chest was covered in deep scratches and claw marks, smeared with blood from the cut on his chest. A thin red trail was running down his neck from the shallow prick you had made under his chin. His face was smeared with your blood from where he had buried himself in your hair, and when he turned to collect his clothes, you admired the deep gauges you’d made in his back.

“That was something.” You murmured, catching your dress in mid-air as he tossed it at you. You flicked your head towards where the body was suspended and gave a deep sigh. “Where’s your bonesaw?”

A/N: Welp, I’m going to hell, but at least I’m taking you hoes with me!

Tags!

@stargazingfangirl18​ @starlightcrystalline​ @ozarkthedog​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @slothspaghettiwrites​ @sultrygoblin​ 

[qitwrites]

traditions

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen 

Pairing: Itadori Yuuji/Fushiguro Megumi 

A/N: I caught up with the manga, and shit’s pretty fucked, so I decided to amend that with fluff. 

[AO3 Link]

Fushiguro - according to Kugisaki - is the textbook definition of a homosexual disaster.

No see, here’s the thing- everything was going fine. Great. No problems at all. Fushiguro respects his seniors, tolerates Gojo, and has the biggest soft spot for Inumaki, but he’s never been attracted to any one in his usual circle. So, school and sorcery and life in general was simple. No distractions, no crushes as such, no complications. All good.

And then Itadori Yuuji barges into his life and upends the fuck out of it by eating a special grade cursed object to save him. Then he joins Jujutsu Tech, and now they work and train and study and live alongside one another.

The thing is, Itadori is cute as fuck. 10/10 would tap that, any day of any week.

It’s not that Fushiguro has a type or anything, but Itadori just ticks all his boxes. When Todo had bullheadedly asked him what kind of person he likes, he’d said anyone with a strong moral compass that doesn’t waver in their resolve.

That’s Itadori in a nutshell.

Also, doesn’t hurt that he’s like, stupidly hot either. His raw physical prowess is reflected on his body in the form of shapely muscles, hard abs, and wide forearms that look like they could pick Fushiguro up and just throw him like a javelin. They actually can- Itadori had to do it for a mission this one time. Fushiguro enjoyed it immensely, and he will take this information with him to his grave.

So, not only is Itadori attractive and strong and of good character, but he’s also hella friendly. Fushiguro knows he’s not the easiest person to befriend- it takes a while for him to warm up to people, to share things about himself, to talk about the shitshow that is his family, but Itadori does not seem to give a single, flying fuck. He walks into Fushiguro’s life with the strength and ease of someone that just believes they belong. And Fushiguro lets him, because he is, as Kugisaki very accurately put it, a complete and utter homosexual disaster.

But it’s fine. Crushes happen all the time, and Fushiguro knows it’s hopeless and that’s ok. He knows Itadori likes him and cherishes their friendship, and that is enough. It will be. He’ll move on, and they’ll laugh about it in a few years (if they survive) and it’ll be great. In the meantime, he’s going to hole up in his room and read non-fiction books and stay away from pink hair and large toothy smiles.

Of course, the first person to fuck up his plans is Itadori.

It’s Saturday night, and dinner had been a simple meal of rice, miso soup and some sides made by Itadori. He’s a really good cook, and the home food is such a welcome change from the bento boxes Fushiguro normally picks up from the convenience store. Sometimes, Itadori will drag Fushiguro into the kitchen to teach him a thing or two, and Fushiguro learns, and pines, and smacks Itadori when he says something especially idiotic. It’s routine. It’s nice.

Dinner was an hour ago, and now he’s just curled up in bed with his book. It’s shaping up to be a typical weekend, which is nice considering the number of missions they picked up last week. His bones are aching a little, his feet are slightly sore, and he knows he’s going to sleep like the dead tonight.

He hears the knock even though it’s a bit soft. Fushiguro sits up and cocks his head. Was he imagining it?

And then there’s another knock, more confident. Thud thud thud.

Fushiguro climbs out of bed, setting his book aside carefully. He stretches his hands over his head and walks over to the door. ‘Coming.’

He swings it open, and he sees pink hair and his heart just sort of beats out of his chest.

‘Hiya.’ Itadori’s smile is wide, trusting, and full of gusto. He holds a packet of chips in one hand and a laptop in the other.  

‘What’s up?’

‘Are you busy?’

He should say he is. If he says he’s busy, then he doesn’t have to let Itadori in and he can continue with Operation: get over Itadori Yuuji. It’s the most logical move.

‘No, why do you ask?’ Well, apparently his brain has detached from his mouth.

���Well, I overheard you telling Kugisaki that you’ve never seen the Saw movies and I realized something. Something terrible.’

Fushiguro tenses. ‘And what’s that?’

‘I can’t be best friends with someone that’s never seen Saw.’ Itadori pouts cutely, and Fushiguro is this close to just walking off the face of the Earth. He leans into the door frame, needing the additional support.

‘And I don’t want anyone else to be my best friend. So, the only solution is to make you watch Saw! With me! Like, right now.’

Fushiguro feels so much all at once- he wants to pull Itadori into a hug, he wants to jump off his balcony, he wants to slam the door shut and just cry, and he wants to watch stupid movies with this stupid man.

‘If you get crumbs on my bed, I’m going to kick you in the stomach.’

Itadori beams, and Fushiguro is a lost cause.

There’s a bit of adjusting (Fushiguro, your pillows are too hard, let me go grab mine) and a bit of remodelling (What do you mean we can’t make a blanket fort, that’s literally half the movie experience) and after relenting to a weird half-assed tent structure, the two of them huddle on the bed, backs against the wall, laptop placed on a chair by their feet with a bag of chips between them.

Saw is a terrible movie.

There’s gore and screaming and a creepy dude running around and it’s honestly just horrendous. The main character calls himself Jigsaw, and Fushiguro is tempted to flip the laptop after the hundredth blood spill. He looks over at Itadori who’s completely engrossed, eyes reflecting the colours and flashes of light on the screen. It’s cute, the concentration he’s pouring into it. His hand is stuck in the bag of chips and Fushiguro smacks it away to grab a few of his own.

Fushiguro does his best to watch and gets into it at least a little. It’s bad, but it’s not the worst way to spend a weekend night. He admits that a huge reason why the experience is kinda fun is that he’s doing something with Itadori that isn't life-threatening, which is a refreshing change.

The end credits start rolling and Itadori stretches his arms, fingers pushing through the droopy tent roof.

‘What did you think?’

‘I’ve seen worse.’

Itadori laughs. ‘I know what you mean. It grows on you though.’

‘There’s more?’

Itadori looks at him, blinks, cocks his head. ‘You didn’t know?’

Fushiguro shrugs. ‘I’ve never been a movie buff, so I have no information on this.’

‘Fushiguro.’

‘What?’

‘There’s 9 movies.’

Fushiguro’s mouth drops. ‘What?’

‘Yup, there’s nine in total, and the tenth one is in the making.’

‘Holy shit, that’s a lot of movies in one franchise.’

‘Yup. And we’re watching all of them.’

Fushiguro’s eyes widen. ‘What? No way. Nope. Not a chance. I can’t handle more of this, it was barely tolerable.’

‘It doesn’t matter! It’s the principle of the thing- you’ve started the series so you might as well see it through.’

‘9 movies? How can they possibly have enough content for that?’

‘It’s what they do. I promise it gets better and worse.’

Fushiguro sighs. ‘I’m not getting out of this, am I?’

Itadori pushes into his shoulder playfully. ‘Nope. I’m getting more snacks next time, let’s do two movies.’

Fushiguro sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

He’s really struggling to pretend like he’s upset with this development. He’s not upset. He’s honestly anything but.

---

Itadori comes back next Saturday with some blankets and a pillow tucked under one arm and a laptop in the other. He has a grocery bag with chips and sour patch kids hanging between his teeth and he still manages to smile. Fushiguro is so done.

‘Are you a dog?’ he grumbles, plucking the bag out of his face and setting it by the bed. Itadori gets to work immediately, setting up the pillows and his sad excuse for a blanket fort while Fushiguro brings a bowl for the chips and candy. Once they’ve settled in, Itadori starts the second movie and Fushiguro resigns himself to his fate.  

It’s really not that bad.

The movie is whatever, Fushiguro tunes in and out, alternating between watching the screen and sneaking looks at Itadori. He’s as engrossed as ever, and the tip of his tongue is sticking out in concentration and it’s so cute it makes Fushiguro want to curl up in his lap and squish him.

He’s crushing hard. Like, really hard. It’s about the gayest thing he’s ever experienced.

The movie pushes on, and they start to get more comfortable. Itadori isn’t a talker, which is surprising and nice, but when the movie lulls, he does make a joke or two. They sink lower into the bed, and by the end of the movie, they’re firmly pressed into each other from shoulder to thigh, with the bowl of chips on Fushiguro’s lap and the candy in Itadori’s.

Itadori is really warm. Could be his natural body heat, could be the king of curses residing within him, could be Fushiguro’s imagination- who’s to say at this point?

When the credits roll, Itadori stretches again like a cat in the sun, groaning his satisfaction. Fushiguro rubs his temples and wills away his blush.

‘What did you think?’

‘Not terrible, but honestly, what the fuck?’

‘That pretty much sums up the franchise.’

Itadori loads up the next movie while Fushiguro stays in position, comfortable. When he’s done, he leans back and makes himself comfortable against Fushiguro’s side, head leaning against his shoulder, his cheek pressed against bone. He looks smooshed, and it’s ridiculous.

If he gave a single shit about the movie, he’d ask him to move because he’s so far gone now there’s no way he’d pay attention at all.

Fushiguro doesn’t say a word, just sends up a silent prayer that Itadori remains there, pushed into him and all up in his space, for the rest of the evening.

That’s exactly what he does.

---

Fushiguro’s feet are burning.

The soles are achy all over, tender and jolty. Any time he walks, he suppresses a hiss of pain. When he’d taken a look, the entire sole was an angry red, and he’s just so annoyed.

The week had been tough- tons of running around and multiple search and rescue missions and this one tenacious curse that he and Itadori had to chase for several miles before finally exorcising it. By the end of it all, his feet were burning like a low fire in the pits of hell.

Itadori is fine, as always. It’s probably an incredible combination of his own inherent athleticism and lord dipshit within him, but Itadori heals at an accelerated pace, and like, he came back from the dead. Sore feet would be nothing to this guy.

When Itadori knocks on the door as always, an hour after Saturday night dinner, Fushiguro just calls out, ‘Come in.’ He really doesn’t want to walk to the door, so he’d left it open intentionally.

Itadori struggles to open the door on his own, arms filled with so much stuff it’s overflowing everywhere, and that horribly lovely smile is still stretched across his face and Fushiguro is just so smitten it’s ridiculous.

Itadori throws a few pillows in his direction, places a frankly ridiculous amount of snacks at the foot of the bed, and starts building his fort. Fushiguro is yet to help him with this, to actually put in any effort and make it with him rather than just watch him with a bemused smirk, but part of him knows that if he joins in, he’s admitting to something. He’s admitting that he’s invested. That he likes this as much as Itadori, probably so much more. That he likes Itadori so much, it’s all-consuming.

Itadori gives him the laptop while he makes some finishing touches on the fort, and he’s gotten better over the last few weeks. The tent is less saggy, with more room to move around and its range is expanding. It no longer covers just the bed, it extends to his desk and is inching towards his closet. Itadori is taking over his room, his heart, his brain, his life. He keeps taking and taking and taking, and Fushiguro just gives him more, happily, heartbreakingly, with all the love and nonchalance and patience he can muster.

He’s so whipped he’s giving Kugisaki a headache. She’s told him as much, repeatedly.

