#tuna behind the curtain

[jojosleftyadventure]

How do the foot guys manipulate objects and get around?

Feet move around by simply hopping! As for how they manipulate objects...

They usually let their stands handle objects for them.

Risottoe (Name Pending) 's stand is Master of Puppets, it shoots out iron strings that can latch on to people or objects, and refine the iron out of whatever it touches.

As for in my original world, every limb has a "core" of pure life energy in them they dub "The Fire of Life".

So, they kinda use their psychic abilities to lift objects, kinda like Veggietales

Feet are more adept at tapping into their fire than hands are, as hands usually just get by with just their dexterity. Sorry I took a while to get to this, as you've probably seen, I'm Going Through It.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of my First Friend.

In this strange new world, nothing is certain—not even one’s safety.

But through it all, you were with me. Always by my side.

Please don’t leave me behind.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

"Grrr...! This stupid thing won't close," Grim complains. He fumbles with the buttons on his robes, which refuse to be secured.

"That's because you've got two left thumbs... or, more accurately, no thumbs at all," his human companion teases. They crouch down, gesturing for him. "Here, I'll help you."

"Myahaha, that's my minion!" Grim scrambles over on all fours—definitely not like a cat. He's far more dignified than some glorified house pet or familiar.

"You're going to get your clothes dirty if you walk around like that," they scold him lightly as they cinch his robes shut, then dusts him off. They pause, going in to adjust his waistband, then the angle of his cap. "There you go." "All set for your big day."

"Our big day," Grim corrects, nudging them on the cheek with his paw. "We're a 2-for-1 deal, remember?"

"Right. Me and the almighty Grim-sama," they reply with a laugh, poking his little nose.

An ear-splitting sob disrupts the intimate scene. Three ghosts in top hats and gray cloaks sail in—one small, one plump, one scrawny—all wailing.

"I can't believe this day's finally arrived!"

"Grimmy and Prefect, all grown up... Off to tackle Twisted Wonderland head-on..."

"WAAAAH, I'm gonna miss my living roomies!!"

"Hey, hey, what's with the empty nest syndrome, guys?" The prefect huddles with the ghosts. They cannot physically touch, but the same energy is there, their arms lingering where the ghosts’ bodies float.

“B-But…!”

“Don't worry. No matter the time or place, we'll carry the spirit of Ramshackle dorm with us wherever we go.“ They smile sympathetically. “That means you’ll always be with us! This world, this life… and into the next.”

"D-Do you really think friendships can last more than a lifetime?" one ghost asks through his tears.

"For sure. So please… Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened. Can you do that for us?”

“O-Okay,” the trio blubbers and sniffles.

“Geez, you’re all a buncha babies,” Grim sighs, paws on his hips. “C’mon, we’re supposed to be celebratin’ US today!! Like my minion said, let’s see some smiles, yeah?”

“We’ll come see you off at the ceremony the,” the small ghost suggests. The cheer is strained, like he is holding back a torrent of tears.

"The ceremony…” The prefect’s eyes go wide and panicked. “Oh crap, we're going to be late! The headmaster should already be starting his speech...!"

"Not a problem, leave it to this Grim-sama. A teleportation spell's easy as takin' a tuna can from a kitten!"

"Sorry, guys. Gotta run...! We'll see you there?"

Grim expertly clambers onto the prefect's neck, making himself comfortable as a boa on their shoulders. The magestone dangling from his neck lights up, and the duo are enveloped in its glow.

The last sight before they blip away are the ghosts, waving good-bye with wet eyes.

A blink later, the two are among a crowd of students in the same uniform as them. Long robes, graduation caps affixed to their heads. They're lined up behind a stage, the curtain stained the dark sapphire of a night sky and dotted with sparkling stars.

Crowley's voice drones from the other side, amplified by a microphone. A waiting crowd murmurs appreciatively as he crows on about hard work, congratulations, and new beginnings.

"See?" Grim winks at his minion. "What'd I tell ya? Anything’s a cinch with my magic~”

"Great going, archmage-in-the-making. You really saved our butts," they say, ruffling his fur. “Come to think of it, were running late for our first day too… and the sorting ceremony before that. I guess we’re destined to be tardy together, huh, Grim?”

"Heh, you got that right!" He bumped his tiny fist with his partner's. “Let’s keep at it, you ‘n me! Grim-sama and his loyal minion, together forever.”

"Oiiiii! Grim, Prefect!!"

"Oh, that’s..."

They glance up, finding a group of boys making their way toward them in the crowd. One with a heart etched onto his face, the other, a spade. A wolf beastman, another with reptilian eyes and slicked back hair, trailed by a smaller, delicate boy and an android with a head of blue flames. Old friends from the other dorms.

"There you are. We thought we'd missed you." Deuce calls out, looking relieved.

"Idiot, we wouldn’t have missed them—you worried for nothin’. They're first on the chopping block cuz they're sooo special." Ace rolls his eyes. "Lu~cky. You get to show off and hog the spotlight before anyone else does.”

"We um... wanted to come and say good luck," Epel offers. "It's a big deal to have made it this far. Starting a new life in an unfamiliar world and all, it's a lot."

"Thanks, everyone. I really couldn't have made it these past few years without your support."

"Ah-HEM!" Grim coughs.

"... And Grim," the prefect added, scratching him behind the ears.

"This is really it, then." Jack is blunt, his arms folded. "Our last chapter at Night Raven College."

"Hmph! Is that all you have to say?! Surely you can muster up more oomph than that!! Today is not just that--it is the start of the rest of our lives." Sebek straightens, looking rather proud.

"Hmm..." Ortho taps at his chin contemplatively. "You know what? When words are not enough to express ourselves, action may be the next best thing!"

"... Wait, what exactly are you suggesting?" Ace asks suspiciously, an eyebrow raised.

"A group hug! For one final sendoff."

Sebek is the first to protest, his voice cutting through loud and clear. "I refuse!! There is absolutely NO WAY I am engaging in physical intimacy with you humans!"

"Not so hot on the idea either."

Ace and Deuce warily stare at each other. "Not happening," they chorus at the same time.

"Well, if the others don't want to, then..." Epel trails off.

"Guys, shut up and group hug already," the prefect groans, throwing their arms around their friends. Reluctant grumbles round the group, but no one makes an active effort to peel away.

“GACK!!” Grim chokes out, crushed between everyone’s chests. When their bodies recede, he collapses, vision spinning, seeing stars.

“Hahah, looks like Grim got flattened like a pancake,” Ace jeers. “Still got it in ya to waltz on stage after that?”

“C-Can it!! Of course I do!” he snaps back.

The timing is opportune. Right then, Crowley’s speech reaches them, a summons.

“… We will now begin calling up our students to receive their diplomas, starting with Ramshackle Dorm.”

“Looks like that’s our cue, Grim.”

“Let’s get goin’!!”

The prefect steps back and passes one final look to their peers. People from many different places, many different backgrounds. United at last.

“Go.”

They do.

Clutching onto their graduation cap, the prefect races up the steps from the wings. Grim bounding along by their side. Every stride equal against the other’s.

Like shooting stars, they’ve come so far. They can’t go back to where they used to be.

When they emerge from the darkness, they’re hit with bright sunshine and stage lights. Spring is in full bloom, welcoming them with balmy weather and armfuls of flowers.

The headmaster beams from behind a podium, gesturing for them to approach. In his grasp, two scrolls secured with navy ribbons.

Their diplomas.

“Presenting Grim and the Prefect, our special students sharing the spot of Valedictorian.”

Grim squeals, soaked up the adoration. He waves at the audience, flashes silly poses for the cameras. The prefect laughs, prodding him along with their hands.

“Come on, let’s not stall the ceremony for everyone else.”

“One moment.”

A smallish figure blocks their path. It’s a young man with crimson hair and heart-shaped ahoge. He holds out his hand--and the prefect, stunned, takes it.

"Riddle-senpai. You've returned."

"Prefect. Grim." He politely greets them, shaking their hands in turn. "May the Queen of Hearts and her spirit of strictness guide you as you cross this threshold in life. Remain disciplined, and I know you will both achieve even greater things."

Riddle releases, and another seizes their hands. This shake is rougher, looser.

"Congrats, you survived four years at this place," Leona purrs. He wears less of a smile and more of a bemused smirk. "Persisted, like the King of Beasts did."

His duty done, he casually drops them. Azul elegantly ducks in, his grasp firm and tone professional.

"Fufu. What an honor it is to reunite like this. Your benevolence has done much to improve our dear Night Raven College. The Sea Witch would surely extol your generosity."

"Prefect, Grim!!"

Azul steps back with a bow, making space for the next person.

Kalim practically collides with them, excitedly yanking their hands up and down as he chatters. "So good to see you again!! Gahahah, you haven't changed a bit! I bet you're much wiser now though--maybe just as mindful as the Sorcerer of the Sands was!”

Behind him, someone clears their throat. Awareness hits him and Kalim gasps, letting go of the graduates.

"It takes considerable tenacity to arrive at this milestone,” Vil says, clasping the prefect and Grim’s hands in his own. Then, he smiles ever so slightly. “… Be proud, potatoes. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed by the Beautiful Queen.”

He steps aside, allowing a gloomy, hooded figure to replace him. Idia grimaces, shielding his eyes from the lights glaring down at him.

“Tch… Dragged me out here for this,” he mutters, keeping his clammy, pale hands shoved squarely into his hoodie pockets.

A pause—and Idia managed an anxious smile. “GG or whatever. I guess even an amateur can clear hard levels if they’re diligent enough. The King of the Underworld was a noob at one point too.”

(“Is that really the most encouraging thing you could muster?” Vil tuts from the sidelines.)

With that, Idia shuffles off, joining the other ex-dorm leaders.

“Nyahahah, it feels nice to be recognized~” Grim snickers.

“Well, I certainly hope you haven’t had your fill yet.”

A frigid touch comes upon the prefect and Grim’s hands. That voice, like sudden nightfall. They find themselves staring up at a colossal shadow with leering green eyes, scales studding their forehead.

"M-Myah?!” Grim’s fur stands on end.

“Even you came, Tsunotaro!!” the prefect gasps.

“I wouldn’t miss this ceremony for the world,” Malleus smoothly reassures them. “I wished to lend my support to my dear friends and send them off with my blessing.”

He raises his arms to the open sky. Bright blue, barely a cloud in it. Sunlight pouring down, framing the ceremony in a golden spotlight.

“The Thorn Fairy’s utmost value is nobility. As you of the new generation sally forth into the world, let your souls shine as noble and true as her own.“

Uproarious applause rises, cheering and clapping combining into one frantic melody. The flowers blush, swelling large and healthy with color. The sun itself seems to brighten too, the wind lifting in a joyous, effervescent song.

“Congratulations...!!”

“Waaaah, Tsunotaro made the whole world light up!” Grim cries, eyes sparkling. “Heheh, okay, that’s a pretty good one—but watch out cuz one day I’ll be one of the top 5 strongest, most charismatic mages too!”

“Fufufu. I look forward to that day.”

Malleus bends down, his lips puling back to reveal luminous teeth.

“May you never be apart,” he whispers, so quiet that no one hears. Then, more loudly, “Congratulations. I wish you all a happily ever after.”

“I dunno what you’re goin’ on about, but thanks for hypin’ us up!!” Grim grins from ear to ear. “Today’s definitely… the best day ever!”

“I’m glad of it.”

And may it remain that way, forevermore.

[bellaxgiornata]

Compliments

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x fem!Reader Word Count: 1.4k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: "Are you blushing?"

Warnings/tags: 18+; mentions of sex, sheer fluff, making Mikey blush, naked cuddling in bed

Summary: You notice the way Michael always reacts when given a compliment and you quickly wonder what would happen if you showered him with multiple at once.

a/n: Mikey deserves to be showered with compliments on the daily and you cannot change my mind. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Shivering beneath the sheets, your eyelids slowly opened. Soft, faint morning light was seeping past the plain navy blue curtains as you lay along the bed, your body partially curled in along itself. Goosebumps had already begun to dot your skin just before you’d fully stirred awake, the chill of Michael’s bedroom the most likely culprit for you waking just as the sun had begun to rise. Craving his body heat, you nestled a little further backwards into his body behind you.

Last night had been the first night he’d ever asked you to stay over at his place, but you had not anticipated just how needy Michael would become when he awoke in the middle of the night with you in his bed. You weren’t going to complain about the pleasant ache that you could now feel between your thighs, smiling at the memory of Michael half-awake as he buried himself into you over and over, but as another involuntary shudder raced through your body, you regretted not dressing before falling back asleep last night. 

A hand cautiously smoothed its way over your bare hip and your body startled beneath the touch, jumping slightly in surprise. Head rolling along the pillow, you spotted Michael’s shy smile greeting you from where he lay along his own pillow behind you. His eyes were half-lidded and creased at the corners, that lone dimple in his cheek present on his tired face.

“G’morning, pet,” he greeted groggily. “How’d ya sleep?”

“Good,” you answered, rolling over in bed to face him. “Even better thanks to that midnight interruption.”

“Mmm,” he happily hummed out, his sleepy grin growing. “I'd have to agree with ya, that definitely helped me sleep better. And now it's a perfect mornin’ wakin’ with ya here.”

“It is,” you agreed. “Except I am absolutely freezing in here,” you told him, playfully pouting as you inched a bit closer to his naked body. “I will never get used to the constant chill in the air here.”

Michael’s expression shifted from sleepy to concerned as his dark brows furrowed together. “I'm sorry, pet. I didn't realize ya were cold. C'mere,” he said, his hand on your hip tugging you closer to the front of himself. “Let me help ya with that.”

Allowing him to draw you right up against his body, you reveled in the heat radiating off of him and seeping into the front of yourself. Wrapping your arms around him beneath the sheets, you smiled back at him as he slipped one of his large, warm thighs between your own. His body heat alone was quickly chasing the chill straight out of you and it had you further relaxing against him.

“How's that?” he asked. “Better?”

“Mmm,” you hummed pleasantly, one hand tracing absent patterns along his back. “Much. You're like a furnace, you know that? Or a giant space heater.”

“Oh I am, am I?” he questioned with a grin. 

You nodded, your fingers still brushing the tips of your nails affectionately back and forth across his back. You swore you saw him shudder a few times when your fingertips passed alongside his spine.

“A really handsome, really sexy space heater,” you teased, shooting him a wink. 

Michael chuckled lightly, his gaze briefly averting from you as he glanced just over your shoulder. Biting your lip, you'd caught on once more to the way he usually seemed to react to your compliments. Always with a soft, nervous laugh and sometimes a deflecting comment before he looked anywhere but at you. You quickly found yourself wondering what would happen if you suddenly complimented him repeatedly.

“With a very skilled mouth,” you mischievously added on. “A beautiful, talented mouth.”

“Oh, is that so?” he replied, his eyes hesitantly meeting yours again. “So I take it yer first night stayin’ over was grand then?”

“More than grand,” you answered, noting the way he changed the subject. “I never realized you were such a great cook. And you even clean dishes despite my insistence to let me take care of them. Ever the gentleman, Mikey.”

Michael shrugged sheepishly, the sheets slipping down his shoulder at the movement. “‘M not sure if I'd say I'm a great cook, but I'm glad ya enjoyed dinner last night. And o'course I wasn't goin’ to have ya clean up after.” He cleared his throat, his eyes once more darting away from your own. “If yer…not in a rush this mornin’ I'd happily cook ya some breakfast.”

You caught the nervous tinge to his tone when he'd asked you to stay longer this morning. As if he expected you to want to wake and immediately dart out the door instead of lingering and spending more time with him.

“I'd love to have breakfast with you, Mikey,” you told him, watching as his face brightened at your answer. “Though after how you repeatedly took care of me last night, maybe I should be the one making you breakfast this morning. You know, as a thank you for dinner and the multiple orgasms that followed.”

Grinning coyly back at Michael, you teasingly waggled your brows at him before shooting him another wink. Michael huffed out a laugh, his eyes once more flying to land somewhere just past where you lay. You were about to say something more, but then you noticed a slight tinge of color in his cheeks beginning to peek through his beard.

“Michael Kinsella, are you blushing right now?” you asked in surprise. 

Another little nervous chuckle fell from his lips as he ducked his head, entirely averting his gaze. Unable to resist how sweet his reaction was, you tugged him tighter to yourself and Michael quickly buried his face against your neck in an attempt to hide, his beard pleasantly tickling your skin.

“Yer bein’ so nice,” he mumbled. “‘M’not used to it.”

“Well get used to it, Michael,” you told him, leaning forward to plant a kiss to the top of his head. “Because I'm going to tell you how amazing, intelligent, sweet, handsome, and brilliant you are all of the time. Because clearly you haven't been told all of that remotely enough and I have a responsibility to change that.”

“Ya do, d'ya?” he asked, his voice muffled against your skin.

