#thinking back on it now i think my hate had to do less with marvel itself and more so the rampant racism and sexism in a lot of marvel fans

[threedaycharter]

would like everyone to know i used to be a marvel hater. now i am a lover. how the turn table!

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 TELLING THEM THEY'RE PRETTY!

FEATURING: dazai osamu, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol

SUMMARY: telling the bsd boys that they're pretty! (wordcount: 3.5k; sfw; fem!reader)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: i had cute dividers but this won't show up in the tags if use them D: ! i had sooo much fun with this! i hope you guys enjoy! :D

DAZAI OSAMU

You can’t seem to drag your gaze away from him. 

As a long day of work comes to an end, you rest your head on your arms and lean on your desk. Kunikida is still tapping furiously away at his computer, Tanizaki and Naomi are whispering about something together, Ranpo is sorting through his candy, and Atsushi and Kyouka are looking through files. But your eyes are tracing over Dazai Osamu as he leans back in his chair, lazily spinning and bobbing his head to the music he’s listening to. 

The setting sun casts an ethereal glow over him, his lips idly turned up and his lashes brushing his cheeks as rests his eyes waiting for the day to end. Dazai Osamu is pretty—you’ve always acknowledged that—but there’s something about the peace of this moment, the domesticity of the office and the ambience of the lighting that has you utterly enraptured.

He looks so at ease, and Dazai Osamu is never at ease. Even when he throws up that clownlike mask of his and spends his day entertaining under the guise of joy and humor, you can always see the strain in the corner of his eyes and lips. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible really—if you were anyone else, you’d miss it, but you’re not anyone else, much to his displeasure, because you know he hates how easily you can see right through him.

After a few minutes, Dazai peeks his eyes open—and you’re almost breathless, because his eyes are like melted honey beneath the sunset, warm and gentle, glittering with amusement. You think you can stare at him forever and never tire of it.

He rolls his chair closer to you, resting his forearms on your desk so that your arms are brushing and laying his head down on them so that his face is mere inches from yours, matching your position. There's a smile on his lips, soft and teasing as he whispers, "You've been staring at me for five minutes."

"Mhm," you agree, voice just as quiet as if to not disturb the tranquility of the office. You can feel his breath light against your face from the proximity he's laying at and you can smell peppermint on his breath from the candy you’d seen him swipe from Ranpo’s desk earlier when the other man had gone to speak to Fukuzawa.

“Is there something on my face?” he asks playfully, dark eyes glimmering as he waits for your response.

You can tease him back and say yes, as you usually do and is probably what he expects—and you fully intend to do just that but the words that leave your lips are not that. 

“You just look really pretty today,” you say softly, watching as his eyes widen just a bit at your words, pink dusting his cheeks. 

His lips part to say something but no words leave them. He opens and closes them a few times and you marvel because Dazai must know that he’s pretty from all of the attention he gets from women, so you don’t understand why he’s so thrown off hearing you voice it out loud. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him genuinely speechless before now.

“So you don’t think i’m pretty every other day?” Dazai pushes his bottom lip out into an over-exaggerated pout, recovering swiftly from your words, though you expected nothing less from him. But you can’t help but note that his cheeks are still a bit pink and there’s something indecipherable in his eyes.

“Prettier than usual,” you amend and watch as the flush on his cheeks darkens and he instead resorts to completely burying his face in his arms with a frustrated groan.

“I am supposed to be the flirt, bella,” he complains, voice muffled by his arms as he hides his face from your view. He cannot hide the way his ears have gone bright red, and you have half a mind to reach out and tug at them

You lift your hand to your lips to hide the giggle that rises to your lips, scooching your chair a bit closer so you can knock your shoulder against his. 

“I’m not flirting,” you say. “Just stating a fact.”

He turns his head to the side, just enough so that he can give you a heavy side eye—you can only barely see the red hue coating his cheekbone. 

“Not mutually exclusive,” he says grumpily, and you lean down to press your lips against his now exposed forehead, smiling softly as his eyes instinctively flutter shut and his body relaxes as the touch.

Then, you receive a pencil to the side of your head. You yelp as your hand flies to where it had made contact with you, scowling at your assailant who is none other than Ranpo, smiling widely as he waves at you and then motions to Kunikida, who is red faced and staring at the two of you. You can’t tell if it’s in embarrassment or anger.

“Not during work hours,” he snaps, and you realize that he’s definitely embarrassed, so you share a short look with Dazai, who has regained that mischievous look in his eyes as he glances over at Kunikida and back at you.

Without saying a word, or giving any other sort of warning, he leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s a short and chaste kiss, but his lips are soft and taste of candy, and you think you might be able to kiss them forever if you get the chance.

Now you’re the one flustered, you can feel heat rising to your cheeks as you stare at Dazai, who is evidently thoroughly pleased to not be the one uncomposed if the unscrupulous grin on his lips has anything to say about it.

He tosses you a wink before rolling his chair back over to his desk, animatedly complaining about Ranpo and Kunikida being lonely and bitter and getting in the way of Dazai’s chance at true love because of it—you only roll your eyes at his dramatics, as you usually do when Dazai goes off on tangents, but it’s with much more fondness this time. 

•••

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

You are not listening to a single word that he’s saying. 

It’s a dangerous situation to be in with Fyodor Dostoevsky, you’re sure he’s noticed by now and he will be petty enough to finish his brief about his plans and your involvement and then ask you to repeat what he said, but you just can’t focus. 

He tied his hair back, you note, still quite a bit awed by the sight. There are two locks framing his face and his bangs are falling between his eyes, but the rest of his hair, which has grown a bit long in the weeks that he’s been ardently preparing for the final stages of his plan, is pulled back into a lax bun. 

He looks so casual, and Fyodor Dostoevsky never looks casual. He’s dressed in a turtleneck and loose pants as he leans back in his chair. There’s a folder resting on his lap that he’s idly flipping through and he keeps glancing up at you occasionally, pale lips flat and violet eyes disapproving, but you just nod along to his words even though you know that he knows that you’re not paying attention. 

And you think, distantly, that you probably should be paying attention because he’s talking about your upcoming mission and what you should expect from it but you figure you’ll be fine—it’s a simple infiltration mission, nothing to worry about. And you’d much rather prefer to appreciate Fyodor’s rare repose than to listen him droll on about boring topics. 

Sometimes, you think if he just kept his mouth shut all the time, he’d be perfect. But you think you’d miss his sharp-witted comments and the lengthy debates the two of you have after a few glasses of wine.

He looks extra pretty tonight, even beyond the casual hairstyle and clothes and his uncharacteristically relaxed demeanor, and you think it’s because of the way the flames of the fireplace are casting an enchanting orange and red glow over his face. It makes the violets of his eyes burn alive in a way that they usually don’t, you’re far too used to the glacial visage they take whenever he puts his attention on someone. Every time he glances up at you, you swear that you can get lost in them.

“… And you are not listening to a word that I am saying, are you?” 

Fyodor is giving you the heaviest side eye as he finally calls you out, expression unamused. His brows are furrowed and his pale skin is taut with thinly veiled irritation.

“Of course, I am,” you dismiss, waving your hand. “Infiltration mission, detective agency, get close to the tiger boy.”

Fyodor looks distinctly unimpressed by your words, brows deepening—you figure you must have spoken wrongly, you probably shouldn’t have been so indifferent, and you bite back a sigh before reaching forward to press two fingers between Fyodor’s eyebrows, as if to forcibly smooth away his annoyance.

He blinks and draws back, out of reach of your arm, and then casts you an even more irritable look.

“You’re not taking this seriously,” he accuses. “This mission will be dangerous, you’ll be at risk of being exposed every moment you are in the agency and if you are exposed-“

“Your plans will be ruined,” you finish, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes. “I kno-“

“You could be killed,” Fyodor corrected, voice cold and sharp, and you look back over to him. He looks unusually intense, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the appearance that the flames of the fireplace are giving him as they flicker dangerously across his face or if it’s because he’s that displeased with you being distracted. Either way, you find your mind drifting again because wow. “Dazai Osamu is not a man to be taken lightly. When he manages to figure out who you are and what you’re doing, we will need an immediate extraction plan.”

“Careful, Fyodor,” you drawl, watching as his violet eyes narrow briefly, “almost sounds like you care.”

Fyodor’s lips twist but he doesn’t respond. You raise your eyebrows, he looks away. Your eyes shoot open.

“You have a bigger role to play,” Fyodor finally says, but he’s no longer looking at you. “You cannot be killed yet.”

“Yet,” you repeat, amused. Fyodor’s jaw tightens, he doesn’t look at you, his eyes are trained on the fireplace to the side of the two of you and you can vaguely see the flames reflecting in his eyes, burning ardently against the familiar violet.

You lean forward again, shifting off of the couch to sit on the coffee table between the two of you so you can reach him. You reach forward to brush your knuckles against his cheek—he doesn’t move away this time, but his eyes cut to the side to watch you carefully.

You don’t say anything for a moment, absently tucking one of the locks of hair framing his face behind his ear. His hair is soft, freshly washed—for once—it smells faintly of lavender and vanilla and you wonder if he stole your conditioner.

“You look very pretty tonight, Fyodor,” you say quietly, and then smile. “It’s hard to focus when you look like this.”

The expression Fyodor directs toward you is extraordinarily blank, except for the faintest specks of pink that glare compared to the pallor of his face. 

He shakes his head, looking away from you yet again. 

“… You cause me much suffering,” he murmurs, and somehow, you know that might be the closest you might get to an admission of love from Fyodor Dostoevsky.

You smile to yourself. “And you to I,” you say, voice a bit teasing, and then you add, “Now, can you tell me again what to look out for?”

The moment is ruined. Fyodor’s eye twitches and he’s giving you that unamused look again, and you think having him repeat himself might be a mistake because now you’re even more distracted, but Fyodor sighs and starts on his lecture again so you force yourself to listen.

It takes about three minutes for him to release a sigh of utter suffering when he realizes that your eyes have glazed over yet again. 

•••

NIKOLAI GOGOL

Nikolai has a wild sort of beauty about him. He’s unpredictable and dangerous, and it’s widely apparent in his frenzied laughter and chaotic behavior. His eye glitters and his teeth gleam sharply beneath the glow of the moonlight as he waves his hands around, animatedly describing to you all of the details of the things he’s been doing while you were away. 

Fyodor’s masterplan has involved Nikolai apparently taken upon an infiltration role at the ministry of defense—you think it’s a bold move for Fyodor to use Nikolai for such a tenuous mission, but he’s apparently been having the time of his life with it. Though he thinks his boss is deplorable and one of his coworkers has evidently pissed him off beyond repair, because now he’s telling you about how he’s been ‘pranking’ the man in righteous vengeance. 

You think Nikolai’s idea of pranking varies from yours, because you’re pretty sure him using his ability to break into the man’s house constitutes a crime not a prank. But you don’t have it in you to make that distinction when he’s so excitedly telling you about how every day he’s been going into his house to move around all of his stuff and hide some of his belongings to make the man squirm. He’s succeeding outstandingly in his ambition, if the videos he’s waving in front of you have anything to say about it. 

You watch as he frantically scrolls to the next video—“this one is the best,” he claims, as he has for every video thus far. You watch with an amused smile as his dark-haired coworker steps into his apartment and nearly starts crying when he realizes that all of his stuff has been moved again, scrambling for his phone to call the police, who have—according to Nikolai—apparently already told him multiple times that there’s nothing they can do about it. The video is shaking wildly, as if the person filming can barely hold the camera straight, and you’re convinced that’s exactly what it is because you can hear Nikolai’s muffled laughter coming from recording.

Nikolai naturally finds it much funnier than you do, half-way keeling over as he wheezes, his laughter shattering the peaceful night. The two of you are sitting at a park near the apartment that Fyodor had leased for you for the duration of the Yokohama operation. The moon is high in the sky, casting a bewitching glow over the lake in front of you and there’s a chill in the air—it’s a nice night all around, you think there will probably some frost dusting the grass in the morning but the cold hardly bothers you now with Nikolai pressed to your side as he laughs himself into a near-coughing fit over his harassment of his coworker. 

“Why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai suddenly complains loudly, scowling at you, but even then he keeps having to bite back residual laughter whenever he glances back down at his phone. “It’s funny.”

“It is funny,” you agree. Nikolai gives you a look as if he doesn’t believe you. “It is.”

“Then why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai accuses doubtfully, and then adds, even more accusatory, “You hate me.”

You’re not sure why you aren’t laughing, honestly. Usually you’d be burying your face into his shoulder trying to smother your snickers, because even though you might not entirely agree with Nikolai’s idea of a prank, you can still find some humor in it. Because it is kind of funny. Kind of. 

But then you realize that you’re probably not laughing because you’ve been spending most of the night admiring Nikolai rather than listening to him prattle on about his escapades and watching his poorly recorded videos, so you can’t fully appreciate the humor in the videos. With his cheeks flushed from copious amounts of laughter and his eyes glowing with excitement, you think he’s very pretty tonight—Nikolai is always pretty, but the angle at which he’s sitting leaves the moon haloing behind his head, and maybe it’s just because you’ve missed him the past few weeks when you’ve been abroad dealing with a territory dispute with Tolstoy, but you think there’s something special about tonight. 

“I don’t hate you. I guess I’ve been too busy admiring you,” you finally say, a playful smile on your lips as you tilt your head to the side to look at him. “You look pretty tonight.”

Nikolai blinks, eyes wide and owlish as he processes your words. The longer he goes unresponsive, you acknowledge that a quiet Nikolai is far more unnerving than a loud and erratic Nikolai, you’d expected a more… theatrical response to your comment. A swish of his cape, him leaping to his feet with a twirl and an agreement, even just a wild laugh; instead, he looks away abruptly. He doesn’t even just look away, he physically turns his whole body away from you. 

You blink.

“Nikolai?” you ask, a bit astonished when he literally ignores you. You lean forward, trying to get a look at his face, but then he swivels around even more and your lips part in shock. “Nikolai.”

You’re only met with a face full of his soft white hair, impeccably braided, as per usual—you have half a mind to tug at it hard to try to get a response from him, but you aren’t in the mood for the lewd comment that would likely spill from his lips after. 

“Koly-“

“Poor me, poor me,” Nikolai suddenly cries loudly, “The little koshenya mocks me when all I do is try to make her laugh. Poor me, poor me.”

His hand flies to his face, melodramatic as he bemoans your alleged cruelty. You stare at him, mind trying to piece together what exactly is happening—Nikolai is always hard to predict, but you feel like this is a bit strange even for him, and that’s saying something. 

“… What?” you start to ask but Nikolai has thrown himself into a loud and theatrical tirade about how he doesn’t deserve such injustice and how he was only trying to make you laugh, and how it’s so, so cold-hearted of you to taunt him when this is the first time the two of you have seen each other in weeks. 

Nikolai is impossible to bargain with when he gets like this, so you only sigh and tilt your head up to the sky, his words flying in one ear and out the other as you wait for him to settle down on his own. 

Instead, you swear the world is against you because rather than settling down, he becomes increasingly more noisy and distressed, and his accusations become even more asinine. Now, he’s saying that you’ve always had it out for him and how you weren’t laughing at his jokes because you hate him and want to report him to the police and how he should tell Dostoy about your betrayal, or better yet, he should stuff you in his cloak and leave you there?

You side-eye Nikolai heavily as he continues on, slightly alarmed, but brush off the casual threat as just Nikolai being Nikolai. You don’t know how to shut him up, you think you might be out here all night listening to him, and now you’re the one bemoaning your fate because how did a simple compliment turn into this. 

Finally, an idea strikes. 

You brace yourself, questioning your sanity and your entire existence before you interrupt him with a loud, “Quiz time!”

Nikolai goes silent instantly, head snapping toward you, eye even wider than before. 

You think you’ve hit an all time low as you say, “Was I trying to mock you before?” Nikolai opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can. “What’s that you say? I wasn’t? Ding ding! We’ve gotta winner!” 

You think Nikolai might be having an internal crisis. He’s staring at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time in his life—his lips are parted, his eye void of the usual mischief dancing in it. He looks as if he wants to say something but he doesn’t know what. 