He’s got the final Saw movie prepped and ready to go, positioning the laptop on the chair as usual. Itadori grabs the bowls and decants their snacks before sitting next to Fushiguro, his head automatically resting on the man’s shoulders. Fushiguro rests his head on Itadori’s soft pink hair, breathing in the scent of the shampoo Itadori always steals from Kugisaki, and muffles a laugh. It’s so silly.

They’re about mid-way through the movie (by movie 9 there’s no milking the plot, it’s them just beating a dead horse ruthlessly) when Fushiguro shifts his legs and his feet bump into the chair, and he bites out a yelp of pain. Itadori sits up immediately, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

‘You ok?’

Fushiguro waves him down, wincing. ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.’

‘Did you stub your toe? That’s one of the worst feelings ever. And I’ve had my heart ripped out of my chest. And lost an arm. And I’ve been stabbed repeatedly. Amongst other things.’

‘I didn’t stub my toe. And also, what the fuck, are you ok?’

‘I’m fine,’ Itadori laughs easily. ‘Seriously, what’s wrong?’

‘My feet hurt,’ Fushiguro admits with a defeated sigh. ‘We’ve been moving about a lot, and after that pineapple fucker two days ago, my feet have just gotten really sore. I soaked them in hot water a few hours ago, I think I should be fine by Monday.’

Itadori eyes him suspiciously.

‘I’m not lying dumbass. I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. Let’s just get this horrible movie over with.’

Itadori hums, turning back to the screen. A minute later, he looks over at Fushiguro.

‘Well, I’m going to apologize for this in advance.’

‘Apologize for wh- HEY!’

Itadori, with his stupidly inhumane strength, yanks Fushiguro’s legs off the edge of the bed and right into his lap. Fushiguro is now laying down with his head resting against the headboard, and he’s about to kick out when Itadori just digs his thumbs into the arch of his feet and Fushiguro narrowly stops himself from moaning obscenely.

He has died and ascended. His soul is no longer in this realm of existence. It has found peace. The meaning of life. Attained nirvana. He can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s seriously that good.

Because Itadori is strong. He’s really strong, so his movements are sure and deep. His thumbs are pushing against the arch, into the heel of his foot, pushing into that junction where his toes meld into the sole, and it’s so damn good. Fushiguro squirms.

‘How are you- ah shit, right there -how are you so good at this?’

Itadori throws him an easy smile. ‘Used to massage grandpa’s feet all the time. Became an expert over time, especially because I had a lot of his nurses guiding me as well. Is it ok?’

Fushiguro tries to throw him a deadpan look but then Itadori’s thumbs just push into a particularly sore spot and Fushiguro’s eyes roll back into his skull. When he’s able to pull himself together, he looks at the pink-haired man, feeling breathless.

‘It feels great. If you tell a single soul, I will drop kick you.’

Itadori’s laugh is loud and boisterous, and it fills the room completely, saturates it with this feeling of ease and honesty.

‘This stays here, no worries. Like a Las Vegas thing.’

Fushiguro smiles at the stupid reference.

After a few minutes pass by, Fushiguro reluctantly starts pulling his feet away. ‘You’ve done more than enough,’ he starts to say. Itadori wraps his fingers around his ankles, holding him in place.

‘I can honestly do this for hours, it’s fine. You can see the screen, right?’ Fushiguro nods immediately. ‘So, let’s just keep watching. I’ll stop if I’m tired, ok?’

Fushiguro relents without a fight because it’s the most relief he’d gotten in ages, and Itadori is touching him and he’s weak in every possible way and he lets himself be. Just this once.

They finish the movie (thank goodness it’s over) and Itadori continues to massage his feet as they discuss what the 10th movie could possibly be like. They discuss theories and plot holes, and Itadori doesn’t let go, his hands inching up and massaging his calves as well, and fuck if Fushiguro’s going to stop him because it feels good. He’s gay and Itadori is hot and his fingers are actual magic- like, they put sorcery to shame.

When it’s well past midnight and Itadori yawns a few times, Fushiguro finally sits up, pulling his feet out of Itadori’s grasp. The pink-haired man lets his hands linger for as long as possible, and Fushiguro decides he’s just imagining it. Surely.

‘I kinda, I mean, I want to repay you for that. You massaged me for hours, you know.’

Itadori pretends to think for a second before breaking into a bright, 100-megawatt smile.

‘Well then, let’s watch more movies! Let’s just make this movie night! We can watch stuff you look up as well, we can watch anything.’

Fushiguro stares at him, stunned. He hadn’t been expecting that and truth be told, he was really sad the Saw franchise was over because he assumed that would be the end of this, and he was too shy to ask what Itadori was so easily asking him. To see Itadori so excited at the prospect of an actual movie night, with no end in sight, made his heart leap and throb and squeeze. It was incredible.

‘Deal.’ He keeps his voice level and his face neutral, but he can’t hide his eyes and Itadori reads him in a second and his smile softens. He knows him so well now, like the back of his hand.

Itadori bids him a soft goodnight, collecting his stuff and shuffling back to his room slowly. Fushiguro falls asleep quickly, and it's deep and dreamless.

He wakes up to painless feet. It’s a miracle in every single way.

---

When Itadori gently pulls his feet into his lap the next weekend, Fushiguro doesn’t bother protesting it. He just gives him a slightly exasperated sigh, a soft smile and hits play.

They’ve decided to pick up the How to train your dragon franchise this time, as a welcome change of pace.

‘What’s it about?’

‘Well, it’s honestly all in the title. It’s about dragons and Vikings and it’s funny and it has great music!’ Itadori lights up while talking about it, and his energy is so damn contagious. Fushiguro feels himself getting hyped. ‘I think you’ll like it. Especially since you have those cool Shikigamis, you might relate to this more!’

Fushiguro hums, and they watch. Fushiguro routinely pushes pieces of chips and sour candy into Itadori’s mouth, and Itadori’s fingers become well-acquainted with the planes and bumps and grooves of his feet, and the shape of his calves.

Fushiguro gets really into the movie.

Not only is the animation top-notch, but the voice actors are great, the storyline is gripping, and Toothless is so childish and sweet and endearing, his heart aches with love. He barely pays attention to Itadori this time. He seems just as invested, even if it’s the hundredth time he’s rewatching it.

To Fushiguro’s surprise, he chokes up at the end, after the big battle. The whole scene feels strangely familiar in some ways, and he tries desperately to hide his growing discomfort. He peaks over at Itadori and his eyes widen.

Itadori is swallowing hard, his eyes shining and glistening with unshed tears. His grip on Fushiguro is tight as hell, but not painful. He’s barely holding on, it seems.

So Fushiguro looks away, and lets himself feel. He doesn’t cry, but it’s damn near the same feeling.

Itadori’s knowing smirk is as annoying as it is stupidly kissable.

‘You seemed to enjoy that!’

‘It was decent. Much better than all the Saw movies combined.’

Itadori barks out a laugh. ‘Decent, he says. I saw you nearly crying through my own tears. And you were glued to the screen. Such a liar.’

Fushiguro relents. ‘Fine, it was really good. I’m hooked, and I cant wait to see the other 2 movies.’

‘You know I’ll be here.’

Fushiguro is helpless against his blush. He barely hides it in the crook of his elbow. Itadori’s fingers are still pressing into his feet and it’s all so much but not enough. His heart still aches.

‘And the next two movies are visual masterpieces. Can’t wait to get into it all!’

Fushiguro nods, and with the promise of next week, he sleeps just a little easier.

---

When Itadori pulls his feet into his lap three weeks in a row, Fushiguro decides it’s time he does more to repay the pink-haired man. It’s definitely not enough to just grace Itadori with his presence and with a weekly movie night.

So, when they come together to watch the third and final How to train your dragon movie, Fushiguro stands in his room, chewing his lower lip anxiously. He feels like he may have gone overboard, and he’s more scared of being found out by Itadori, about his feelings and his hopelessly ginormous crush and just how big of a complete and utter disaster he is than anything else.

Before he can take it down though, Itadori walks in after a quick knock and a shout of Pardon the intrusion but not reaaallllyyyy.

He walks in, snack bag in his mouth, arms holding way too much stuff, and gives Fushiguro a grin before turning to the bed to start his usual set-up routine. That’s when he stops dead on his feet, and Fushiguro at least enjoys the look of complete and utter shock on his face. The snack bag drops to the ground before Fushiguro can catch it with a loud thunk.

So, here’s a fun fact about Fushiguro- he can build insane blanket forts. No, really, you don’t understand, he could be mistaken for an architect because that’s how good he is. And the reason is a bit long and a bit complicated, but it mostly has to do with his sister. When they were left all alone in the world, sharing a small space just between the two of them, they would build blanket forts with all the stuff lying around the house, and within those sheets, they were shielded from the world and all its horrors. They did it for a long time, and it was their tradition. They got better at it over the years, learning what sheets worked best, what make-shift supports held things up at the right height, where to place the pillows.

The minute Fushiguro started to put the fort together, his muscle memory kicked in and took it from there. It brought forth some memories that made him choke up, but he focused on Itadori, and it helped. He adjusted the height to accommodate two growing boys instead of two tiny humans, and before he knew it, the fort had sprawled to encompass his entire room. He borrowed pillows from Inumaki and Panda, who were willing albeit slightly perplexed, and he grabbed Kugisaki’s fairy lights to really spruce things up. The weather had gotten colder, so he had also laid out his thick duvet for them to slip under, and the icing on the cake was the pizza he had ordered. Itadori always bought the snacks, so he wanted to pull his own weight. Also, they were active jujutsu sorcerers- they may have eaten dinner an hour ago, but they were always hungry. It was endless.

Itadori remains rooted in place, and Fushiguro starts to get nervous. A bit anxious. A bit scared. What if it is too much? Had he overstepped in some way? Or what if Itadori looked forward to building the fort and Fushiguro had taken that away from him?

Itadori slowly looks at him, eyes piercing and unreadable and bright.

And then he smiles. The world rights itself a little.

And he smiles big, huge, all-encompassing. Its lips stretched over white teeth and his eyes are crinkling in that really lovely way and the dimples are dotting his cheeks and its utter magic.

‘Fushi,’ Itadori gushes, almost breathless. ‘This is insane. How the hell did you do this?’

Fushiguro bites his lip. ‘You like it?’

‘Like? Fushi, dude, my man, my guy, like doesn’t begin to cover it! I don’t have better words cause I’m kind of an idiot, but it’s. Like. A+. 11/10. I’m so impressed right now.’

And now Fushiguro is smiling with him, stomach flopping around endlessly, and he’s young and in love and he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

‘I also got pizza,’ Fushiguro gestures to the table behind him, picking the snack bag off the floor and placing it by the bed. ‘I wasn’t sure what you liked so I just got the same thing you ordered when I was sick.’

Itadori happily bounds over to the box and leans in for a sniff.

‘I love this stuff, it’s yum. And it’s still steaming, all fresh and hot.’ Itadori gives him a big thumbs-up. ‘This is so bomb Fushi, thank you so much!’

Fushiguro almost says No thank you, you’ve been doing so much for our movie nights and I wanted to show you how grateful I am for you and for all of this and I love you so please take my heart and just keep it, I really don’t need it, you know?

What he says instead is, ‘Not a problem. Shall we set up?’

And so, 10 minutes later finds them curled up in their usual spots, except this time they’re under the covers. Fushiguro places all the food between them, and Itadori alternates between massaging his feet (which he cleans meticulously before their movie nights because he doesn’t want Itadori to eat with dirty feet hands) and taking bites of pizza and smiling and laughing and choking up at the movie.

The trilogy ends and Fushiguro can honestly see why Itadori has watched this countless times. It’s just that good.