“Mhmm,” you hummed back, your hands still soothingly brushing up and down his bare back beneath the bed sheets. “Until you believe it. And then even after that.”

Michael made a noise that sounded like something mixed between a sigh and huff. You giggled before placing another kiss into the mess of his dark hair.

“Yer too good for me, pet,” he said, lips brushing your neck as he spoke. “Don't know how I found ya.”

“Yes you do,” you countered with a laugh. “You saved the poor tourist struggling to find a coffee shop and now you're stuck with me.”

“Best damn decision I ever made, too,” he replied with a chuckle, face still hidden against your neck. “Ya just looked so damn cute wanderin’ ‘round Dublin confused, but I couldn't let ya continue on strugglin’.” 

“And now you're giving me mind-blowing orgasms,” you teased. 

A burst of deep laughter came from Michael, his body shaking against yours. You smiled at the sound, one of your hands reaching up to affectionately play with his hair.

“Dunno ‘bout that, pet,” he said once his laughter had subsided. He withdrew his face from your neck, his eyes finally meeting yours again. “But how ‘bout I make us some breakfast? How d'ya like yer eggs?”

Your bottom lip rolled between your teeth as you bit back a smile at him trying to change the subject once again. “Fertilized,” you joked.

Michael rolled his eyes, but the smile grew on his own mouth. “Ya goin’ to be like this all mornin’?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered. “Because I love seeing the beautiful smile on your face where it belongs.”

Another bit of red tinged Michael’s cheeks at the compliment before he loosed another chuckle and glanced away. Smiling triumphantly to yourself, you settled in for a morning of complimenting him at every opportunity that presented itself.

Michael Kinsella One Shot Tag List: @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @shiorimakibawrites @wkndwlff @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @sunflower-tia @kezibear @loves0phelia @millennial-birkin @steve-chandler @flowher

[levisolace]

[4] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 4: Earl Grey

WC: 7,120 Chapter Warnings: angst again ^^ (they need to communicate), also unedited Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. Note: At least it didn't take a year this time?

story masterlist | prev chapter > next chapter

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across your small apartment. You sat on the couch, Earl nestled beside you, his sleek black fur shimmering in the sunlight that streamed through the window. A bowl of Earl's favorite tuna-flavored kibble rested between them, and you carefully scooped a handful into his waiting dish.

"Here you go, Earl," you murmured, voice soft and soothing. Earl's green eyes gleamed with anticipation as he watched the kibble tumble into the bowl. With a gentle nudge of his head, he began to nibble contentedly.

You smiled, your fingers absently stroking Earl's fur as she watched him eat. It was moments like these that you cherished — quiet mornings filled with the simple pleasure of caring for your companion.

The kitchen clock ticked steadily on the wall, reminding you of the peaceful passage of time. It was Sunday, a day she reserved for leisure and relaxation. Outside, the neighborhood was bathed in the golden light of morning, with the distant sound of cars honking and people shouting. Despite the chaos that the neighborhood offered, it should be a peaceful day… if only you aren’t aware of a certain raven-haired man on the way to your apartment. 

"You're going to have a good day today, aren't you, Earl?" you murmured, your voice tinged with affection. Earl looked up at her, his green eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, as if he understood every word. “That man I used to tell you about, he’s coming.” 

After finishing his breakfast, Earl stretched lazily, arching his back and then padding over to you. He rubbed against your leg, purring loudly, before settling down at your feet. You chuckled softly, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. "You're such a charmer," you whispered.

Together, they basked in the tranquil morning, you sipping you coffee as Earl curled up beside you. The sunlight danced across the room, casting playful shadows on the walls. 

When the clock struck nine, you were agitatedly waiting for Levi to arrive. He hasn’t texted or called to follow up or confirm he was even coming, making you doubt if he was even aware of it. You’ve pondered just asking Hange for the address, but when you texted her, she assured you that Levi was coming. 

You were aware that the appointment isn’t until the end hour but you were biting your nails, your nerves acting up all of a sudden. Should you dress up? Was it alright that you were just wearing jeans and a tight fitting top? For some reason, you feel like you should dress up. Hell, you even put on more makeup than your usual corporate look.

“Earl, do you think he’s coming?” 

The cat purred, jumping to your side on the couch. You run your thumb on his head, petting him softly. Just then, your phone pinged with a notification. A two-word text from an unknown number.

Come down. 

It’s no mistake that it’s Levi. You could almost hear his commanding and aloof tone through the pixels. Rushing, you take one last look in the mirror, you pat your hair and smile at yourself. But just like being dumped with cold water, your smile drops as you realize your action and your hand flies up to slap your cheek lightly. 

What the hell is wrong with you? This is not a date or even a friendly get together.

You make sure everything in your apartment is in check before grabbing your coat. You bid your pet farewell and hurried down and out of your apartment complex. 

Like it was on cue, the moment you stepped on the pavement, you heard the low but powerful hum of an engine approaching. A sleek black Audi glides into view. The car stops smoothly in front of you and you look around, a few people outside staring at the car with an odd expression on their face. 

You don’t move. Instead, you take a step back. You don’t even know if this is Levi. The windows are tinted and you don’t know his plate number or car model. 

Before you can pull up your phone to ask Levi, the car window rolls down, revealing the man himself. 

“Get in,” he says curtly, his expression composed as ever. 

You open the door and slide into the passenger seat, immediately noticing the immaculate interior. The leather seats are impeccably clean, and the subtle scent of expensive cologne fills the air. You wouldn’t expect less from Levi. He glances at you briefly before shifting the car into gear. 

Although you want to look at him, you avoid doing that and avert your gaze beyond the car itself and to your surroundings. The people in your neighborhood still watched the vehicle even as Levi drove away. They don’t seem to be in awe of the car. Somehow, they looked wary… maybe even afraid? You found this strange but brush it away. Maybe it’s just weird seeing a different social class driving along The Underground. Maybe you were just reading into it too much. 

Levi is silent the whole ride. He navigates the streets with precision, every turn and lane change executed flawlessly. The car’s performance seems like a natural extension of Levi’s own skills and discipline.

As you reach your destination, Levi parks the car with the same precision he’s shown throughout the drive. He looks at you, his eyes sharp yet calm. You stare back. He doesn’t look like he’s gonna say anything so you open your mouth to speak.

“Don’t,” he beats you to it. “If you’re going to say something about what happened in the elevator. Just don’t.”

You were taken aback and you remember his face when you left. Guilt consumes you once again but you don’t let it show on your face. 

“I wasn’t going to,” you mumbled. “I was gonna say that you could leave me here. I know Hange probably forced you to come. I think I can find my way back from here.”

“Tch,” he responds with his usual expression. 

He gets out of the car without a word for you to follow and yet you do so anyway. You gave him a choice to leave but he doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere. You wondered if it’s also his day off. What could his job be? Maybe an office job or managing the restaurant? Could Kuchel’s still be up and running? You hope it is. Although you want to visit Levi’s mother, you’re not sure if she would welcome you like before. 

The wedding boutique’s interior is just as sophisticated as its exterior. Soft lighting illuminates racks of exquisite dresses, each piece more stunning than the last. The air is filled with the subtle scent of fresh flowers, adding to the refined atmosphere.

A sales assistant approaches, eyes shifting from you to Levi. “Good morning, ma’am and sir. Looking for a wedding dress?” 

You and Levi take an awkward glance at each other before he clears his throat. “No. We’re here for the ten o’clock appointment. The refitting?” He states simply. 

The sales assistant nods enthusiastically, apologizing for her mistake. “Ah, yes! For Ms. Zoe’s bridesmaid. Please wait here.” 

She ushered you both to a waiting area. You sit side by side on the couch. There are racks of wedding dresses around you and on mannequins. You take your time to admire them while Levi scrolls through his phone. 

You’re happy for Hange that she’s settling down. She looked really happy with Moblit and he seemed utterly in love with her as well. Although her personality hasn’t changed, there seemed to be some maturity around her that you weren’t familiar with. 

At the moment, marriage isn’t something that you can see yourself in. But god, the dresses are so pretty. You don’t really get to wear gowns like that. 

For a moment, you think about it, maybe as a result of you haven’t eaten breakfast. If a ring adorned your finger, what wedding dress would you like best? You think you’d like something with a petticoat, something that would make you feel like a princess. Your eyes caught one that you adored. It’s on a mannequin. You could picture yourself wearing it. In all honesty, this is the first time you’ve thought about weddings in years. And you do see the irony of doing that with your ex-boyfriend sitting beside you. 

Your trail of thoughts were cut off when the sales assistant came out from the room she went into. “Miss, we’re ready for you here. Your boyfriend can accompany you inside.” She points to the room with a gesture of her palms laid outwards. 

“Not her boyfriend,” Levi nonchalantly reacts and the disgust in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You give the girl an awkward smile. He wasn’t wrong and yet you can’t help but feel offended at the way he reacted so quickly as if he found the thought repulsive. 

“He’ll stay here. Or leave… if he wants to.” You give him a glance to which he scoffed at. The sales assistant awkwardly laughs, seemingly noticing the tension in the room. 

“Ah, I’m sorry again for assuming. Please forgive me. Do you need any refreshments as you wait here, sir?” She asks Levi while you stand up and sling your bag over your shoulder. 

“No, thank you.” Levi stands up from his seat and you could see the sales assistant’s eyes wilter for a moment at his rejection. God, he’s rude. 

“I’ll be coming inside as well,” he continues, shocking you. 

“What? You don’t have to do that,” you whisper to his side. 

He doesn’t take no for an answer, heading inside first and brushing past you. You look up at the ceiling, praying nothings above to give you enough patience for this time.

You stood in front of the mirror, tugging the waist of the dress. It was a tube top, which you don’t often wear. Sleeves accompany your arms most of the time and right now? They feel naked. Despite that, the dress is nice. The fabric hugged you in all the right places. But your nerves were more due to the fact that Levi was sitting just a few feet away, casually scrolling through his phone. You hate to admit that until now, he still makes you nervous.

Levi hadn’t even looked up when she stepped out of the dressing room. He was sitting straight up in the plush chair, legs crossed, looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else. His dark hair flopped slightly over his forehead, and his posture was so relaxed it bordered on dismissive. And you were right, he is scrolling and typing on his phone like his mind is entirely somewhere else.

“Oh, it’s perfect. Magnifique!” The tailor clasped his hands, catching Levi’s attention. 

He looks up and drags his eyes up and down your form. It took all of you not to show your nervousness at his reaction. And yet, like a child waiting, you look at the people in the room with a smile.

“How’s it look?” you asked, your voice trying to sound casual, but the weight of the situation made it come out more forced than you intended.

Levi doesn’t take his eyes off you as you asked, just for a moment, then back at his phone. “Looks fine,” he muttered, tapping at the screen.

Your smile faltered. You turned back to the mirror, adjusting the tube in the hope of distracting yourself from the pang of disappointment in her chest. You weren’t sure why you expected him to be more... invested. He was here as a favor to Hange, your mutual friend. Not to you. 

“Is something wrong, madame?” The tailor asked.

Your eyes widened as your eyes shifted to the reflection of the tailor in the mirror and you shook your head. “Oh! Nothing, no. It’s just… I’m not really used to wearing tube top dresses. Don’t my arms look kind of awkward?” 

“Nonsense, madame. You look beautiful!” The joyful tailor said flamboyantly. 

You purse your lips, looking at your reflection again. This was all so sudden and you kinda wished you had more time to prepare. It’s been a while since you dressed up like this. It’s like seeing yourself in a whole different light. After focusing on your career and all, you guess you’ve neglected your appearance. 

The tailor noticed your silence. “But if you’re uncomfortable, we can add straps or alter it to your liking. It’s no big deal.”

“Oh, please don’t. You don’t have to do that,” you tell her. “It’s perfect.” The thought of imposing more will only burden you and make you more uncomfortable. Anyway, you’ll only be wearing it for a day. 

The tailor nods. “So this measurement is good, then.”

“Yes, I think I’m done here,” you said after a beat, your voice quieter now.

As you stepped back into the dressing room to change, you could hear him tapping away on his phone again, already checked out of the moment. You took a deep breath. You sighed quietly, fiddling with your hair as you stared at your reflection. You weren’t sure why you felt disappointed at his reaction. It was like he found it repulsive to even look at you. It made you wonder… does he still find you attractive? You hated that it bothered you this much. 

It took you a while to change, carefully taking the dress off without misplacing the pins and all. When you emerged from the dressing room, Levi was nowhere to be found. It only made you feel worse. But at least your stomach was no longer in knots. It always felt that way when he was in sight. 

You approached the sales assistant who was also in the room, obligated to give her an apology for how Levi reacted. She smiles when you reach her and tells you that the tailor began to work on the dress and had stepped out.

“Hey, I just wanted to apologize for what happened earlier. He’s rude but he’s not always like that,” you tell her but you know it’s half a lie. Levi doesn’t really do well with strangers, especially if he’s in a bad mood. You guessed he hasn’t really at all changed. There’s still that introvert inside him. Or maybe you just trigger it with your presence. 

The sales assistant gives you a reassuring smile, a genuine one that you differentiated from her usual customer service one. “It’s fine, ma’am. I experienced worse…” 

Her last words trail before she paused for a while, stopping herself as if she wanted to say something else. You tilt your head in curiosity. “What is it?”

“Nothing ma’am. It’s just… I thought you were a couple because of how he was looking at you when you weren’t looking,” she replied shyly, a hand scratching the back of her neck.

Your smile drops as you hear what she had to say, that fluttering feeling in your stomach that had gone dormant in years was alive once again. 

“What?” you mutter, feeling your face heat up. 

“I’m sorry. I think I overstepped once again, ma’am.”

“You’re not, don’t worry about it,” you assure her. You point at the door with your thumb. “Is he still outside?”

“He stepped out. But his car is still outside so I don’t think he left, ma’am.” 

The sales assistant redirects you back to the waiting area. As she does, you take your phone out of your bag and pull out your messaging app to text the same number who called you earlier. 

Where did you go?

Had something urgent. My secretary will drive you.

As if on cue, the front door’s bell dings, indicating it had just been open and boy probably in his early twenties walks in. He has a buzz cut and a shining glimmer in his eyes. He wears a polo shirt and slacks. 

“O-Oh, you’re done, miss?” He says as his eyes land on you. Your mouth parts, unsure why this stranger is addressing you. He says your name as a question and you nod in confusion.

“Ah! Pardon me. My name is Connie. I’m Mr. Levi’s personal secretary. He asked me to fetch and drive you. He was needed there.” 

Secretary? Not only does he have an Audi, he has an assistant running errands for him on a Sunday? And how could he just leave without telling you? 

You smiled at Connie. Although you don’t find the stranger suspicious, it’s still a bit much to get in the car with him. It’s more of you thinking you’d be imposing. He could be doing better things. 

“You don’t need to do that, Connie. I can get home by myself.”

Connie’s eyes widened and he brought his hands up frantically waving. “No, no, no. I have specific orders from Sir Levi. I also have breakfast for you ready in the car.” 

That caught you off guard. Breakfast? He got you breakfast? 

“Levi asked you to get me breakfast?” 

“Yes, ma’am. He was very specific with what to get.”

“What?”

“Oh crap,” he mutters to himself as if it wasn’t information that he should’ve disclosed to you. “Can we go to the car now, ma’am?” 

In a trance of thoughts, you nod aimlessly and follow the boy outside. He guides you to the car and even opens the door for you. He sits you on the backseat. Connie enters the car to the driver’s seat. 

“How long have you been working for Levi, Connie?”

Striking up a conversation seemed like a good idea instead of sitting in silence and so you did just that. As you speak, Connie hands you a paper bag that rested from where you sat earlier in the morning, making you mumble a quick thank you as you accepted it. 

“I’ve been working with Mr. Ackerman for years,” he said proudly, grinning.

“Years? He must really like you then,” you said, amused and chuckling.

“I really hope he does, ma’am. It was tough, if you know what I mean?” He gives you a mischievous look through the rearview mirror. “Don’t tell him this but I used to cry in the comfort room in the first month that I worked for him.” 

A three-second silence in the car and he immediately takes back what he said. “Shit. Overshared. Sorry.”

You huffed and let out an amused chuckle that turned into laughter. Connie laughs back, bringing up a hand to scratch the back of his head. He did that twice already, you gathered by now that it’s a mannerism. 

“I can see why he does, you know, why he likes you,” you shared. “He needs people like you,” you added. 

Levi keeps people around his life when he likes them. Erwin keeps him in check. Hange pulls him out of his shell. And you? What was your purpose in his life? What did you have to offer him back when you had him? 

Your eyes drift to the paper bag beside you. Peeking through it, you see a green drink and pastry. Matcha and Blueberry muffin. Your heart swells and you have to close your lids to stop the overwhelming emotions that threaten to come out. The smell is purely nostalgia. 