You let out a long breath as you go to speak up again, but before you can, his eye is glittering again, sharp and dangerous, and his lips are curving up into a slow smile. 

Nikolai inhales and then he takes a complete one-eighty as he bursts into loud cackles and says, “Ahahaha! I knew you loved me!” as if he wasn’t just lamenting your irrational hatred for him moments before.

Your eye twitches. He begins a second tirade, this one far more embarrassing for you than the last. 

You regret everything.

[hijinxinprogress]

I need Billy thinking he’s so great at hiding things (and he is) no one knows he’s like fucking eight but they are pretty sure he hates like half the league

Like I need Billy getting along with everyone but he’s kinda stiff around flash and Batman but it’s get worse after most of them have revealed their secret ids and the jls so confused

Billy 100% thought Batman had all these fucking gadgets bc he was like some high up government official and then he found out no Batman’s just some rich guy and he’s like god no why is that worse

Batman just doesn’t care (he does 💀 he’s so fucking offended esp bc Marvel used to call him Mr. Batman sir but also bc he thought it’d be easier to get marvels secret id and weaknesses) as long as it doesn’t affect missions but Flash is kinda concerned bc ‘I’m pretty nice to him…does he think I don’t like him?? Did I offend him?? Do speedsters like set off the magic balance or whatever??’ 

They decide to pair up flash, Batman, and Captain Marvel to make sure their issues won’t affect team cohesion so after they’re done rescuing these kids that got involved in some supervillains masterplan Batman and flash are doing the usual spiel of ‘the laws exist for a reason,’ ‘you can trust the police’ and ‘there’s no good reason to turn to crime’

These kids want nothing to do with that shit and they’re trying to edge away while making excuses ‘thank you sm!! But no this is so safe, I know this area so well! We can get home ourselves!’ as soon as Batman starts asking about their parents so captain marvel just grabs Batman and flash and starts flying in the opposite direction ‘do you see that?? No guys seriously look at this cool thing!!’ and Batman’s growling about ‘childish to a degree that’s entirely unprofessional’ and ‘needlessly endangering civilians, civilian children at that-!’ and flash is trying to mediate but batman is shoving documents in his face ‘They were runaways, they don’t have anywhere to go and now they’re on a hitlist’ the ‘you fucking imbecile’ goes unsaid but they all hear it so marvel takes them back to villains lair and grabs a henchman at random and goes ‘This guys a cop…you can check that with your fancy equipment, right??’ and batman checks solely to prove him wrong but that guy is a cop and so are about 60% of the henchmen they took out then marvel goes ‘So they wouldn’t have been safe even if you took them to a hospital or child services’

Before the id reveals there’s a mission where the police are involved and flash mentions something about police protocol and marvel is so concerned bc ‘you’re still undercover? How long have you been under cover dude??’ and flash is confused bc ‘you know I’m not undercover right?? That is my actual real life day job’ and no one believes him when he says marvel shot him the most disgusted look you can imagine and edged away from him 

Batman tries to hold a meeting to address how marvel deals with the police and it goes no where bc marvel is fucking menace and goes ‘don’t you do that too?? And technically I’m also a vigilante sooo’ and batman is scrambling to get the jls attention back like ‘marvel hits cops 62% percent harder than other criminals and is 43% less friendly when interacting with the police in any capacity’ but they don’t care bc they want to know why marvel considers himself a vigilante 

They start letting Marvel be the one to approach children and notice that he’s advising them on how to make food last longer and maintain good hygiene while taking care of themselves and a jl members like hey wtf?? and Marvel says some bullshit about how ‘he’s lived many lives and not all of them were charmed’ and it gets back to cyborg who starts a rumor that he was dracula bc he can’t believe marvel had the balls to look WW in the eyes and lie to her fucking face

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Tommy tries not to stay too long because Mareep gets sad when she's lonely.

She can't tell him this - she's a sheep and all. But she shows it in the way she nuzzles her gentle head into Tommy's chest when he returns, as if she's trying to push out all those sharp and bunched up feelings that get stuck there. They're not bad feelings though. Not good feelings either.

Just feelings. A lot of fucking feelings.

But Tommy likes visiting the cabin. Even back when, it always felt so far removed from everything else. So quiet, not always in the positive sense. He loved it and he hated it. That seems to sum up about everything he remembers from that time.

(He went in once, the first time he visited. Not anymore. Everything was covered in dust, hollow and empty, and Tommy couldn't breathe for reasons beyond the stifled air.)

Being there doesn't hurt the same.

Tommy still marvels at that. Yes, it still hurts and yes, it always will. But there's more than the hurt now. He remembers the laughter and the stupid jokes and the bench and Henry and man, does it feel as if he's aged a decade. He hasn't. He's young. And there's so much ahead of him.

Then the snow shifts behind him with the soft crunching of footsteps. He turns around, and a person Tommy has thought about pretty much every other day for the last eight months is standing against the treeline.

"Hullo," Technoblade says, as if they have seen each other yesterday. He looks a little less exhausted, and a little less jumpy than Tommy has ever seen him before. Tommy's hand curls around the handle of his sword and then relaxes.

"Hey," he says. Then he swallows. "I didn't know you still came around here."

"I don't," Techno says. "Just came to pick up some stuff I left behind."

"Yeah?"

Techno walks around him in a little arch, and in a way that keeps him facing Tommy at least from the side, never the back. Tommy hates that this is who they are now.

And then Techno scoffs lightly, kicking at some rocks Tommy had been piling into a tower once when he was deep in thought. "Bruh, you're not ruining my property value again, are you?"

Automatically, Tommy laughs. Bright and sudden, and sincere. "Wha- Fuck you, you just said you don't live here anymore."

"I could be on my landlord arc," Techno says dryly.

Tommy should leave it at that. The part deep inside him that still feels raw and scared - as if he's sixteen again and the ocean is endless before him - recoils at all of this. But Tommy knows that part of him can be wrong, sometimes, in how it reacts to things. In how it refuses to embrace change.

"What have you been doing?" he asks. Techno watches him for a moment, a little guarded. He shrugs.

"Farmin'," Techno answers after that small second of hesitation. "Hibernating. Just doing my own thing, away from everybody. I'm done being hounded by people." He brushes some hair from his face, longer now than when he was living on this server. Tommy doesn't think he has never seen Techno without fresh scars or bandaged knuckles. It suits him.

"Sounds nice," Tommy says. He thinks about his little cottage, and Tubbo's honey, and how he's been starting to grow his own flowers.

"It is," Techno agrees.

Tommy leaves quickly after that. But when he returns two days later, there is a glint of round netherite hanging from one of the fence post. A compass with an emerald inlaid in the back, that points to a place very far away.

Tommy doesn't think he's quite ready to follow it. But someday he will be.

[fanfictiongirlie]

Marvel: Unplanned Chapter One

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First person written though)

Description:

"It says...it says it's positive doll" His voice matching mine in a quiet shaky whisper.

"Fuck... I'm pregnant?"

"Yeah doll, you're pregnant"

"Fuck" I whisper.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Smut, Name calling, Two fools arguing, somewhat public smut

Chapter Words: 2,727

(I have the urge for every Marvel fanfic I write to have a seperate timeline where nothing bad happens, and everyone is happy)

Bucky stood in the kitchen shirtless, I swore quietly to myself as I stopped at the doorway, it was 2am, I hadn't expected anyone to be awake, but of course, he was. I had been an Avenger for a little while, my skills with in hand to hand combat matched Nat's, I was also very skilled in using a rifle. And being Nat's best friend, she got me a place on the Avengers, whilst also getting Tony to let me live at the compound. Which was a nice change, I lived in England my whole life, so being in a new country was scary, but Nat made it less scary for me. I got along with everyone, except Bucky. It had been near a year, and we hated each other... Which sucked, because he was so hot, I hated myself for thinking that... 

I sighed and walked fully into the kitchen, he turned around facing me. 

"What do you want?" He asks, his voice low and annoyed. 

"Nothing from you" I mumble walking to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. His eyes were still on me. 

"Then what are you doing up?" He asks, his eyes rolling. 

"None of your business" I mutter. I should of just left, gone back to my room, but arguing with him, it was additive. He steps closer to me, still an arms length away from me, but close enough that I could smell his cologne. 

"It's my business if you're prowling around this place at the dead of night" He answers, his arms crossed over his chest, I rolled my eyes, I knew he liked arguing with me too, that's why our arguing was usually over stupid things. 

"Says you" I snapped "You're doing the same thing" 

I watch as Bucky raises an eyebrow, I put my bottle of water down on the kitchen counter and step closer to him, challenging him.

"I live here doll, I can do what I want" 

"So do I!" I yell.

"Watch how you're talking to me doll" He scoffs, his eyes narrowing at me. 

"Why should I" I answer stepping closer to him, I crossed my arms copying his stance, our arms brushed against one anothers. Bucky tilts his head, he moved closer, his arms pressing against mine. 

"Because I don't have the patience for you right now" He says, his voice a low rumble, almost a growl. 

"You think I have a patience for your bullshit?" I snap back. I watch as a ghost of a smile flickers on his face as he lets out a quiet scoff. 

"You're the one who started this! Be careful who you pick a fight with doll"

"Me?" I hissed "I didn't fucking start this, god you're always so ready to yell at me"

Bucky clenches his jaw, his nostrils flare, he looked extremely pissed off at me now. Good.

"You're always on my case! You just won't shut up, will you? Just have to make a comment about anything I say" He towers over me, making him look more intimidating, but so fucking sexy. 

"Fuck" I say laughing slightly "I think you're enjoying arguing with me, you know, so fucking annoying" I hiss, trying not to eye his muscles. Bucky let out a laugh, that arrogant smirk coming back. 

"You're the annoying one, always sticking your nose in my business, and trying to get on my last nerve" His gaze travels down my body as he spoke. "God you're pissing me off"

"You're pissing me off!" I snap. 

He steps forward, pushing against my body, I sneer as my back hits the kitchen counter. 

"Oh yeah? You've got a lot of guts for a girl who's half a feet shorter than me" He laughs, his body pressed against mine as he looks down to me. 

"Doesn't matter, I can still fucking pin you" I snap, I could pin him, and I have done. 

"Oh yeah sweetheart? I doubt it" He answers with a huff. 

"What you gonna do Bucky? You've got me pinned, gonna hit me?" I taunt him, he usually walks away when I taunt him, daring him to snap, he never does. I watch as he leans down slightly, his breath hot on my face. 

"Don't tempt me doll" He says low and deep. 

"Fucking do it" I dared, my voice barely above a whisper. 

He leans his face closer to mine, his eyes darkened with lust and anger "You really want me to? You really wanna know what I'll do?"

"Fucking nothing I bet" 

"You think I won't? You think I can't put your smart mouth in place?"

"No I don't think you will, Stevie isn't here to stop you, so come on Barnes, what's gonna be?" I laugh slightly, my voice deep as I spoke. I watched as Bucky's eyes darkened even more at the mention of his best friend, Steve was always breaking up our fights, not this time... 

"You think Steve's the only thing holding me back from arguing with you?" He asks. 

"Yeah I do, you always do as you're told when he's around" I smirk. 

Bucky huffs through his nose "Always doing as told? Doll, you're really pissing me off, you think you know me?" He lowers his voice into a growl, almost a whisper as he looks right into my eyes. "You think I don't have a mind of my own?"

"I don't know, do you?" I snapped, my eyes not looking from his, I hated his eyes, his perfect, Ice blue, lovely eyes... Ugh, I shook the thoughts from my head. 

"You're really playing with fire here doll...You better watch your smartass mouth, before I shut you up myself" 

"Fucking do it then" I snapped. He stares at me for a few seconds, a mixture of anger, lust and annoyance in his eyes. And then suddenly his lips slam onto mine, his body crushing me against the counter, the kiss was rough and hard, almost dominating. 

Shocked I don't move for a second, before I close my eyes and kiss back. Bucky's hands grip onto my hips, holding me hard, his tongue licking into my mouth, exploring me, a low moan escapees his throat as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing against mine, his hips moving pathetically against mine. 

I kiss back harshly, my hands moving to his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin. I hear him groan, his hands move from my hips to my thighs, he picks me up with ease, sitting me down on the counter, he steps closer standing in between my thighs, his hard length pressing against my leg, his flesh hand moves up to my throat holding me as he moves his lips away from mine. 

"Doll, you know just how to piss me off, don't you?" He growls, his hand holding my throat tightly. 

"Says you, you fucking piss me off" 

His eyes darken at my words, his hips moved, pressing his hard length into me, his hand tightens around my throat, I gasped a little for air, but it felt good. 

"You know, I could just take what I want from you, just shut you up right here, right now" He growls, looking over my features. 

"Fucking do it, take me" I whisper. 

He growls again, I wanted to make a comment about him being an animal, but I decided against it. He moves both hands down to my hips holding me hard, he moved forward nipping at my neck. "You want me to take you, huh?"

"Fucking yes, before I change my mind" I gasp, taking in a large breath now his hand was away from my throat. A low moan escapes his throat and he kisses my neck frantically, sucking rough marks into my skin. 

"You think you can change your mind doll? You challenged me, and I'm gonna make sure you don't forget who's in charge here" He speaks in between bites. 

"If you don't kiss me in the next 5 seconds, I'll leave, maybe ask Stevie to make me feel good" I teased, my voice dark and low, I knew that would piss him off. 

He stops kissing my neck and looks at me, his eyes full of jealousy "You wouldn't dare" Then he slams his lips against mine again, his tongue pushing past my lips exploring my mouth. I moved my hips against his, being on the kitchen counter perfectly lining me up with his hips. I spread my legs and wrap them around him, pulling him closer to me. 

Bucky lets out a stifled moan, his lips leaving mine and running down my neck. 

"God, you don't know what you do to me" He says, nibbling at my neck, his hips grinding against me, through my thing pyjama bottoms. 

"Yeah I do, I can feel how pathetically hard you are against me" I smirked, my head rolling back as his lips touching my collarbone. 

He growls taking my throat in his metal hand, he moved my head so I looked at him. 

"Pathetically? I'll give you pathetic" He growls, his flesh hand snakes from my hip and to the waistband of my pyjamas, tugging on them, he stops for a second, his eyes on mine, silently asking for permission. I nod, my cheeks flushing. He moves his hand away from my throat, and move them to pull my pyjama bottoms down, he threw them somewhere, his eyes were still on me whilst his fingers brushed over my inner thigh, his fingers were rough, calloused leaving tingles as he traced my skin. 

Now naked from the waist down, I shivered at the cold air, I moved forward capturing his lips again, Bucky moans softly against my lips, his fingers moved to my clit, slowly circling his fingers a few times, before he took two fingers and slid them down, parting my lips and dipping down to my hole. 

"Fuck, yes" I whispered against his lips, he swallowed my moan, his tongue licking mine, he spread my wetness over my pussy, his two fingers entering me slowly. I moaned breathlessly enjoying the warmth of his flesh fingers, a small part of me thinking about his metal fingers, and how they would feel inside of me. 

"You're all hot and bothered for me, aren't you doll?" 

"Watch it, I'll happily walk away" I hiss, lying through my teeth of course, but he didn't need to know that. His metal hand moved holding my jaw within in his fingers. 

"And I'll drag you right back here doll, you're not going anywhere" 

"Fuck me, dickhead" I sneered, his fingers fucking into me, spreading me open, I needed him. His fingers still fucked into me, whilst his metal hand moved from my jaw to his jeans, undoing them, I reached forward and undid them for him, reaching my arms to push them down, his cock sprung from his boxers as I pushed them down. 

I gasped slightly at the sight of his cock, it was beautiful, it annoyed me how beautiful, cocks weren't supposed to be pretty, but here he was. I muttered a fuck under my breath. 

"Careful how you speak to me, I could bend you over this counter and make you shut your mouth real fast" He says, leaning forward, his hot breath on my ear as he speaks. 

"Yeah?" I whisper "Do it? Please?"