If Itadori hears him sniffle, he doesn’t say a word. Just squeezes his calf and runs his fingers from his knees to his ankles and Fushiguro realizes, in that moment, that a part of him will always belong to this man.

---

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. They’ve now finished the Saw franchise, the HTTYD trilogy, the Batman trilogy, and the entire Annabelle series. If Fushiguro didn’t hate dolls before, well, now the thought of them sends shivers up his spine. And he fights curses. For a living.

Life is weird.

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. Sometimes it’s Sunday night instead, or Friday. Sometimes it’s earlier in the day, in the afternoon maybe. Sometimes, it’s really late at night, so late that by the time they’re done, it’s already 3am and the world is silent. The world doesn’t exist beyond the walls of Fushiguro’s room, and he’s ok with that.

On those nights, Itadori stays over.

They curl up on his bed together, not quite touching but not quite not touching. It’s a single bed and they’re not small by any means. The touching is inevitable. Fushiguro wonders if any part of it is voluntary.

He learns that Itadori’s toes are always warm, unlike Fushiguro’s. He’s a surprisingly calm sleeper. His sleep-heavy voice is deep, and his sleep-heavy smile is soft.

They fall asleep facing away from one another, they wake up spooning or being spooned. They don’t say a word. And they don’t stop.

The night that they finish the latest Annabelle movie, Itadori looks insanely freaked out and Fushiguro doesn’t blame him. That shit’s creepy as hell.

The problem is that it’s only 00:14. Too early for them to call for a sleepover unprompted.

Itadori’s got Fushiguro’s legs in his lap, and he’s pursing his lips as if deep in thought. Fushiguro thinks fuck it.

‘Do you want to stay over?’

The relief flows off Itadori in waves. ‘You’re an actual lifesaver, you know that right?’

Fushiguro smirks, and they throw snarky comments back and forth between them as they get ready for bed. Itadori brings his toothbrush and they clean up side by side, fighting for the mirror. They take the fort down methodically, like a well-oiled machine, and they curl up under the duvet, touching but not quite touching, facing away from one another.

15 minutes later, Fushiguro feels Itadori curled around him, legs tangled and arm carefully slipped over his middle. He feels him shake, and he can taste the hesitation and he knows Itadori will move away soon because they both know they’re both awake.

He moves his hand lower and places it over Itadori’s. He squeezes it once, and moves it away, and evens out his breathing. He feels himself drifting off, and the last thing he feels is Itadori’s arm curling around him just a little tighter, holding him just a little closer. The air tastes less hesitant, more hopeful.

It’s wonderfully frightening.

---

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. Until one day, they do.

The thing about Sukuna is that he’s the King of Curses, Lord Asshat extraordinaire, and an overall terrible being. Not only does he reside in Itadori rent-free, he also chooses when to heal him and when to watch from the sidelines as blood gushes out of wounds that are near-fatal. Itadori’s pain tolerance is impossibly high, but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel pain.

Itadori feels everything. He feels so much, so willingly, so wholeheartedly. He’s a feeler.

And so, when one of their missions go haywire (as always), Itadori risks his life for his classmates (as always), and is left on the verge of death (as always). The only difference being he doesn’t improve. At least not at that inhumane pace that he always does.

He’s not dead, but he’s not in the world of the living either. He’s drifting somewhere in between, and Fushiguro feels like he’s drowning. He can’t get enough air; he can’t see beyond the murky waters that are darker than ink.

Fushiguro is in the in-house hospital on campus and he rarely, if ever, leaves Itadori’s side. The incident took place on a Tuesday and it is now Saturday. Itadori’s vitals are stable, his heart is in his chest, beating, and his blood is circulating and oxygenating him.

He does not wake up, he does not speak, and he does not smile.

Something in Fushiguro’s chest cracks.

People come by to visit all the time. Nobara brings snacks and chats with Itadori like he’s ok, like he’ll respond. Only Fushiguro hears the tremor in her voice. Maki holds back from smacking someone in a coma, vowing to get him good when he’s awake for doing something so monumentally dumb. Gojo flits in and out as often as he can, and he always squeezes Fushiguro’s shoulder with a tightness that eases his chest just a little before leaving again.

After dinner on Saturday, Fushiguro decides to do something.

He lets himself into Itadori’s room- messy but not sloppy, and simple. He finds his laptop on his desk and charges it for a bit before taking it back with him. He doesn’t set up a blanket fort, simple loads up a Christopher Nolan movie that they’d decided on last week and lets it play.

He holds Itadori’s hand the entire time. It doesn’t squeeze back.

The crack in his chest widens.

---

He’s not there when Itadori wakes up.

Gojo had pushed him out of the room to go take a shower and grab a proper meal and maybe even take a nap, and Fushiguro had relented to two of the three- showering and eating. With a belly full of terrible convenience store food that could never hope to hold a candle to Itadori’s meals, Fushiguro slowly makes his way back to the infirmary when he hears voices. One voice, in particular, stops him in his tracks.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘My mouth tastes like ass.’

It’s one of the first things Itadori has said in a week and a half, and something between a laugh and a sob gets stuck in Fushiguro’s chest. He moves to yank the door open and throw himself at Itadori when he hears-

‘Where’s Fushi?’

‘Oh, he went to take a shower, clean up a little, all that.’

‘Ah. I see.’

Fuck, he sounds disappointed.

‘Don’t look so upset.’ Gojo teases. ‘He hasn’t left your side since you got hurt, you know?’

‘Really?’

Gojo hums. ‘He’s here all day. He tried working for a day or two, but his head wasn’t in it, so we forced him to sit out for a bit. He’s just been keeping you company here, reading, fretting, pining.’

Fushiguro wants to punch Gojo.

Itadori barks out a laugh. It sounds loud and forced and not very happy.

‘Don’t tease me about that sensei. That’s cruel, even for you.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You know what I’m talking about.’

‘I want to be sure. I’m not a mind-reader you know. So tell me,’ Gojo urges, ‘what are you talking about?’

Itadori sighs. It sounds exhausted more than pained. ‘I’ve liked him since the day we fought the curse and saved my senpais. It’s cruel for you to tease me about a one-sided crush.’

Fushiguro is suddenly numb, hot and cold everywhere, and his head is spinning, an echo of ‘I’ve liked him I’ve liked him’ just bouncing around his brain endlessly. He has to force himself to concentrate or risk missing out more of the conversation.

‘I mean, why do you think it’s one-sided?’

‘Are you kidding me? He’s so out of my league, I can’t even think about it. He’s so. Just. Everything good in this world. And he likes dogs sensei, what more could I want in a person?’

Fushiguro’s vision is just swimming and he wants to smother Itadori in a hug and protect him forever. His feet are taking longer to respond to his brain though.

‘I don’t think that’s true,’ Gojo sings, laughing. ‘My advice would be to not give up. You’d be good for each other, you know? Also, he’s really not all that perfect. Trust me, I’ve known him since he was a child. This one time, during the spring festival, he-‘

‘Itadori, you’re awake?’

Evidently, his self-preservation instincts had bypassed his brain and forced his legs to move at near inhumane speed. God bless instincts.

Itadori is sitting up, and he looks a bit frail but the color in his cheeks is steadily returning. His eyes widen in surprise before his mouth twists up in a grin so wide Fushiguro is worried he’ll break his face. His eyes are molten, watery, and brighter than the sun.

‘Hi Fushi.’

For once, Fushiguro doesn’t give a two shit flying fuck that Gojo is in the room and will hence tease him for the rest of his life, he just walks over to the bed and gathers Itadori into a hug and holds him there, pressing his warmth into Itadori. There’s the beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, and the smile on his lips pressed into Fushiguro’s shoulder.

The world rights itself on its axis, just a little more.

‘Idiot.’

Itadori’s muffled laugh makes him grin, and he pulls away. He rearranges his face in a scowl.

‘I told you before if you die on me-‘

‘-you’ll kill me yourself. I know, I know. I’m here Fushi, you don’t have to become a murderer. It’s a good day.’

Fushiguro lets his face morph back into a grin before looking over at Gojo. His teacher’s smirk tells him everything- how he knew where Fushiguro was, how he’s seen right through Fushiguro, how he’s going to tease him till the day either of them die. And Fushiguro wants to be annoyed and pissed off but he can’t bring himself to care, not right now.

Itadori’s heart is beating in his chest, and he smiles at Fushiguro, and his cheeks are tinting pink.

Fushiguro’s heart is full.

---

‘Sorry I missed movie night.’

Itadori’s apology is so stupid Fushiguro nearly gwaffs, but that’s undignified as fuck so he settles for a cough and a withering stare.

‘I mean, it’s not like you were in a coma or anything.’

‘You know what I mean! But anyway, I’m here now, so let’s pick up where we left off.’

‘No, we’ll have to move on to the next movie. We watched that one last week.’

‘Huh?’

Fushiguro looks at him, prays he isn’t seven shades of red. ‘Well, I thought maybe if we had a movie night at the infirmary, you’d feel better. Where you were. Especially if you were dealing with lord fuckwad. You know?’

Itadori stares at him in awe and chuckles softly. ‘You’re something else, you know? Just when I think I’ve got you all figured out.’

Gojo’s word reverberate around his skull and Fushiguro just clears his throat. ‘Yeah, well, I’m all about surprising people. Woohoo.’

Itadori bursts out laughing, and they go back to setting up the fort, the pizza, the snacks, the lights, the laptop. It’s easy and familiar and nice. They settle into the mattress, but Fushiguro doesn’t let Itadori take his feet this time, opting to press into his side instead. Itadori barely puts up a fight.

They’re roughly 8 minutes into Interstellar when Itadori asks, ‘How did you set up the movie in the infirmary?’

Fushiguro hums, ‘I grabbed your laptop and put it on a chair to your left. I sat on the right. I sat by your bed and I…’

‘And you?’

Fushiguro should be nervous but he’s not. He’s surprised by how not nervous he is.

‘And I did this.’ He laces their hands together, eyes trained on Itadori's.

It’s like looking at a bowl of liquid amber. His eyes are light brown, bordering on gold, and they’re mesmerizing when you’re this close. He doesn’t look away from Fushiguro, his breath doesn’t stutter, he doesn’t jerk away. He squeezes Fushiguro’s hand with his right one and slowly brings up the left. He rests it on Fushiguro’s jaw, soft skin meeting calloused fingers and there’s a heat building under Fushiguro’s skin that makes him feel that same hot and cold sensation everywhere.

‘I’m going to kiss you.’

Itadori’s voice is deeper than Fushiguro’s ever heard it, low and spicy and sure. His hands are gentle and confident.

Fushiguro doesn’t nod or say Yes or blush.

He just brings his right arm up, wraps it around Itadori’s left wrist and leans in, bringing them together in what is possibly the softest touch of lips ever, in the history of the universe.

It’s not hesitant, it’s just new. And all-encompassing. And maddeningly good. And soft.  

Itadori’s breath hitches and he leans his head, slotting their lips together better and Fushiguro is humming because fucking hell is this good. There’s no tongue, just pressure and nips and small licks and bites. By the end of it, Fushiguro is smiling into Itadori’s smile, and he’s kissing it and nuzzling it and he’s drowning in the best way possible.

Itadori finally pulls away, after several small kisses, and does that beaming smile that makes Fushiguro’s stomach do really terrible things.

‘I can’t believe all this happened because of Saw.’

Fushiguro’s smile shrivels away in a heartbeat and Itadori is laughing and snorting, the bastard.

‘Itadori Yuji.’

More laughter.

‘I swear on all that is good and pure, if you tell people we got together because of Saw, I will dump your ass so hard you won't be able to sit down for weeks.’

Itadori laughs some more and presses his giggles against Fushiguro’s lips and dammit he’s so weak and gay.