The quiet hum of fluorescent lights was the only sound that punctuated the silence of the library as you huddled over her textbooks, your brow furrowed in concentration. The dusty scent of old paper and leather bound you in a cocoon of academia, the world beyond the heavy oak doors fading into insignificance.

In the middle of you losing yourself in a particular chapter of your reading, a soft but familiar deep voice broke through the stillness. “You’ve been here all morning?” 

You looked up to see Levi standing there, arms crossed and giving you a concerned look. 

He slipped into the chair across from you, his presence is warm and comforting, a disruption to your heavy mind and the coldness of the place. 

“Yeah, I’m almost finished with this reading,” you whisper to him. 

“Have you eaten, at least?” He asked, pulling out his laptop.

“Yeah,” you replied back, nonchalant and obviously lying. You know he doesn’t like it when you skip breakfast and always argues when you don’t. You were never really big on breakfast, you never felt the need for it. You don't like the feeling of being full in the morning. However, Levi lived a life with a cook for a mother, so having breakfast was a must in his vocabulary. Most of your life was spent hustling. Being fast. Mornings were made up of getting ready, having half a cup of coffee, and making your way to school early in the morning. 

“You’re lying,” he states the obvious with disappointment in his voice.

“It’s almost 10. It’s just two hours before lunch time anyway,” you shrug. 

“That’s bullshit,” he replied, shaking his head.

Erwin and Hange came by as he said it, following Levi like the trio that they are. 

“Can you lovebirds not argue in the library?” Erwin whispered as the two of them sat down. 

Levi slides out of his chair quietly while turning down his laptop screen. 

“Get up,” he demanded straight at you. You look up at him, confused and a bit annoyed. You were almost done with the reading. 

“I’m almost done,” you refused, burying your face back on the paper. 

Levi sighed audibly, the kind of sigh that meant he wasn’t going to drop it anytime soon. You could feel his eyes on you, unwavering and expectant. The weight of his gaze was enough to break your concentration on the reading. It was like a silent battle, one you knew you wouldn’t win, not when it came to Levi and his insistence on taking care of you in his own stubborn way.

“Get up,” he repeated, voice firmer this time. He wasn’t budging, and you knew he’d stand there as long as it took for you to listen.

You glanced up at him, your expression caught between exasperation and defeat. He wasn’t about to let this go, and as much as you wanted to finish your chapter, you could already feel the familiar pull of his unspoken concern. Levi’s brand of care was persistent, never showy, but impossible to ignore.

Hange leaned over the table, grinning mischievously, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Better do what he says, or we’re all going to hear about it for the rest of the day.”

“Come on, just humor him,” Erwin added with a slight smirk, though he kept his voice low in the quiet library.

Levi didn’t wait for your reply this time. With a swift motion, he closed your book gently but decisively, tucking it under his arm. His other hand reached out, hovering near you, but not touching—an offering, rather than a demand. He wasn’t going to drag you out, but his patience was running thin.

“Let’s go,” he said, more quietly now, his tone softening just a little. “Five minutes. We’ll grab something, and you can finish your reading after.”

You wanted to protest, but the look in his eyes—steady, unrelenting—told you it was a lost cause. It wasn’t really about the food. It was about him needing to make sure you were okay, even when you didn’t think it mattered. 

With a resigned sigh, you stood up, brushing off the nonexistent dust on your jeans. “Fine,” you muttered, though the fight had gone out of your voice.

Levi gave a small nod of approval, turning toward the door without a word. You followed, casting one last glance at the table and the chapter you had been so close to finishing. Hange gave you a teasing wink as you passed, and Erwin, ever the composed one, simply smiled knowingly.

As the two of you stepped out into the crisp morning air, the library’s warmth replaced by the gentle chill, Levi’s pace slowed just enough for you to fall in step beside him. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. The silence between you was comfortable, like slipping into something familiar, something safe. Despite his earlier gruffness, Levi’s presence was calming, grounding. 

After a few minutes of walking, he broke the silence. “There’s a café around the corner. You’ll like it. They’ve got good tea.”

“Not coffee?” you teased lightly, trying to lift the mood.

“Figured tea would go easier on you,” he replied, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His lips twitched, almost like he was trying to hide a smile.

You couldn’t help but smile back, a small one, but genuine. Levi always had this way of knowing what you needed, even when you didn’t ask. He was stubborn, but his quiet care ran deeper than words could ever express.

As you walked together, the tension from the morning dissolved, leaving behind a warmth that wasn’t just from the sun filtering through the trees. It was the kind of warmth that only Levi brought with him—steady, comforting, and constant, even when you didn’t realize you needed it.

You took a moment to breathe, the cool air outside replaced by the comforting warmth of the café. The stack of readings and the stress from earlier seemed to slip away, replaced by the calm of the moment. When Levi returned, he set a cup of matcha in front of you and a plate with two blueberry muffins.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought we were just grabbing something quick.”

He slid into the chair across from you, his own cup of black tea in hand. “You need more than just tea. Eat.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his insistence but reached for a muffin anyway. The soft texture and burst of blueberry sweetness were enough to remind you just how hungry you actually were. You took a bite, and Levi watched you, sipping his tea silently, but his expression was lighter now, less tense.

“Better?” he asked, though it was less of a question and more of a check-in, like he needed to hear you confirm it.

“Better,” you admitted, taking another bite.

He nodded once, satisfied, and turned his attention to his tea. The steam rose from his cup, and he closed his eyes briefly as he took a slow sip, savoring the warmth. You watched him for a moment, appreciating how he could find calm in the simplest things—like the taste of tea or the quiet atmosphere of a small café.

“So, you’ve got me here, eating muffins,” you started, breaking the comfortable silence. “What’s the plan? Gonna keep babysitting me, or can I finish my reading after this?”

Levi smirked, setting his cup down. “You can finish your reading after this. Just didn’t want you passing out in the middle of it.” His tone was teasing, but there was a flicker of concern behind his words, subtle but there.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t pass out.”

“Right,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “And you’ve never done that before?”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly what he was referring to. That one time during finals week… but that was different. You’d been exhausted from back-to-back exams. Still, Levi wasn’t wrong. You had a habit of pushing yourself too hard.

“Okay, okay, point taken,” you conceded, taking a sip of your matcha. “Thanks, by the way. For this.”

Levi gave a small shrug, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “No need to thank me. Just don’t make it a habit.”

You smiled at that, though a part of you was still processing the strange dynamic between you two. Levi was always there when it mattered, even when things were complicated between you. He wasn’t the type to make grand gestures, but he showed up in these small, quiet ways—making sure you ate, pulling you out of your own head, grounding you when you didn’t even realize you needed it.

You nodded, taking another bite of your muffin, content to sit in comfortable silence as you both worked. Occasionally, Levi’s eyes would flicker up from his screen to check on you, a small gesture you pretended not to notice.

As the morning stretched into midday, the café buzzed quietly around you, but in this little corner by the window, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist. The warmth of the matcha, the sweetness of the blueberry muffins, and Levi’s steady presence beside you made everything feel lighter, less daunting.

Since then, it became a routine for the two of you. Blueberry muffins and matcha. The perfect way to start your day with your boyfriend, Levi. 

In your apartment, you sat at the table, cradling a warm cup of matcha between your hands, the aroma of the freshly baked blueberry muffins filling the air. It was something familiar, something comforting. You absentmindedly pulled off a piece of the muffin, the tart sweetness of the blueberries mingling with the warmth of the soft pastry, and let it linger on your tongue. It was a flavor that always brought you back to him, to Levi.

For a brief moment, you missed the way it was—if the distance between you two wasn’t so carefully maintained. You wondered what it would feel like to feel his warmth again. But you pushed the thought aside. Whatever this was, for now, it was enough. And for once, you let yourself enjoy it.

The stillness of the apartment, the absence of his voice or the low, comforting rumble of him sipping tea across from you—these were the things that haunted the corners of your mind when you least expected it. 

You sipped the matcha slowly, closing your eyes for a moment, letting its earthy flavor settle in your chest. You could almost hear him scolding you, telling you to eat something more substantial, to stop skipping meals. His voice was still so clear in your head, even though he wouldn’t do that anymore. You smiled faintly at the thought, more out of habit than anything else.

The muffin in front of you sat half-eaten, but you weren’t really hungry. Not in the way Levi always worried about. You picked at it absentmindedly, your mind drifting back to those mornings in the café, where everything felt like it was on pause—like whatever was broken between you two didn’t matter in that quiet space. You’d sit there, stealing glances at each other, filling the air with comfortable silence, pretending for a little while that nothing had changed.

But everything had. 

You took another sip of your drink, eyes drifting toward the window. The city outside was bustling, indifferent to the quiet memories you clung to. Life moved forward, as it always did. It was more of a soft ache, the kind that settled in the background, always there but not overwhelming. You’d made peace with the fact that it had ended, but that didn’t mean you didn’t miss the way things had been—how easy it was to just be around him, how he knew you better than most people, even in the smallest ways. 

Earl’s soft purr pulls you out of your thoughts for a moment and you watch as he jumps from the other chair to your lap. You pet his head and chuckle a little.

“Earl Grey, you were named after his eyes, you know?” 

And then after the longest time, you let yourself drop a tear for him. Then came another. And another. 

The day went by pretty quickly. It was late when the knock at your door came, breaking the peaceful stillness of your apartment. You were curled up on the couch, absentmindedly flipping through a book you had already read twice. Earl, your cat, was nestled on your lap, purring softly as he kneaded into your blanket. You weren’t expecting anyone, but a small part of you, maybe even hopeful, already knew who it was. 

You stood up, setting the book aside and carefully placing Earl on the couch, his displeased meow following you as you made your way to the door. When you opened it, there was Levi, standing in the dim light of the hallway, hands in his pockets, looking as stoic and nonchalant as ever.

“You forgot this,” he said, holding up your handkerchief—the one you had carelessly left in the passenger seat of his car earlier that day. It was checkered pink with your name at the corner, one of the few your grandmother had embroidered herself for you. 

You stared at the handkerchief for a moment, surprised he’d come all the way back just for that. “You didn’t have to come all this way, Levi,” you said, though you couldn’t hide the soft gratitude in your voice.

He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Figured you’d want it back.” 

His eyes flickered past you, into the warm light of your apartment, where Earl was now perched on the back of the couch, eyeing Levi with a curious but lazy gaze.

Levi noticed the cat immediately, his expression softening just a fraction. “Didn’t know you had a cat,” he remarked, his voice low as he took a step inside, uninvited but not unwelcome. He quietly removes his shoes and puts them beside your outdoor shoes. Confused but accepting, you close your door and approach the two.

“Yeah, Earl,” you replied, following his gaze to the fluffy black cat now making his way down from the couch, padding silently toward Levi like he was sizing him up. 

Earl stopped a few feet from Levi, sitting down elegantly and staring up at him, his green eyes narrowing as if judging whether or not this stranger was worth his attention. Levi, to your surprise, crouched down slightly, meeting the cat’s gaze without blinking. It was such a Levi thing to do—silent, direct, and somehow commanding without even trying.

“Earl, huh?” Levi muttered. “He’s got a lot of attitude for a cat.”

You chuckled softly, watching as Earl sniffed at Levi’s shoes before giving a satisfied flick of his tail and brushing against Levi’s legs. You didn’t expect Earl to warm up so quickly, but there he was, already purring as Levi reached out to scratch behind his ears.

“Guess he likes you,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. “He doesn’t do that with most people.”

Levi glanced up at you, one eyebrow raised slightly. “Smart cat,” he said, standing back up. “Knows who to trust.”

The comment hung in the air for a moment, lingering with a weight neither of you wanted to address. You weren’t sure how to respond, so instead, you bent down and scooped Earl up, holding him close to your chest as his purring grew louder.

Levi handed you the handkerchief, his fingers brushing yours briefly as you took it from him. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice softer now.

“Yeah, no problem.” He shifted on his feet, glancing around the apartment briefly, like he was trying to decide whether or not to stay longer.

“I apologize for leaving abruptly earlier,” he pauses for a while before continuing. “I had something urgent.”

“As you and your secretary told me,” you answer. You weren’t really holding a grudge about that. You don’t know why he came all this way to tell you that. “Thank you for the breakfast, by the way.” 

He gave a small nod, his face unreadable as always, but there was something in his eyes—something soft and unspoken. 

“Have you eaten dinner?” 

For a brief second, the two of you stood there in the living room, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around you both. Earl wiggled in your arms, clearly done with the moment, and you set him back down, watching as he padded off toward his bed near the window.

“I… haven’t.” 

“Do you want me to cook something?” It was a simple offer, but it felt heavy between you. Levi blinked, like the question caught him off guard, though he masked it quickly.

“To pay for the breakfast,” you add quickly with an awkward smile. 

“Yeah,” he said after a pause, his voice steady. “I could stay.”

You felt a strange wave of relief, mixed with nervousness. It wasn’t like you hadn’t shared meals with him before, but this felt different now. 

“Well, I wasn’t planning anything fancy,” you said, moving toward the kitchen, feeling a bit unsure of yourself. “But I could make us something quick. Pasta okay?”

Levi leaned against the counter, watching you as you opened the fridge. “Pasta’s fine,” he replied.

He didn’t respond, but you caught the subtle twitch of his lips. It felt almost normal—like slipping back into an old routine without realizing it.

As you started boiling water and prepping ingredients, Levi moved around the small kitchen, grabbing plates and silverware, his movements as efficient and familiar as ever. Neither of you spoke much, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with the soft clattering of utensils and the rhythmic sound of chopping vegetables.

His attention is briefly on Earl, who had taken to watching Levi’s every move with mild curiosity. “Your cat’s a stalker.”

You chuckled, tossing some garlic into the pan. “He’s just making sure you’re not a threat.”

“You said he liked me,” Levi muttered again, though you could tell he didn’t mind Earl’s presence at all. In fact, it seemed like Levi was actually enjoying the quiet company of the little observer.

As you cooked, the kitchen filled with the comforting scent of garlic and olive oil, the sizzle of the pan a soothing backdrop. Levi set the table quietly, his movements almost instinctive, like he’d done this a hundred times before. The two of you worked in sync, no need for instructions or small talk, just moving around each other as if nothing had changed.

When the pasta was done, you brought the pot over to the table, serving two generous portions. Levi settled into the chair across from you, picking up his fork and twirling the pasta around it. The first bite was met with a small nod of approval from him.

“Still the same,” he said, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell if he was talking about the cooking or the way you fit so naturally into this space together.

You smiled, taking a bite yourself. “I had a good teacher,” you say, thinking about the raven-haired woman who Levi holds so dearly in his heart. You miss her in these kinds of moments, you wondered how she felt about you now. 

“How’s Kuchel?” 

“The same,” he answers shortly. “Everything in this city has changed except for her.”

You wondered what he meant by that. But in the sake of keeping up the small talk, you say the first words that pop up in your mind. 

“You don’t look like you changed at all, either.”

You really didn’t mean it in a bad way. But it seemed to have triggered something in your meal companion. His jaw clenches before chewing faster. Your heart races when you notice it upset him.

“And you haven’t either,” he responds, a bitter malice in his tone.

“I don’t mean it like that,” you try to save the peace that enveloped you two a minute ago. 

He doesn’t say anything else and you don’t either, afraid you’d say anything bad to upset him enough to leave with his meal unfinished. You don’t want that. In fact, you didn’t want him to leave. But you don’t want to admit that to yourself either. 

The meal continued in a comfortable silence after, broken occasionally by the sound of Earl jumping down from the windowsill to investigate Levi’s shoes or the clinking of silverware against plates. There was something surreal about the moment—sharing a simple meal in your apartment, after everything that had happened, after the years of space between you. 

Levi finished his plate first, as always, but instead of standing up to leave, he leaned back in his chair, watching as you took another bite, his gaze soft but unreadable.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said, his voice low but genuine. You nod in response. 

For a moment, the air felt thick with all the things you hadn’t said to each other—the unspoken words, the history that lingered between you, and the quiet understanding that neither of you had been able to let go of entirely.

“Yeah,” you replied, setting your fork down and meeting his eyes.

For a moment, the air felt thick with all the things you hadn’t said to each other—the unspoken words, the history that lingered between you, and the quiet understanding that neither of you had been able to let go of entirely.

Levi broke the silence first, his voice quieter than before. “I should go.”

He shifted on his feet, ready to leave. 

“Yeah, it’s getting late,” you agree, looking at the wall clock. It’s almost past nine. 

You followed as he walked through your apartment. You watched how he put on his shoes and brushed his clothes straight. You open the door for him, heart racing as you stare at him quietly. For a brief second, the two of you stood there in the doorway, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around you both.

Levi took a step back, his eyes still lingering on you for a moment longer. “Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice low but carrying a quiet sincerity that you hadn’t expected.

“I will,” you replied, managing a small smile. “And Levi?”

He paused, looking at you expectantly.

“Thanks again. For today. And for coming by.”