Bucky bites my ear, his voice lowering to a deep rumble "Say please again" 

"Please?" I say, gritting my teeth. He grips my thigh with his metal hand, his fingers slowing inside of me. 

"Such a good girl, asking so nicely" He laughs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He takes his fingers out of my pussy, I whine at the emptiness, he then grabs my hips pulling me off the kitchen counter, he turns me around and bends me over the counter, he lets out a low growl and pushes his cock inside of me, I moan loudly, my head moving down to rest on the counter. 

Once fully inside of me, his flesh hand moves to my throat, holding me tight. "You like being bent over? You like having me in control?" He taunts me, his hand tightening around my throat, his hips moved backwards, nearly taking his cock out of me, before slamming himself back into me. 

"Fuck" I groan, my breaths ragged as I struggle to breath, the force of his hand holding my throat making the feeling of him fucking me even better. 

I lift up slightly, so my back was flushed against his chest, my moans quiet as he slams his hips into my arse. Anyone could walk in, my eyes dart to the open doorway. Sure it was early morning and in theory everyone was asleep. 

"Anyone could walk in doll" He speaks as he fucks me "They could walk in, see you, see me taking you like the perfect slut you are" He whispers, his lips against my ear, I nod slightly, unable to talk anymore, his metal fingers circle my clit pushing me to my edge, I come hard my legs shaking under his body. 

"Jesus doll, you've got no idea what you do to me, do you?" He asks, moaning loudly in my ear. 

"Yeah? Harder" I whimper, my voice strained. 

"You want more, doll?" He growls in my ear, his hips move faster, fucking me harder, his thick cock stretching my tight pussy. I was grateful for his hand around my throat, I'd be screaming the compound down otherwise. Bucky lets out a low moan of pleasure, his hand clenching around my throat. 

"You like that doll? Like being taken by me?" He asks, his lips moving against my ear, his teeth scraping the shell of my ear, his thrusts into me became sloppy, he fucks harder into me, whines coming from his lips as he finished hard, spilling completely into me. 

"Fuck" I mutter as I feel him pull out of me, stepping away. 

He lets out a long breath, I turn around to see him pulling his jeans up, he looked up to me, his eyes dark with a hint of possessiveness. 

"You good?"

"Yeah...fuck, that was good, I still dislike you however" I smirk, my legs feeling weak. He lets out a snort, a smirk on his lips. 

"Oh doll, don't act like that, you loved that I gave it to you" He smirks, I shake my head, I grabbed my pyjama bottoms, pulling them on. I walk past him, my shoulder knocking into him. He grabs my arm, stopping me in my tracks, spinning me around to face him. 

"Where do you think you're going doll?"

"To bed, that alright with you Barnes?" I ask, more harshly than I should of. 

"Alone?" He smirks. I roll my eyes, I wanted him to come with me, I found myself wanting to sleep next to him, he wouldn't...Would he?

"Not going soft on me, are you?" I asked, smirking. He smiles and presses his body to mine again. 

"It's not going soft, it's called being a gentleman"

"You've never once been a gentleman to me before" I say, my eyes looking over his face. 

"True, but I can be, when I want to be" He smiles, letting out an amused huff, running his hand down my arm, his fingers trailing over my skin. 

"Fine, sleep in my bed with me?" I say, trying not to sound pathetic, like I was begging. A look of surprise and smugness came over his face.

"Is that an invitation?" He smirks. 

"Jesus, take it or don't, I don't care" I say shaking him off and walking out of the room, he follows me. "Fuck, you're annoying"

He chuckles, watching me open the door to my bedroom "Says the one who's inviting me into her bed doll" He smirks. 

"Fine, invitation revoked" I say, stepping into my room, I watched as laughed following me. 

"Oh no doll, You can't invite me and then take it back" He grins, shutting my bedroom door. 

"Whatever" I say as I walk to my bed and crawl in. I watched as he follows me, crawling into my bed, he lays on top of the duvet, looking unsure on what to do. I smile softly and shut my eyes, ready for sleep to take me. 

(I do not consent my works to be posted anywhere else, by anyone other than myself)

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy

[gnawing-suspicion]

So I’ve had two days now to collect my thoughts and I’ll say this

I think the Agatha All Along finale was incredible for a Marvel show. Every MCU series falls victim to the Flat Ending - the penultimate one is always brilliant (7 and 8 of AAA were amazing), and then they get bogged down by executive notes and having to tie into the larger Marvel Universe. Think of Kang at the end of Loki S1, monologuing all over the show/dynamic we were actually there to see tie up.

If we set aside the Wiccan Needs To Be In Movies of it all, my only major issue was the missing backstory for Agatha and Rio. Not just because I love them, but because we needed even one scene of why their connection was so strong. How did Death discover her? It couldn’t have been at Nicky’s birth - they were already “my love”-ing each other. Did she watch Agatha for years, observing the deaths she caused, eventually revealing herself? Did she appear after Agatha drained her coven?

My guess is there was probably a plan for this that got nixed or lost to notes. Marvel is notorious for patting themselves on the back publicly for queer/diverse representation while doing everything they can to tamp it down behind closed doors. I’m guessing the AAA team gave us everything they could and I salute them for it. The leap from America Chavez’ blink-and-you-miss-it pride pin to Kathryn Hahn making out with Aubrey Plaza onscreen amidst an entirely, canonically queer cast is astronomical.

The whole show was so well-thought out and written that I just don’t buy leaving Agatha and Rio’s history as a blurry question mark on purpose. Story-wise, we needed the Why. Not just why she hates Death (we got this) but why she loved her. The betrayal means a lot less when we have no reason to root for them.

This isn’t me saying “bad job, show” because it’s a miracle it exists at all and it gave us SO much and I love it!! Best MCU show to date, and incredibly groundbreaking! I’m excited to rewatch it given the twist at the end. I just wish we’d had a little more of that.

And so off I go to my keyboard to log into the archive of our own and fill in the gaps!!

[luminnara]

Ganondorf x Hylian!reader

Just a little blurb I had to get out of my brain. Requests for Ganondorf/other Zelda characters are open!

He couldn’t help but marvel at you.

For as much as he hated hylians, even he must admit that some of them possessed admirable qualities—tenacity, an indomitable ability to survive anything, and a fiery courage that sometimes bordered on foolishness. You were an excellent example of a Hylian in this sense.

Now, as he watched you sitting near the crystal clear waters of the oasis, he could recall how you had glared up at him when he had first met you. Your teeth had been bared, your hands balled into fists at your sides as you had no doubt prepared yourself to fight to the death. But any intentions he had had of killing you quickly dissipated when he saw that bright fire in your eyes, and he could remember laying his sword down at your feet and kneeling before you…though even while kneeling he was far larger than you, a mountain in comparison.

You had been confused. You had considered running, preserving your life and keeping your head attached to your shoulders. You had even thought about wrapping both hands around the sword’s grip and doing your best to haul the massive weapon up into the air to protect yourself with. But when you had seen the way the Gerudo king had lowered himself, you had begun to consider him in a new, less threatening light, and you had taken a step back while the tension in the air shifted to something different.

From that moment on, he wanted only to be near you. And now, after many months of careful, determined courtship, he finally felt that you were his.

When he shifted his weight and leaned towards you, he was pleased to find that you mirrored him. Your shoulder brushed against his chest as you relaxed with a hydromelon slice clutched in your hand, the juice running down your wrist in a way that made him wrinkle his nose. He had always hated the sticky feeling of food on his skin. As you tilted your head up and saw the look of disgust on his face, you simply laughed and offered him the hydromelon, licking the juice off yourself when he took it.

“Oh, mighty king of the Gerudo…” you teased. “So bothered by the smallest things.”

“You are quite small, and you don’t bother me in the least.” He quipped, taking a large bite.

You could feel warmth in your cheeks as you blushed. “That’s good, then. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your day, by any means.”

“On the contrary…” he tossed the melon rind towards the sand seals relaxing nearby and put both hands on your hips, hoisting you into his lap. “You are a most welcome and constant distraction.”

He was so big and so warm, his hands seeming to engulf you as he held you there. How you ended up with the king of the Gerudo remained a mystery to you, but being with Ganondorf felt as natural as breathing, and the thought of being away from his hot skin and deep voice for even a day was troubling to you now. It had been months since you had last seen your homeland of Hyrule, and while at times you missed the lush, green fields, this endless desert had become your home, as had the man who lorded over it.

“You’re thinking of it again,” he remarked almost bitterly.

“Hmm?” You zoned back in to find him studying your face, golden eyes watching you intently.

“Hyrule.”

You laid a palm flat against his chest and looked down at it. “It’s hard not to think of it, at times.”

He was silent for a long moment, and at first, you were afraid you had upset him. But when your eyes drifted back up to his, you saw that they were serious and bright, practically sparkling with what you knew was passion.

“One day, we will both go there.” He said.

“I would like that,” you smiled.

“One day…Hyrule will be yours.”

[amethystarachnid]

Hello. I’d like to request a Loki x Fem!Reader. Not sure if you’ve seen Step Up 3 but the song Bust Your Windows by Jazmine Sullivan was played and basically in the scene the two love interests did a tango (I would look it up for reference 🩷). So maybe Loki and Reader are on an undercover mission and they get tied into a tango. You can interpret it however you want but I’ve had this ask stuck in my head for a while now. Hope you like this! 🩷🩷

BOUND BY DUTY

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff, flirty

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: Loki has been called form the S.H.I.E.L.D. to help the Avengers with an anomaly that's happening around the world and you're assigned to be his handler. You were told to not trust him but what if under that mask of indifference there's a man just wishing to be loved?

ᯓ★ Word count: 9.7k

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just a few hated kisses and flirty comments

ᯓ★ I haven't seen the movie but I've seen the scene on YouTube (like just the 3 minutes ? scene) and really hop you'll like the story

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The air inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound feels heavier than usual. It could be the weight of the mission ahead or the fact that the one person who might hold the answers is a literal god—a god of mischief, no less. You’ve been briefed on Loki’s recent exploits, his failed conquest of Earth, and his punishment in Asgard’s dungeons. You know better than to trust him, but you also know that sometimes the devil you know is preferable to the devil you don’t.

Nick Fury has chosen you, of all people, to act as Loki’s handler. You don’t know whether to feel honored or utterly cursed. He claims it’s because of your “unflinching professionalism” and “ability to handle high-pressure situations.” You suspect it’s because most of your colleagues would rather face a firing squad than deal with Loki’s silver tongue.

The sound of the jet door opening draws your attention. You straighten your back and smooth your jacket as two Asgardian guards march down the ramp, their armor gleaming even under the dim hangar lights. Between them walks Loki, his wrists bound in glowing cuffs that hum faintly with suppressed power. He’s wearing his usual dark green attire, though the horned helmet is missing. Without it, his raven-black hair tumbles around his face, framing sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. His piercing blue eyes sweep the room, landing on you.

You can feel his gaze like a physical weight, appraising you. He smirks. Of course, he smirks.

“Agent,” Fury’s voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you slightly. “Take him to interrogation. The guards will brief you on his restraints.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, your voice calm and steady despite the flutter in your chest.

The Asgardian guards exchange a few words with you about Loki’s bindings. They warn you not to let your guard down—ever. You assure them you won’t, though you’re starting to realize that resisting Loki’s words might be a different kind of challenge altogether.

“Shall we?” you say, gesturing for Loki to follow you. He arches an eyebrow but complies, falling into step beside you. The guards trail behind at a respectful distance.

The walk to the interrogation room is uncomfortably silent. You’re hyper-aware of Loki’s presence beside you, his tall frame moving with a predatory grace. He doesn’t look like someone who’s been imprisoned for months; he looks like he owns the place, and you’re just a guest in his domain.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. Of course, he does.

“Tell me, Agent,” he begins, his voice smooth and lilting, “do they often send mortals to babysit gods, or am I a special case?”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, determined not to rise to the bait. “I’m here to make sure you don’t cause any trouble. Think of me as your parole officer.”

He chuckles softly, the sound almost pleasant if you didn’t know better. “And if I were to misbehave, what then? Will you scold me? Perhaps send me to my room without supper?”

His words drip with mockery, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—amusement, maybe even intrigue. You keep your expression neutral. “If you misbehave, you’ll find out just how creative S.H.I.E.L.D. can be when it comes to disciplinary measures.”

“Promises, promises,” he murmurs, and you feel a shiver crawl up your spine at the way his eyes linger on you. You remind yourself that this is what Loki does: he gets under people’s skin, twists their emotions until they don’t know which way is up. You won’t let him succeed.

The interrogation room is as stark and clinical as you’d expect. A metal table and two chairs sit under the harsh glow of fluorescent lights. Loki looks around with mild disdain as if the room itself offends his sensibilities.

“This is where you intend to question me?” he asks, his tone dripping with derision. “How... quaint.”

You motion for him to sit. He doesn’t move immediately, instead watching you with that infuriating smirk. Finally, he lowers himself into the chair with the air of someone granting you a great favor.

The guards secure his bindings to the table before stepping back. You nod at them, and they leave, the door clicking shut behind them. Now it’s just you and Loki. You take the seat across from him, pulling out a tablet with your notes.

“We have reason to believe you have information about a recent incident involving extraterrestrial technology,” you say, your voice steady. “S.H.I.E.L.D. recovered several devices that match the energy signature of the Tesseract. We need to know where they came from.”

Loki leans back in his chair, the chains on his wrists clinking softly. “Ah, the Tesseract. Such a fascinating little trinket. Tell me, Agent, do you often meddle in matters beyond your comprehension?”

“This isn’t about me,” you reply coolly. “It’s about you. And what you know.”

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And what do I gain from sharing this knowledge? A lighter sentence? A pat on the head? Somehow, I doubt your superiors are feeling particularly charitable toward me.”

“We’re not asking for charity. We’re asking for cooperation. Help us, and we might consider negotiating with Asgard on your behalf.”

Loki’s laughter fills the room, sharp and cold. “Negotiate with Asgard? Oh, how delightfully naive. Do you honestly believe Odin would entertain such an offer? He’d sooner banish me to the farthest reaches of the cosmos than indulge your mortal whims.”

You suppress a sigh, already feeling the weight of this conversation. But then Loki leans forward, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Still,” he says, his voice softer now, almost teasing, “I might be persuaded to cooperate. After all, it would be such a shame to disappoint you.”

There it is again—that deliberate charm, the way he threads his words with just enough sincerity to make you second-guess yourself. You fold your arms, meeting his gaze head-on.

“You don’t intimidate me, Loki.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to intimidate you,” he says, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “Merely... entertain you. Is that not the proper term for what mortals call ‘flirting’?”

Your stomach flips, but you keep your expression neutral. “If this is your idea of flirting, I’m not impressed.”

“Hmm,” he muses, leaning back again. “Perhaps I’ve spent too long among Asgardians. We have a certain... flair for tradition. Shall I compose you a sonnet instead? Or perhaps challenge another suitor to a duel in your honor?”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You quickly school your features, but not before Loki notices. His smirk widens.

“There it is,” he says, his tone triumphant. “A crack in the armor. I knew you weren’t entirely immune to my charms.”

You roll your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you tap a few notes into your tablet, focusing on the task at hand.

“Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” you say firmly. “Where did the devices come from?”

Loki sighs dramatically, as if the question bores him. “You mortals are so dreadfully predictable. Always demanding answers, yet never willing to pay the price for them.”

“What’s the price?”

He tilts his head, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Your name.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“Your name, Agent,” he repeats, enunciating the words slowly, as if you’re a particularly dense student. “You see, it’s rather difficult to have a proper conversation when I must refer to you as simply ‘Agent.’ It’s so... impersonal.”

You hesitate. It’s not a particularly sensitive piece of information, but giving him your name feels like handing him a weapon. Still, you decide it’s a small concession if it means making progress.

“Y/N,” you say finally. “My name is Y/N.”

Loki’s smile softens, though it’s no less dangerous. “A beautiful name for a beautiful mortal. Tell me, Y/N, do all agents possess your... charm, or are you truly one of a kind?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you reply, though your cheeks warm slightly at the compliment. You hope the harsh lighting hides it.