Itadori’s hand slips down his jaw and cups the back of his neck and he pulls him close, pressing their foreheads together.

‘We both know that’s not true.’

Damn it. He really does know Fushiguro like the back of his hand.

And so he does the only thing he can think of- he kisses him again. And again. And then some more, just because he can.

The movie remains forgotten, and frankly, they couldn’t care less.

[homoose]

🍾🍾🍾 THANK YOU to all of the talented writers who participated in the challenge! 🍾 🍾🍾

all seventeen (!!) stories are 3k words or less!

please heed content warnings before reading!

I’ve linked to my commentary/love fests 🤍

fics below the cut 😌 happy reading!!!

🤍 First of Many by @golden-barnes (Spencer Reid x gn!readrer; fluff — (this is your first anniversary with Spencer… and it’s nerve wracking)

🤍 Daisies Mean “I’m an Idiot” by @shemarmooresfedora (Spencer Reid x fem!reader; hurt/comfort — Spencer unintentionally declines when reader asks him out, because he couldn’t possibly be the man she was describing to Penelope in her office)

🤍 Win Me Back by @mercy-burning (Spencer Reid x fem!reader; fluff — when reader’s ex-boyfriend comes back to town, he finds a way to make amends— with a little help from her niece)

🤍 Extra by @mrs-dr-reid (Luke Alvez x fem!reader; fluff; TW anxiety — Luke goes all out for reader comes over to his apartment for the first time, and she’s a rad overwhelmed by it)

🤍 Kiss and Tell by @meganskane (Spencer Reid x fem!reader; fluff; TW: alcohol — after the reader drunkenly confesses she’s never been kissed, Spencer offers to be the lucky contender)

🤍 Dr. Jones vs. Dr. Reid by @aperrywilliams (Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader; fluff — Spencer is not pleased with the new guy helping on a case… because he’s flirting with reader)

🤍 No Rain, No Bouquet by @lovereid (Spencer Reid x fem!reader; angst — Spencer wants to make up to reader for breaking her heart, but he ends up with his own heart broken; part 2 here)

🤍 Confessions of Love by @reidingmelodies (Spencer Reid x gn!reader; hurt/comfort — when reader gets injured on a case, Spencer decides he has to finally tell them how he feels)

🤍 I’m Positive I Can’t Stay Six Feet Away From You by @andiebeaword (Spencer Reid x gn!reader; hurt/comfort; TW: COVID, illness — Spencer recently tested positive for COVID-19. He insist reader stay away from him while he quarantines, but they show up anyway)

🤍 It Should Have Been Me by @aperrywilliams (Spencer Reid x gn!reader; angst — reader realizes that if there was ever a hope of getting back together with Spencer, not it’s impossible)

🤍 Are You Miserable? by @spencie-adams (Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid; 18+ only; hurt/comfort; TW: sexual assault, CSA, intrusive thoughts — Spencer is out of jail, Scratch has been caught, and Aaron and Jack are back. Spencer’s boys are back, so when Penelope offer to take Jack for the night they can’t resist— but the night doesn’t go as planned)

🤍 There’s A Lot by @candlesandsoftrain (Spencer Reid x gn!reader; fluff — a rewrite of the star puzzle scene from 5x13, featuring some pining from reader and some heartfelt apologies)

🤍 The Miserable Ones by @reidingdays (Spencer x gn!reader; fluff — Spencer thinks reader’s out to get his book, and shenanigans ensue— as fluffy as a disaster morning can be)

🤍 Las Vegas Boy by @samuel-de-champagne-problems (Spencer Reid x fem!reader; fluff; TW: alcohol — reader surprises Spencer at their joint Bachelor/Bachelorette Party with a song she’s been working on)

🤍 All I Want by @ellesgreenaway (Spencer Reid x fem!reader; hurt/comfort — Spencer’s dream of becoming a dad is finally coming true)

🤍 Expectations vs. Reality by @idmakeitbehave (Spencer Reid x gn!reader; fluff — Spencer’s finally going to tell you how he feels. He really, really is. He just… needs it to be perfect. Alternatively: five times Spencer almost tells you how he feels, and the one time he finally does)

🤍 You Belong With Me by @alltooreid (Spencer Reid x fem!reader; hurt/comfort — reader struggles with her feelings while Spencer dates Lila Archer long distance)

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 319 Spoiler Analysis: Found Family

Holy crap what a phenomenal chapter!  This arc in general has been great, but this chapter might be one of my favorites of the arc.  Not just because it focuses on Class 1-A (I’m so glad to see the kids again), but because of the growth we see in these kids in general especially Bakugo and Shoto IMO.  Like, holy shit ESPECIALLY BAKUGO!  I stand by my opinion that Bakugo is one of the best developed characters in the series.  There’s so much I want to say about this chapter and I’ll try my best to do so if my poor injured left hand will let me 😭:

The chapter starts off with the first of 3 colored pages we’re going to get over the next few weeks to celebrate 7 YEARS OF MY HERO ACADEMIA!!!  CONGRATS, HORIKOSHI-SENSEI!!!  This series revived my love of anime/manga and really helped me in some really rough spots in my life.  I will forever be grateful towards Horikoshi for bringing this series to life and blessing us with such an incredible story full of beautiful characters.  MHA may be a little overrated, but I still think it deserves all the love it can get.  

Anyway, the color page.  It shows Uraraka, Iida (who has red eyes here, so IDK why the anime gives him blue eyes though I do think they work better for him personally *shrugs*), Shoto, Tokoyami, and Bakugo after basically figuring out where Deku went.  Bakugo is shown tearing up his letter (which says something like “Thank you for being there, Kacchan”; there’s more but I can’t translate it 😭) and you can kinda see some bandage wrap around his arm where he was stabbed.  Also, both Bakugo and Shoto still have some visible injuries on their faces and Bakugo’s hands, so they’re still recovering from the War.  It’s a really pretty page in general and I can’t wait to see what the next 2 color pages are going to look like.  I also kinda want Horikoshi to take a break after this too again so he doesn’t overwork himself.  Maybe he’ll treat himself to the MHA: World Heroes Mission movie 🍿.  

So, Shoto and Bakugo have figured out that Deku is most likely with Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist.  Problem is that none of them are answering their phones.  I like that Bakugo calls Best Jeanist “Pair of Denim Pants” 😂 and Shoto’s image of Endeavor is still a very angry version of his old man.  Shoto’s still making amends with his father, but he’s still not THERE yet.  Regardless, these kids are smart enough to know that something’s up.  Especially since All Might hasn’t returned to UA either.

It’s basically confirmed by Ojiro that because classes have been suspended, our Class 1-A kids are still 1-A; they haven’t moved into their second year yet.  That clears up the confusion on whether we should still refer these group of kids as 1-A still or not.  

Now Bakugo’s showing how much of a genius he really is despite his personality.  Bakugo figures out that the Top 3 and All Might are working together as a group based on how they all connected with each other back at Central Hospital.  Also, Bakugo concludes that All Might snuck Deku’s letters under their doors while Deku started running.  Ultimately, Bakugo does know more about Deku and All Might more than anyone else does.  He’s been around his childhood friend and he’s admired his idol longer than most people have.  Bakugo understands how bad the situation is and he’s ready to take action.  

As are the other kids.  You can see how determined they are and you can see Kirishima’s black roots coming in 🥺!  Even Uraraka gets some shine here by bringing up the idea to trick Endeavor to come via getting help from Principle Nezu as Endeavor was a UA student.  It’s really interesting to see Ochako in a more serious roll than usual, but I actually like it.  I hope she’s still as bubbly as she always was at the end of the day, but she’s definitely matured and grown a lot over the corse of the series.  Even the simple things like her hair show it as it’s not as floaty as it was before.  I love it when Horikoshi shows small details like this.  It adds to the characters and stories a lot.  Also, the art in this chapter is amazing.

And now it’s Endeavor vs. Class 1-A in a much needed conversation.  All the kids are wearing their school uniforms to make this as formal and serious as they can.  EVEN BAKUGO IS PROPERLY WEARING HIS TIE YOU KNOW SHIT’S ABOUT TO GO DOWN!!!  And, I must say, Bakugo looks damn good with a tie 😳.  You can also get a decent height measurement on the kids here if you want.  Ngl, sometimes I forget that Shoto’s about 2 inches taller than Bakugo.  It’s definitely the hair.  

Shoto’s the first to step up and he scolds the hell out of his old man.  Rightfully so tbh.  Endeavor shouldn’t have ignored Shoto’s calls even though I kind of understood why.  Shoto reminds Endeavor of their plan to stop Dabi though thankfully that’s what’s pushing Endeavor forward so he hasn’t forgotten.  Shoto calls his father “Endeavor” and gets mad at him fro leaving Deku and All Might alone.  The rough translations say he called Izuku “Deku” here too btw.  Endeavor has no response.  I think this anger Shoto’s unleashing is very justified and has been burning inside him since Deku left UA.  His best friend just up and left him and his friends with nothing but a letter to kinda explain things.  Also, Shoto and the rest of 1-A (minus Bakugo) have basically been lied to for about a year.  I’d want answers too if someone did that to me.  

Bakugo steps in by putting a hand on Shoto’s shoulder (🥺) to calm him down a bit and to say his piece.  Ultimately, he thinks what Deku is doing is right, but that the way they’re all doing it is wrong.  I love Deku and All Might, but they’re sacrificial idiots.  They care more about others than they probably ever will themselves.  That’s how All Might lost his OFA in the first place.  It’s because of that that All Might doesn’t have it in him to stop Deku from going down this path.  They shouldn’t have been left alone.  Someone should’ve kept a closer eye on them.  I know the Top 3 were all worried about getting too close to Deku before, but really, someone should’ve been watching them closer on the sidelines.

The next page is a really cool drawing of Endeavor flinging his phone to the kids to catch.  The previous panels showed Endeavor with this face that’s regretful and I think he realized something: That Bakugo is right and that the kids might be better off finding Deku than he is.  So he basically gives the kids his GPS on his phone.  Those are just my thoughts, but it does look like that.  I don't think Endeavor’s just going to up and give up though.  He’s probably going to start rethinking things though.

As Sero manages to catch Endeavor’s phone, he and the rest of the kids think about how even though they’ve only known Deku for a year, they still think of him as family and cannot let him go down this thorny path alone.  They’ll carry the OFA burden with him if they have to.  They can’t smile without Deku around.  These kids truly have become a family over the year.  It’s amazing to see.  Everyone’s like a brother and sister and it’s really nice to see.  I just love Found Family stories, guys 😭❤️

And really quick, I want to focus on my ❄️🔥 boy, Shoto, really quick.  As he’s thinking about Deku, he mentions how shocked he still is about Deku keeping OFA from them and how Deku thought just a letter would suffice.  He has this sad look on his face like he’s trying to say: “I still can’t believe my best friend hid this from me for so long.  Why?  Did he not trust me?”  That’s just my interpretation.  Still, I can’t imagine how upset Shoto must feel.  I think he still cares a lot about Deku enough to go out and find him, but he’s gotta feel some sort of betrayal.  More so than the other students outside of Bakugo because, again, Deku was essentially Shoto’s best and closest friend 💙😭

Endeavor is rightfully worried about letting the kids out in the state of Japan right now, but now Principle Nezu speaks up and praises the kids on growing up so well.  He’s also took into account Deku's feelings about his mission which is why he agreed to the team up.  Also, Deku’s still welcome back to UA whenever he wants thank god ☺️.  He’s a student who has to be protected.  There’s a cute panel of Uraraka and her mom crying happily after getting her acceptance letter too.  Not 100% why this is shown other than Acceptance Letter part, but it’s cute to see.  Maybe Ochako realizes how much Deku needs to be protected or something.