He gave a small nod, his face unreadable as always, but there was something in his eyes—something soft and unspoken. “See you around,” he said, before turning and walking back down the hallway.

You watched him go, the door slowly closing behind him. Earl returned to your side, nudging your leg before jumping back onto the couch. You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, the warmth of the apartment suddenly feeling a little emptier without Levi in it.

You settled back on the couch, Earl curling up beside you again, his purring filling the silence. You reached for the handkerchief in your pajama short’s pocket. The handkerchief in your hand, a small, simple thing, but somehow it felt heavier now—like it carried more than just the memory of your grandmother. 

In the quiet, you wondered if this was how it would always be between you and Levi—brief moments, small gestures, and unspoken words that never quite filled the space between you.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

[wannabepoeticischiya]

to live in a plato perfect world

If I had gathered just enough courage to begin—

Would I not be left wondering... what we could have been?

ao3: to live in a plato perfect world pairing: okkotsu yuuta x f! reader genre: romance, angst wc: 7.1k status: one shot

Based on a true story.

"So, [Name]... what happened with Yuuta?"

November was a fickle thing, so [Name] would think. Just a moment ago, they were cradled under the amber skies littered with a nimiety of clouds varying in shapes and sizes now, a darkened canvas hung overhead; the stars she would have loved to stare at for hours on end were nowhere to be found... even the moon had hidden behind the curtains of the abyss. Her eyes reflected the same emptiness the heavens held, almost as if the nothingness painted so high above was created to replicate the very emotion surging through every vein and artery in her. Strange, wasn't it not? To feel everything yet feel as though you're nothing at all. She turned her gaze to the person who spoke her name—Maki.

Maki who was there through it all. The one and only who triggered the idea of what it could have been. The one who was right all along. The one... [Name] couldn't bring herself to tell.

You owe it to us, [Name]-chan!

Tuna!

Yeah! So, tell us what happened~

Is it good? Bad?

[Name] can vividly remember the words her friends had spoken that night and the days that would follow that; she would laugh at their attempts to get it out of her, yet her answer remained the same. 'That's a secret~', those words were not complete lies... and [Name] made sure of it. She never liked lying—especially when it comes to her friends—but this one was something that she thought was a necessary action.

She loved each and every single one of them, and heaven knows that she'd take a curse for them any day. They were supportive and loving—there for her through thick and thin. [Name] couldn't have been more grateful that she had met them... but this was simply just not something she could tell—not when they were so hopeful.

[Name] turned to look at Maki, probably for the first time since that fateful day. She was eternally thankful that Maki didn't push her to talk about it up until now... "Ne, Maki-chan..." Her spoken words to the green-haired girl would have been mistaken as a melody carried by the nearing yuletide... but Maki knew her, and she knows that it took [Name] a great deal of courage to do what she did.

"Would it kill me if I didn't talk about something that's really bothering me deep inside?"

Now that was something the Zenin did not expect. To her, this felt more like an unravelling: would you accept the answers even if they're not the things you hoped that you'd hear? Will you still look at me like that even after you hear the truth? Would you still have the heart to say that I'm your friend even if I destroyed something we both hold so dear? A small stutter in time went unnoticed by the quiet girl patiently waiting for her answer. Maki took a deep breath and voiced out the words that would allow [Name] to say it all. "It would."

So, tell me what happened... were the words that [Name] heard behind her answer.

"He rejected me."

---

"You run like a little girl, [Name]!"

"I am a girl, Yuuta you twat!"

There they go again. Inumaki Toge, Panda and Zenin Maki collectively sighed at the scenery playing out before them.

"We're just crossing the streets but somehow they still find a reason to argue." It wasn't that Panda was annoyed by his two classmates' constant bickering, on the contrary, it was their main source of amusement. Watching Okkotsu Yuuta and [Name] bicker like an old married couple was better than any soap opera Gojo Satoru would stay up late into the night just to watch.

"Shake Sushi!"

The two sorcerers watched as an aggravated [Name] reached into her bag, pulling out a small, circular object (a walnut), and hurling it in the direction of the teasing exorcist.

"Ow!"

Traces of irritation etched into the girl's face had faded, replaced by a triumphant expression at the sound of Okkotsu Yuuta in pain—it might be sad that her only source of external joy was to get a step ahead of him, witness his demise and get back at him for his incessant teasing. [Name] was about to let out a haughty laugh yet held herself back once she saw that the obsidian-haired boy still had that wicked grin plastered all over his stupid face.

"You missed."

[Name] looked at him with every hint of malice she possessed, hell if she wasn't a sorcerer, she would pass as a curse (Yuuta's words). "Why you little—" She leaped from her current position from the side of the road and attempted to claw out Yuuta's eye sockets.

"Okay! That's enough of that you two!" Maki intervened, swiftly going in between her two classmates. The Zenin threw an appreciative look at Inumaki who held back the thrashing girl like a cat.

"Let me at him, Inumaki-san! That primitive little piece of—" [Name] struggled desperately from the Cursed-Speech User's hold, still trying to scratch away that stupid smile her classmate had whenever he'd get a kick out of teasing the daylights out of her.

"We should go Maki, before the two of them kill each other."

Why don't they just date already...

--

"What? Really? Megumi-chan, you never had a girlfriend?"

If someone were to tell [Name] that purple was not an actual physical entity, naturally, she would believe that. It was scientifically explained, after all. She even went as far as arguing with Gojo Satoru about the existence of the color purple (she didn't really get why he was so defensive about it, if purple was his favorite color and the people of science deemed it was something that didn't exist, then he could just go find another color). But what her cute, little underclassman was saying is outright preposterous! He's got it all! Besides the terrible people skills, who wouldn't like little Megumi-chan? "I'm quite sure, [Name]-senpai." And just like that, the upperclassman's enthusiasm deflated like a balloon. If Megumi-chan can't get a girlfriend, it's hopeless for the rest of the world!

"Itadori-kun! Have you ever had a girlfriend?" [Name] passed her hope onto the next underclassman on the list, ever-so-precious Itadori-kun! Surely! For sure, this little ball of sunshine has had at least—

"Nope!" And as though sensing the following question the older exorcist would throw, Itadori quickly added, "Not a single one, [Name]-senpai!" Why is he so happy about that! If those two can't get girlfriends, then there really is no hope—

Out of the corner of [Name]'s eyes, she sees that a certain classmate of hers has been attempting to burn holes into the back of her head since the beginning of her conversation with the two first years. Sneering at him physically and in her head, the girl turned her head to face away from that annoying pest. If I ask that racoon, it will surely go to his head. I'd rather not. Despite [Name]'s attempt to ignore his stare, it ultimately fails. Yuuta was not going to give in, not when it involves getting to gloat in [Name]'s face. With a tired sigh, she reluctantly asked him the same question.

"You?" [Name] turned to look at Yuuta, half-expecting him to say he had at least one. If he gets on his high horse again, I will smack the life out of him I swear— She was confident in her cold, logical reasoning, as well as Yuuta's behavior to revel in triumph at finding out he was better than her in something; casting all of those aside, as much as she hated to admit it—and she would rather drink vomit than do so—he does have the face...

And like a child, he pointed at himself, albeit with feigned confusion. What an idiot. She would think, but his answer stunned [Name] to a momentary silence: short enough to stare at him menacingly like she always did yet extensive enough to give her an ample amount of time to contemplate his reasoning.

"With the way I look?"

Was this a joke? [Name] had taken Yuuta for many things, a sleaze, superiority complex (although it generally only applied to being better than her), a loser with nothing better to do than to pick on her every chance he got, but not once did it ever occur to her that he would be a liar. Yuuta was many things to [Name], and she knew, a liar was not one of them. Yuuta must have taken note of [Name]'s reaction to his answer—or rather, the lack thereof. "No, I haven't." Not a hint of mockery could be traced back to his response for a change. Although, even after his confirmation, the girl was still skeptical, but she gave him the benefit of doubt.

"I don't believe you." But the words that come don't always comply with the ones in her head.

"Well, your choice." He shrugged. I hate this guy. [Name] narrowed her eyes at him and scrutinized him from head to toe.

"But... I never did have one."

Then he smiled. What was there to smile about? [Name] didn't quite know why he was acting like a lunatic. He was always a lunatic, plus he was annoying too, and every bit of her soul screamed at her body to get as far away from him as it was physically allowable. But a rhythm changed somewhere in her, like a beat of a drum going out of sync with the rest of the symphony or a galaxy colliding with another far into the cradles of the cosmos... and along the lines of Yuuta's smile and his kind eyes, she thought he at least looked a little nice.

---

"I don't need your help, Yuuta you twat!"

"Okay, okay... I was just asking."

Perhaps, [Name] did require Yuuta's aid... but she was too stubborn to admit that. Yuuta knew that as well, but he was far too disciplined to deny her of her wishes... even if they do contradict her situation. The stands of the abandoned running field were eerily silent, usually, students from the nearby college would go here just to loiter, even athletes occasionally use the tracks for practice... now, it's just as desolate as the rest of its surroundings. Broken staircases leading up to the platforms were easy enough to climb... although, it later proved to be difficult for gravity-challenged people such as [Name] to descend, hence why Yuuta was generously offering to help the Sorcerer who was too prideful to accept.

"Are you two done flirting? We got curses to exorcise."

"I'd rather eat a curse that date that weirdo." [Name] jutted her thumb in the direction of Yuuta, an expression of disgust carving itself onto her face at the thought of even remotely being close to Okkotsu, let alone be psycho enough to be in a relationship with him. "Ew." She added for good measure.

Traces of cursed energy lingered in the uninhabited buildings nearby, as to why they were built in the first place only to be abandoned, [Name] didn't know. What she was sure of was that an unnecessary, foreign feeling was brewing in her stomach and made her want to puke her insides only to swallow them back again. She did not like that one bit.

After a few moments of walking, "What is this place, Yuuta?" It was the Panda who had voiced out everyone's curiosity. The skies had long faded into the indigos of the night, fragments of the warm afternoon zephyr drifted to the far ends of the horizons, leaving the cool evening breeze to ravage in their wake. No longer were they cradled under a palette covered in multitudes of colors; little by little, stars had littered the darkened canvas above, shining down on the figures of the young Sorcerers.

It was foreign to them—well, all of them aside from Yuuta who has lived here for the majority of his life before moving to Tokyo. "They built this place way back for a regional competition," he began, slicing the tall grass so their group could advance further into the sea of darkness, "it was used for a few times, and as crazy as it sounds, a senator even came to watch. But once the stadium in the neighboring town was established, everyone just seemed to pretend like they didn't know this place." Cutting the last bits of greenery, the students soon came face to face with more neglected infrastructures.

"Most of these buildings just ran out of money to operate," he gestured to the old signboards scattered all over the street, "now they don't even have the funds to demolish the place."

Moonlight seeped through the crevices left by the drifting clouds, blanketing the unremembered lands with a soft glow; wades of grass danced to the rhythm hummed by the autumn gale as the footsteps of the Sorcerers slowly came to a halt. Everything around them is what was expected of a curse's home: shattered windowpanes, fractures littering the ivy-covered walls of the many buildings caging them in, that sad, desolate feeling you get at the sight of a place that used to thrive with life be reduced to a graveyard. In a strange way, being forgotten came with a sense of peace.

"This place is pretty big, we'll split up to cover more ground." And there goes the ever-so-reliable, Zenin Maki. The task handed to them by their dear teacher wouldn't go as smoothly as they had wanted to if it wasn't for their Green-haired classmate. Always quick to think, always ready to act. "I'll go south, Inumaki will go west and Panda to the east." Never hesitant to push Yuuta and [Name] to get along.

Maki turned to look at them, giving them a warning stare, "You two go north, and try not to kill each other."

If you wanted us not to slit each other's throats, you should have separated us, Maki-chan! Is what [Name] wanted to protest, but seeing as everyone wanted this night to end and get this labor done and over with, the exorcist kept her complaint to herself. Besides, the sooner they finish the assignment, the faster it would be to ditch this whacko and call it quits. For now, she'd at least put in the efforts to deal with his antics... for everyone's sake.

"If there's any sign of the curse, give the signal and we'll proceed with the plan."

With that, the rest of their classmates walked down their own assigned locations, leaving the two—who are most likely at their wits end trying to restrain the urge to tease away the remnants of patience the other has left or to stab the other in the eye—alone, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by abandoned buildings.

[Name] tried her best to keep her remarks to herself, following a few steps behind Yuuta who had begun moving forward as soon as their classmates' last shadow had blended with the darkness. She was not from here—where [Name] grew up, stream of lights would flow from every direction she'd look, illuminating every nook and cranny as though the sun had never slipped under the blankets of the horizons; warm, incandescent glow would erupt from the meadows that served as her haven for many, many moons; radiance gifted by the stars would end their journeys in the pools of her eyes, embedding themselves deep into her soul—never to be forgotten. It was different now, even if [Name] had never once feared darkness, she would not allow her pride to cloud her judgement of danger. So, she simply let Yuuta, who originated here, be a step ahead of her.

Their walk was silent, nothing but the steady sound of shoes hitting cobblestone echoed between the abyss and where they were. It was odd, unnerving even... but [Name] would never dare to voice that out. Her annoyingly annoying classmate was willingly being silent for once, and she would rather feed herself to hyenas than to admit she yearned to hear the sound of his voice.

[Name] can't remember the time it began, what soil did this mess even sprouted from, or even just the moment it all came crashing down. She guesses that somewhere between the hazy lines of 'I will kill you, Yuuta you twat' and mocking whispers of '[Name]~', everything blurred and faded... until all that remained was this annoying, unwanted, echoing sounds of voices that rampaged within her like a storm. [Name] tried to be kind, desperately so, but the universe had different plans when it heard her praying for extra amounts of patience and self-restraint.

It was drizzling when she spoke her first words to the Exorcist whose back was turned to her, bleakness blanketing the institute when the echoes of 'would you like to share an umbrella?' was met with silence. [Name] liked to think she was considerate, after all, that was the first time she had ever attempted to offer a classmate an ounce of kindness; only her kindness was repaid with getting left flabbergasted when the first ever recipient of it in history had stared at her for a momentary silence and flat-out declined—preferring to walk under the tears of the heavens. [Name] let the issue slide, telling herself that perhaps the boy whose hair flowed in waves of obsidian did not like the thought of sharing with a shorter person's umbrella—she let it slide. [Name] tried to be kind, hopelessly so, but every bit of her restraint and resolve to fulfill a New Year's resolution had disintegrated that one summer evening.

Much like now, they basked in the stillness of the night. Not a word spoken out of line, not even a breath. Whispers of everyday life had wandered into the orchestra of the city, revs of the passing vehicles drowning the words left for the wind to take; painted yellow from the lights, Yuuta and [Name] treaded silently. Their classmates were already far off into the distance, eager to get to the restaurant where their teacher awaited, leaving the two exorcists alone to ponder over their thoughts. The reason for their sluggish pace wasn't that the two of them did not wish to attend (Gojo Satoru was paying, why decline?); it was because [Name] did not know how to cross the road, thus leading to their delay.

Thankfully, Yuuta was kind enough to stay with [Name] (although, in reality, he was forced by Maki) and prevented her from getting run over by a bicycle or a truck, whichever would come first. Back then, [Name] was filled with the thoughts that perhaps she would become good friends with the black-haired sorcerer. Yuuta was kindhearted as to not scrutinize her for not knowing how to use pedestrian lanes, or jaywalk, whichever was necessary and even went as far as waiting for her when everyone else went on ahead.

A small smile painted its way on her face, visible only under the light of a closing stall as they passed by. The sidewalks narrowed down greatly the further they walked the path leading to their destination, leaving only but a few spaces for a single person to walk through. Yuuta placed a single foot onto the open highway, followed by another and another until he completely diverged from her path leaving her to walk the pavement alone. Lost and somewhat befuddled, [Name] attempted to follow where the Sorcerer went, only to witness as the world descended at a speed akin to the fall of gravity. Suddenly, Yuuta, who was laughing hysterically, became an entire arm taller than her, and a stinging pain erupted from her knee.

"What are you doing, [Name]?" He questioned, trying his best to restrain the amusement begging to coat his words. "Catch any frogs down there?" Yuuta ultimately failed and laughed for at least five more seconds before extending his hand out for her to take.

And just like that, [Name]'s New Year's Resolution had exploded like fireworks. Angrily, she accepted Yuuta's offer; swore to herself it would be the first and last time she would. How could she ever think of accepting another? When, at this very second, his shameless chortling had reached the ears of a few passersby! As if his previous teasing was not enough, "New core memory unlocked." Yuuta stoked the fire of rage even more.

Of all the things this guy has to set as his core memory, it's the one where I make a fool of myself?! "Why must this be your core memory of me?!" [Name] tried to complain, at least try to convince Yuuta to switch gears so she wouldn't have to live in fear of this moment being used as potential blackmail. "Couldn't you have picked something like, 'my classmate who is good at English'?" Now [Name] tried to bargain.