“Ah, but it’s not flattery if it’s true,” he counters smoothly. “And if I may say so, you wear skepticism rather well. It suits you.”

You shake your head, fighting the urge to laugh. Loki’s flirtations are relentless, but you can’t let them distract you. You refocus on the task, determined to get the answers you need.

But as the interrogation continues, one thing becomes clear: working with Loki is going to be anything but straightforward.

The quinjet ride to Avengers Tower is suffocating in its silence. Loki sits across from you, his long legs stretched out casually as if he owns the entire aircraft. His wrists remain bound, the faint glow of the Asgardian cuffs serving as a reminder of his diminished power. But that doesn’t stop him from exuding arrogance with every calculated shift of his posture.

“Is this where I’m supposed to tremble?” he muses, his voice cutting through the quiet. “The great Avengers Tower, lair of the mighty heroes who so thoroughly bested me.” His smirk deepens. “How quaint.”

You’re seated across from him, tablet in hand, pretending to review your notes. But Loki’s presence is impossible to ignore, his every word curling around you like smoke.

“Maybe don’t insult the people who’ll be watching your every move,” you say, not looking up. “They’re already not thrilled about this arrangement.”

He tilts his head, watching you with something between amusement and curiosity. “And you, Y/N? Are you thrilled?”

“I’m doing my job.”

“Oh, but your job now entails keeping me under control, does it not?” His voice lowers, playful and conspiratorial. “Tell me, how does it feel to hold the leash of a god?”

You glance up, meeting his eyes without flinching. “It feels like babysitting a particularly arrogant toddler.”

His laughter rings out, rich and genuine, surprising you. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard. But then his expression shifts back to its usual smugness, and you realize he’s thoroughly enjoying this verbal sparring.

When the quinjet lands on the rooftop pad of Avengers Tower, you rise, gesturing for Loki to follow. He does, the clinking of his cuffs echoing as he steps out into the open air. The city sprawls out below, glittering in the early evening light, but Loki barely spares it a glance. His focus remains on the tower itself, his smirk growing as he takes in the structure.

“Ah, Stark’s playground,” he says. “I trust the man himself is waiting inside, ready to deliver a string of tiresome quips?”

“Something like that,” you reply, leading him toward the elevator.

As the doors slide open, Loki steps inside with the air of a man entering his throne room. You press the button for the common floor, bracing yourself for the chaos that’s about to unfold.

The doors slide open to reveal the Avengers lounging in the common area. Tony Stark is leaning against the bar, a drink in hand, while Natasha Romanoff sharpens a knife at the table. Steve Rogers stands near the window, arms crossed, his jaw tight. Bruce Banner hovers awkwardly in the background, glancing up as you and Loki step in.

“Look who’s here!” Tony’s voice cuts through the tension, dripping with mock enthusiasm. “Reindeer Games himself. I thought Asgard had a no-returns policy.”

Loki’s lips curl into a predatory smile. “Ah, Stark. Still compensating for something, I see.”

“Alright, let’s not,” you interject quickly, stepping between them. “Loki’s here to help us, not pick a fight.”

“Help us?” Steve’s voice is cold, his gaze sharp as it settles on Loki. “That’s a generous interpretation.”

“It’s true,” you reply, keeping your tone firm. “We’ve encountered tech with energy signatures similar to the Tesseract. Loki’s the only one who might have answers.”

“Because trusting the guy who tried to enslave the planet worked out so well the first time,” Tony quips, raising his glass.

Loki chuckles softly. “It’s heartwarming to see how fondly you remember me.”

Bruce shifts uncomfortably in the corner, his eyes darting between Loki and the others. You don’t miss the tension in his posture, the way his hands twitch as if ready to retreat at a moment’s notice. Loki notices too, and for the first time since his arrival, a flicker of unease crosses his face. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

“I see the beast is still lurking,” Loki says, his voice quieter now, though the edge remains. “Tell me, Dr. Banner, does he hunger for revenge?”

Bruce flinches, his face pale. “I—I’d rather not...”

“Enough,” you cut in sharply, fixing Loki with a glare. “You’re here to cooperate, remember?”

Loki raises his hands as far as the cuffs allow, feigning innocence. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten the good doctor.”

Bruce mutters something under his breath and retreats further into the room. You make a mental note to keep an eye on both him and Loki; their shared tension feels like a powder keg waiting to ignite.

After the initial round of barbs, you manage to get Loki settled in a secure room. It’s more comfortable than the dungeons of Asgard but still far from luxurious—bare walls, a simple bed, and a reinforced door with biometric locks.

“Charming,” Loki says, surveying his new accommodations. “I feel right at home.”

“Good,” you reply, leaning against the doorframe. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. If you step out of line, even once, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He steps closer, just enough to invade your space without crossing a line. His voice drops to a low purr. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t doubt your ability to... discipline me. In fact, I almost look forward to it.”

Your cheeks flush despite yourself, but you hold your ground. “Get some rest. We’ll debrief tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave, you hear his voice again, softer this time. “Y/N?”

You pause, glancing over your shoulder. He’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite place—curiosity, perhaps, or something deeper.

“Why do you trust them with me?” he asks. “Your precious Avengers. Do you truly believe they can keep me in line?”

You meet his gaze, your own unwavering. “I don’t trust them to keep you in line. That’s my job.”

His smirk returns, but there’s something almost genuine beneath it. “Indeed, it is.”

The following day, the team gathers in the briefing room. Loki is seated at the far end of the table, his wrists still bound, though his demeanor remains as smug as ever. A holographic projection displays images of the recovered devices, their design sleek and alien.

“These were found in an abandoned Hydra facility,” you explain, gesturing to the display. “They emit the same energy signature as the Tesseract, but we have no idea what they’re for. That’s where Loki comes in.”

All eyes turn to him. He leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

“Convince me,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “Why should I share my insights with you?”

“Because if you don’t,” Tony says, leaning forward, “we’ll lock you in a room with Banner and see how long it takes before the Other Guy wants a rematch.”

Bruce shoots Tony a horrified look, but Loki’s smirk falters for a split second. You notice the way his fingers tighten against the edge of the table.

“Enough,” you say firmly. “We’re not resorting to threats.” You turn to Loki, your voice softening slightly. “You know what’s out there, and you know how dangerous it can be. Help us stop it. Prove you’re not the monster everyone thinks you are.”

For a moment, the room is silent. Loki’s gaze locks onto yours, something flickering in his expression—something almost vulnerable. Then, slowly, he inclines his head.

“Very well,” he says, his voice smooth once more. “Let’s see if mortals can keep up.”

As the meeting disperses, Loki lingers behind, waiting until it’s just the two of you.

“Nicely done, Y/N,” he says, his tone almost... complimentary. “You’ve mastered the art of persuasion.”

“I didn’t persuade you,” you reply. “I just told the truth.”

He steps closer, his smirk returning. “And yet, it worked. I wonder, what other truths might you use to sway me?”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “Let’s focus on saving the world first, shall we?”

“As you wish,” he says, bowing his head slightly. But as he steps past you, his voice drops to a whisper. “Though I suspect saving me might be your true challenge.”

You watch him leave, your heart inexplicably pounding. This mission just got a lot more complicated.

The next morning, the Avengers leave in a flurry of purpose and energy, Stark’s voice echoing with instructions as they file out of the tower. It’s a rare sight—every single one of them heading into the field together. You’re left behind, tasked with monitoring Loki and keeping the tower secure.

The quiet that follows their departure is almost unnerving. You sit in the common area, flipping through a report on your tablet, when Loki saunters in. He’s unbound for now—S.H.I.E.L.D.’s restraints only used when necessary. His movements are languid, predatory, as he crosses the room with his usual air of entitlement.

“Left alone with me again, Y/N?” he drawls, leaning against the counter like he owns the place. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

You don’t look up. “You’re always alone, Loki. I’m just here to make sure you don’t destroy anything or anyone.”

He hums thoughtfully, his sharp gaze raking over you. “I wonder, is that truly why you remain? Or do you find my company... intriguing?”

You glance at him, exasperated. “I find it tolerable. At best.”

“And yet, here you are.” His smirk widens as he steps closer, just enough to test your boundaries. “Tell me, Agent, what do you do when the others aren’t here to play their parts? Surely, you don’t spend every waking moment in this dull little tower watching me.”

“Someone has to.” You set your tablet aside and stand, trying to put some distance between the two of you. “Why don’t you make my job easier and sit quietly for once?”

“But then how would I amuse myself?” He takes another step closer, his voice lowering. “You may not admit it, but I suspect you’d miss my antics if I were to behave.”

You roll your eyes and walk toward the kitchen, feigning indifference. “Don’t flatter yourself, Loki.”

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. You keep yourself busy with monitoring systems and catching up on reports, all while Loki stays suspiciously quiet in his room. It's unusual—he’s normally a restless presence, eager to test limits.

You assume his compliance is a sign of temporary boredom. What you don’t know is that Loki is lying in his sparse room, calculating. He’s been studying the tower’s security systems, searching for a way to slip past its safeguards. Tonight might be the night, he thinks. He’s memorized the patterns, the gaps, and he knows he can vanish before the Avengers even realize he’s gone.

As the hours stretch into evening, you retire to your room, unaware of the god’s intentions. Your space is a rare sanctuary in the tower, a blend of cozy practicality and personal touches that feel distinctly you.

Loki waits until the tower falls completely silent. With a wave of his hand, he disables the monitoring device in his room. It’s a minor spell—one he’s been saving for the right moment. The cuffs are no longer a problem; he’s studied the locking mechanism enough to slip them off without much effort.

He steps into the hallway, his bare feet silent on the cool floor. For the first time in weeks, he feels a surge of freedom, the tantalizing promise of escape. He heads for the exit, his mind already planning the next steps.

But as he passes by your room, a faint sound catches his attention. The door is slightly ajar, spilling a sliver of warm light into the hall. Loki hesitates, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

He peeks inside—and what he sees makes his breath hitch.

You’re standing in front of your bed, freshly out of the shower. Your hair is damp, curling against your shoulders, and you’re wearing nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around your body. The bathroom door behind you is still open, steam curling into the air, and the glow of a bedside lamp bathes your skin in soft light.

Completely unaware of your observer, you move to the dresser, pulling it open to retrieve clothes. As you reach up, the towel slips slightly, revealing more of your shoulder and the curve of your collarbone. Loki swallows hard, a rush of heat pooling in his chest and spreading lower.

He knows he should leave—should slip away unnoticed and continue with his plan. But he doesn’t move.

There’s something captivating about this glimpse of you outside the professional walls you keep so firmly in place. You’re unguarded, human in a way he rarely sees, and it stirs something in him he doesn’t entirely understand.

He takes a step closer, his presence still undetected. The urge to say something, to tease you as he always does, bubbles up, but he suppresses it.

For once, the god of mischief is utterly silent.

You turn suddenly, as if sensing something, and his heart lurches. He retreats quickly, pressing himself against the wall just as your eyes flick toward the door.

“Hello?” you call, your voice uncertain.

Loki curses himself for his foolishness. He shouldn’t have lingered—but now that he’s seen this side of you, his desire to leave the tower has shifted. He watches as you step closer to the door, your expression wary.

He slips away, retreating to his room without a sound. Once inside, he leans against the wall, his mind racing.

The thought of escape still lingers in the back of his mind, but it no longer feels urgent. Not tonight.

Not when he knows you’re here, in the same space, entirely unaware of the effect you’ve had on him.

You find Loki in the common area, lounging on the couch as if nothing happened. His cuffs are back in place, though you notice a faint smugness in his expression, as if he knows something you don’t.

“Good morning,” he says smoothly, his tone laced with amusement.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You seem chipper today.”

“Perhaps I’ve found reason to be,” he replies, his gaze flickering over you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You frown, brushing off the unease that his words stir. “Try not to enjoy yourself too much. You’re still under watch.”

“Of course,” he says with a slight bow of his head. “But tell me, Y/N, how did you sleep? Peacefully, I hope.”

There’s something about the way he says it—soft, teasing, with just a hint of mischief—that makes you pause.

You brush past him, refusing to let him get under your skin. But as you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, his gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts.

And in his room later, Loki sits at the edge of his bed, the memory of you from the night before seared into his mind.

For now, his escape can wait.

The tension in the air was thick as the Avengers gathered in the briefing room, the holographic screen showing images of the upcoming gala. Tony Stark stood at the head of the table, his hands resting on the surface, eyes narrowed as he analyzed the data. Steve Rogers was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw set, while Natasha Romanoff sat with a focused expression, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. Bruce Banner, still uneasy around Loki, looked at the screen, then at his colleagues, silently awaiting the inevitable question.

"Alright," Tony began, his voice cutting through the thick silence. "We've got a masked gala happening in three days. High-profile event. The criminals we're tracking are expected to make a deal there, and it's our best shot at catching them."

"But they’ll be surrounded by a lot of people," Natasha said, folding her arms. "And these are highly dangerous individuals—some with connections to Hydra. We can’t risk a full-on assault."

"I agree," Steve added, his tone serious. "If we act too soon, we’ll spook them. We need to get inside, gather intel, and only move in when we have enough to bring them down safely."

"The problem," Tony continued, tapping a button on the table to bring up a closer view of the suspects, "is that they’re too well-protected. The best way in is through someone they don’t expect. Someone like... Loki."

The room went quiet. Everyone exchanged glances, the air thick with unease. Even though Loki had been cooperating—somewhat—the trust wasn’t there. Not after what he’d done. Not after the chaos he’d tried to bring to Earth. And still, his knowledge of these kinds of circles, his ability to navigate a room and blend in with the highest of society—well, it was a skill set they couldn’t afford to ignore.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” Tony continued. “But he’s the only one who can do this. We send him in as a guest. He can be charming—when he wants to be—and this kind of event is perfect for him. He won’t be recognized as a threat. In fact, they’ll probably be more inclined to trust him because of his past affiliations.”

“But we can’t just let him roam free,” Steve said, his distrust of the god evident. “There’s still the matter of him being dangerous. Even if he’s pretending to play nice, he’s unpredictable.”

“Exactly,” Tony said with a nod. “Which is why we’ll send Y/N in with him. As his escort.”

The room went silent again, this time for a different reason. Every eye turned to you, and for a brief moment, you felt the weight of their gazes. It wasn’t exactly a choice you’d been expecting. You had done plenty of fieldwork, but partnering with Loki? That was a new level of uncomfortable.

“Y/N’s been on the ground for this mission longer than any of us,” Tony continued, sensing the hesitation. “She knows the people, she knows how to blend in, and most importantly, she knows Loki better than any of us. She can keep him in check. Plus, we need someone who can keep him focused when things get... tense.”

You couldn’t help but shoot Tony a sharp look. “You’re assuming I’ll be able to control him. I’m not sure that’s realistic.”

“I’m confident you can,” Tony said with a shrug, though his tone was far from comforting. “Besides, we’ll be monitoring you both from the moment you step inside. We’ll be feeding you intel, and we’ve got backup in case things go sideways. But we can’t afford to miss this opportunity.”

You let out a long breath. The Avengers were right in one respect—this gala would be the criminals’ first big move, and it was the perfect chance to catch them red-handed. The only problem was the wild card in all of this—Loki.

“You do realize, he’s going to hate this, right?” you said, glancing toward the hallway where Loki’s room was. “He won’t go along with it without making some... demands.”

“I’m aware,” Tony said with a smirk. “But that’s where you come in. You’re going to keep him in line, whether he likes it or not.”

The idea of working so closely with Loki was disconcerting, to say the least. You weren’t sure if you were more concerned about his volatile personality or the way he looked at you—like he could read you with a single glance. Either way, being his partner at a high-stakes event was sure to turn this mission into something far more complicated than it already was.

“You’ll need to get him suited up,” Tony added. “Dress him the part. He’s got the charm, but he’s going to need the right... accessories to sell it. A tux, maybe something dark and mysterious. And, of course, a story. We’re going with the ‘rich but elusive businessman’ angle.”

You nodded reluctantly. “I’ll make sure he’s... presentable. But don’t expect him to be on his best behavior just because he’s wearing a suit.”