As for the refugees, Nezu had the security system strengthened in time for the Cultural Festival earlier, but they never used it before.  It’s call The UA Barrier.  God, how strong is this thing?  Is it strong enough to stop Shigaraki who was able to Decay the last barrier?  This seems like something that’ll be used in the final battle TBH.  

So, Nezu trust the 1-A kids to bring Deku back home.  Which is exactly what they plan to do as all 19 of them enter Kamino in a badass full page.  I actually wasn’t sure if all 19 of them were there at first since I couldn’t find Shoto for the life of me, but then my eyes saw the BIG-ASS ICE WALL IN THE BACK AND I THOUGHT “OH THERE HE IS!!!” LOL 😂 

The next panel actually does show Shoto with Momo as they capture the villain from the last chapter.  Momo politely calls Bakugo “Bakugo-san”, but Bakugo demands that he be called his insane hero name: “GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GOD DYNAMIGHT”!  I CAN’T WITH THIS DUDE SOMETIMES WHY DO I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 💥🧡

Deku sees his friend and wonders why they came.  Ochako answers because that they were worried about him, but Deku tries to convince everyone (including himself) that he’s fine.  He’s obviously not and Bakugo calls TF out on him!  He even drops a good F-bomb for good measure.  Bakugo mocks Deku for trying to act like All Might and asks Deku if he can even smile right now.  I actually really like it that Bakugo’s calling Deku out on his shit.  I think Deku needs some good tough love right now to knock some sense into him.  Who would be better to do that than Katsuki Bakugo himself?

As Deku is trying to convince everyone that’s he’s fine (while still looking like a demon btw), there’s a small focus on Iida.  Actually, a few panels this chapter have focused on Iida.  Maybe he’s remembering the time Deku saved him back when they went up against Stain.  Deku saved him then so it’s now Iida’s turn to save Deku.  Also, Iida hasn’t gotten much focus lately and I really like his character, so I’m glad he’s being brought back to the forefront again.  Also, I like hearing Kaito-san’s voice in general so I’d be happy to hear him again (thanks for that one, Haikyuu).

The final spread shows Deku telling everyone to move away while Bakugo, Iida, and Ochako get ready to stop him.  IT’S DEKU VS. CLASS 1-A!!!  WE’RE ENTERING CIVIL WAR FOLKS!!!  Seriously, though, this is great.  I was thinking that it would be just Bakugo and a few other students finding Deku.  Instead we got the whole class.  And looks like that “helping hand” thing will happen later because we got a battle to fight first.  

Bakugo’s become a damn fine leader and I love to see his growth every freaking time🧡! I like how Iida has his hand on Bakugo’s back to support him btw.  It’s weird that Shoto’s not in this page though.  He’s one of Deku’s best friends, so I would think he would be in this page along with Bakugo and his first 2 friends (Ochako and Iida).  Maybe Horikoshi’s saving Shoto for a more 1-on-1 conversation with Deku.  God, I hope that happens because I think along with Bakugo, Shoto deserves a good talk with Deku the most.  

Honestly, I’m not sure who would win this battle.  I’ve been going through scenarios in my head on who would win, but I can’t come to a solid answer.  Class 1-A has 19 versatile Quirks under their belt and they have more energy than Deku to fight, but Deku still has 6 insanely powerful Quirks that he’s been practicing for a while.  The kids could probably win if they strategize enough and use Deku’s exhaustion against him, but again, Deku has OFA and multiple other Quirks.  If he could beat Lady Nagant, one of the best snipers around, he might be able to beat the 1-A kids.  He could just escape with Smoakscreen, Black Whip, and Float if he wants to really.  That would put 1-A on another wild goose chase.  There’s also Deku’s Danger Sense which will be a pain to deal with.  Also, Deku said that he’s as strong as All Might was in his prime with Fa-Jin and OFA combined.  Only AFO and Shigaraki were strong enough to take on THAT.  Plus, we still don’t know what the 2nd OFA Holder’s Quirk is yet.  Deku might use it in this battle.  God, I have so many theories in my head now.  I think this battle will be awesome, but ultimately, I want Deku to come home 😭💚

Me reading and loving My Hero Academia: 

[heyhihellowhatsup0]

Tangled Webs - Chapter Seven (Dark! Peter Parker x Reader)

Dark Webs Masterlist | Tangled Webs Masterlist

Warnings:   Angst, language, Topics of death and depression, PTSD, more angst, violence, a bit more fluff and smut than the last series (but not in this chapter)? Somewhat ignoring the MCU timeline due to mature content

Word Count: 4825

Summary: After doing your best to walk on eggshells around Peter, you finally reach the boiling point as you and him face (most) of your drama head on…

A/N: It’s been a hot minute but I’m back with an update. Hope ya’ll didn’t forget about this series like I did lmao. I hope you like this chapter and give me some sweet words because I missed it so much! DM me to be tagged and I hope you guys like it!! Please like and share if you can! (Also I found this .gif on google, so if you made it, or know who did, let me know and I will credit!) Thank you xx -N

You barely slept the last few days as you trapped yourself in your apartment in Stark Tower since the incident. You were sick, with no possible form of treatment and to boot, you almost were found out by Peter about what you were doing. Two things you weren’t sure how to deal with just yet. But you knew one thing for sure, you couldn’t take much more of these secrets.

    Not being able to see Peter or talk to him was killing you. And with you and him broken up, it only made it harder. You were always independent, especially when Peter and you stopped being friends. You made your own money, solved your own problems, you even saved Peter a handful of times. So it wasn’t so much that you were one of those girls who needed Peter to constantly save you; but you were a team. And everything you did together made the both of you even stronger. That was one of the reasons why Peter and you worked so well.

    But with Peter gone, and you struggling with your own issues; you could feel yourself getting weaker and weaker. The lethal combination with Octavious and your disorder mixed along with probably the worst of it all; you were missing Peter and heartbroken over him being gone. And the worst part was that you didn’t even blame him for pulling away. You definitely deserved it after hiding everything from him. You just wished that even if you did tell him the truth, that it would be enough.

    But how could it be enough?

    Pushing yourself out of bed, you used whatever strength you could muster up so early in the morning. You needed to conserve that and your energy for when Octavious called on you these days, which would only make you even weaker in the process. You would laugh at the irony, but you were too tired to.

    You didn’t want to think about your death but given recent events; it popped up in your mind pretty frequently these days. You didn’t want to think so morbidly and always tried to remain positive but how could you not when your body was literally at war and the venom that saved your life was also potentially killing you? Death was inevitable for you now, and you were looking at it right in its eye.

    Of course, Peter was always one of your first concerns. You saw how when you started spiraling out of control affected him; how upset he would be, or how Peter would blame himself for his actions. It killed you to think what he would say or do when you weren’t there to keep him grounded and remind him that there was nothing he could have done. That it wasn’t his fault and he shouldn’t blame or punish himself; and that finding somebody responsible was a waste of time.

    You wanted to tell Peter to prepare him, to get the grieving out of the way if he could and enjoy whatever time you had left with Peter. But now, you weren’t even sure if you and Peter were going to make amends, and that scared you more. Would he even care about your health now? As much as you wanted him to, you knew Peter should focus on himself anyway. So you couldn’t help but think that maybe if he didn’t know, it would be best for everyone.

    Snapping yourself out of your dark thoughts for a moment, you heard your coffeemaker go off. Grabbing your mug and bringing it to your lips, you stopped as you felt something run through your body as you stared at the front door. Somebody was coming to the door. Morgan had school and no way was Agent Kent knocking on your door after you made him look like an idiot in front of half of S.H.I.E.L.D.

    You hurried to the door, hearing the door handle begin to jiggle and opened it. Your eyes widened as you looked at Peter standing in the doorway wearing a navy blue hoodie and jeans. His soft brown curls tousled and all over the place as his tired and now bloodshot eyes were staring back you bewilderedly.

    “Hi,” you spoke out in a tired voice. Clearing your throat as you opened the door. The first time you actually saw Peter. The last time you saw him was at the ATM, unbeknownst to Peter that you were the one who knocked him into the window, leaving him to explain that to S.H.I.E.LD and Kent how he still hadn’t caught you. Again.

    “I...uh...how did you know I was here? I didn’t knock?” Peter questioned as he looked at you. He knew exactly how long it had been since he saw you last. Nine days and eleven hours, Peter was counting his days a lot lately. It had been nine days and eleven hours, but it felt like it had been years dragged out of him. And now, he didn’t know what to say.

    You looked different to him for some reason, and he couldn’t figure out why. He used to love seeing you in the morning with a fresh face as you made coffee wearing one of his old school hoodies. But this morning, you looked like a different person to him. Tired, pale, almost like you were getting sick.

    Letting Peter in, you cleared your throat again, “I heard footsteps,” you answered to try and tip toe around the subject. You looked at the coffee on the counter as you ran your fingers nervously through your hair, “Coffee?” you offered him, not sure what to say to him. You never thought you’d see the day where you and Peter had nothing to say to one another.

    Peter shook his head, “No, thank you. I just came to pick up some things,” he admitted, pressing his lips into a line as he showed you the duffel bag in his hand. Was he really about to pack his belongings and move out? Granted, it was just a few floors up; but how long was he planning on staying up there? Another week? A month? Forever? He didn’t like any of those options at all. But he knew he had to do it for now to protect you and most importantly; to protect you from finding out that Peter started drinking again. He knew if you found out, it would only trigger you more. And it was just the two times, he was hoping he could get himself to a meeting before anybody else found out.

    He headed into the bedroom towards the closet, placing his bag on the chair nearby and unzipping it. He wasn’t really even looking at what he was taking, just grabbing whatever he could and began stuffing it into his bag. It felt like he was almost saying goodbye, and it wasn’t what he wanted to do at all.

    Peter had been dreading coming here for days but he needed fresh clothes and truth be told, he wanted to check in on you. He had missed you these last few days and you always calmed him down no matter what you were going through. But he was worried about you too. And as much as he wanted to be there for you while you dealt with your demons, he also knew his demons were at bay and he couldn’t be around so much chaos right now. For his own sake.

    “So...” you started to say a bit awkwardly, leaning up against the door frame as you stared downward towards the ends of your hair, “I think I may have a name for the guy you put away from the ATM. I was going to try and research a bit today,” you offered him what little intel you had. Especially since you couldn’t say much without mentioning Dr. Octavious, that would only connect Quentin Beck to you and you knew Peter would get killed if he knew too much.

    Licking his lips as he jammed some sweatshirts into his bag, Peter nodded slowly, “Just be careful, okay?” he finally said as he kept his eyes on his bags, almost as if he was afraid to look at you otherwise he didn’t know what he would do. If he did, he’d probably stay longer, “Can’t trust many people right now,” he said a bit lower.

    Yeah, like me, you thought to yourself, swallowing thickly. All you could do was nod your head as you tucked your hair behind your hair nervously. You couldn’t do this anymore. The hiding and lying. You were building so much inside of you and it was only making you feel worse, mentally and physically. You couldn’t afford to lose Peter, not now.

    Moving a bit closer to him, you placed your hand on his shoulder to get his attention, “P-Peter, I-I have to tell you something,” you stammered, feeling your voice grow weaker as you felt the lump grow swollen in your throat. You were terrified of this moment, and you were more afraid because Octavious was listening in, as always. And if he was, then you didn’t have much time at all to tell him.

    Peter’s brow furrowed as he turned his head to face you. He saw the distraught expression on your face and knew something was wrong. He knew you were hiding something from him and it was literally tearing the both of you apart, “Okay, what’s going on?” he asked you as calmly and rationally as he could.

    You sucked in a sharp breath as tears began to prick your eyes. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you felt like your legs were about to collapse at any moment. Your bottom lip quivered the more you stared into Peter’s big eyes, trying to find your voice in the silence that was deafening between you both.