"Oh, yeah, that's good too, but this one would be added as well." [Name] was not one to believe in ghosts, nor of ogres and trolls hiding under bridges, but for a moment, under the fluorescent lights of the establishment before them, when Yuuta grinned... he looked like the devil himself.

[Name] skipped all the stages of friendship, as well as the stages of grief. Okkotsu Yuuta, to [Full Name] was an enemy and nothing but anger was reserved for him.

"What in the world happened to you two?" Kind enough of their snow-haired teacher to come out and greet them, if he hadn't, it would only be [Name] standing before him now. Gojo Satoru would have to play jigsaw with Yuuta as he looks all over the dumpsters of Tokyo trying to piece his body back together for a proper burial.

"Say a word, Yuuta you twat and I will kill you."

"Nothing~ Gojo-sensei."

Far too preoccupied she was, that [Name] failed to see the smile Yuuta gave her way the moment the curse of their task was signaled as exorcised.

"Let's go home now, [Name]."

---

Cold was the mid-autumn breeze; leaves descended from the trees like rain, painting the cobblestones with palettes of orange and brown. [Name]'s breath escaped her lips in a form of mist, clouding in front of her reddening cheeks. Their ever-so-pleasant teacher just had to call them out at 7 A.M. on a perfectly freezing Tuesday morning for his quote—unquote Terrific-Tuesday-Endurance-Training. It was useless if you'd ask [Name], only because she felt that it could be done on any day, preferably days when the temperature wasn't close to turning them to ice, or hours where the sun isn't just peeking through the horizons.

Despite the lack of warmth of the November zephyr, Gojo Satoru definitely exceeded any passing wind the season of winter had to offer when it came to heartlessness! Terrific-Tuesday-Endurance-Training just had to be done in the middle of the courtyard where not a speck of heat could be made, or a source of warmth was near, what's worse is that everybody was already here, everybody but the sole proprietor of this grand idea.

"Hi, guys... sorry I'm late..." [Name] had to suppress her growing irritation, she didn't want to mangle what was left of her New Year's Resolution... but with the rampage of those unwanted chemicals in her system, the temperature that was nearing the point of freezing off her limbs, and the ungodly hours in which they were called upon—the year is already ending anyway, let's just make another resolution.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG WE'VE BEEN STANDING HERE—" [Name] turned to scold her teacher, or at least, who she expected was her teacher only to be met by the sorry state that was Okkotsu. Red-nosed like a reindeer, bloodshot eyes like an addict, flushed cheeks of a drunkard, and wrapped with more layers than a burrito. He looks terrible. "You definitely seen better days." She sneered.

"Hah... yeah, for sure." Yuuta sniffed, or breathed, who knows—before going to stand beside [Name] who took a few steps to widen their distance which made Okkotsu trace the steps she left on the earth. This idiot—

Maki, noticing what [Name] was obviously trying to ignore, asked the question. "Are you sick, Okkotsu?"

Detecting her annoying classmate's distraction, [Name] took the chance to escape from Yuuta's space trespassing and instead cross the fence to the Panda's space.

"Maki-san? No, no... I'm fine. Just a little cold that's all—" taking note of the missing warmth beside him, Okkotsu's gaze left the green-haired Zenin to look for where it had gone.

The moment his stare met the awaiting eyes of [Name], he gave a toothy smile; his eyes closing to form two crescent moons.

Unable to hold that sick—quite literally—expression, [Name] forced herself to look away, afraid that her heart would burst out of her chest from how quickly it was hammering against her rib cage. Don't look at me like that. She did not know what to make of it all—when Yuuta looked at her like she was everything but an annoyance. Like she was nothing but herself... nothing but the girl he loved to tease to no end.

"ARE YOU GUYS READY FOR TERRIFIC-TUESDAY-ENDURANCE-TRAINING? CAN I GET A YES SIR?!"

[Name]'s eyes directed towards her teacher that was an entire forty minutes late, as much as she wanted to yell at him, scold him for his negligence—making them wait for so long in this weather—the young exorcist bit her lip to suppress her words. Fearful that if she were to speak, she would fail to find her voice, that she would be left a stuttering mess—unable to grasp onto a single coherent thought. The once monochromatic palette that shaded her surroundings began morphing to this kaleidoscope of colors that bathed in too much saturation. Limbs that were once close to frostbite felt like fire, burning at every vein that gave her life. Damn you, Yuuta you twat!

"Huh, tough crowd."

Taking note of his students' response, or rather, the lack thereof—the blindfolded sorcerer took it upon himself to begin his Terrific-Tuesday-Endurance-Training which, quite frankly, none of them wanted to do.

Who in their right mind would want to run ten laps around the courtyard? Or thirty pushups? Who would even willingly want to exceed past twenty with sit-ups?

[Name] wished she faked an errand beforehand. Watching her grandma's cat was certainly better than whatever the hell this was.

"Hey, Yuuta... you okay there, buddy?"

Sparing a passing glance at the voice's general direction, [Name] caught a glimpse of the flushed expression her classmate wore on his face. Oh...

"Yuuta-kun?" Satoru approached the obviously sick student who just had to be stubborn and still go to school on this cold, November Tuesday, not only that but forced himself to execute half the exercises of this Terrific-Tuesday-Endurance-Training. "You're burning up," Gojo's gaze skimmed through the faces of his awaiting students, assessing who'd fit best into the responsibility he was about to pass. Inumaki was on a mission. Maki could care less if Yuuta hit his head on the way. [Name] would kill Yuuta if she felt like it. Panda it is!

"Panda, bring Yuuta to Shoko. We'll continue this another time."

Is he gonna die? [Name] watched as Panda supported Yuuta's weight and made their way to the basement, eyes not drifting away from their figures until the last of their shadows disappeared inside the building. Who cares? Why would I care about that idiot anyway...

"Maki, [Name] go warm up."

"After what you just put us through? I'm never taking any of your offers again." Maki complained, sneering at the older sorcerer before departing.

Gojo expected that much from the Zenin, very much so that all that laughing it off would be the best response. Similarly, an answer parallel to her friend was what the snow-haired exorcist prepared for when he turned to set his gaze on the remaining student, but he was surprisingly met with silence. How odd...

[Name] took one look at her teacher, nodded in acknowledgement, and left to go after her classmate.

"Now... what is going on with that girl..."

The majority of Terrific-Tuesday-Endurance-Training Day was spent wondering whether or not Yuuta was going to live to see another day. [Name] found that it was a rather unpleasant way to further ruin an already terrible day but sadly, it was all her brain allowed her to think about. Damn you, Yuuta. No matter what corridor she passed, window she looked through, room she occupied... there was nothing but the thought of Okkotsu Yuuta in her head. And it was annoying her to no end. [Name] never really believed that she was particularly blessed with Yuuta's presence, that was until... she was striped of it.

When twilight passed with no sign of that blasted sorcerer, [Name] sent out the very first message she would willingly send... not out of obligation but of genuine concern.

[Name] wasn't hopeful, honestly, she was not so sure where all that compassion escaped from. But when her phone buzzed from the pocket of her coat, a small smile shadowed her face illuminated by her screen.

---

Maki was never really one to beat around the bush. Once, she told her twin that her new perfume made her smell like feet, which was not all that off the mark but of course, a little sugarcoating wouldn't hurt...

There was also the time she told Panda that wearing a shirt made him look like an Asian version of Winnie the Pooh, which—once again—would not be far-fetched from the truth. But never, in [Name]'s wildest dreams did she expect that one day, she would be the one at the receiving end of that blade.

"Why don't you just confess already, [Name]?"

[Name] laughed, like she did every time Maki, Panda or even Inumaki would imply this blasphemy her classmates would label as 'fessing up and expressing how you really feel'. Sadly, this has been an on-going thing for the past weeks. One of them had to give it up and [Name] swore heaven and earth would have to collide and shatter before she would even think about admitting defeat.

"And what makes you think that I like Yuuta, Maki-chan?"

The Zenin gave a wicked smirk, taunting her friend. It was then, that [Name] realized her slip-up. "Oho~ but I didn't say a name, [Name]-chan~"

Oh shi—

Realizing there was no way out, [Name] did what she did best—turn it into a what-if situation. "Well, say that I did hypothetically, hypothetically hold... affections for him—hypothetically, what makes you think that he'll hypothetically, return them huh?"

This was it. It's over. [Name] was not one to mess things up to this degree where she couldn't worm her way out of, even after just swearing a moment ago that defeat was absolutely unacceptable. But, truly... to what extent could she keep holding onto these feelings? It was getting increasingly more and more difficult to hold them back, her retorts turned meaner, her gaze a lot sharper... enough to cut through the stares she would often feel emanating from Yuuta.

"Simple, I have proof."

"What proof?"

"Say you'll confess, and I'll show it to you."

"Are you out of your mind? That's ridiculous!"

"Promise me, and I'll show it."

"You don't seem to be getting the idea that I need certainty before I can proceed with the actual execution of the mission, knowing that I have guaranteed success—"

"Promise. Then, I'll give you proof." Maki pressed. She really did know where to hit a jackpot when it came to [Name], or—simply put—pressure the one who took promises to an esteemed regard. [Name] stared painfully at her friend, knowing full well that in order to quench her curiosity, she would have to seal her fate and do the unspeakable. The worst he could say is I'm built like a tutorial boss.

"Fine. I promise, I'll... hypothetically, confess."

"Great!" The Zenin beamed, fetching her phone from her pocket, tapping a few times before handing the gadget to the awaiting sorcerer.

Lowering the phone, [Name] looked at Maki with a face that screamed, betrayal. "You tricked me! Where's the proof in this?"

"What? That is proof." Taking her phone back, the green-haired female emphasized on some key points that was clearly never even there. "You can see it right there that he holds you in some sort of regard and that he is considering that the two of you could be something more." See? Right there? Right where?

"Maki-chan... you're being delusional! And what's up with your messages? They're so cryptic." [Name] crossed her arms over her chest, shocked by the trickery she had to face from her own friend. Now, she would have to hold her end of the deal...

"[Name], there's nothing even remotely close to cryptic in that, everyone can see it, even that blindfolded idiot."

"Gojo-sensei is in this too?"

"Uh-huh, even the Kyoto kids and Utahime-sensei. Like I said, [Name]-chan... everyone can see that there's something more, but it looks as though the stars of the show are the only ones oblivious to it all."

How blind do you have to be not to see that he likes you, [Name]? Was the thought running through Maki's head. Nobody would go that far for a person you'd hate, perhaps you—but Okkotsu wouldn't. "Hey, if it turns out he doesn't feel the same... worst he could say is you'd drop common loot if you were defeated."

---

[Name] broke barriers, hammering down the walls she'd built so high—not even the skies could shelter them. But that was exactly the problem. [Name] often thought of it, pondered over the idea in the dead of night, lost hours of sleep trying to get her head around it, yet she never expected that the day the acceptance would come would be something like this. Perhaps all great people should die early, so that they may never have the chance to fall from grace.

"I like you, Yuuta." It took everything in her to admit it, the feelings she had harbored for him for only heaven knows how long. [Name] wasn't sure when it occurred, how he managed to shimmy his way into the fortress of trust issues, but he did. Everything was in place. Then out of nowhere, his eyes shone in a different light; it wasn't the kind of glimmer it would have made when dusted by the luminescence of the setting sun but the kind that refracts and scatters to a million tiny pieces, looking as though faeries had painted them with all the colors the universe could offer. His laughter, which she would have found infuriating and annoying a month ago, bewitched her like a spell, playing like symphonies even in the midst of her most fervent dreams. And little by little, she caught herself stealing glimpses of him, turning her head when someone called his name, she caught herself watching him walk away until all she could see was the last bits of his shadow.

"... Is this a prank, [Name]?" He laughed; the smile plastered on his face not quite reaching his eyes. Is this what he thinks this is? "Wait—that sounds kinda offensive—I didn't mean it like that [Name]—really—"

I see...

Before Yuuta could trail off with his incessant rambling, "Surprise!" [Name] had already interrupted him, with a voice an octave higher than what he was accustomed to hearing accompanied by an enthusiasm that felt more like a stranger than anything else.

Despite his attempt to hide that flickering emotion, [Name] saw it. After all, he was quite easy to read—conflicted, that was what he was. [Name] wouldn't put it past her if he was, to Yuuta, it probably looked as though every fiber of her being wanted to get as far away from him as it was physically possible. "Is this a joke, [Name]?" Yuuta spoke once more, repeating his still unanswered question. You really could be cruel if you wanted too, Yuuta. [Name] remained silent, nothing but the November zephyr singing melodies for the two of them to hear.

And that was enough of an answer for the boy.

"Of all people, you still liked the guy who was always out of it."

Yuuta wanted to laugh it off, hoping it would ease that awkward space wedging itself between the two of them, but he thought better. That wouldn't be right.

"Well, now you know!" It felt unbearable, his silence that is. [Name] was painfully aware of what was to come, the impending future she had laid out for herself, the path that her choice would lead her to; she'd gone down that road more times than she'd like to admit, to the point she'd know where the potholes were planted, where the stones and pebbles would be littered—everything about that place was familiar yet every time she'd be directed that way, her heart would break just a little bit more.

Sunlight painted them golden, its warm rays bouncing off her glossy eyes scattering them like stardust; [Name] felt like absolute scum for doing this, regretfully so... but she didn't want him to think of her any differently. "Let me down easy, will you?" She smiled at him, with sadness that looked as though hurt him more than it hurt her.

Yuuta stared at her with disbelief, certainly not comprehending fast enough that what he was facing right at this very moment was indeed, reality. Her laugh, which he'd only hear when she teased him, was no longer filled with a playful song but a solemn hymn of acceptance for an answer that was yet to come.

[Name] closed her eyes and inhaled, perhaps the last bit of oxygen she'd get before her chest would ache every moment she breathed. Now, [Name]... don't—

"I'm sorry," he whispered, I should be used to those words, "but I can't return your feelings."

... so why do they still hurt? I knew, didn't I? I knew he would never—that he could never—that he...

"I know." [Name] didn't know how she managed to keep her voice from crumbling, she was sure Yuuta thought so too. She hated it. She hated that when she opened her eyes to look at him, he showed nothing but understanding. There was nothing in those damned eyes of his that was anything but kindness. Nothing. Yuuta was making this harder for her than it already was. And she hated that even more. She hated that she couldn't find a single bit of resentment—even pity—or sadness in him at what she just did. [Name] was full of anger, ready to burst at a moment's notice... yet she couldn't borrow any anger to throw at him. She wanted to hate him—yell at him or even just be angry but... she couldn't.

She couldn't—she just couldn't... find a single reason to bring herself to hate him.

... could never feel the same— "I just wanted you to know."

.

.

.

A little too late...

Almost, such a hurtful word to say That the song made just for us had failed to play Melodies I hummed and sang to the skies Didn't reach you as they scattered like petals in the wind and eventually died

You shone so brightly that it left me blinded Faltering... endlessly questioning if I could be the one you wanted Magnified by how many stars you painted on my darkened ether Constellations you hung on my ebony sky, they lit up every fissure

Winter came and they began dimming... losing their once-radiant glow The last of them burned into oblivion, leaving me wandering so Until all that was left for me to see was the unending abyss Remnants of fractured memories I once had thought I would never miss

If I had gathered just enough courage to begin— Would I not be left wondering... what we could have been?

.

.

.

Yuuta swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes reflecting the girl standing before him... pouring her heart out. The girl he thought had resented him with every ounce of strength she possessed, the girl he thought could be an angel to the rest of the world but never to him... the girl he once had thought would be the least likely to like him back.

Why would she like him, out of all the people? He teased her to no end, contradicted her every statement to get her riled up because he thought it was amusing to see her angry. He laughed at her when she fell on the side of the road, when she misspelled convenience with an 'i' and he ended up getting a point higher than her because of it. Why? What did she see in him? Which side of the prism did she look that she uncovered all the things he desperately tried to hide even from himself?

He couldn't bear to see that. The eyes that looked at him with that familiar distaste morphed into a glow that he couldn't understand. Yuuta would imagine himself telling her: don't look at me like that. Like what? She would ask. Like you could love me... he would answer.

Yuuta couldn't bring himself to tell her the awful-tasting truth, so he covered it with those bitter lies. I can't return your feelings, he would say. What [Name] would be unaware is that it was her who returned his sentiments. It was always her for Yuuta... but she would remain ignorant of that fact for a long while. Yuuta would have conquered the heaven and the earth for [Name], given her all that he was—but... he couldn't.

If he really did return her feelings as he was, right now... it would be a disservice to her. Because he would not complete and whole as a person. He would prefer not to turn her down, but he would be hurting her more if he tried to give something he didn't have. Yuuta wouldn't lead [Name] on like an idiot, he'd prefer to be forward than tell her things he didn't mean. He wasn't complete enough to be able to give himself away to another, and he knew that. But he would work hard. Work hard so that she'll deserve him—the best of him.