“I’m counting on you to make sure he stays in character, Y/N,” Tony said, locking eyes with you. “We need him to play nice for just a few hours. If he steps out of line, you have full clearance to use whatever means necessary to rein him in.”

Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward. “I don’t like putting you in this position, Y/N. But this is the only chance we’ve got to take down these criminals. You know the risks, and we’re counting on you to make sure Loki doesn’t derail everything.”

“I get it,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “I’ll keep him focused. But if he decides to do something... foolish, don’t expect me to clean up after him.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tony said with a grin. “But seriously, we’re counting on you both. The gala is our best chance to catch them. You’ll be getting intel from us in real time, so we’ll know exactly when to move in.”

You nodded again, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on your shoulders. This wasn’t just about stopping criminals—it was about making sure Loki didn’t ruin everything, too. And while you could handle the job, you knew it wouldn’t be easy, especially with a god of mischief at your side.

As you walked to Loki’s room to prepare him for the mission, your mind raced. You were about to go undercover with someone who had a knack for turning every situation into a game. It was going to be a challenge, no doubt about it. But if it meant catching the criminals and keeping the tower—and your team—safe, you were ready to do whatever it took.

You reached his door and knocked twice, preparing yourself for the inevitable confrontation. It was time to bring him into the fold, even if that meant wrestling him into a tux and a plan.

Inside, Loki’s voice echoed through the door. “Come in, Y/N. I trust this isn’t a social call?”

You opened the door, steeling yourself. The mission was about to begin, and there was no turning back.

The grandeur of the gala hits you the moment you step into the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the crowd, illuminating the sea of elegant masks and opulent gowns. A live band plays a sultry melody, the kind that fills the air with the promise of secrets. Beside you, Loki cuts an imposing figure, his sharp suit tailored to perfection and his black mask veiling just enough of his face to make him look both alluring and dangerous.

You’re both walking a tightrope here, pretending to be something you’re not while still tethered to the truth. The mission is clear: mingle, gather intel on the criminals, and identify their deal. But the undercurrent of your arrangement hums just beneath the surface, threatening to pull you under with every step.

“They certainly went all out,” Loki muses, his voice smooth as silk. He offers his arm, and though you hesitate for a fraction of a second, you take it. “Is this where I play the doting husband?”

“Try not to overdo it,” you reply, keeping your voice low. “We’re supposed to blend in, not steal the spotlight.”

He tilts his head toward you, his lips curling into a smirk. “But stealing the spotlight is what I do best, darling.”

You give him a warning look, though your heart skips a beat at the way the endearment rolls off his tongue. “Save the theatrics for later. Right now, we need to find our targets.”

He hums in agreement, though the sharp gleam in his eyes suggests he’s more focused on you than the mission. His hand rests lightly over yours as he leads you through the crowd, weaving seamlessly between masked attendees. He’s good at this, you realize, his charm a perfect weapon in this environment.

“Smile,” he murmurs close to your ear, his breath ghosting against your skin. “You look far too serious for someone at a gala.”

You force a small smile, though the proximity of him sends heat rushing to your face. “I’d be more relaxed if I wasn’t babysitting a god with a penchant for chaos.”

“And I’d be more entertained if my wife weren’t so suspicious of me,” he teases, his voice dropping just enough to make the words feel intimate.

Before you can retort, Loki’s posture shifts ever so slightly. He leans closer, pretending to adjust your mask, and murmurs, “Our targets are at three o’clock. The tall one with the crimson gown. She’s speaking to a man with a cane.”

You glance subtly in that direction and nod. “Let’s move closer.”

The two of you drift toward the edge of the ballroom, positioning yourselves within earshot of the targets. Loki keeps his hand on yours, the intimate gesture lending an air of authenticity to your cover. You focus on the conversation happening nearby, picking up snippets of information about shipment schedules and encrypted codes.

But then, the music changes.

A familiar tune fills the room—sultry, electric, and unmistakably intense. It’s Bust Your Windows by Jazmine Sullivan, reimagined by the live band with a pulsing tango rhythm.

Before you can react, Loki takes your hand and spins you toward the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, trying to pull back.

“Keeping up appearances,” he says smoothly, his mask glinting in the light. “We’re a married couple, after all. And what better way to celebrate our love than a dance?”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, but you allow him to lead you onto the floor.

The second your feet touch the polished wood, his hand finds the small of your back, pulling you closer than you expect. His other hand captures yours, holding it just above shoulder height as he begins to move. The tango’s rhythm demands sharp, deliberate steps, and Loki executes them flawlessly, guiding you as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you say, breathless as he spins you.

“I’m full of surprises,” he replies, his voice low and magnetic.

The music swells, the band leaning into the dramatic crescendos, and you feel the tension between you and Loki rise to match it. Every step, every twist of your body against his, feels charged. His hand lingers just a moment too long when it brushes your hip, his fingers grazing the bare skin between your dress and his touch.

“You’re supposed to be watching the targets,” you remind him, though your voice comes out shakier than you’d like.

“Ah, but how could I focus on them when my wife is such a vision?” His tone is playful, but there’s something darker, more serious, behind his words.

As he dips you, your breath catches. The movement is effortless, but the way his eyes bore into yours makes you forget, for a moment, that this is just an act.

The song’s climax hits, and Loki pulls you even closer, his cheek brushing yours as he whispers, “Tell me, darling. Are you pretending to enjoy this as much as I am?”

Your heart pounds, though you refuse to let him see how much he’s affecting you. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you haven’t pushed me away,” he counters, spinning you once more before the final beats of the song.

The last note hangs in the air as Loki holds you in a dramatic pose, his arm wrapped around your waist, his face inches from yours. The applause from the crowd barely registers as you realize your breathing has quickened, your skin warm where his hand rests.

He smirks, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Shall we call this a victory, wife?”

You snap back to reality, pulling away just enough to compose yourself. “Don’t get used to it. We still have a mission.”

“Of course,” he says, though the glint in his eyes suggests he’s far more interested in the game he’s playing with you than the criminals in the room.

As the crowd disperses from the dance floor, you glance toward your targets, who seem to have moved toward a private balcony.

“Come on,” you say, tugging at his arm.

Loki follows, but not before leaning close and murmuring, “I’ll be thinking about that dance for a very long time.”

You don’t dignify him with a response, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you. The mission isn’t over yet, and you can only hope Loki’s antics won’t make things even more complicated.

You and Loki follow the targets carefully, keeping a measured distance as they make their way toward a secluded hallway leading to the gala’s private suites. The corridor is dimly lit, lined with ornate wallpaper and gilded sconces. The murmur of the crowd fades, leaving only the faint echo of footsteps as you press closer to the wall, your pulse quickening with the thrill of being so near to your goal.

“They’re heading to the west wing,” Loki whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “It seems our charming couple prefers privacy for their dealings.”

You nod, your heart pounding as you creep along the edge of the hall, trying to stay out of sight. The couple stops just ahead, speaking in hushed tones. Loki steps closer behind you, his presence almost overwhelming in the enclosed space.

“Keep your focus,” you hiss, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“Oh, I am focused,” he replies, his tone playful but quiet. “Though I can’t help but wonder how much longer we can linger without being noticed.”

It’s a valid concern. The targets seem engrossed in their conversation, but the corridor is too exposed. You glance around, searching for a place to retreat or a better angle to listen in, but before you can decide, one of the criminals glances back sharply, their eyes scanning the hallway.

“They’re looking this way,” Loki mutters, his voice low and urgent.

Panic shoots through you. There’s no time to retreat, no place to hide. Your mind races, and then—on pure instinct—you grab Loki by the lapels of his suit and pull him toward you.

Before he can protest, your lips press against his, your back hitting the wall as you lean into him. His body stiffens for a split second, but then he catches on. His hands come to rest on your waist, fingers curling slightly as he leans into the kiss, matching your urgency with surprising ease.

Your heart hammers in your chest, not just from the danger but from the sudden, electric sensation of Loki’s mouth on yours. His lips are soft yet commanding, his touch both calculated and possessive as he shifts his body to shield you further from view.

“What in the Nine Realms are you doing?” he whispers against your lips, his tone more intrigued than accusatory.

“Keeping us alive,” you murmur back, your voice barely audible as the footsteps approach.

The targets pass by slowly, their footsteps deliberate. You can feel their gaze sweep over you, but you don’t dare look. Instead, you pour every ounce of focus into the act, your fingers curling into the fabric of Loki’s jacket as you deepen the kiss just enough to sell it.

Loki seems to relish the role, tilting his head to deepen the kiss further. His thumb brushes against your waist, sending a shiver through you that has nothing to do with the cold.

A voice interrupts the moment, sharp and disapproving. “This is hardly the place for such displays.”

You part from Loki abruptly, your face hot as you turn to face the source of the scolding. One of the gala’s staff members, an older man in a crisp uniform, stands a few feet away, his expression one of polite disapproval.

“My apologies,” you say quickly, straightening your mask and trying to appear appropriately chastised. “We got… carried away.”

Loki, ever the performer, offers a sheepish smile that’s somehow more seductive than apologetic. “Forgive us. My wife and I have a difficult time restraining our passions.”

The staff member huffs, clearly unimpressed. “There are designated areas for such… activities. Keep it off the main floor.”

“Of course,” Loki replies smoothly, his hand still resting at the small of your back. “We’ll be more discreet.”

The staff member mutters something under his breath before walking away, and you exhale a shaky breath, your heart still racing. The targets are gone, having paid you no more than a passing glance. The plan worked.

You glance up at Loki, whose expression is unreadable behind his mask. “That was quick thinking,” he says finally, though there’s a teasing edge to his voice. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“It was survival,” you retort, stepping out of his hold and straightening your dress. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He smirks, adjusting his own mask with an air of casual arrogance. “Too late for that, darling. I’m afraid you’ve given me quite a lot to think about.”

You glare at him, though the heat in your cheeks betrays you. “Focus, Loki. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Ah, but you see,” he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr, “now I’m more motivated than ever to see this mission through. And who knows? Perhaps we’ll need to use that particular tactic again.”

You roll your eyes, brushing past him as you head back toward the main event. But as much as you want to dismiss his words, the lingering warmth of his kiss—and the way your body seemed to respond to him—stays with you, making it harder to focus than you’d like.

Loki follows close behind, his footsteps quiet but his presence impossible to ignore. And though neither of you speaks it aloud, there’s an unspoken awareness between you now—an understanding that something has shifted. Whether that’s a good thing or a dangerous one, only time will tell.

The ride back to the Avengers Tower is quieter than you expect, though tension hangs in the air, thick and unyielding. The mission was a success; you and Loki gathered enough intel to pinpoint the criminals’ next move and their precise location. As Tony pilots the jet, he and Natasha pore over the information, already strategizing for the intervention. Steve listens intently, his expression serious, while Bruce sits stiffly in his seat, keeping his distance from Loki, though the god seems entirely unfazed.

You sit across from Loki, your mask now discarded, but the memory of the gala’s events lingers. Every stolen glance, every near-discovery, and every moment you spent pressed against him still simmers in the back of your mind. You can feel his eyes on you, and though you refuse to look at him, your body betrays you, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Quite the evening,” Loki says suddenly, his voice smooth and low. His tone carries the same playful edge it always does, but there’s something else lurking beneath it—something darker, hungrier.

“Successful, at least,” you reply, keeping your voice even as you glance at him. “We accomplished what we came to do.”

“Indeed,” he says, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Though I dare say the evening held more… unexpected delights than anticipated.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can respond, Steve interrupts.

“Focus, you two,” he says sharply. “We’ve got work to do.”

Loki’s smirk widens, but he falls silent, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied air. You cross your arms, willing yourself to ignore him, though the memory of his kiss lingers, stubborn and persistent.

When you return to the Tower, the debriefing is quick and efficient. Tony projects the data you and Loki retrieved, detailing the location of the deal and the criminals’ schedule. The team agrees to strike at dawn, using the element of surprise to their advantage. As plans take shape, you feel a flicker of relief. The night’s tension will soon give way to action, and with any luck, this mission will end successfully.

Once the meeting adjourns, you catch Loki’s eye. “Come on,” you say, gesturing for him to follow. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

“As you wish,” he replies, rising gracefully from his seat.

The walk to his quarters is quiet at first. The Tower feels oddly still in the late hours, the hallways dimly lit. You lead the way, your mind spinning as you try to push away the lingering heat of the gala—the dance, the kiss, the way his hands felt on you. Loki walks beside you, his presence magnetic as ever, his gaze lingering on you even when you refuse to meet it.

When you reach his door, you stop, turning to face him. “Goodnight, Loki,” you say, your voice firm but polite.

But before you can step away, he moves closer.

“You’ve been avoiding my eyes all evening,” he says, his voice a low, velvety murmur. “Why is that, darling? Did I do something to unnerve you?”

“No,” you reply quickly, though the catch in your voice betrays you. “I’ve been focused on the mission, that’s all.”

“Liar,” he says softly, his smirk returning. “You’ve been thinking about it. About us. About the way I touched you, held you, kissed you.”

His words send a rush of heat through you, and you take a step back, your back hitting the wall. He follows, closing the distance until he’s mere inches away, his tall frame towering over you.

“Admit it,” he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You felt it, too—the spark, the fire. I see it in your eyes, Y/N. You want me just as much as I want you.”

You open your mouth to protest, but no words come out. Because he’s right. No matter how much you’ve tried to deny it, the truth is undeniable now, burning in every corner of your being.

His hand rises to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

But you don’t.

Instead, you lean into his touch, your resolve crumbling as the need overtakes you. Loki’s eyes darken, his breath hitching as he realizes your answer.

With a groan, he closes the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s nothing like the one at the gala. This kiss is raw, urgent, and unrestrained, a culmination of every unspoken word and every stolen glance. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips move against yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

And to his surprise—and yours—you kiss him back with just as much passion. Your fingers thread through his dark hair, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the moment. The world falls away, leaving only the heat of his touch and the hunger in his kiss.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing hard, your foreheads resting together. Loki’s hands remain on your waist, his grip firm yet gentle as if he’s afraid you might pull away.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse but tender.

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you press your lips to his again, silencing any words with a kiss that speaks volumes. For now, words don’t matter. All that matters is this—this moment, this connection, this fire that neither of you can deny anymore.

And for the first time, neither of you tries to.

The Tower feels different now, quieter in the wake of the mission’s success. The criminals have been apprehended, their operation dismantled, and SHIELD has taken over for the cleanup. But despite the victory, a strange tension lingers, heavy and unspoken. Fury and Thor are locked in discussions about Loki’s fate, and you and Loki are left waiting in his room, suspended in uncertainty.

The silence between you is unlike any other you’ve shared before. It’s not sharp with banter or charged with playful tension; it’s softer, quieter, tinged with something neither of you is willing to name.

You sit on the edge of the small couch by the window, gazing out at the city lights glittering against the dark sky. Loki leans against the desk, his long fingers idly toying with the edge of a book. For once, he’s still—not prowling or pacing, not filling the room with his restless energy.

“They’re taking their time,” you murmur, your voice cutting through the silence.

“They always do,” Loki replies, though his tone lacks its usual sarcasm.

You glance at him, studying his profile. He looks calm, almost serene, but you’ve spent enough time with him to see through the mask. The faint furrow in his brow, the tension in his jaw, the way his hands grip the book just a little too tightly—they all betray him.

“They’ll make the right decision,” you say softly, more to yourself than to him.

He scoffs lightly but doesn’t look at you. “The right decision,” he repeats, the words laced with bitterness. “That depends entirely on who is defining it.”

You sigh, standing and moving closer to him. “Loki, you helped. You could’ve run at any point during this mission, but you didn’t. That has to count for something.”

His lips twist into a faint smirk, though there’s no humor in it. “And do you think that will sway Fury or my brother? Do you think they’ll forget what I’ve done? The chaos, the destruction?”

“They don’t have to forget,” you say, stepping even closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “But they can see that you’re not the same person who attacked New York. You’ve changed, Loki.”

His gaze finally lifts to meet yours, and for a moment, something raw flashes in his eyes—something vulnerable and uncertain. “Have I?”