    “I really fucked up. I…” you trailed off as you began to cry, the tears streaming down your cheeks more now, “I was so stupid and now it’s worse. So much worse, Peter,” you told him through your sobs.

    “What? What’s worse, Y/N?” Peter asked as he raised his eyebrow. He was afraid of what you were hiding, but he hated the fact that you were hiding it more than anything. Whatever it was, it was big enough for you to decide that it would freak Peter out; and that bothered him the most. That you thought he couldn’t handle whatever it was you were going through.

    You sniffled as you stared down at the floor, unable to even look at Peter right now as you tried to relax your breath, “Last summer...when I…” you could barely get a word out between your sobs, “At the game,” you finally got out.

    “The game?” Peter questioned, his eyebrow quirking up as you looked at you suspiciously, “The Yankee game? With the elemental?” he asked for clarification.

    Shaking your head frantically, you grabbed Peter’s arms to pull him closer, “That’s just it, Peter. It wasn’t an elemental! Don’t you find it strange you didn’t find anything that night? You came home empty handed,” you explained, your voice becoming more and more hysterical.

    “Y/N, what are you saying?” Peter asked again, trying to figure out what it was you were trying to tell him. You had so many secrets these days, Peter knew that. And he couldn’t tell if this was a secret, or was it a bender? “Do you know what was responsible for it?” he tried again, trying his best to keep his tone level. He hated seeing you so upset and he didn’t want to make you any more upset than you clearly already were.

    You nodded your head, “Okay, I know I sound absolutely crazy right now but I-”

    You felt a pull on your throat, making you gasp. It felt as if your breath was taken away, like somebody just punched you right in your windpipe, preventing you from speaking. Wheezing out your breath, you saw Peter’s face waiting for you to answer. But you couldn’t utter a word.

    Octavious, you thought to yourself.

    He was listening in now, and controlling you. Preventing you from telling Peter the truth about what was wrong with you. Octavious wanted Peter dead and risking this conversation was enough, but you really needed to tell Peter what was going on. In hopes that maybe it wasn’t too late, for you or him; and some of these horrific events could be prevented.

    And once again, you were frozen now. Blocked from telling Peter the truth and unable to help him find Octavious and get to him before he got to Peter. Or before you got to Peter. You were capable of so much these days, it frightened you to no end. And without Peter helping you control it, you were damned.

    “What do you know?” Peter asked again, getting a little bit closer. He tried taking a whiff of your breath, but he couldn’t smell anything. His senses weren’t triggered, but he knew what a bender looked like. He’d hit bottom before. Granted his bottom looked a lot worse, he could still sense it from a mile away.

    You tried to open your mouth but nothing came out. Tell him about the venom, you shouted at yourself. Tell him about Octavious, and the robberies. Tell him it was killing you and destroying you from the inside out. Tell Peter you needed his help.

    With tears streaming down your cheeks, you shook your head at him as you tried to speak; but nothing came out once more. You hated this. You were so close to being free just to be silenced once again. You didn’t know how much more of this you could take. It was becoming more and more obvious how much you needed Peter’s help, and he couldn’t give you anything if you were being controlled by Ock.

    “I will have you rip out his throat if you so much as whimper in his direction right now, Y/N,” Octavious’ voice threatened you inside of your head, and you felt your stomach beginning to churn once more. You always tried to fight back, but in this moment, you were truly terrified of something happening to Peter. So you didn’t.

    Looking down at the floor, you focused on Peter’s sneakers as you shook your head at him. Biting your lip to restrain yourself from saying anything further so Peter wouldn’t get hurt. You could tell he was disappointed in you, and you couldn’t blame him for it.

    Peter sighed, running a hand over his face as he licked his lips, “Y/N, I know you’re going through a bad time right now. I’ve been there, and it kills me seeing you going down this path that I never wanted you to go down,” he had to stop himself for a minute, saying it out loud to you hurt him even more. He hated that this was the reality of your relationship, “I am so worried about you, I am. And you know I want to be there for you, and I’m trying to be. But you have to tell me what you need first,” his voice became rugged and raspy the longer he spoke, knowing he couldn’t say much else at that point.

    He leaned forward, bringing his lips to the top of your head before he reached down and grabbed his bag on the floor. Taking a few steps towards the door before he looked at you one last time standing in the doorway, still staring down at the floor holding back your tears. And Peter was trying to do the same.

    “I’ll be training all day and then I’m crashing with Kent if you need me for anything,” he finally told you, seeing you nod your head slightly before he turned and walked out of the front door.

    The door shut behind Peter, and you collapsed to the floor. Sobbing to yourself as you grabbed a hold of the necklace Peter had given you, clutching onto the spiderweb pendant for dear life. You always told Peter everything. And now you didn’t even know who this person was anymore.

    “We’re striking big tonight, Y/N,” Octavious’ voice ran through your mind as you tightened your grip on your necklace, “Rest up for it…”

--------

    No matter what Peter did, he couldn’t shake the look you had on your face as he geared himself for his night. The look of pure terror on your face replayed over and over again in his mind as he got his suit on. His speech still fresh on his tongue while he pulled his mask over his head; wishing maybe he hadn’t been so harsh. The sound of your cries he overhead from the other side of the door when he left repeated while Peter initiated KAREN. He wished he hadn’t heard it, it nearly made him crumble, but he did.

    Peter was in no condition to go out tonight. He had a lot on his mind with you, and the robberies, and how so many people were depending on him and he couldn’t deliver what they needed. And with the pressure coming from Agent Kent, Peter was really beginning to feel all the weight on his shoulders. And it was taking everything in him not to take another drink.

    “I’ve got a good feeling we’ll get her tonight,” Kent said enthusiastically as he entered the room. He took a seat behind a computer chair as he gave Peter an all knowing smile, “She seems to be favoring the downtown area, and so far the museums are the only places she hasn’t hit yet. The Air and Space Museum is the only one that would have tech she may be after.”

    “What makes you think she’s after tech? So far she’s only stolen money from bodegas or ATMs,” Peter gave Kent a puzzled face, did he know something that Peter didn’t? And if so, why wasn’t Kent giving him this information that was important?

    Kent shrugged his shoulders as he adjusted his glasses on his face while focusing on the computer screen, “They’re always after more than just money, Peter. You of all people should know that,” he reminded Peter as he continued to pull some maps up on the screen.

    “If you say so,” Peter said as he adjusted his web mode, making sure everything was working properly. You were usually the one who made sure his suit was updated, fixing Dark Web mode, and even making sure KAREN was properly synched up. There was always something calming about having you by his side before he went out as Spider-Man; even if it was just a basic patrol. You always calmed him down and made him feel like he was doing the right thing. Now, he was beginning to doubt all of that lately.

    Peter’s eyes flickered to the counter top, focusing in on the bottle of Jack Daniels that was left behind from the other night. When he was planning on dumping the remaining liquid down the drain this morning before he went to see you. But now, he wasn’t so sure. He needed something to numb the pain, at least for the moment.

    Without Kent noticing, Peter took a few swigs of the whiskey as he felt the warmth slide down his throat. It felt so wrong, and he knew it. And now, he felt absolutely disgusted with himself. Months of hard work and strength just flushed down the drain for a few sips to only make him feel more miserable for it. And now he had to find this robber half sober, half buzzed.

    Peter went over to the window, staring down at all of the city lights as the lump in his throat grew bigger. The city suddenly looked smaller to him, as his eyes grew bigger through the mask. Your face coming back to his mind as he tried to shake it off once more, but he was beginning to find it nearly impossible.

    “Don’t be afraid to use your advanced modes on her, Pete,” Kent said from the computer before he swung away, “That’s why you have them, to get rid of people like her,” he narrowed his eyes on Peter knowingly.

    So, Kent wanted Peter to kill this masked woman, essentially. Although Peter wasn’t exactly new to that idea, he had his history of killing and it got him here. He knew there were other ways to get justice, even if it took longer. But Kent was messing with his mind, and he was beginning to think he may not have any other option.

    Nodding his head, Peter aimed his web shooter for the nearby lamppost down below as he swung out of Stark Tower. The moment he left, he couldn’t help but feel a little relieved to get out of there. Even if it was to keep vigil.

    Peter swung his way in no time to the museum. Everything seemed quiet in the city streets, making him feel a bit more at ease. He scanned the entrance, noticing no security to be found; which was oddly peculiar for a museum. Lights were on throughout the exhibits, and as Peter glanced up towards the camera, he noticed they were destroyed.

    “Someone is here,” Peter said into his microphone, knowing Kent was listening in. He moved in towards the nearby exhibit for space missile technology, “Karen, activate Dark Web mode,” he whispered slowly as he felt the black webbing beginning to coat his suit before he went into the illuminated room to investigate. It was a little dramatic to go dark to see, but based on how strong this new rival was, Peter wasn’t about to take any chances with them.

    Peter tiptoed his way towards the doorway, knowing he was invisible, but he still needed to proceed with caution. He peered into the doorway, frozen in the moment as he watched meticulously. Unbeknownst to his new friend that he was watching her every move. Making sure this time he would be ready to take her down.

    The alcohol was swirling around Peter’s brain as he continued to concentrate. He hadn’t drank in so long, those few swigs that he had already affected him.

    “Don’t overthink this, Peter,” Kent’s voice came through, “Remember what I told you, don’t be afraid to fully attack with this one.”

    Peter had no idea why Agent Kent was so adamant about him being so cut throat. He knew the rules, and if Peter had to get more aggressive, he would. But right now, there was no reason to go the extreme. Especially since he knew how he felt towards getting his hand bloody. It led him down dark paths that he knew he didn’t want to go down again.

    Feeling a bit dizzy, Peter pulled himself together as he took a few more steps forward. Watching her try and disconnect what seemed to be a missile on display from the exhibit area. What the hell was she trying to do with a missile, Peter thought to himself.

    He got his web shooter ready, prepared to stun her for a moment with his taser web. Before he could aim in her direction, he felt a force punch him directly in his chest. His back hitting the wall with a thud as he whimpered. Opening his eyes as he saw her turning her head back to the missile, moving her hands even faster.

    How did she even know he was there? There was no way she would have been able to even hear him unless…

    ...Unless if she had a spider sense too.

    “Alright, that does it,” Peter huffed out as he picked himself up. He kept the Dark Web mode on as he whipped around so he was directly behind her, “I’ve just about had it with you and I’m done being nice about it,” he announced as he kicked the inside of her knee, buckling her to the ground.

    Grabbing her by the arm, he heard her yelp as he twisted it a bit, “Deactivate Dark Web mode and turn off all communication,” he told Karen as he picked her up and shoved her against the wall as his suit came into vision once again. He didn’t need Kent in his ear right now. Not when he was this close to bringing her in and being done with this bullshit.

    With her chest against the wall, he swiveled around. Looking into her eyes through her black mask as he raised her arm over her head. She had no weapons. And her eyes looked almost terrified. Her breathing was heavy as she kept her eyes on Peter warily.

    “Who do you work for?” he tried to ask, leaning forward. His body pushed flush against hers as he had her literally backed into a corner with nowhere to go. His hand began to slide around her neck, squeezing in a little bit to threaten her in order to start talking, “You better start talking otherwise I will not hesitate right now,” he threatened through his teeth.

    Peter squeezed a little more, hearing her groan as he waited for her to answer. He blinked as something bright glimmered along her neck, getting his attention. Adjusting his eyes, he glanced down at the necklace and squinted at her collar. The pendant staring back at him as his eyes rapidly fluttered back to her intense masked eyes; feeling his stomach drop.

    “No,” Peter said in a low voice as he grabbed the pendant, “Y/N?” he asked.