Yes, the scenarios of this one-shot are true and they did happen... happened to none other than me! *cries* I did fall on the side of the road and my Yuuta did laugh. I did spell convenience wrong and my Yuuta did get a point higher than me because of it. I did throw a walnut at my Yuuta and it hit someone else. My Yuuta did say that I ran like a little girl. My Yuuta did drag me by my feet and wouldn't let me go when he, along with all our friends were drunk out of their minds and I was the only sober one. Me and my Yuuta threw pillows at each other because of that. My Yuuta did offer to help me down a high place, and I did refuse. Me and my Yuuta... only his name wasn't Yuuta. I did write a poem for my Yuuta, and that is the poem that you saw. My Yuuta did get a kick out of teasing me. In the end, it was my Yuuta... who thought so lowly of himself had assumed my confession was a joke, hid his feelings, and ran away, deeming it would be a disservice to me should he return them to me now. My Yuuta was not complete, so he had declared, my Yuuta was not whole enough to be able to give himself to another. My Yuuta was cowardly, but he was in the right. I was too stubborn for my Yuuta, and my Yuuta was far too disciplined. My Yuuta and I made no promises. Me and my Yuuta had no agreement. My Yuuta and I... are going separate ways. But I can see it in my Yuuta's eyes, that my Yuuta has lied. I see the way my Yuuta behaves, my Yuuta... you cannot hide stars under carpets. Perhaps, My Yuuta has felt regret, thinking he might be too quick in turning me down; fret not, my Yuuta, for I was too eager to speak of a feeling that had not fully formed. But, I once asked my Yuuta a question, possibly something self-serving, it was that should we live in a plato-perfect kind of world, would me and my Yuuta have a chance? My Yuuta spoke the words...

Me and my Yuuta... only his name wasn't Yuuta.

oh, to live in a plato-perfect world.

[chaseadrian]

fragile concessions

you don't mind leaving Eddie to his devices in your bedroom as you shower, you don't mind even more when you catch him taking advantage of the opportunity. [masterlist]

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader tags: 18+ ONLY, explicit, voyeurism, pillow humping, invasion of privacy, friends to lovers, handjobs, blowjobs, facesitting, mutual masturbation, light backstory aka porn w some plot, fluffy ending word count: 4.2k+ a/n: yeah yeah i know i've been gone a long time. hope y'all like this <3

Rifling through your dresser, you’re startled by a knock at the window. You bring the sweater in your hands to your chest instinctively, and step backward as you look through the glass. 

Black leather and ring clad hands wiggling a ‘hello’ from outside are more than enough to calm your nerves. 

“Morning, Eddie. You’re way early.” You push the curtain out of the way, muscling the old pane open, “Why didn’t you use the front door?” 

“I knocked!” He grunts as he climbs over the ledge, clamoring for your forearm when he loses balance. 

Your nails sink into the leather sleeve of his jacket, and you cock your head, “You did?” 

He looks up at you with a smile, brushing his wrinkled shirt, “No. Just wanted to see your bedroom. You never let me in here I—wow.” He reaches out for the chiffon fabric of your canopy bed, pointing at the cushion of pillows at the head, “Feel like I’m in a palace. Silk pillowcases? Classy.” 

The sweater knots into your arms as you cross them, “Weirdo.” 

Leaving him to wander, you pull a fresh towel from the hall closet, yelling back, “Well, get comfortable. I still have to shower.”  

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about me.” 

You linger by the adjacent bathroom door, looking halfway over your shoulder to watch him explore. 

Eddie runs his knuckles over your belongings like they’re the most delicate objects in the world. Grazing over the rim of dust on your dresser’s edge, he scrapes it off on his jacket with a touch closer to his typical gentility. 

He threads the loose corner of your pillow through his fingers, and hops backward onto the comforter, settling into the mattress with a familiarity you aren’t sure he’d earned. 

You yell again from the bathroom, door half cracked, “I just washed those.” 

He adjusts his legs to hang off the bed, kicking his old sneakers onto the shag rug, “My apologies.” Grabbing a spare pillow to hold over his stomach, he’s half sat up against your headboard, tapping his fingers on the silk. 

You can hear him humming from your room as you shower. The softness in his voice when he thinks you can’t hear him always makes you smile. His kindness had a bite to it; if you asked for the shirt off his back, he’d throw it at you. 

Sometimes you like to watch him when he thinks he’s safe to shuck off his harsh, protective cloak and just be Eddie. The Eddie that leaves out a can of tuna by the trash for the trailer park cats, or carries the neighbor’s wandering toddler home on his shoulders. These little concessions towards fragility—like the soft hums with your silk pillow in his lap—remind you why he’s in your life. 

The bathroom clouds with steam while you settle into the hot water, humming along to his voice, reaching blindly for the shampoo. You shake the bottle over your head and squeeze, only to be hit with a puff of air and a few pathetic pearls of lather. It isn’t even worth it to scrub the remnants in, and you pop out of the shower with a groan, tossing the empty bottle into the sink.

If Eddie were to try and sneak a peek right now, the thick, fluorescent steam would ruin his show. Still, you pull on the robe hanging behind the door. You’re sure you bought new shampoo, sure it must be under the sink, but you freeze before you can even take a look in the cabinet, half kneeling with your fingertips wedged against the wood.

It’s silent in your bedroom. 

Eddie’s no longer humming, and when you turn on your toes to peek beyond the door you can just see his silhouette behind the thin canopy.

He’s on your bed as before, pillow over his lap, but now his hips rock up, knuckles white in the silk case. 

The cabinet door slips from your fingers, clapping shut, stopping Eddie in his tracks. 

He looks to the bathroom, and you dart behind the door.

“You okay?” He yells, obvious strain cut with even more obvious panic. 

“Fine! Almost dropped the shampoo!” You shout back, sitting down on the edge of the tub, wringing the string of your robe between your fingers. 

You don’t know if you want to look again. 

Eddie was always over familiar. Always controlling the situation, the ringleader who branded his group with every rough touch. Fingers hard on your neck, a peanut flicked your way at the bar, judgment in his smile.

All this to keep you—and everyone else—at arm’s length. The clothes, the hair, the rings, they did enough to keep most people away. But the ones who looked past that, they got the neurosis and informality. You know him more than he thinks, more than he allows, and you aren’t against taking that initiative.   

Of course you want to look. 

This is far deeper than you ever thought you’d get. 

Slipping off the edge of the tub, you crawl over to the door, inhaling a big breath of steam, robe damp and sticking to your body. 

You feel safe enough sitting on your knees to watch him, enough layers of steam and fabric and poor vision between you and him to keep this mutual intrusion a secret. If you were to argue it, Eddie using your pillow to get off is probably a bigger invasion than you watching him do it, but the shame was the same. 

One hand presses the pillow into his pelvis, the other pets along the grain of the smooth fabric, fingers touching down one after the other.

Sometimes Eddie taps you on the head with a ringed knuckle when you’re being smart. This feels like the gentle variant of that. 

Though his lips are parted, you can’t hear anything outside the hammer of the shower. A playback of all his dramatic grunts and scoffs loops in your head instead, and you see the way his Adam's apple thrums in his throat with every note of pleasure. 

It’s easy to piece together the way he could look behind that hazy chiffon, his chest rising and falling, slow to combat the noise he wants to make. The knee hanging off the bed just peeks out of the canopy, and he pushes up against your pillow using a firmly planted foot. You know the way his tendons move in his hand as he grabs tighter, presses harder. 

You make up the sound of his zipper sleeves against the pillow, a soft kind of scratching that could catch at any moment. If you hadn’t seen him now, you would’ve blamed him for being so careless with your stuff later. His name would’ve been the first in your head when you noticed the imperfection. 

But everything about right now is perfect. 

You can’t say there’s an established attraction, exactly. A curiosity, sure, little question marks in your head every time he calls you pretty with that surface grin. Maybe a dream or two in the years you’ve known him, dreams where he pulled you in from arm’s length. Not romantic, never that, but close and real and earnest.

If this is the closest you get—a voyeur to your own invasion—then you’ll take it for all it’s worth. At least you know he really thinks you’re pretty. 

You sit in stunned silence for a minute more before new movement startles you back behind the door, and when you peek again, Eddie has both feet on the bed, his knees pulled toward him, thrusting up harder against the pillow. It’s still slow, but he’s sunken into the deep plush of your comforter, hair blanketing his head. His features are distinct enough, the curve of his open mouth, the valley of his throat, you can carve expressions from familiar topography. 

It’s from this position that a weak moan cuts through the pattering water, and—for what you think is the first time—you feel something more than curiosity. 

Eddie pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and he presses two harsh fingers between his eyebrows, smudging his fingertips across his forehead in what you’re sure is frustration. 

You’ve gone past filling the gaps of what you know, the pulpit of your stomach swirling with thoughts of more moans, how it must feel under the rough hew of his jeans, what he’d do if it were you on his lap, and whether he’d accept you there at all. 

For all his drama and fire, Eddie couldn’t sit in discomfort. He loved being the discomfort, but if it turned on him he was like a cornered dog. 

As you continue to watch him, the swirling in your stomach slips down, and for now a hand between your legs is enough to calm this bud of interest. 

The floor is slick under you, steam quick to fill the space of your parted thighs, heat on heat crushed under the just pruning skin of your fingerprint. You sigh, chest stuttering against relief. Slow, concentrated breaths quell any noise you’d want to make as you swirl your middle finger over your clit, Eddie’s moan looping in your brain. 

You focus on the line of his figure, the indent he’ll leave in your bed when he gets up and tries to pretend he’d been peacefully laying there the whole time. 

Without trying, your brain fills in gaps of space in your time with Eddie. Every time he left a party before you, a quick ‘I’ll wait for you in the van. No rush.’ and a tap on the shoulder. Trips to the 7/11, insistent that he must surprise you with snacks for the session, or each time you lost him in the bar, distracted by drifters who thought a beer or two would get you back home with them. 

The memories are tinged now with the sight of his arching back, his parted lips, and that singular moan. 

The thoughts carry you as far as they can, and the sight of him behind the curtain even more, but the rhythm of your fingers isn't what you want. It grows as stale as you hope that pillow must be for him, and with a sharp swallow you stand up to turn the shower off. 

It takes a minute to gather yourself, roughing your hair with the towel to shake off what nerves you can. You face yourself in the mirror, dewy glass blurring your body into something amorphous. You can contend with this fuzzy figure, gazing over your shoulder to watch it slip past the bathroom door. In your mind’s eye, it’s not you taking this risk, but the reflection. It’s enough to get you into the bedroom. 

Eddie has his ankles crossed and an arm behind his head, and he taps his fingers over his stomach as you approach, still roughing your hair as you enter. 

“All cleaned up?” He asks, his eyes following you until he’s looking up through his lashes, a quick flick to the space next to him before he meets your eyes again. 

You sit where he’d looked, tossing the towel into a laundry basket opposite the bed, “Mhm.” 

There’s a long moment of your eyes on his, and he snaps out with a shake of his head, and that stupid grin, “Shit, sorry, you probably want to get dressed, huh?” 

As he pushes to sit up, you close the space between you, your mouth just pressing against his. He pulls back with wide eyes that dart around your face, and he keeps a hand on your shoulder to hold you away. 

His lips form and abandon several words, but before he can get a noise out, you cut the space, “I saw you.” 

He jerks his head back, swallowing hard and looking past you now. More sentences starting and stopping without a thought fully formed. 

You feel the hand on you loosen, see him shift in front of you, but there’s no easy way for Eddie to escape the situation. 

“It’s okay.” You start reaching over for the hand on your shoulder, and he flinches. 

“It’s okay.” You repeat, voice quieter and firmer, and he lets you take his hand, lets you guide it from your shoulder to the pit of your throat, over the drying beads of water between your breasts, and under the plush cotton collar of your robe. 

His hand cups around you, rings warm and sticking to your skin, your fingers loosely wrap around his wrist for a moment before he accepts where you’ve left him. 

You both let out a slow breath. Eddie’s starts with a hitch, but settles into something calm and certain. He doesn’t meet your eyes yet, they’re trained on the concealed hand, resting dead over your breast. 

Placing two fingers under his chin, you coax him to look at you, your thumb brushing under his bottom lip, a few out of place dots of stubble pricking at your skin. You don’t think he could grow a beard if he tried, but random hair sprouts around his jaw from week to week, pimples following if he plucks them too late. 

You bring your nose close to his, and he tilts up almost imperceptibly, tongue darting between his lips. 

That first kiss was so brief you already can’t remember what he felt like, but the calm heat of his breath on you is steady, warm and inviting, and his eyes glisten as he looks at you. 

His palm is heavy under your robe, thumb running back and forth ever so slightly, catching on the natural pull of your skin. 

You let your eyelids slip closed, and finally he kisses you. 

It isn’t harsh or fast and it doesn’t light your insides up the way your imagination did, but you’re sure you’ll remember it for the rest of your life. His bottom lip trembles for the first second, slick and soft, and you feel the scratch of those loose facial hairs against your chin. The hand beneath your robe squeezes shut, the warm metal of his rings sticking and unsticking with a little sting as he builds confidence in the moment. 

The hand he’d kept on the bed comes up to curl over the slope of your neck, and as you lean into him he slides the collar of the robe down past your shoulder. It sits against your bicep, not revealing anything he’s not sure you’d want, but enough to let him kiss down your jaw, spattering over the bare landscape you’ve allowed him. 

You slip a hand under the hem of his old t-shirt, pinching at the rolled skin of his abdomen, body curved uncomfortably as he’s half sat up on the bed. 

He backs away from kissing when you push him down onto the comforter, both hands grabbing your arms to bring you with. You stay sat on the edge of the bed, torso twisted to follow him as he wants. 

“Take off the jacket.” You whisper against his mouth, dragging your lips under his jaw and down his throat. You pull his shirt up and fix your hands on his hips, marking the skin down his chest with nips and long kisses. He struggles to tug the jacket off and can only manage the sleeves, leather crinkling under him as he wriggles under you. 

You drag the tip of your tongue over his happy trail, and he watches with quiet interest, fingers gliding over your bare shoulder. 

Eddie isn’t wearing anything under his jeans, you can feel the length of his erection stuffed uncomfortably beneath the denim. 

“Ohh, please.” He whispers, more breath than anything else. 

You hum with a smile, watching him as you unbutton and unzip and tug the bottoms down his thighs. 

His hand hovers over the back of your head, nails just touching down along your hair, and he settles for resting it on your back. 

He isn’t over or under-endowed, you can comfortably wrap a hand around his base and hold the rest of him in your mouth without strain, but you start with the hand. Dribbling a mouthful of spit over his tip, you slip your fisted hand down the shaft, thumb pressing into the rim of his head. He holds back expletives, syllables drawn out and dying behind his teeth. You’re slow, gliding your hand over his length and watching the wrinkles as he screws his eyes shut and pushes his hand over his forehead, bangs fraying out of place. 

His cock thrums under your hand, and you squeeze his thigh as it jerks, quick spasms of enjoyment relieving tension. 

You wait until there’s obvious pressure in his chest, until his Adam’s apple is taut against his throat, and he can barely eke out breaths. 

Without knowing, he gives you what you want as you swirl your tongue around his tip for the first time. He can’t hold back the languid, whimpering moan that escapes his open mouth, all the air in his lungs expelled with it. 

Watery, salty precum slides over your tongue, and you close your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks as you work down his shaft. Spit pools into your mouth and over your bottom lip, and as your chin brushes the hair at Eddie’s base, you feel sweat and spit drying on the skin. 

Eddie’s hesitance falls away as he starts to lose himself, the hand on your back coming up to gently push down your head, not forceful, exactly, but wanting. He whimpers with increased impatience the harder you work him, the hum of your mouth around him an added jolt of pleasure. 

You break for a moment to suck marks into the sharp angle of his hip bone, your hand a warm substitute that still pulls beautiful noises from him. He hisses against the kiss, the curve of his belly heaving with full breaths. He has faint marks of muscle definition when he flexes against your touch, but his abdomen rounds with every intake of air, and you press your lips along his pelvic line to feel the way he’s working through your touch. 

Kissing the bush of hair around his shaft, you run your thumb over his head, your tongue flat against his base, dragging up to lick away the new dribbles of precum. 

He lets your name fall from his lips, and a mewling, strained, “Please…keep going…” with his nails combing over the back of your head. 

You take him entirely in your mouth once again, and he ruts up, hitting the back of your throat. You swallow the near-gag, and Eddie’s laughter—tied into an apology— hits your ear, the first instance of that rough-hewn boy you’re used to. 

In response you curl your free hand around his balls and give them a light squeeze, clutching them against the base of his shaft to compress the tension he must be feeling. You imagine it’s a tight, coiled pain in his stomach, and it’s your greed more than anything that keeps him from relief. 