You place your hand over his, stilling his restless movements. “Yes. You have. I see it. And if they can’t, then that’s their failure, not yours.”

The room falls into silence again, but this time, it feels different. Loki’s hand shifts beneath yours, his fingers curling around yours as he exhales slowly.

“What do you think they’ll decide?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “But whatever happens, we’ll face it. Together.”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, the mask falls away entirely. You see the man beneath—the uncertainty, the fear, the hope he doesn’t dare acknowledge.

“You say that as if you’ll still be by my side when this is over,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t hesitate. “I will be.”

His hand tightens on yours, his eyes holding yours as if trying to memorize every detail. Then, without warning, he pulls you closer, his other hand rising to cradle your face.

“If this is to be the last time we’re alone,” he says, his voice trembling slightly, “then let it be a moment worth remembering.”

Your heart aches at the words, at the vulnerability he’s showing. But you don’t argue. Instead, you lean into him, closing the gap between you.

The kiss is different this time. It’s not urgent or hungry but slow and lingering, filled with a quiet desperation. His lips move against yours as if savoring every second, every touch, every taste. His hands are gentle, one cradling your cheek while the other rests on your waist, anchoring you to him.

You lose yourself in him, in the way he holds you like you’re something fragile and precious, in the way his touch feels like both a promise and a farewell.

When you finally part, your foreheads rest together, and the world outside feels impossibly far away.

“No matter what they decide,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly, “you’re not alone. You never will be.”

For a long moment, Loki doesn’t speak. Then he nods, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek as he closes his eyes.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, the words so quiet you almost miss them.

The two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the world outside fade away. For now, there’s no SHIELD, no judgment, no uncertain future. There’s only this—this moment, this connection, this fragile yet unbreakable bond.

And for now, that’s enough.

The knock at the door comes like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile stillness you and Loki have wrapped yourselves in. You tense in his arms, and his grip on you tightens briefly before he lets you go, stepping back as though putting distance between you is the only way to shield himself from what’s coming.

You take a deep breath and move to answer the door, Loki trailing behind you. When you open it, you’re greeted by the imposing figures of Nick Fury and Thor. Fury’s face is unreadable, his single eye piercing as it moves between you and Loki. Thor’s expression is graver than you’ve ever seen it, a heaviness in his gaze that sends a chill down your spine.

“May we come in?” Fury asks, his voice clipped.

You nod, stepping aside to let them enter. Loki lingers near the window, his posture deceptively casual as he leans against the wall. But you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curl faintly against his sides.

Fury and Thor take positions near the center of the room, both of them standing tall and commanding. Thor’s gaze lingers on Loki, a mix of concern and judgment flashing across his face.

“We’ve reached a decision,” Fury begins, his tone as sharp as ever. “It wasn’t an easy one, considering everything Loki has done in the past and the risks he poses in the future.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as you glance at Loki. He’s staring at Fury now, his expression a careful mask of indifference.

“Loki Laufeyson,” Thor says, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “Your actions during this mission have proven that you are capable of aiding Midgard without causing harm. However, they do not erase the destruction you have wrought.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “How magnanimous of you, brother. Do get to the point.”

Thor’s jaw tightens, but he presses on. “You will not be returned to Asgard’s dungeons. Instead, you will remain here, under the supervision of SHIELD and the Avengers. Your movements will be restricted, and any deviation from the terms of your parole will result in severe consequences.”

Fury nods. “Think of it as probation. You step out of line, you’re done. No exceptions.”

You exhale a shaky breath, relief flooding through you despite the harshness of their words. Loki isn’t going back to Asgard’s prison. He isn’t being taken away.

Loki, however, seems less than impressed. “So, I am to be your prisoner still, but with a longer leash?”

“Consider it an opportunity,” Thor says, his tone softening slightly. “To prove that you are more than your past mistakes.”

Loki’s smirk fades, and for a moment, something unreadable flashes in his eyes. He looks away, his gaze drifting to the window.

“And what role do I play in this… probation?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

“You’ll assist the Avengers as needed,” Fury says bluntly. “Your skills are… useful, when not being used to destroy things.”

“Charming,” Loki mutters.

Fury ignores the comment, turning his attention to you. “As for you, Y/N, you’ll remain his primary handler. You’ve proven capable of keeping him in check, and frankly, you’re the only one he seems remotely willing to listen to.”

The weight of the responsibility settles over you, but you nod firmly. “Understood.”

Thor steps forward then, his gaze fixed on Loki. “Do not squander this chance, brother. It may be the only one you are given.”

Loki meets his gaze, his expression unreadable. “I’ll endeavor not to disappoint you, Thor.”

The words are polite, but there’s a sharpness to them, a bitterness that hasn’t faded. Thor watches him for a moment longer before nodding and turning to leave. Fury follows, but not before giving you a pointed look.

“Keep him in line,” he says, and then he’s gone, the door closing behind him.

The room falls into silence again, heavier now than before. You turn to Loki, who remains by the window, his back to you.

“Well,” he says finally, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “It seems I’m to be your ward indefinitely. I hope you’re prepared for the burden.”

You take a step closer, your heart aching at the undercurrent of vulnerability in his tone. “Loki… this is a second chance. They didn’t have to give you that.”

He turns to face you, his expression guarded. “A second chance to serve as their pet sorcerer, you mean. To be tolerated, not trusted.”

“It’s more than that,” you insist, moving closer still. “It’s a chance to prove them wrong. To show them who you really are.”

“And who is that, Y/N?” he asks, his voice dropping. “Who do you think I really am?”

You hesitate, your throat tightening as you search for the right words. “I think you’re someone who’s been hurt, someone who’s made mistakes, but someone who’s still capable of doing good. Of being… more.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. Then, to your surprise, he chuckles—a quiet, almost bitter sound.

“You are a strange woman, Y/N,” he says, shaking his head. “But perhaps that’s what I need.”

You smile faintly, stepping even closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “You’ll never have to face this alone, Loki. Not as long as I’m here.”

He gazes at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, he lifts a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

“You’re maddening, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low and tender.

“Then we’re even,” you reply, your lips quirking into a faint smile.

For the first time that night, his smirk softens into something more genuine. And as he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, the weight of the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

[absolutebl]

hi!!! do you have favorite bl movies (maybe with happy endings too)?👀❤️

Top 10 BL Movies

(as of end of 2024, in no particular order)

My personal favorites will always have HEAs (or at least HFN). I don't love ambiguous endings and I hate sad ones. I'm going to include the Korean stuff that has been recut as movies, because I can.

1 Seven Days

Japan 2015

AKA Seven Days: Monday-Thursday AND Seven Days: Friday-Sunday

This is a cheat as it's 2 movies, but that's still less run time than your bog standard marvel tent pole these days, so it counts.

One of the best live action yaois ever made, with perfectly structured angst, fantastic characters and acting, and no problematic tropes. The leads have excellent chemistry although it’s low heat there’s still some really cute mutual kisses.

2 Can I Buy Your Love From A Vending Machine

AKA Sono Koi, Jihanki de Kaemasu ka? AKA Vending Machine Sabi Koi

Japan 2023

This movie is utterly adorable, impossibly awkward, and kinda old fashioned. About a cute nerdy little office worker (he's out!) who has a big'ol crush on the tall hulking vending machine guy. They fall in love. And that’s it. And it’s charming. There’s some first name eroticism (because Japan) and there's emphasis on communication (so not Japan) which turns this into an organically loving and talkative relationship. There’s a bit of an age gap and our office cutie may or may not have a muscles fetish (the hot bod, not the shellfish) because (if I’ve told you once I’ve told you 1 million times) Japan always goes kinky. And you know what, I loved it.

3 Restart After Come Back Home

AKA Risutato wa tadaima no ato de

Japan 2020

Atmospheric study in rural Japan meets complex family dynamics built on a romance framework of city boy meets country boy, grumpy/sunshine. It’s beautiful and icy sweet. Slow moving in places but ultimately worth the patience, low heat, low angst, and stunning.

4 His

Japan 2020

His is about being a grown adult and still struggling with coming out. It addresses the consequences choosing a life disingenuous to identity. Nagisa turns up on Shun’s doorstep with his precocious daughter in tow. This is a touch confusing to Shun since they were each others first love and Nagisa broke his heart. Shun has retreated from society, rejecting the world before it can reject him because without Nagisa he never had a reason to fight. Nagisa went the opposite, pretending to be something he was not, ending up with a daughter he adores and a wife who hates him. This movie is beautiful and the setting is unique and interesting but I'm not wild about the ending, it's HFN (happy for now). Honestly, I think I mostly liked this because I have a mad crush on Miyazawa Hio (Shun).

5 After Sundown

AKA Saengrawi

Thailand 2023

It's from Mandee and horror (neither really my thing), yet I liked it. It's oddly sweet and wholesome, for a ghost story. Phloeng and Rawee enter into an arranged marriage for confusing prophetic reasons. Twists of fate demand that they solve the mystery of a past that is haunting Phloeng's family and harming Rawee. Honestly, it makes no actual sense, but it's kinda historical, and very pretty, so I enjoyed it more than I should.

Korean BL that aired as shows but are cut together as movies & great

In some of these cases the movies are better than the originals, in some they are exactly the same.

6 Color Rush

2021

A unique paranormal twist elevates this classic high school drama into a pitch-perfect allegory for the queer coming out experience and one of the best BLs of all time (I will fight you on this).

7 Semantic Error

2022

The ultimate enemies to lovers, also the prettiest. Sexy older boy discovers pouty younger boy has outed him as a slacker, starts out bullying him, accidentally falls madly in love instead. Korea hits it entirely out of the Parks by doing a university BL with everything we expect from BL just done exactly right. Korea's signature quality executed perfectly with added bonus good story, great pacing, stunning visuals, and fantastic chemistry. You cannot ask for more from a BL, let alone a KBL.

8 To My Star

2021

Hwang Da Seul directing this show about a neurotic actor (actual puppy) who takes refuge with a grumpy chef resulting in sparks, cooking lessons, and LOVE! It’s is a touch quirky to get into, but utterly charming once it hits its stride. This is the ultimate grumpy/sunshine pairing plus the most appealing light-filled kitchen of our dreams. I adore this show so much. Limited use of BL tropes makes this feel more of a sweet contemporary gay romance between an actor plagued by scandal and the chef who accidentally adopts him, but the gentleness will appeal to fans of the BL genre.

9 Long Time No See

2017

This originally aired as a series but I have only ever seen it as a movie. So I'm counting it.

Catfishing assassins on either side of a turf war fall in love not knowing they are on opposite sides. Or do they? Suspenseful plot, good fight sequences, mature characters, hot sexitimes, and even hotter beating the shit out of each other and kissing while covered in blood (this came from KOREA?), plus an HEA. One of the greatest hidden gems of the BL genre.

10 Wish You: Your Melody in My Heart

2020

Set in the music industry featuring a talented singer and the pianist who falls in love with him (and his music), this is subtle and achingly adorable. High production, low heat, short run, very tame, and Korea, so all the pretty. Slow burn and lots of pining.

(source)

[crow-aeris]

Part 1 is here!

More content from my brainworms 🤭

=====

Jason sneaks out in the dead of night with the pendant in his right hand, three fives in his hoodie pocket that he’d picked from Willis, and determination in his chest. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do this, but he’ll manage.

He walks to the nearest bus station, hyper-aware of all the people around him, some of which he recognizes as his future goons, and others as the people who've been pushed to the brink and resorted to working with the rougher rogues to survive and make ends meet. Jason wants to desperately help- to talk to them and warn them about their future- but it wouldn't do anything. As he was currently- a kid- he wouldn't be able to get anything done. No one would listen to him.

Jason sits down on the bus's perpetually sticky seats, trying not to grimace as he waited for the stop.

He mentally plans the route he'll be taking.

He could've gone for Dick first, but Jason doesn't think it would've worked. It's been a few days already, and if Dickface had retained his memory, then he would have already came knocking on Jason's door. Tim too, knowing that little genius stalker brain of his, nothing could've stopped him from accomplishing anything he set his mind to. Damian probably could too, but the brat’s barely concieved, and Jason doubts the league would let a literal infant out of their sight.

So, that’s why he was on his way to Timmy’s manor. Not only is Tim most definitely alone, he’s the easiest to reach.

As the bus halts at the stop closest to Bristol, Jason ignores the driver’s suspicious gaze and rushes off. He brushes his hand against his pocket knife (He’s not stupid, even in Bristol, Gotham was Gotham and the chance of death will never be less than 20%) and he begins walking.

He’s almost forgotten how- peaceful wasn’t quite the word- less terrible Gotham was earlier on in Bruce’s tenure as the Bat. Not only can he make out a few constellations, the sounds police sirens didn’t constantly fill the night… It moght’ve been after his death when everything started to go to shit.

Jason takes a deep breath, marveling at the cleanliness of the air. Sure, it wasn’t as clean as the country, but compare to Gotham when Damian became Robin, the atmosphere might as well be pure oxygen!

Halfway to the Drake Manor, Jason feels his legs grow sore and cramped. God, now more than ever he wished for his Robin training and post-death stamina. Was he ever this… weak?

Distantly, Jason hears the sound of the Batmobile rushing through the streets and shakes his head.

He was almost there. Tim’s bedroom lights were on and a shape was moving around.

Jason groans and breaks into a sprint despite his legs aching in complaint. Tim was, as he said, a creepy little stalker, and even at the ripe old age of six, he was already stalking the bats. Which, props to him, but Jason would rather not follow that weaselly little bastard through the roofs of Gotham.

“SHIT!” Jason curses, misjudging his momentum and slamming into the Drakes’ front door.

God, it hurt so fucking much, and- shit, his nose was bleeding…

But, silver lining and all that, because the door swings open to reveal a harried and panicked-looking Timothy Jackson Drake dressed head-to-toe black, with his hundred-dollar camera hanging around his neck.

God, Jason hates rich people.

“Are you okay?!” the six year old squeaks, lurching forward to stare uncertainly at him.

Well, that proves Jason’s theory. If Tim had all his memories, he would’ve pointed and laughed at him for being an idiot, and Jason would’ve tackled him, dick would get involved, they’d break a few things, and the cass would work with alfred to get them back in line…

(God, Jason wished they’d never gone on that stupid trip.)

“Do you think i’m fine?” Jason huffed, guilt filling his chest as he watched Tim’s face fall. God, sometimes he forgets that then younger Tim was still so… bright. He hadn’t grown into all his sass yet. “I didn’t mean that, kid-”

But it was in the small moments where he’s reminded of his little brother’s spirit.

Tim puffs up in offense, almost like a little cat of sorts, and narrows his eyes, “I’m not a kid! I’m six, and you’re not that old either!”

“Sure, buddy,” Jason rolls his eyes before reaching up with a bloodied hand and pinching his nose, careful to stick the pendant in his pocket where Tim couldn’t see it. “Can I get a little help now?”

“Oh!” just like that, the Tim Jason was used to dissipates, and the kid was back to his shy little self, “Right, sorry. Come in! I’ll go grab you some napkins- are you hungry? It’s really late, and- oh, we have some juice too! We have passion fruit, dragonfruit, starfruit, strawberry-”

“I’ll take passionfruit,” Jason interrupted with an amused smile, “if you have the time, add a dash of lemon juice, ice, and honey.”

He watches as the kid freezes before nodding. Passionfruit with lemon and honey… that was one of Tim’s favorite drinks as an adult, and he’d constantly bugged Jason to make him some. Honestly, rich people shit.

“Okay! Uhm, do you want to shower first? You- you’re covered in blood, and i don’t think that’s too comfortable…”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs, “Lead the way, Timbo.”

“Timbo?” the kid faltered and blinks in confusion, but continued to lead Jason toward the bathroom before handing him a change of clothes.

When he was alone, the sound of running water filling the room, Jason took out the pendant and stared at it… The urge to bash the stupid thing against the wall was near overpowering, but he didn’t know what would happen if he did, and Jason would rather not try his luck.

He quickly washes, scrubbing himself down and reveling with how the warm water soothed his aching muscles. While he was at it, Jason scrubs at his scalp and washes his hair with tim’s fancy-ass shampoo snd conditioner. God, he misses the good shit.