    And in that weak moment, you kicked Peter in the chest to break free. Sending him backwards and completely bewildered by what the fuck was happening…

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[itsany62]

SteveTony - Fix-Its

Here are some Fix-Its to mend your heart. Don't forget to leave kudos and nice comments in every fic!

Making Amends, by TheseStoriesAreWrittenOnMyHeart, 100 k > words, Post-CA Civil War.

Everything about them happened in seconds. Their first meeting was quick, with Tony landing next to the Captain, each man giving a curt nod and name in greeting. Their argument on the hellicarrier took mere seconds to escalate. Until Steve was goading Tony into putting on the suit and going a few rounds and Tony not so subtly reminding Steve that he wasn’t afraid to hit an old man.

It was only seconds of staring at Tony on that New York City Street, his arc reactor dark, no rise and fall of his chest, for Steve to know that inside the tin can, was a good man.

Then Ultron happened, and it took seconds for their world to change, seconds for Steve to throw his shield at Tony and for the billionaire to send a repulsor blast back. They went from laughing and relaxing to standing on an edge thousands of feet above solid ground.

And now…now everything’s changed. And all it took was a combination of seconds; of decisions made, actions performed and words spoken that they couldn’t get back.

Just a few ticks of the clock for their world to shatter.

It’ll take more than that to make things right.

almeno tu nell’universo, by silkspectred, 100 k > words, Post-CA Civil War.

Tony drives off.

Well, he wants to.

But he can’t.

Because.

Steve Rogers is in front of his car.

Steve fucking Rogers. Is in front of Tony’s fucking car.

you'll wait a long time, by nanasekei, 16 k > words.

Steve and Tony share a moment during a wedding. Things escalate from there.

Alternatively: Four weddings, a funeral, and one very emotionally stunted idiot.

Down in Lonesome Town by resurrectedhippo, 79 k > words, Endgame Fix-It.

“Why do I always find my way back to you?”

Maybe he didn’t necessarily return to Steve, but fate is a funny little thing, and after living a life of loss, Steve wants something that’s his to keep. Tony deserves a love that’s unrestrained. Steve thinks he’ll erupt with it.

Love is messy, not easy, and takes work.

Maybe love feels like rage.

But maybe love could just be jumping off a rocky mountain and smiling anyway.

After the universe is restored, Steve is lost without any direction. Retiring from the Avengers, he moves across the country and ends up building a house by a misty blue lake. Across the bridge is Tony Stark’s new workshop.

The Butterfly Effect by itsallAvengers, 20 k > words, Time Travel, Canon Divergence.

While fighting with Loki, Steve Rogers from 2012 hears the two simple words: "Bucky's alive."

And the whole universe ripples with the aftershocks.

Saving the World is a 12 Step Program by janonny, 34 k > words, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Canon Diverge.

Tony and Steve fall to pieces when Thanos’ wins.

Then they pick themselves up, and find a solution. They also find something infinitely more precious in the process.

-

“It’s going to sound pretty outrageous,” Tony admitted, rubbing a hand over his brow. While he had put on some weight and wasn’t as gaunt anymore, he was still easily tired nowadays.

“More outrageous than talking racoons and a purple villain traveling through space to collect magic stones?” Steve asked drily.

Here's How it Happens by tonystarkssnipples, 1 k < words, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie).

“I got my chance with him. Now it's your turn.” Pepper smiles, shaking and brittle, but honest. “Go love him.”

-or-

The fic where Steve uses time travel to go back and relive his life with Tony.

You smile, but you don't mean it by Cap_Sweet_And_Salty_Sadness, 10 k > words, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie).

"I want to drink to forget I’m supposed to be mad at you, that we’re supposed to hate each other. I want to drink because we’re so bad with words it was easier to fight with our fists rather than talk our problems through."

Tony doesn't know how to fix himself, but he will try if it means fixing Steve and him.

To Have My Time Again... by WilmaKins, 166 k > words, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie).

It's been two years since Siberia, and Tony Stark is still dealing with the fallout - personal and political. Life is quite complicated enough, without Bruce falling through a wizards roof yelling that Thanos is coming.

Thor and Loki are stalling, but time is running out. The fate of the universe is at stake. Steve Rogers is back in the picture. Really, the last thing Tony needs is for their plan to go horribly wrong and bring Howard Stark forward in time.

But his Dad *is* standing in his office, whether he likes it or not.

So, it looks like Tony will have to fix that mess too.

Series

The Facility by WilmaKins, 155 k > words, Fake/Pretend relationship, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie).

After coming so close to losing against Thanos, the Avengers have decided to set aside their differences and work as a team again. Well, they're trying... But there are a lot of hurts that haven't gone away, and a lot of things still unsaid, and a lot of tension...

And that was BEFORE Tony accidentally ended up on an undercover mission with Steve as his fake boyfriend - at what turns out to be an alien sex club.

Canon Divergent post IW AU - Tags to be updated as updates are written... but I think you probably get the gist.

check yes (if the feeling isn't new) by cvptains, 12 k > words, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie).

After the battle with Thanos, both Tony and Steve struggle with reconnecting in certain aspects of their lives. Sam Wilson and Peter Parker are totally over it.

Where both Steve and Tony's respective friends make accounts for them on the renowned dating app, FlickLove, and the results come out a bit... surprising. Cue unadvisable meddling that really — honestly — comes from good intentions.

Bright Things and Fair by sheron for ishipallthings, 21 k > words, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie).

The course of true love never did run smooth — and neither did time-travel to retrieve the Tesseract. When circumstances outside their control force Steve and Tony to spend more time together in the 1970, they do what two people with their history do under the circumstances: work together and try to get through it without unnecessary feelings getting in the way. Falling for each other is definitely a bad idea, isn't it?

[fleetingpieces]

My One in a Million CH 5

Ok ok it’s here!! Once again, thank you @knittingdreams and @inloveoknutzy for being such amazing betas ❤️ And thank you @wonder-womans-ex for the idea of Sirius making awful cookies haha @donttouchmycarrots @sunflowerfox87 @justdyingontheinside @heyoitslysso @whataboutmyfries Please let me know if I forgot anyone that wanted to be tagged! :)

And of course, the lovely characters are from @lumosinlove ‘s world 

Thank you so much for reading y’all! ❤️

Masterlist

Chapter 5 - Making amends

Sirius had a plan.

It was very simple. He wanted to clear the air with Remus, show him he wasn’t a horrible person. And to do that, he needed to stop being an ass.

Sirius had never been more self-conscious of how much his family affected his moods. He hated the idea of them having that kind of power over him. After all, he’d escaped that house years ago to avoid precisely that: having no control over his own life.

He had a tendency to go on a self-destructive streak whenever he felt overwhelmed by his parents' demands, it was the only way he knew how to cope with it. It was unhealthy, he was perfectly aware of that, and he was tired of not being able to find another way. Yeah, he wanted to do something nice for Remus to compensate for his behaviour, but he also wanted to do this for himself. So, now that he was feeling like his own person again, Sirius was going to fix all of his bad habits, go back to being a decent human being, and apologize to Remus. 

It was going to work.

“That’s not gonna work.”

Sirius stared at Finn. He was sprawled on the couch, carding his fingers through Logan’s hair, who was sitting between his legs. Sirius would never admit it, but sometimes he was jealous of the relationship they had. He yearned for something like that.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, you can do all of that, but it will all be for nothing if he still refuses to even look at your face.”

“Why don’t you just tell him you’re Padfoot?” James asked as he walked into the room with two bowls of snacks in his hands, before he plopped down on the floor. “D’you think he’d tell?”

“No, I don’t believe Remus would do something like that. He would definitely try to keep Padfoot’s identity. I just…” Sirius trailed off and stared down at his hands, fiddling with them on his lap. Then he lifted his head to look at James’ confused expression. “I just don’t want the same thing to happen again. Not that I think Remus would try to take advantage of my popularity, but I…” he heaved a sigh, “I don’t want him to like me just because I’m Padfoot. I want him to like me because of me.”

There was a short silence as his three friends glanced at each other, and then Logan snorted.

“You big softie,” he said with a smirk. Sirius threw a cushion to his face.

He didn’t tell them the other reason why he was reluctant to tell Remus the truth: he was scared he would disappoint him.

The man thought so highly of Padfoot, it was so obvious by the way he spoke of him and how his eyes shone when he did. But would he still think the same if he knew that Padfoot was in fact his annoying neighbour? It seemed so important to him, for reasons Sirius didn’t understand, but still. He didn’t want to ruin that for Remus.

“So what are you going to do?” James said through a mouthful of chips.

Sirius perked up and smiled wickedly at his friends, making them groan even before he started talking.

“I’m glad you asked, Prongs. I’m gonna start by soundproofing my recording room. Which is why you lot are here today.”

James let out an audible gasp, “and here I thought you actually enjoyed our company. You were planning on using us all along!” he tilted his head up, placing his wrist on his forehead like he was about to faint.

“Outrageous.”

“I’m shocked.”

“I never expected this of you, Sirius,” Finn added, pretending to wipe the corner of his eyes.

“D’accord, d’accord!” Sirius huffed. “Dinner’s on me, oui? Don’t look at me like that, Prongs. I know you’ll be recording in here as well, so you might as well stop complaining and help.”

“Why are we here then?” Logan grumbled as he burrowed closer to Finn’s front, searching for his warmth.

“Cause you love me too much, and cause me and James alone would probably end up building a fort instead.”

James grinned cheekily at him, like he hadn’t dismissed that idea yet, but he got up. The four of them went to the room at the end of the hall, where Sirius had a couple of computers, lots of collectibles, and piles of acoustic foam and command strips to do the job.

“You know, you could probably teach Remus a thing or two about video editing. Leo showed us some of them and they’re good, but they are missing a little something,” Finn said offhandedly.

Sirius tripped over a chair, sending it wheeling against the desk.

“You...you saw the videos?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it, but the effect was completely ruined with Logan snickering in the background. 

“Wait, since when are you friends with Leo?” James raised his eyebrows as he stared suspiciously from Logan to Finn.

Finn blushed slightly, but it was Logan who answered. “Oh, you know... we hung out a couple of times after the party. He’s cool.”

“He’s cool,” Sirius snorted. He hadn’t missed the way all three of them had thrown glances at each other all night at Halloween. There was something going on that he didn’t quite understand yet, but he wanted to give them the space they needed to talk about it if they wanted to.

Besides, there were other things on his mind as of then.

He’d completely forgotten about the existence of those videos. How that had happened after the display he saw on the balcony the other day was beyond him. Working on the room and waiting for the guys to be distracted enough was torture for Sirius. He had to keep reminding himself it was for a good cause, that Remus and his other neighbours would appreciate it.

But as soon as the food arrived and the guys sat down in the living room to watch TV, Sirius disappeared back into his recording room.

Finding the videos wasn’t hard. Apparently, there weren’t that many Remuses out there that were yoga instructors. Shocking, he knew. He pulled up the first video that appeared and almost choked on his breath.

There was Remus, bent backwards in the air over another man’s feet. Sirius registered at the back of his mind that the man was Leo, but he was more focused on the way Remus seemed to be flying as Leo, who was lying on the floor, kept him up by pressing his feet at Remus’ lower back and curve of his ass. A pop-up note at the bottom of the screen said the pose was called “back bow”. Sirius could understand why Finn thought he could use some help with editing, but right then, he didn’t really give a crap about that. Not with Remus’ muscles stretched taught to keep himself balanced and in shape, the tights he was wearing hugging the length of his legs and hips snugly, leaving very little to the imagination.

Sirius watched, transfixed, at the way Remus bent gracefully, his lean body arching and flipping in the air before Leo caught him. It was fucking gorgeous.