Eddie wriggles underneath you, his body twitching outside his control, incomplete requests for release dying on his tongue. 

What he finally chokes out is an ill timed warning, his orgasm already spilling into your mouth by the time he tells you he’s going to come. It’s warm and salty down your throat, and if it came from anyone else it would be an off-putting sensation that you’d be quick to spit out, but with Eddie paralyzed under you as he finishes, no taste could be sweeter or more satisfying. 

You don’t even have time to swipe the sleeve of your robe over your lips before he’s tugging you up to his mouth. 

This kiss is harsh and deep and the hand on your head presses you hard into him. His tongue twists over yours, warm and slimy, loud smacks between you with every kiss. 

You’ve no choice now but to climb on him, straddling his stomach, his hand coming down to slide the robe entirely off. Your knees nick on the sharp parts of his jacket, but it’s a pale feeling compared to the heat of your bodies and his hands burning into your skin, branding your hip as you grind on him. 

“Hey, hey.” He pulls you back with a hand on your cheek, thumb tugging at the bulb of your cheekbone. You’re both flustered and disheveled when your eyes meet, and you feel you could fall forever into the pit of that dark brown. “Sit on my face.” He breathes, kneading at the skin of your ass, gaze trained on your reaction. 

“Yeah?” You ask, the throbbing between your thighs ever present as you’ve stilled on him. 

He nods, his hand slipping from your cheek to coast down your body and rest on your other hip. They coil underneath your thighs to hold you as you re-situate yourself over him, hovering just above his mouth, a little hesitant to drop your weight on him. This felt somehow more intimate than a blowjob, smothering him with your body, the full potential of your spasms direct and right there on his tongue. 

Eddie didn’t care, he forced you down with his arms, and you lurched forward against the headboard, one hand wrapping over the edge, the other a buffer between your forehead and the hardwood. 

The pleasure was instant and overwhelming, Eddie’s tongue indistinct in its movement, lips and spit and the tickle of his nose worming their way through your body. 

His grip was tight on you, arms wrapped around your thighs, and the soft curl of his hair rustled under your skin. He doesn’t move you over his tongue, but rather keeps you still, tries to stop you wriggling and doing the work yourself. You oblige best you can, holding the headboard tighter, biting down into the skin of your forearm, wanting even now to give him what he wants, to let him help you in whatever way he sees fit. He’s giving you more of himself than you ever imagined he could, and more than anything you just want to languish in this moment for as long as you can. 

He hums underneath you, satisfied little hums that rise and fall with his focus. 

It’s when you go silent—your breath caught in your chest, moans stuck in your throat—that Eddie starts rocking you over his mouth. The heat in your stomach is unbearable, and you gasp as he guides you back and forth over his tongue, everything below his nose a wet, slobbering mess, just as much from you as it is him. You slip against him with ease, grinding harder and faster, any worry you had about smothering him long gone with the ever-winding spiral of ecstasy that sits in your belly. 

Tighter and tighter it curls, the rocking of your hips uneven and desperate now. 

Eddie slides his hands as far as he can up your back, combing lines down your skin with his nails, and you wriggle closer to the headboard, so close to the end that every touch is torturous. 

You haven’t spent half as long with his head between your thighs as he did with your lips around his cock, but any shame you could possibly feel will come later. You just want the relief, to unfurl and collapse and let him feel you shaking over the knack of his tongue. 

You drop entirely onto him, his tongue swirling over the pulsing nub of your clit, and he grabs you as hard as he can, just as needy and wanting. 

He groans underneath you, and your vision explodes behind your eyes. 

Spasming and shaking, he holds you as you come undone, tilting his head up as the orgasm sends you backward to lay on his chest. He doesn’t stop running his tongue over your clit even as it becomes overwhelming, wanting to capture every last dredge of your climax. He laps up the arousal that wells from you, sucking kisses between your lips. 

The euphoria layers in your body like waves of radar, one after the other until you’re begging him to let you go. You can’t quite catch your breath, wheezing as you try to pull air into your lungs, evening out as the radiation of pleasure cools to satisfaction. 

You roll off him onto your stomach, resting your head in your arms to look back at with a smile. 

He pushes his bangs up and shakes his head with a laugh, “Nuts.” He squeezes your calf. 

You both sit in the moment, a comfortable silence between you with his hand resting on your leg.

Silence wasn’t golden in your experience with Eddie thus far. If there wasn’t conversation, there was music; if there wasn’t music, there was his humming. Any quiet with Eddie around was borne out of tension, but now you feel a deep tranquility even as the cool air of the still-open window hits your bare skin.

He runs his fingers gently back and forth, and the both of you let out a content sigh at the same time. 

“J—”

“—inx! Ha!” Eddie is a hair faster, and he jiggles your calf in accomplishment before shifting to mirror you on your stomach. He hovers in front of your lips, muscling you over a bit with his shoulder, “Owe me a…kiss?” 

You let your head fall into your arms, a kick of giddiness in your stomach, but you come back to meet his lips. 

There’s a smile in this kiss, you think maybe there could be more. Kisses, smiles, whatever you can get. 

Whatever Eddie can give. 

[ilguna]

Hi how about expired medicine number 83 with doctor strange? pls 💛

☼ when the dead rise pt1 (Stephen Strange) ☼

warnings; swearing, a lot of mention of death, actual death, ehh gore, injuries, use of weapons.

wc; 14.8k

prompt; 83. "Did you really have to be that honest?"

notes; the entire imagine is an infinity war spoiler. all of it. with some stephen sprinkled in, some angst, and very little tony slander (blink and you'll miss it). sorry not sorry.

—

“Seriously, you don’t have any money?” Stephen asks Wong, beginning to go down the steps.

“Attachment to the material is detachment from the spiritual.” Wong replies, following behind the two of you.

“I’ll tell the guys at the deli. Maybe they’ll make you a metaphysical ham on rye.” Stephen muses, you let out a light laugh.

“Oh, wait, wait wait. I think I have two-hundred.”

“Dollars?” You ask, as you stop on the step to look at him.

“Rupees.” He smiles.

“Which is?” Stephen asks, not bothering to turn around.

“Uh, buck and a half.” 

Stephen sighs, “What do you want?”

Wong claps his hands together, you let him pass you on the steps, before starting down them again. “I wouldn’t say no to a tuna melt.”

A blinding light comes from the sunroof, shaking the whole building, and slamming straight through the ceiling. A flurry of wooden splinters and marble go flying through the air, as you’re taken with the mass. The debris creates a hazy smog, which coats your throat in a few breaths.

“(Y/n)?” Stephen’s tone is alarmed.

“I’m alive.” You cough, wiping the dusty film from your face.

When you turn your head to see what came crashing through the ceiling, you’re met with a green leg. It makes you jump slightly, as you jerk away from the person. It isn’t until you’ve made it to his face, do you realize there’s nothing to worry about.

It’s Bruce.

His skin is returning back to its regular pigment. He pants beside you, hand reaching out to grab your forearm. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Stephen and Wong peeking over the hole in the stairs, both on high alert. 

“Thanos is coming.” Bruce’s voice is still mixed with Hulks. On his next breath, it sounds more like him. “He’s coming.”

Stephen and Wong share a look, “Who?”

You pull your arm from Bruce, pushing to get to your feet. There’s a few aches that sprout, caused from you landing so aggressively. Wong creates an opening for you to walk through so they don’t have to pull you out of the hole in the staircase. On the other side, standing in the middle of the foyer, you begin to brush the dust off. It seems to be never ending.

“I need clothes.” Bruce says, “Or pants, at the very least.”

You rake your fingers through your hair, watching the dirt rain down around your head like a thin curtain. Wong walks away briefly, coming back with a change of clothes. He drops it into the hole, backing away to allow him to change in privacy.

“The whole planet is in danger.” Bruce says, “Thanos—he’s collecting these crystals that allow him to manipulate different things.” He pauses, you can barely see him pull the shirt over his head. “We’re next, he’s coming here to get more. And when he’s done, he’ll wipe out half of the population.”

Your eyes snap to Stephen, and find that his eyes are already on you, watching. A ticklish feeling crosses over your palms, as a different creeping feeling crawls up your spine and to the base of your neck, goosebumps covering your arms. As if your body is excited by the idea of it.

You aren’t. The thought of billions on your planet dying sends a pain through your heart. With a closed fist, you rub your chest, shaking your head at your boyfriend. This is not the time to be gauging your reaction. You can’t control it, as much as you wish you could.

“We need Tony.” Bruce says, “Tony Stark?”

Stephen raises his eyebrows. “Can we trust him?”

You tilt your head at him. “It’s Bruce, of course we can.”

While Wong begins the process of locating where Tony is at the moment, you and Stephen leave to change. Coincidentally, the suit you have was made for you by Tony, back when you had initially agreed to be an Avenger.

At the time, it was funny, because all these stipulations came with having it. To him, you were still a stranger, but he knew you were trustworthy. As much as he didn’t want to admit it at the time, it was hard for him not to think that. Especially since you were just a bystander the day Loki came to earth to wreak havoc.

You’d spent your entire life running away from problems that you couldn’t overcome or get away from, no matter how hard you tried. But as you watched those ships come through the portal, for the first time, your body had the opposite reaction of what it was used to doing. 

In street clothes, with barely any practice with the ability you’d recently discovered—you helped the heroes that were risking their lives to save yours. You threw yourself into that fight, despite knowing full well there was a chance you’d get killed for it. 

When Tony finally noticed what you were doing, and got over the initial panic of thinking you were Loki’s accomplice, he gave you an area to protect. Which doubled in size when he saw the impact you were causing. And when it was all said and done, he offered to help you.

You turned him down, out of fear of what the public would actually think when they saw you in action. Of course, you and your ability to bring people back from the dead was smeared across national television, painting you in a good light. That was in connection with the Avengers, though. You couldn’t stand the idea of what they’d say when you were on your own.

You got over it a few months later. You thought Tony would hold your first choice over your head, but he hasn’t mentioned it after all these years. Even though Tony can be an ass at times, you appreciate what he’s done for you.

The suit fits like a glove, despite not wearing it as frequently as you used to. You stopped right around the time Steve and Tony had their fight. The Avengers team crumbled after that, and you didn’t see a need to wear it anymore. Not with how peaceful it is.

Or rather, was.

You join the others back in the foyer, where you find Tony sitting on a couch with his hand over his mouth. At the sound of your approach, he looks over, eyes locking on the suit for a long moment, seemingly surprised that you’re wearing it, before giving you a half-smile.

“(Y/n).”

“Hey, Tony.” You cross your arms. “How’s Pepper?”

“She’s good.”

Stephen clears his throat, you turn to see him standing with Wong and Bruce a few feet away. You tilt your head, wandering to stand next to the staircase railing. “Go ahead.”

“At the dawn of the universe, there was nothing.” Wong begins. “Then…” An explosion of stars appears in the air, creating a galaxy that surrounds you. “Boom. The Big Bang sent six elemental crystals hurtling across the virgin universe. These Infinity Stones each control an essential aspect of existence.”

“Space.” Stephen says, as the floating blue crystal begins to glow, moving off to the side. “Reality.” This stone is a bright red “Power.” A purple stone shines. “Soul.” The orange one sizzles. “Mind.” As the yellow one reflects the light. “And Time.” Stephen finishes, adjusting the necklace that rests against his chest.

He touches it, bending his fingers as he pulls his hands away from each other. This unlocks the restrictions briefly, letting the shimmering green stone breathe.

“Tell me his name again.” Tony says.

“Thanos.” Bruce begins to walk toward him. “He’s a plague, Tony. He invades planets. He takes what he wants.” Tony has gotten to his feet, meeting Bruce in the middle. “He wipes out half the population. He sent Loki. The attack on New York, that’s him.”

The same creeping feeling comes back, something bubbling beneath your skin. Your face twists, “What?”

“This is it.” Tony takes a step back to walk around the room. “What’s our timeline?”

“No telling. He has the Power and Space Stones.” Bruce is following him. “That already makes him the strongest creature in the whole universe. If he gets his hands on all six stones, Tony…”

“He could destroy life on a scale hitherto undreamt of.” Stephen says.

You walk to join the circle that’s formed on the other side of the staircase.

“Did you seriously just say ‘hitherto undreamt of’?” Tony asks.

“Are you seriously leaning on the Cauldron of the Cosmos?” Stephen shoots back. 

“Is that what it is?” Tony asks, bending his leg back to stretch it, Stephen’s cloak slaps him. You cringe, because you know that wasn’t a move most people would make. “I’m going to allow that.” He stares at Stephen wordlessly, and then takes a breath. “If Thanos needs all six, why don’t we just stick this one down a garbage disposal?”

“No can do.” Stephen shakes his head.

“We swore an oath to protect the Time Stone with our lives.” Wong tells him.

“And I swore off dairy but then Ben & Jerry’s named a flavor after me, so—”

“Stark Raving Hazelnuts.” You laugh, playing with a piece of wood with your shoe.

“It’s not bad.” Tony looks in your direction.

“A bit chalky.” Stephen says.

“A Hunk of Hulk of Burning Fudge is our favorite.” Wong says.

“That’s a thing?” Bruce’s face is twisted, looking between you.

“Whatever.” Tony says. “Point is, things change.”

“Our oath to protect the Time Stone cannot change. And this stone may be the best chance we have against Thanos.” Stephen tells him.

“Yeah, so conversely, it may also be his best chance against us.”

“Well, if we don’t do our jobs.” Stephen doesn’t budge, and he’s not going to.

Tony turns to face him fully. “What is your job exactly? Besides making balloon animals.”

“Protecting your reality, douchebag.” 

You press your lips together, rubbing your forehead. Bruce interjects. “Okay, guys. Could we table this discussion right now? The fact is we have this stone.” he holds his hand out in Stephen’s direction. “We know where it is. Vision is out there somewhere with the Mind Stone and we have to find him now.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing.” Tony mutters, looking away.

“What do you mean?” 

“Two weeks ago, Vision turned off his transponder. He’s offline.” Tony shrugs.

“What?”

“Yeah.” He begins to walk away again, you share a look with Stephen.

“These used to be your people?” He asks, “You followed him?”

You wave him off. “We work better in the moment.”

“Tony, you lost another super-bot?” Bruce asks.

“I didn’t lose him. He’s more than that. He’s evolving.” Tony glances over his shoulder.

“Who could find Vision then?” Stephen asks.

Tony’s silent, you let out a sigh. “Probably Steve Rogers. Right, Tony?”

“Oh, great.” Stephen turns away.

“Maybe.” Tony agrees, sighing. “But…”

“Call him.” Bruce says. 

“It’s not that easy.” Tony faces Bruce. “God, we haven’t caught up in a spell, have we? The Avengers broke up, we’re toast.”

“Broke up?” Bruce repeats. “Like a band. Like—like the Beatles?” 

“Cap and I fell out hard.” Tony shakes his head. “We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Tony, listen to me.” Bruce says, stepping closer. “Thor’s gone. Thanos is coming. It doesn’t matter who you’re talking to or not.”

Tony looks away, sighing. He walks a few feet away, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. After he flips it open, he scrolls through to find Steve’s number, staring at it.

He then lifts his head, staring at the wall in front of him. At the same time, you can feel the ground rumbling through your shoes. You reach to grab Stephen, hand closing around the sleeve of his suit. The vases and lamps begin to shake, clinking against the surface they’re resting on.

The five of you stand quietly, listening to the distant noise, until Tony turns around. “Say, Doc, you wouldn’t happen to be moving your hair, would you?”

You look at Stephen to see what Tony means, finding one of the strands that refuses to stay put, wiggling against his forehead. As if a breeze is constantly moving through his hair.

“Not at the moment, no.” 

The sound is getting louder, Tony looks up through the hole in the ceiling where Bruce had come from. Your attention is turned to the door, where one person runs by, then two. And they don’t look like they’re jogging.

A dreadful feeling washes over your body as you follow Tony to the door. The closer you get, the louder the screaming is. He swings it open, stepping out onto the sidewalk. You follow him with crossed arms, looking in the direction of where everyone is running away from. 

There’s traffic down the street, people are getting out of cars to abandon their vehicles to run away from the danger. A strong gust of air blows through, pulling abandoned papers and leaves with them. You dodge several people to keep up with Tony’s speed.

The police sirens are getting louder, but they’re likely not coming in this direction. You watch as a silver car drives straight into a light pole. Tony points at it, “Help him!”

“Banner!” Wong calls.

“Wong, look alive!” 

“Go, go! We got it!” Bruce waves you on.

Tony reaches into his shirt to pull out his tech glasses. “Friday, what am I looking at?”

You stop for a second, allowing Stephen to catch up. He reaches to touch your back, guiding you forward with him. 

“I don’t want you to worry about me out here.” You tell him. 

“I’ll keep you safe.” He says.