When he finished, jason picked dried himself and shoved the pendant into one of the pant pockets (batman themed. why wasn’t he surprised? wonder woman would be leagues better than bruce. Nightwing too, he’s kinda surprised- oh. yeah. shit, he forgot…)

He stretches, humming at how his back popped pleasantly before sauntering down the steps. Sometime during the shower, his nose had stopped bleeding. Thank god for that.

“Tim!” Jason called, yawning briefly as he saw the kid staring into the humming microwave. The kid startled before smiling, “Did you have a good shower?”

“Yeah, I did,” Jason nodded, “What are you making?”

“Food,” the kid replied easily, “they’re leftovers, do you want some?”

“Yeah sure, why not.”

As they ate, Jason wondered how the hell he was going to get the kid to remember. He hummed, feeling exhaustion pulling at his eyes as he finished with his portion of leftover spaghetti.

Tim looks over at him, “Are you tired?”

“Yeah,” Jasonsighs, “it’s been… a long couple of days.”

“Alright! We have a spare guestroom you can use, is that okay?”

Jason nodded. It’ll at least give him the time to think over how he’ll continue with his plan, “Yeah, sure. That’s fine. Lead the way, Tim.”

A few hours later, Jason was awaken by a shape pressing a knife to his throat.

He froze. His mind running through hundreds of different scenarios before he recognized the shape hovering over him.

“…Tim? What- what is this? Put the knife down, and we can-”

“How,” the kid interrupts with narrowed and blazing eyes, “do you know my name? I never told you who I am, and only the people who’ve worked with my parents know that I exist. Did someone send you to kidnap me?”

Jason blinked, running over the last few hours in his mind before realizing that yeah, oh shit, Tim was right. He never did tell Jason his name, did he?

“Okay, kid. I’m…” and then he sees a hint of golden scales peeking from the collar of the kid’s robin-themed sleep shirt, “My name is Jason Todd. You are Timothy Jackson Drake, the third Robin. I’m the second Robin, and… I come from the furture.”

Tim jolts away, taken aback by Jason’s words before becoming instantly suspicious, “You know my name, and you know I like Robin. Prove to me you’re from the future, and maybe i’ll trust you.”

Jason smiles despite the situation, because this was Tim. Tim wasn’t some scared and timid kid, he was an independent little narcoleptic gremlin who drank too much Monster, somehow caught the eye of Ra’s Al Ghul, lost his spleen, and could lie to Batman and get away with it.

“Here,” Jason said, gesturing for Tim to shuffle back before grabbing the pendant and tugging off his shirt. When Tim laid his eyes on the skeletal bird resting above Jason’s heart, his hand automatically drifts to the marking Jason was sure he had, “can i see your…”

Tim gave him an uncertain look, but Jason wasn’t too surprised. If some random creepy guy told him to take lf his shirt. Jason would’ve stabbed him and ran off.

“You have a knife, kid. If i tried doing anything, you could always stab me.”

“…Fine,” Tim bit out before shrugging off his shirt.

A golden snake stretched from the inside of Tim’s elbow, beautiful scales woven from gold coiled along the span of Tim’s arm before resting it’s head atop tim’s coller bone. Honestly? It was breathtaking, beautiful in a way that Jason envied, but it summarized Tim’s entire character pretty well.

The pendant in Jason’s hand glows as it nears Tim’s golden snake.

“I want to test something,” Jason says, “i’m gonna touch this to the head of thr snake, and we’ll see what happens.”

Tim narrows his eyes, his grip on the knife tightening before he nods.

The pendant presses agasinst Tim’s collar for a brief second, and then everything begins to glow.

Tim’s eyes, the snake’s outline, the fucking pendant- literally everything was fucking glowing.

Jason clenched his jaws, forcing himself to remain still as his brother gasps in pain. Tim’s hans twitched and jerked, but, it was as if some- some force was holding him still.

Eventually, after a few agonizing seconds, the gold fades and Jason hurriedly yanks it away. He surges forward, pulling the knife out of tim’s hand before tossing it to the side, off of the bed and out of the way.

“Jay…”

“Yeah, timmy?” Jason leaned back, pulling his brother up before carding a hand through his hair.

Tim was quiet for a few moments before finally speaking, “We need to get Dick, and then Damian.”

“So,” Jason allows the amusement to fill his tone, “are you gonna hold a knife to their throat, too?”

“I will grab that knife and actually stab you,” Tim huffed, “leave you with a scar that matched Red Hood’s.”

Jason scoffed, but he couldn’t help the smile rising onto his lips, “Language, kid. Who taught you to say these things, baby bird?”

“Fuck off,” Tim hissed, “i’m tired, and I miss the big bird…”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “i do too… It’s whatever though. Go to sleep, Tim. We’ll try and grab him tomorrow.”

“Okay… Goodnight, Jay.”

“Night, Tim.”

And sure, it may be lonely with the rest of his siblings at his side, but at least he no longer had to spend this new (old?) life all by himself.

-----

part 1, 3, 4

and the directory

[moghedien]

obviously there are a bunch of issues with the MCU and I'm not gonna sit here and try to convince everyone that MCU movies are cinema or whatever so don't get what I'm gonna say twisted. I do find their kinda mainstay in cultural media and the dominance they had to be interesting, especially now in an era where the MCU is undeniably falling off and struggling. just as like a cultural analysis I find that interesting and everyone has their opinions of why it happened.

my opinion/theory on why the MCU just crashed is because they sort of forgot what it means to be telling a comic book story, especially a marvel comic book story. Because I've read thousands of issues of various marvel series at this point, across tons of different eras and events, and the thing that makes them last (which is also a thing that drives me personally crazy and I hate so much) is that the status quo doesn't really change. Or when it does, it lasts for a few arcs or years at most and then gets reverted back to the norm eventually. Like the fact that everything is pointless and nothing is a risk is something I loathe, but it is admittedly what keeps them going. If someone just got into comics, they can pick up a modern issue and expect to find Spider-man or Captain America or whoever. They may be introduced to new characters, but the big ones will show up eventually.

And after the last Avengers movie, like half of the mainstay cast are just gone. Which as someone who likes good stories, I think is a good opportunity (which is arguably being wasted but idk I haven't watched any MCU thing in years) to actually shake things up and develop characters that mainstream people are less familiar with and give them a chance to shine and tell interesting stories. But that's not why people like marvel comics.

People like marvel comics because if they want to read about Iron Man, they can pick up any random issue about Iron Man and it will most likely be the Iron Man they know. People like the status quo, and Marvel has never been high literature and has always basically been pulp storytelling, and it gave people status quo and familiarity. And I think Marvel Studios figured this out waaayyy too late.

Because if Marvel actually understood what people like about the comics, they would have embraced recasting major roles from the start. They wouldn't have tied characters' identities so strongly to their actors and would have made it clear that characters can and will continue on with different faces. There is no reason why Tony Stark needs to be RDJ or Steve Rogers needs to be Chris Evans. They would have had plans to not write these characters out of existance the second actors wanted to exit or died or were fired or any of the various reason why actors are no longer involved with the MCU. Hell they had precedent. They didn't have a problem replacing Terrence Howard with Don Cheadle, who are very different looking people who give very different performances, but we know why they felt ok with that recasting but won't recast any of their boys named Chris...

Anyway it seems like they realized that general audiences don't actually like change if its permanent and are learning the wrong lessons with the Doom casting nonsense and the fact that they seem to keep changing what the new story is to fit what they think audiences want.

I'm fine with the MCU dying off and its probably better for media that it does, but again I'm just kinda interested in the fumble from like an objective standpoint because it seemed like they just locked themselves into eventual failure in such a stupid way. Like they could have told the same safe representative Avengers storylines for decades and wouldn't have a meltdown every time an actor in a major role needed to be removed from production if they just accepted that people would be recast as needed. It would be worse for actors and it would be worse for movies in general probably, but it would have kept the MCU churning out pulp like the comics do to this day. But now people are realizing its not just pulp but pulp they don't want and its gonna kill the MCU eventually.

[respectthepetty]

The Loyal Pin - Episode 8

¡Sorpresa, cabronas! Blue Beauty Anin is back in the palace, and she is already causing issues for her color-coded brothers!

And for her Pink Person Pin!

So as much as I appreciate Anin being so focused on her studies, because she wanted to graduate early, I'm glad Pin called her out for not communicating and thinking this surprise would make her forget that she was basically ignored FOR MONTHS!

But thankfully Anin knows how to make it up to her (in bed) (THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!)

And now they can be color-coded girls in love and live happily ever after! Yes? YES!

Well, that's until Anin's color-coded brothers tell her she needs to start thinking about getting married . . . to a man.

But because this a GL, like queer magic, all the girls start showing up to Anin's yard for her milkshake like her sister-in-law with her sister, who just happens to be the girl who tried to assault Anin in her bed.

But nobody cares because Anin's color-coded brother and aunt (WHO IS WEARING PURPLE!) are planning a formal welcome back party for Anin which will literally bring all the girls to her yard for her milkshake (and other treats).

Anin is less than thrilled believing this is a ploy to get her to meet marriage prospects, but her brother promises that isn't what is happening.

All color-coded royals do is lie.

But our boy Pranot is going to make this party spectacular even if he has to hot glue and duct tape everything together by himself, and this is not me stereotyping the gays, but . . . . . . he has to be gay because only a gay man or a pageant mom could turn it out like this with such short notice.

So Pranot creates a party fit for color-coded royals overnight.

And the aunt, who is in her color (finally!) has the food covered.

But she can't stay, because she has a guest, in her house, waiting for her. *whispers* lesbian shenanigans are afoot

And to nobody's surprise, marriage prospects are at this party and lined up IN RED to greet our Blue Beauty. I know Pranot sent them a detailed document outlining the dress code, so if they were paying any attention, they would've known to wear BLUE to impress the princess and not RED to impress her siblings. Who do they want to marry?! Apparently not our lesbian!

Then Aon shows up looking like her and her sister thought this was a costume party and they are an orange and a cherry, which means the only time we have seen Aon is pink is when she was trying to slide into Anin's bed, and now she is on my list!

Sidenote: Is the brother's fiancée May from My Marvellous Dream is You and The Sign?! How did I miss that?! Obviously the outfit is doing it's job because it made me notice her in a room full of other beautiful women, so I'll quit hating on these fruity outfits now.

Actually, I won't because it's clear to me the two oranges from the orange tree belong together, so if Kuea really doesn't care about marrying a lesbian since he wants to Pin so badly, why not just marry another lesbian named Aon? Makes color-coded sense to me!

But then there is the issue of my babygirl Ueangfah who also showed up to Anin's yard party for her milkshake.

But I think I have someone for her too! It's not a color-coded match, but it could be a lavender marriage!

The queers have been doing it for centuries. Just getting married and throwing amazing garden parties. Fun times!

But Anin, in her pretty blue dress had too much fun being possessive of Pin because she was getting a little unwanted attention from a man when ALL OF THESE WOMEN WERE BASICALLY HAND-FEEDING ANIN FOOD AND THEIR BODIES ALL NIGHT! (I'm a little peeved at Anin, pero whatevs). So Pin, in her lovely purple and pink dress, has to drag her girlfriend home which is luckily across the lawn.

And because Anin is westernized now, she is white girl wasted, meaning she wants to make out with her girl anywhere and everywhere because eff decorum!

So Pin has to tie her up with a blue piece of fabric. (Where did this come from?!)

But it isn't for safety reasons. No! It's for ~kinky~ reasons.

And in the midst of some delightful girl-on-girl action, we get the rudest flashback to Anin's older brother checking on Anin since he was worried about her drinking, yet stumbling upon her exchanging colors and tongues with Pin, you know, like the French do.

So the episode ends with him finally realizing the big secret that everyone has been keeping from him including the servants -

He was the only straight person at that party tonight.

[joesquinns]

https://www.tumblr.com/joesquinns/759493106439782400/from-racist-songs-to-problematic-boyfriends-doja?source=share

JQ & DC is most likely a PR stunt, not a real relationship. Joseph had (most likely/pretty much) rejected her back in 2022 and she had dissed him in one of her songs called "Attention", basically saying he's lazy as shit, how he needs a new wig (Eddie reference), how he thought he was above her (he basically is), how she didn't care that he wouldn't fuck her (she does), and how she had him famous from the problem she had with Noah (she fucking didn't, it was all Joseph that made him famous). Obviously, she couldn't take rejection. Also, she has an album coming out and tours to do and he has Gladiator 2, F4, and he was in British Vogue. She's a very bad person and I have no idea why she had to be the pick for the PR stunt but whatever. Also, the stupid thing is that people are attacking Joseph's father for "raising his son badly". Which passes me off because his dad didn't do anything. This is all JQ and DC's issue. I don't want them bringing his father into this. See many people are saying to "just accept the fact that they're dating" but they aren't even dating. Joseph didn't like her in 2022 and she's very bad. She couldn't take rejection like a bitch. And she's very demonic and weird as fuck. This has to do with Marvel or something and this JQ and DC news is from a person who's notorious for PR stunts. Also, JQ isn't the only one doing these things. It's just a Marvel thing I guess. And to anyone who supports DC or even likes her, that's insane. I talked about this to my mother and grandmother and they even say that it's fake and it's just a PR stunt. A similar thing happened with famous rappers Ice Spice and Central Cee where they did a PR stunt with their new collab song. And they both are problematic in their ways. Also if anyone thinks that hating on Doja is "racist", most people agree that Lupita and Joe would've been way better and cuter. Lupita is a real woman and very kind and not problematic while DC is just a stupid girl who's weird as shit. And I'm not jealous at all, I could care many fucks less about Joe's dating life. But this is DC, a very problematic girl who's done very bad things and is very demonic and weird as hell. If it was any woman that people knew and wasn't problematic, it would've been way better. But this isn't any chick, it's Doja. So people can make all the articles as they want but in the end, it's fake as fuck. It's a PR stunt. I will always love Joe but he gave me the ick and I feel like I need a break. And maybe others. Joe can do whatever he wants, he doesn't know me. And I only know so much about him. He's a grown man and he has a job. But I can disagree with things. I can have opinions on things. My opinion on his choice is....well wtf Joe? But I can't just tell him what he's doing is bad. We all just need to like- ignore it and not talk about it and just suffer for a couple of weeks. Then we can have our old Joseph back but for now, he's just Joe.

Dw JQ fandom, chill, and take a deep breath, it's fake. It'll go away. We'll hold each other's hands through this bumpy road and eventually, we'll cross it. All we have to do is wait and pray or whatever. And if you have your own opinions, that's fine. But here's something to ponder over and think about. There's more to it but I'm too tired to type it out lmaoo😭😭

I rest my case.

To be honest, how everything has been handled and came out since Sunday I'm leading it to being a PR stunt as well.

No one can claim that it is not at all suspicious...

We'll get the blurry pic on Deux and then suddenly not even an hour after there's an article on THE SUN and then suddenly there's a video from two weeks ago and then suddenly someone saw them a day earlier and all this happens in the span of what? 2 hours? And oh suddenly someone spots him on a concert of her from a month ago where his neck seems like the one of a giraffe?

The video where he's grabbing her "ass" is's suspicious as hell...it's more her hip than her ass but ok we could argue about that but it's clear that he's asking her before he lets his hand slide down so for me it's staged af and doesn't scream "comfortable".

DC is a bad person and everyone who says something else is simply...I don't know...

No matter "If she has changed" or "maybe she's different"...I don't care that her fans are saying "she's calmer" and what else.

In Italy we say A wolf may lose its fur, but it will always remain a wolf

I also don't believe that Joe is "not online" because hell, I didn't know about all her shit before Sunday and it didn't take me that much and that long to find it and he has his phone with him all the time WE see him so he knows how to google

Believe me, I can disagree on things as well and I am disagreeing on his choice here. I know for him it doesn't matter but just because I'm a fan, I can still express my anger about the bullshit he does (and everyone who has been following me for longer knows that I'm usually one who defends him).