At the end of the video, a link was dropped that Sirius clicked almost on instinct. He was led to a website that offered all sorts of merchandise: mats, t-shirts, hoodies, sweatpants, leggings, and a few more things. Before Sirius could stop to analyse his fanboy (and slightly stalkerish) behaviour, he started adding stuff to the cart.

“Sirius, what the hell are you doing? Your food is getting cold.” James entered the room but stopped short when Sirius hastily got up and stood in front of the computer screen. He raised an eyebrow and glanced around his best friend, surprise marking his features when he got a look at what he was doing. “You really are smitten, aren’t you?”

Sirius rubbed a hand over his face, dropping himself back on the chair. He could talk about it with James, James wouldn’t make fun of him. “I...I don’t know. I’m just so curious about him. Like...I really want to talk to him more? Is that weird?”

“Nah, it’s not.” He walked over and propped himself on the desk next to Sirius, “I think it’s great that you’re actually trying. Don’t…” he sighed, “don’t close yourself off. You don’t need to do that anymore.”

Finn and Logan’s laughs drifted in through the door, breaking the haze in Sirius’ thoughts.

“Yeah...Yeah, thanks Potts.”

James bumped his fist against Sirius’ shoulder, smiling fondly at him. “No problem. Now get your ass there and eat your food.” He slung an arm around Sirius’ neck and started dragging him to the living room.

Sirius laughed and let himself be steered into a chair as he stole a glance at his two other friends, who were stealing kisses and food from each other, thinking that maybe James had a point. Maybe it was ok for him to want this.

***

Standing in front of the door with the number ten on it, Sirius felt a bit like an idiot. He was there, with a canvas painting -wrapped neatly in parchment paper- under one arm, and a box of homemade cookies in his hand.

Lily had mentioned what it was exactly that Sirius had broken, and Sirius had looked at many local artists until he found one he thought was perfect.

The cookies had been Sirius’ idea. He’d made them himself and vowed to never let any of his friends find out about it or he wouldn’t be able to live it down. 

Pumping himself up, Sirius plastered his best smile on his face and knocked on the door. A few moments later it swung open, and then Remus was in front of him, still looking back into his apartment with a smile.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he said, but when he turned around and looked at Sirius, his smile faltered. The waver of those lips made Sirius’ heart tremble too. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Sirius breathed. After a few seconds of both of them just staring at each other, Sirius cleared his throat. “Can I...um...Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.” Remus seemed surprised, but he crossed his arms and stared at him, waiting.

Oh, this is worse than I thought. Sirius shifted his weight. “Is it ok if I come in?” he asked, and then he thought about Remus’ first words. “Or..oh shit, do you have company?”

“No,” Remus frowned. He glanced suspiciously at the stuff on Sirius’ hands before he heaved a sigh and stepped back to let him through.

Sirius’ first impression of Remus’ flat was that it suited him. It was warm, just like Remus seemed to be with anyone that wasn’t Sirius. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by him in the past few weeks how sweet and kind he was, always smiling and helping others. Sirius really wanted to be his friend. Ok, maybe more than friends, but right now, he would be happy with just that.

“What do you need?” Remus asked in an uninterested tone. He didn’t invite Sirius to sit down, and instead just stood there in the middle of the living room.

Sirius turned to look at him, his mouth opening to start apologising, but his attention was drawn to something behind the other man. Cocoa was approaching them slowly, placing one paw in front of the other without making a sound, his yellow eyes focused on Sirius’ face and his lips slightly pulled up.

A wide smile pulled at Sirius’ mouth, his eyes lighting up. “Hey doggy!” He crouched, extending a hand towards the animal.

“Sirius, don’t!” Remus tried to stop the dog, but Cocoa was already onto Sirius. And then he froze altogether at what he saw. Cocoa merely sniffed Sirius’ hand, sat down, and started wagging his tail.

Sirius laughed, “whoa, you’re even larger up close.” His eyes found Remus’. “Why are you so jumpy? He’s such a good dog,” he said as he started scratching Cocoa’s ears, “aren’t you?”

The wolfdog barked once and leaned into Sirius’ hand with its tongue hanging out.

“I...I don’t get it,” Remus was staring at him in awe, his mouth hanging open as his dog got closer to Sirius.

“What?”

“Cocoa is never so friendly with strangers. It usually takes him a long time to stop being alert and wary...but he seems to like you.”

Cocoa licked Sirius’ face as if to confirm that statement, making Sirius laugh again.

“Of course he does. We’re the same, aren’t we boy?”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked, still looking slightly disoriented.

“Well, I’m named after the dog star, aren’t I? And I’m a Black,” he gestured between himself and Cocoa as if he was stating something obvious.

The corners of Remus’ lips lifted up like he was trying really hard not to smile.

“Oh my God, that’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard!” he said, covering his mouth with a hand.

“You can deny it all you want, but he loves me.”

Cocoa inched even closer to Sirius and put his nose on the box that was still in his hand.

“Oh no, that’s not for you. Sorry, boy.”

“I’ve actually been meaning to ask, but what exactly is that?” Remus frowned.

“Oh, right.” Sirius petted Cocoa one last time and got up, fidgeting with the paper covering the present he’d brought. “Well, this is why I wanted to talk to you. I um…I only found out a few days ago that you were the person I bumped into that day. I just wanted to make amends.”

He handed Remus the big square package and waited anxiously as the other man narrowed his eyes at him and started ripping the paper off. He was pretty confident in the choice he’d made, but he hoped Remus would like it.

“What the hell is this?”

Remus was staring down at the landscape peeking out of the torn paper: a beautiful impressionist rendition of a full moon over a waterfall, with a pack of wolves peeking out of a forest. It was very well done, and not at all deserving of the glare Remus was throwing its way. Sirius’ head was reeling. How did he manage to make someone so kind and polite react in this way every time?

“I know it’s not the same as the one I broke, but I-”

“Damn right it’s not!” Remus snapped. His hands were shaking. Cocoa seemed to sense something was wrong, cause he was there in an instant, standing in front of Remus, trying to find where the threat was. Remus plunged on, his voice rising with an emotion Sirius couldn’t place, “My mum made that for me! You think you can just replace it with any expensive crap? You can’t possibly believe this is the same as something that meant so much to me, something that kept me going during-” Remus cut himself off and looked up to the ceiling. He was breathing hard, rubbing his temple with one hand while he held the painting in the other.

“I...I didn’t know. I… fuck,” Sirius closed his eyes, cursing himself, before looking pleadingly at Remus, trying to convey his emotions properly. “I’m so, so sorry. I never intended it to be a replacement. I...I just wanted to apologise.”

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up royally before he’d even properly met the guy, all because he couldn’t control his bad temper. He should probably go before making things worse. But he didn’t want to. He’d come here to make everything better, not to leave things like this. Glancing around to buy some time, he tried to think of a way to reverse the situation.

His eyes found something and, without even thinking about it, he blurted, “oh, so you bought the game?”

“What?” 

Sirius pointed awkwardly to the NHL game box sitting on top of the coffee table. “I know we started on the wrong foot, but maybe we can have a rematch? Break the ice with something we’re both comfortable with?”

Remus stared at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was right, but Sirius was anything if not determined.

“Remus, I’m trying, ok? Just...I have cookies?” He shook the box hopefully, making the cookies rattle inside.

Remus took a deep breath, thinking it over as he stared at Sirius. He heaved a sigh when he reached a conclusion, his chest deflating as some of the anger left his body. "Fine."

He gestured for Sirius to take a seat while he went over to place the half-opened package in another room. Sirius opened the box of cookies and left it on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch, tapping his fingers over his legs as he waited.

The couch was probably big enough for three people, but when Remus walked over, he eyed the free spot next to Sirius and sat on the floor in front of the table instead.

Well, their thighs were definitely not touching this time.

The air was so tense as Remus started up the game, that Sirius thought it would snap and hit them both in the face.

Cocoa padded over and jumped onto the sofa, placing his head on Sirius' lap.

"Traitor," Remus muttered, making Sirius snort despite the heavy atmosphere. From where he was sitting, Sirius could only see his profile, but he was sure he saw the man throw a sideway glance at him and purse his lips. He reached over to grab a cookie, biting into it with extra force, and he instantly pulled a face. "These cookies suck."

Sirius was surprised by such a blatant answer. He leaned forward on his elbows, placing his chin on his hands to try and hide the blush he could feel creeping up his neck.

"They can't be that bad." He snatched one from the box, propping it in his mouth under Remus' attentive eyes, and instantly started coughing. "Oh my god."

"Where the hell did you buy them?"

"How did they turn out so bad?!"

"Wait…" Remus turned to look at him fully, his lips pressed in a thin line to suppress a smile, "did you make these?"

"No," Sirius replied instantly.

"Oh God, you did!"

"Très bien, je les ai faits! I'm sorry I offended you with my awful cooking skills, I just wanted to give you the neighbourly welcome I owed you, d'accord?"

"What are you, 60? Minnie from the floor below made biscuits for me when I moved in."

Sirius sputtered, placing a hand over his heart, "what?! She never made cookies for me!"

“It’s not a competition, jeez.”

“But I wanted cookies,” Sirius pouted.

“You can have these,” Remus deadpanned as he flicked the box.

“Ugh, stop that. That’s the last time I try doing something nice for you,” he grumbled. Remus looked stunned for a second before he turned away.

It was quiet while each of them chose their team and started playing. They were a lot more relaxed in their game than they'd been last time, although that didn't mean they weren't giving it their best.

After a while of being absolutely silent, Sirius sighed. He felt Remus throw a quick side glance at him before looking back at the front.

"I owe you another apology."

The sound of the buttons being pressed and the low noises from the TV were the only things that could be heard as they both stared stubbornly at the screen.

"What for?"

"I've been an ass."

"Yeah, you have."

Sirius chuckled once, "yeah, I have," he said softly. He ran a hand through his hair, checking the score. He was winning, but he didn't really care this time around. "My family...they don't approve of my line of work. I'm not trying to make excuses for my behavior or anything, I just...I was having a really rough time that day." Remus raised an eyebrow at the TV, making Sirius laugh again, "and the days after that too. Damn, my friends had to check up on me every day to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid.” He glanced down nervously, afraid that he’d said too much, but Remus was still staring at the tiny players. “I just needed to get out of the flat as fast as possible. I wanted to apologise afterwards, but I didn't even know it was you. Bottom line is, I am on edge whenever they get involved in my life, and I act stupidly, and I am sorry you got caught up in that. I promise I am working on it."

Remus was silent for a few minutes, mulling something over in his head.

"Hospital," he whispered finally.

"What?"

"I was in the hospital when my mum gave me that." He hesitated before saying more. Sirius wanted to see what expression he was making. "I was stuck there for a long time, alone, and that painting was the only thing that kept me from feeling trapped. It helped me calm down."

Sirius’ heart gave a painful tug at the desolation in Remus’ voice. He had no idea how they’d gotten into this heart-to-heart moment, but his hand instinctively left the controller as he bent down to place it on top of Remus’, giving it a light squeeze.

Remus was startled, finally turning to look at Sirius. The sounds from the game kept ringing in the background, but none of them were looking at it anymore.

“I really am sorry,” he said, gazing intently at him. Remus’ eyes were the richest shade of gold he’d ever seen, glowing warmly, and Sirius was sure that he could light up even the darkest corners of his being. How had he not noticed this before?

The room went a bit colder when those eyes left his to glance at their hands.

“Are you ok?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah, I just-” Remus removed his hand to rub at his neck. “I have things to do. You should go.”

It was clearly a lie, and Sirius knew not to push it.

As he made his way back to his own flat, he had no idea if he’d fixed anything or if he’d just made everything worse.