And before anyone comes in - no I'm not jealous. I know he doesn't know me. I know I don't stand a chance with him and yet I have the right to be angry if he pulls such a bullshit and to post that on my little blog.

To sum it up:

I don't find this funny and I hope this is over soon because otherwise if this really turns out to be "serious" and "longlasting" (like some people claim it to be) I need to unstan him because I don't know if I can support someone who showed himself to be this sweet guy and gentleman person (the past two years) and then turns around and does this bullshit. Either you're real or fake and I'm not here for fakeness.

That's just my two cents and I can guarantee you all this comes out of my brain and I don't have a friend of a friend of a friend who knows him/works in PR/hooked up with him/is in the industry.

Thank you and now I go outside to touch some grass instead to go to his dad’s insta to leave a stupid comment….how old are you? 5? Get a grip

[whoiwanttoday]

Guys it has been a week and it's only Wednesday. Somehow. Anyway, I am taking the easy way out here by posting Jessica Nigri. Cosplayers tend to be easy mode cause I don't have to look very hard or very long for pictures. There are a lot and they tend to be good. I am posting her cause she did a Squirrel Girl cosplay, a thing I did not know I needed but apparently I did. I have a long and storied history with Squirrel Girl in that once upon a time in my days as a youth roleplaying online in X-Men based Roleplay servers my password was Squirrel or SquirrelLover or Squirrelllll depending on the server. I did not set these, other people set them for me when they created my login because I had an ongoing joke about how Squirrel Girl was the new character find of the 90's and actually history's most powerful superhero. This is because at this point, Squirrel Girl had exactly one appearance, where she teamed up with Spider-man and kicked the shit out of Doctor Doom. It just was a comedy bit for me because there was no world where Squirrel Girl was every coming back because she was a one off character that was kind of silly and I love the silly side of comics but a lot of people, especially back then, hated it. Comics were serious business. Get this girl with the power to talk to squirrels who kind of looks like a squirrel out of my comics about serious stuff like a teenage boy getting bitten by a radioactive spider so he turns into an asshole which kind of gets his uncle killed and then he feels so guilty he spends the rest of his life fighting Nuclear Physicists who have the name Octavius and somehow end up with mechanical arms so they are like an Octopus and Billionaires who put on Halloween masks and create weapons that are all themed to be kind of halloween adjacent (this is what I would do if I were a billionaire but I'd be a good guy thank you very much) or you know, multiple people who just literally take an animal name and then wear suits to look like said animal. Serious business. Anyway, all that said, the joke got a lot less funny when eventually Marvel started making the same joke. And suddenly Squirrel Girl was the star of a comic about joke Avengers. Then she was just an Avenger. Then she got her own comic and somehow became the favorite comic book character of multiple children I knew in the mid 10's. Crazy. But I have always had that connection. I have not yet faced her in Marvel Rivals, a game I am awful at, I was much, much better at RPing the soap opera stuff in X-men than I am at using Magneto to I guess shoot bolts of magnetism at people. But I like the cosplay here either way. I think she's make a really hot Magneto now that I think about it. Maybe a good Scarlet Witch too but I want every cosplayer to do a comics accurate Scarlet Witch so don't trust me there. Today I want to fuck Jessica Nigri.

[ultimateissuessimp]

Hate to be that guy but a male x cat king soulmate au. Where you can’t see colour till u meet your soulmate. Pretty please with a cherry on top. Ty 🥺

"Hate to be that guy" and then proceeds to request one of my favourite tropes. My sweet, darling anon - THANK YOU! Writing this was a joy and a pleasure!

Also, not to say anything, buuuut I would be more than happy to write a part 2 for this 🤭 But I didn't say anything, completely nothing 🤫

Oel ngati kameie, Nga Yawne Lu Oer (I see you, I love you)

The Cat King x Male Reader

Word count: 1,935

Warnings: None I think

One case. One little case can change someone's life like nothing else could. Y/N didn't know if for the better or for worse, because now he was standing in front of the Cat King alongside his friends. Edwin, of course as stubborn as ever, simply had to disregard everything that Y/N had said about staying as low as possible and used a magic on an animal. A cat to be precise if it wasn't obvious already. That's how they found themselves in the situation they were at the moment.

His eyes were nervously going all around seeing all those cats gathered behind them. All of them in scales of gray that he was so used to when he was seeing it for the -nth time throughout his life. So basically all of it. After the little showcase of what they were capable of with their previous victim, he was on edge. Edwin was trying to diplomatically resolve the issue yet the Cat King didn't seem to really be happy with any of his words. When he mentioned a talk in private, Y/N head whipped up and for just a moment looked into the Cat King's eyes who turned his gaze towards the young man, because of his sudden movement before they went back to Edwin.

Then, as if suddenly someone hit the pause button on him, he froze. Colours slowly started filling his vision and at the centre of it was him. Edwin. He was sure he had found his soulmate. So many centuries alone. On his own. Now he finally found him, his other half. Or so he thought at least. While Thomas was marveling at the thought of finding his soulmate though in the wrong person, the right one quietly gasped in shock as his vision slowly filled with colours too.

The Cat King teleported both Edwin and himself to his private room, away from prying eyes and nosy personalities. Somewhere where he could get to know his "soulmate" better. What he was like, what he liked, disliked, what was his favourite colour, why did he use magic on a cat. About the last one... Now that he knew, thought, that Edwin was his "soulmate" he was less angry about the incident the ghost caused. He was more inclined on letting the man go, not really, without a punishment.

-Well, I was supposed to punish you for your... Misdeed, but since you're my soulmate- - the Cat King started speaking, a huge grin on his face as he got slightly closer to Edwin, his hands outstretched a bit to the sides before the man himself interrupted him.

-I'm sorry? Soulmate? Surely not. I can't be your soulmate, I've been looking at you for quite some time now and I still can't see colours. Just boring, but classy, gray - he said, looking incredulously at Thomas, putting some distance between them.

-What do you mean by that? Literally the moment I properly looked into your eyes the colours... They started to just appe- - and before he could end a sentence again, he was stopped. This time by the subject he was talking about suddenly disappearing. His world was bleak and boring again. He didn't understand and so didn't Y/N when he blinked and instead of seeing colours he was so fascinated by, yet quite displeased with the choice of clothing he made the previous morning, since none of the colours matched, at all, he saw the familiar scales of gray.

Feeling defeated, the Cat King sighed. Yet an idea struck him. Since he saw colours, even if for a short period of time, that means that his soulmate has to be either of Edwin's friends that he made eye contact with. He just needed some time and after all find a punishment for Edwin. He wasn't keen anymore on letting him off the hook and, even so, had more motivation to keep him in town. If Edwin can't leave, none of his friends can leave either. Then he could find his soulmate he so longed for. That's why he "caged" the ghost in town with a bracelet that only he could take off after Edwin counts all the cats in Port Townsend. Two birds with one stone. Teaching Edwin a lesson to never again use a magic on a cat and also finally meeting his soulmate. Life couldn't get more perfect. Well, it could, but that will come with time.

When he sent Edwin back to his friends and his soulmate, the Cat King silently observed the group from the shadows, silently telling a few of his cats to follow the detectives so he could monitor what they were doing, were they were and if they were in any trouble. After all, he couldn't let anything happen to his little lover. Who ever it was. Y/N was having an internal fight over what to do with the newfound information about his soulmate. He was so curious, yet had to remain cautious and careful when it came to the person that trapped his friend and in a way threatened him. He felt conflicted.

Then the case of the lighthouse came up. Strange, a bit terrifying, especially after Y/N started hearing the voice of the Cat King, calling to him. It was so irresistible yet thanks to the boys, Crystal and Niko, he came back to his senses and took a few steps away from the ledge. When Edwin silently tried to sneak away into the woods, he followed him, sneaking away just as silently as him.

He saw the cat that they were following an immediately understood, his heart skipping a few beats and making him stomp on a tree branch which in a chain reaction made Edwin snap his head towards him and the cat stop in its track. He smiled awkwardly and waved explaining that he was simply going on a little walk, but obviously Edwin didn't believe him.

-What don't you understand I will come back in a few minutes?? That was NOT an invitation to follow me! - Edwin whisper yelled at Y/N, a mostly annoyed look gracing his face before he turned around to follow the cat once again, making the man behind him stumble slightly when he tried to catch up quickly.

-Oh come on, you're being secretive, you're sneaking away and you're expecting that I WON'T follow you? Really Edwin? You're my friend. I'm worried - Y/N said, slightly out of breath, because of the jog he had to perform after the man in front of him.

-While appreciated, very much not needed. I'm fine - Edwin replied, looking back only for a second with a serious expression. They got to a clearing and saw no one other than the Cat King. Well, the man himself only saw Edwin at first, Y/N staying a bit back in nervousness.

Still no colours while looking at the ghost. Disappointing. Then the cat that dragged Edwin, and accidentally Y/N too, over to its king hissed and pawed at the leg of Y/N's pants, making him slightly flinch and take a step to the side, revealing himself completely to Thomas' eyes.

-Well look at what the cat dragged in! Aren't you a jewel - he said with a cocky grin, going around Edwin to stand before Y/N and taking his chin into his hand to take a better look at him. That's when their eyes met and the magic happened.

Instant reaction, colours bursting all around as they stared, wide eyed, at each other. There they were. "The most gorgeous of eyes" was the first thought that came to both of their minds. They completely forgot Edwin who was now staring in confusion at the scene before him, yet unsure if to interrupt or not.

-I see you - the Cat King said quietly, almost unlike himself at all, mentally adding "and I love you". He thought that if he said that out loud at that moment, he would scare away the poor guy. His hands cupped the sides of Y/N's face, holding it gently like the dearest of treasures he owned and in a way it was true. Although he didn't own Y/N nor his heart, not yet at least, the man himself definitely already owned Thomas'. Maybe without even knowing it.

-And I see you - Y/N replied, his breath caught in his throat as his wide eyes frantically looked around the Cat King's face, noticing every detail, every discolouration and adoring each and every shade that appeared in his eyes.

-Surely not-... Are you seeing colours, Y/N? - Edwin suddenly piped in, completely ruining the moment, but he couldn't blame him or be mad at him. He would be confused as all hell too if he saw his friend have a quite intimate moment with someone who made his life slightly more impossible to get through.

They turned to the ghost detective, a massive grin, like never before, on Thomas' face while a shy smile graced Y/N's. Obviously the Cat King, the man that he was, immediately wrapped his arm around his soulmates' shoulder, keeping him close to himself as if he was afraid the man would suddenly disappear like the colours did before he realised Edwin wasn't his soulmate. He never wants to feel what he felt at that moment again.

-Why, my ghostly friend. This adorable specimen over here is my soulmate - he said proudly, keeping close to Y/N yet not in a possessive way as if he was afraid Edwin would suddenly try to take him away for some reason, but more in a protective way. Physical, psychological, emotional, it didn't matter.

-Soulmate?? Surely you must be having a laugh! Right Y/N? You still can't see colours right? - Edwin asked, hands on his hips as he stood there, expecting only one possible option in his mind: a positive answer to his question. Yet he couldn't help the way his eyes widened and his mouth opened a little when he saw Y/N smile sheepishly at him and quickly look away. - We will talk about this later. There are 142 cats in Port Townsend. Now take this off - Edwin added, this time speaking to the Cat King which only rewarded him with a condescending chuckle.

-There are absolutely not 142 cats. Keep counting the cats, Edwin - Thomas said with a smile before swiftly turning himself and Y/N around so they could walk away and talk about their newfound relationship, completely leaving the ghost behind.

-This is absurd! How can this make you happy?! - Edwin shouted after the pair, but mostly the Cat King, annoyed out of his mind at the behaviour the man was presenting him with.

-Well, it keeps you in town, with you sweet Y/N over here and thanks to that I can get to know my soulmate better! - he answered with a cheeky smirk and a wink sent Edwin's wave, adding a little wave with his fingers while both of the men left, in a way abandoning him behind. You'd think Y/N would notice his friend staying back, huffing and puffing about being left alone, but he was so absorbed in looking around and taking in his surroundings, the colours that he payed half mind to where he was even going. At that moment all that mattered to him was the fact that he could finally notice the beauty of the world around him and it was all thanks to just one person. Destiny works in the most mysterious of ways.

[mynameisjag]

The air was nice, a little crisp with the fall weather about to hit.

Usually Wade wouldn’t find himself enjoying the outdoors in a leisurely manner…and he wasn't, he fucking hated it at the moment.

“This sucks!”

Beside him, walking the path at slow pace was Laura, who just raised an eyebrow at him, copycat version of her dad's smirk on her face.

“You've walked longer through rougher terrain,” her eyes flicked to the two bodies ahead of them, her smirk growing into a wide grin, “wonder what you're really upset about.”

“Oh, you know, my secret hatred of birds is showing through-of course its not the walk and don’t you start.”

He wasn’t used to being out and about without his suit, and the giant sun hat he was sporting didn’t really help keep the sun off his more sensitive skin.

But he was doing this for Vanessa.

Vanessa’s boyfriend was…descent…and she wanted them all to get along, they all were close in one way or another and of course she would want the ones she cared about the most to be comfortable with one another.

So…bonding hike…

Which Logan, the feral fuck, actually seemed to be enjoying but that probably was less the family time and more that he was away from large groups of people.

There was a bet if the man was just going to go and take off at the first sight of a deer, which might work out in Wade’s favor if it scared ‘boyfriend’ off.

Listen, he is willing to give the guy a chance, he is a nice guy…but did he really have to click with Logan so fast?

“Pops doesn’t really care that much for him, you know that right? The guy is important to Vanessa, Vanessa is important to you and you are important to him.”

“Fucking, yeah, I know little Miss Voice of Reason, but look at them, walking and talking like friends.”

“The dude is talking, Pops is probably thinking about disappearing into the woods for a week before you hunt him down and bring him home.”

“Like it would take a week for me to find him, we’re connected Baby-wolvs,” he made a heart sign with both of his hands, “the power of saving the universe and Madonna will forever bond us.”

She just rolled her eyes, “Since your so connected, then why are you so jealous?”

“Jealous!? Me!?,” his hands fell dramatically to his sides as he threw his head back in distress, “Okay, I admit it, I’m jealous of the way those jeans make his ass-“

“-Do NOT finish that.”

“I’m still going to think it…hmm…thinking about it hard now.”, he preceded to make grabby hands at the other man’s backside, “going to make the mouse send me a cease and desist with the way my thoughts be going.”

“I hate you.”

Wade just grinned wide at her snarly face, sooo cute, just like her daddy! Speaking of the man, the two ahead of them had stopped and were waiting.

They weren’t too far behind, so it only took a few moments to catch up, Deadpool throwing his arms around the older man and going to swoon knowing he was going to be caught, “Oh, the sun, it makes me suffer, if only there was a strong burly man to slather me with lotion later!”

Laura sauntered up, pushing Wade off her father to cuddle his side, “Thanks for waiting.”

‘Boyfriend’ was helping the mercenary up, smiling and going on about nearly being close to the end of the trail.

Logan huffed and gave a quick side hug to his little girl, “Probably need to get there quick, I can smell rainfall heading our way.”

And then ‘Boyfriend’ was talking about how the weather was reported to be nothing but sunshine and Wade was rolling his eyes and adjusting his hat. He did not pack for rain and if Logan said rain was coming it was coming.

“There’s this lovely little picnic area ahead, we should bring a lunch with us next time! Say, do you any of you like sports, got a few work buddies that we watch the games with. We’d love to have the whole crew over. I can make a mean green bean casserole!”

Their phones went off, flash storms heading their way.

“Oh, thank the Marvel Jesus that is me, welp, looks like it’s time to head back!”, he was going to ignore the way the Wolverine duo were smirking at him as he enthusiastically turned around and started head back to the truck.

“Sorry, are trip is a bit of a bust, perhaps next time weather will be more predictable and Vanny can join us!”

“Sounds nice.”

“Sure.”

“I think jumping into a concrete mixer sounds better.”

And ‘the boyfriend’ was throwing an arm around Wade’s shoulders, “You really are such a funny guy, it’s so good to be able to bond like this!”