“No, I can do that myself.” You press your finger into his chest. “You worry about you.”

Tony turns around. “Hey! You might wanna put that Time Stone in your back pocket, Doc!”

“Might wanna use it.” He says, magic surrounding his forearm. 

Tony peeks around the corner, pulling his head back when a red blanket whips through the air, being blown away. He begins to walk out into the open, and when it’s your turn to see what’s causing the chaos, you swallow. 

A giant spaceship in the shape of a ring is down the street to the left. It’s hovering in the air, giving off an electrical buzz. From what you can see, there’s no alien life near it, meaning they must be inside, or they’ve left it behind.

“Friday, evac anyone south of 43rd Street. Notify first responders.”

Stephen moves his hands, working up the magic before he shoves his palms out, sending a blast of air back at the ship. In the silence that settles, you can hear the sirens in the distance. It’s much easier to walk through the street without the wind resistance.

As you grow closer to the ship, a beam of blue light shines down onto the street, two alien beings appearing at the bottom. The one on the left being about the same size as Hulk, dressed in armor with a giant scythe, you believe. While the creature on the right is half the others’ size, fingers pressed together.

Tony’s pace slows the closer you get, leaving four car distances between you and the aliens.

“Hear me and rejoice.” The one on the right begins. Tony crosses his arms. “You are about to die at the hands of the Children of Thanos.”

The giant one says something, lifting his weapon to hold with both hands, revealing that it’s a pickaxe.

“Be thankful that your meaningless lives are now contributing—”

“I’m sorry, Earth is closed today.” Tony cuts him off. “You better pack it up and get outta here.”

“Stonekeeper.” The creature says, eyes on Stephen. “Does this chattering animal speak for you?”

“Certainly not. I speak for myself.” He says, walking forward, moving his hands to show off his magic. “You’re trespassing in this city and on this planet.” Wong does the same behind you.

“He means get lost, Squidward.” Tony says.

“He exhausts me.” The noseless creature says. The tall one responds in the same foreign language. “Bring me the stone.”

“Banner, you want a piece?” Tony asks.

Bruce hums, “No, not really. But when do I ever get what I want?” He claps his hands together, rubbing.

“That’s right.”

“Okay. Push!” He grunts, his skin turning green up until his neck.

“It’s been a while.” Tony says. “It’s gonna be good to have you, buddy.”

“Okay, shh.” He hushes him. “Let me just… I need to concentrate here for a second. Come on, come on, man.”

The tall alien slams its weapon into one of the cars that’re parked on the side of the street.

“Where’s your guy?” Tony asks.

Bruce sighs, “I don’t know. We’ve sorta been having a thing.”

“It’s no time for a thing.” Tony touches his shoulder.

“I know.”

Tony points to the creature. “That’s the thing right there. Let’s go.”

It’s drawing closer with each step. Bruce begins to grunt, his voice changing, green spreading up to his lips. Stephen turns to look between you and Tony, you close your eyes.

“Dude, you’re embarrassing me in front of the wizards.”

“Tony, I’m sorry.” Bruce whispers. “Either I can’t or he won’t.”

“It’s okay.” He pushes Bruce away to stand with Wong. “Hey, stand down.” He looks at Wong. “Keep an eye on him. Thank you.”

“I have him.”

“Damn it.” Bruce mutters.

The creature jogs toward you, letting out a deep roar. Tony pulls on the strings of his track jacket, tapping the arc reactor in his chest twice. Almost out of thin air, his suit begins to crawl over his body efficiently. By the time the creature and him are face to face, he’s in his suit completely.

Tony uses a shield, falling into a kneeling position when he takes the hit. He then stands, swinging at the creature’s face, landing the punch.

As the alien recovers, you watch as the nanotech springs out of his back when he holds his arms out straight, creating four extra blasters that aid him in sending the alien down the street. The shorter one waves his hand, directing his friend to slam into several cars, instead of hitting him.

The blasters merge back into the suit.

“Where’d that come from?” Bruce asks.

“It’s nanotech. You like it? It’s a little something I—”

Tony skyrockets, leaving a trail of dirt behind him as he flies into the air. The alien raises his other hand, uprooting two trees on either side of the street, flicking his hand forward. Wong jumps in front of you, Stephen and Bruce to create a shield. 

“Doctor Banner, if the rest of your green friend won’t be joining us—” He creates a portal, Bruce falls through it. The alien throws half of a taxi in your direction, which makes it through the portal before it’s sealed.

Stephen and Wong move in sync, preparing another cast to stop the car that’s coming in your direction. Tony flies through the middle, forcing it back in the direction of the alien. He simply lifts his hand, unbothered, and it’s sliced in half, narrowly missing him, crashing onto the street behind.

“Gotta get that stone outta here, now.” Tony says.

“It stays with me.” Stephen emphasizes.

“Exactly. Bye.” Tony says, before turning to the alien and beginning to fly at him. At first, it’s slow, as he dodges several pillars that the alien knocks down to squish him. 

He then picks up speed, but the large alien has recovered, throwing a new weapon, a hammer. The handle extends like a chain, plowing Tony down the street, through a building, and into the park where Stephen had gotten him from.

The alien retracts the chain, and begins to chase after where Tony had gone, running straight into the building without slowing down. You press your lips together, eyes landing on the shorter creature. He raises his hands, palms up, pulling out a dozen bricks that line the streets.

When he twists his hands, the bricks crumble into spikes, which he sends flying in your direction. Stephen creates another portal, allowing the brick to go in. While Wong creates another, sending it out, back in the alien’s direction. He lifts a car to block his own creation, but he’s still nicked.

He breaks a fire hydrant, knocking Wong away. Stephen uses a lasso, getting it around the alien, and pulling him in your guys’ direction. You twist out of the way, right as they slam into each other, flying into a building.

You stumble over to Wong, kneeling next to him. He’s breathing, there’s blood trickling from his temple, where he hit his head. When you look up at Stephen, you can see that the alien has him trapped against the wall using bricks to hold him still.

The alien reaches to grab the Time Stone, but jerks away suddenly. He then throws Stephen onto the street, several feet away from you. You jump to your feet to help him when you see rope sprout from the ground to restrict his hands.

“(Y/n), don’t—!” He shouts.

A car sideswipes you, hard. It slams into the left of your body, knocking you into the car on your right. You can feel the pain blossoming in your ribs from the impact, as you shakily press a hand over the area.

The rope is constricting around Stephen, growing tighter by the second as it wraps around his legs, his torso, and around his neck. The alien makes a fist, the rope stiffens, Stephen lets out a grunt.

“Stop!” You shout.

“You’ll find removing a dead man’s spell troublesome.” Stephen manages to get out.

“You’ll only wish you were dead.”

The coil around Stephen’s neck tightens for the final time, you watch as his eyes roll back. He falls, unconscious, bouncing off the cop car and landing on the asphalt. You jerk forward, but the alien flattens you against the car.

He takes a small chunk of the road out using one hand, turning his back to float away with your boyfriend. It doesn’t work longer for a second, the Cloak of Levitation wraps around Stephen’s body, rocketing off and down the street. 

“No!” The alien shouts, and then his eyes land on you. 

You adjust to sit on your knees, lacing your fingers, and then slamming your hands into the asphalt, refusing to break eye contact with the alien. A tremor goes through the ground, a blast of hot air following. Car alarms begin to go off in response.

“Rise!” You demand.

The ground begins to shake, rocking you back and forth. You have to place your palms on the ground to keep from getting knocked over. One by one, a collection of species of the dead begin to rise out of the ground, breaking the street into pieces. Usually, you try not to do this in cities because of the construction it takes to repair the damage you made.

Right now, you have no choice.

Humans and aliens alike get to their feet, in varying stages of decay. Some are missing limbs, others have jaws barely holding on, with skin sagging so bad that you can see the muscle underneath. It starts with a simple dozen, but the numbers multiply, until every last dead person in the area is out of the ground.

You get to your feet, leaning against the car. “Kill him.”

At once, they rush forward to attack. You turn around, running in the opposite direction, where the cloak is taking Stephen. You can hear the undead army roaring behind you, as they work together to reach the alien that’s hovering over the ground. 

You take a shortcut through the thin, white building that Tony and the larger alien had gone through. From what you can see, Tony is still in the park, fighting him. There’s a blur of red and a hint of blue swinging away.

“You brought the kid into this?” You shout, crossing the street.

“I didn’t call him here!” Tony defends.

Already, you can feel your army growing weaker, meaning that the dead you’d conjured aren’t the strongest. You suck in a breath, and release, feeling the dark energy leave you to allow the bodies to fall. They were more of a distraction to allow you to leave without getting hurt.

You watch as Tony shoots at the alien haphazardly, flying away to dodge his attacks with the hammer. Tony disappears behind the statue in the park, causing the alien to swing at the concrete, destroying it. When Tony gets in too close, the alien secures an electric robotic hand around Tony, throwing him to the ground.

He leaves a path in the grass, trapped and unable to move.

“Are you going to help or not?” Tony’s voice is strained.

“I’m no help, here!” You tell him.

The alien charges in Tony’s direction, a large blade flinging out from his armor. As he jumps, going to stab Tony through the chest, a portal appears. The alien lands on the other side, you jog up behind Wong and Bruce to see that it’s the arctic, lots of snow. He turns around suddenly, jumping in your direction to come back through.

Only his hand makes it out, as Wong closes the portal. The severed hand rolls to a stop at Bruce’s feet, skin sizzling. Bruce kicks it, “Ugh.”

“Wong, you’re invited to my wedding.” Tony says, prying the bars off of his suit. “(Y/n), do you have your mask?”

You nod, reaching through the front of your suit, where the mask is tucked into a pocket on the inside. You pull it out, yanking it over your face. Tony bends his knees, allowing you to line up behind him, wrapping your arm around his neck. The stickiness of your gloves comes into contact with his suit, securing you there. 

“Ready?” He asks.

“Let’s go.” You tell him.

He places his hands at his sides, and the two of you shoot off, up into the sky. You can feel the tough wind through your suit, but it’s not bad enough to complain about. You tilt your head back slightly to see the alien ship, presumably where Peter and Stephen had been sucked in to. 

“I think it’s time for you to get a new suit.” Tony says, you can hear him in your ear.

“It’s a shame I didn’t keep in contact.” 

“That doesn’t matter.” He says. “Friday, unlock 19-C. And give me a little juice.”

You press your face against the back of his neck, and you fly through the air faster to get to the spaceship. If it weren’t for your gloves, you’d be falling to the ground right now, thinking about how you’d be dead in a few seconds.

“Unlock 17-A.” Tony says.

The ship is flying out of the atmosphere, straight into space. 

“Pete, you gotta let go. I’m gonna catch you.” Tony says, talking to Peter. You suck in short breaths through your nose, “We’re too high up. You’re running out of air.” He then turns his head slightly. “(Y/n), let go.”

“I want to get on that ship.” You gasp.

“You’ll be right behind me.” Tony says.

You pull your hand off of his chest, anxiety rising in your stomach. You have to tell yourself that Tony would never kill you. He wouldn’t send a suit up here if he knew there was a chance it’d malfunction and get you killed.

You take another breath, and let go, watching as Tony flies away. A scream rises in your throat as you begin to kick your legs and wave your arms, desperate for something to hold on to.

There’s a sudden impact in the middle of your back, as you feel a cool sensation begin to cover your body. The moment the nanotech covers your face, you take a breath, finally able to breathe real air. 

“Are you with me?” Tony asks.

The new suit covers the last spot on your thigh. “I’m in.”

“Friday, keep Gloom with me!”

You fly forward, the suit following after Tony on its own. Just by looking around on the inside, there’s a lot of technology that was put into the suit. He must’ve really evolved his engineering, because this is impressive.

“Mr. Stark, it smells like a new car in here!” You can hear Peter.

“Happy trails, kid.” Tony says. “Friday, send him home.”

A parachute springs out of Peter’s back, pulling him back. A little bit of relief goes through you, because there’s no reason why he should be up here. Your suit whizzes past him, coming to idle by Tony as he cuts a hole through the metal of the ship. When he gets it open, he allows you to crawl in first before following.

You take a few steps in, the nanotech disappearing from your face, stopping at your neck. You watch as the ship's machines extend and flex, blue electricity moving off a giant disk above you.

Tony sighs. “Yeah.”

You glance over to see his head is turned away.

“Honey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.” He says, glancing at you. “Pep?” The connection must be lost, because he shakes his head.

“So, what’s the plan?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Let’s find your boyfriend then we’ll work from there.” Tony says, walking away. “Speaking of which—an interesting choice. How did the two of you meet?”

You smile, and then laugh slightly. “He almost hit me with his car, twice in the same day.”

“And you thought dating him was a good idea?” Tony looks back at you.

You shrug. “He made it up to me. And since, all he ever does is protect me. I owe him my life.”

He stops briefly, “What happened to the kickass (Y/n)?” 

You place a hand on his shoulder. “She’s been hibernating, but with all this talk about death…” You trail off. “Trust me, Tony, she’s still here.”

“You’re sick.”

“And so are you.” You tell him.

The two of you go through the long hallway and through a door. With the ship being shaped like a large donut, it’s a confusing walk that Tony has to lead. He manages to bring you to a platform, four stories above where the alien is holding Stephen captive.

You lean over the side, hands drawing into fists when you hear Stephen grunt in pain. The alien seems to be manipulating clear shards to press into his skin, to force him to give up the Time Stone.

The Cloak suddenly appears, tapping Tony’s arm. He jerks, hand ready to blast the fabric. “Wow, you’re a seriously loyal piece of outerwear, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, uh, speaking of loyalty…”

You jump at the sound of Peter’s voice, turning in time to see him land on the platform.

“What the—”

“I know what you’re gonna say.” He puts his hands out.

“You should not be here.” Tony says.

“I was gonna go home.” Peter tries.

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

“But it was such a long way down and I just thought about you on the way.”

“And now I gotta hear it.” Tony sighs, shaking his head.

Peter raises his shoulders, “And I kinda stuck to the side of the ship. And this suit is ridiculously intuitive, by the way.”

Tony looks at you. “God damn it.”

You make a face at him. “You were the one that told him to chase after Stephen.”

“So, if anything, it’s kinda your fault that I’m here.” Peter says with a smile. 

Tony glares at him. “What did you just say?”

Peter realizes his mistake, stuttering, “I-I take that back. And now, I’m here in space.”

Tony steps forward. “Yeah, right where I didn’t want you to be.” He stops in front of Peter. “This isn’t Coney Island. This isn’t a field trip. This is a one-way ticket. You hear me? Don’t pretend you thought this through.”

“No, I did think this through.”

“You could not have possibly thought this through.”

Peter motions, “You can’t be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man if there is no neighborhood.” Peter tells him, Tony stares blankly. “Okay, that didn’t really make sense, but you know what I’m trying to say.”

Tony takes in a breath, letting it out shakily. “Come on. We got a situation.”

Peter nods, glancing at you, “Hi, Miss (L/n).”

“Hey, Peter.” You smile, following Tony to stand on the edge of the platform.

“See him down there?” Tony asks, Peter peers over the side. “He’s trouble. What’s your plan? Go.”

Peter crouches, “Um…” there’s a brief pause. “Okay, okay, uh…” He stands up. “Okay. Did you ever see this really old movie, Aliens?”

You let out a snort, but when Tony looks at you, you cover your mouth. You try to swallow the laughter that wants to escape you, it doesn’t work. “So what does that make you, Tony, a dinosaur?”

He glares at you. “Not funny.”

“What’s the matter?” Peter asks, glancing between you two.

“Nothing, kid. Good work.” Tony tells him. “I’ll go down there and blast a hole in the ship. (Y/n), the suit will keep you from flying out, Peter I want you to grab the wizard. Assume position.”

You crouch on the platform, hand locking around the pillar to act as support. Peter crawls away to get on the ceiling, while the Cloak stays near you, waiting for Tony. It’s a shame you’re not able to do more, your abilities limit you in situations like these. Even if people have died on this spaceship, you wouldn’t be able to resurrect them the same way. And even if you could, there’s no dark pull. You have to have a connection, first.

Stephen lets out a scream, as the shards press further into his skin when the alien moves his hand. You grit your teeth.

Tony jumps down a second later, landing behind the alien on the strip, powering up his suit.

“Could end your friend’s life in an instant.” The alien says, loud enough for you to hear.

“I gotta tell you, he’s not really my friend. Saving his life is more of a professional courtesy.”

The alien lifts a hand, a chunk of metal sliding out of the spaceship, as he walks in Tony’s direction. “You’ve saved nothing.” He lifts his other hand, beckoning another piece of metal. “Your powers are inconsequential compared to mine.”

“Yeah, but the kid’s seen more movies.” Tony says.

You watch as Tony blasts a hole open on the far side of the ship. Immediately, the metal and the alien is sucked out into space, creating a blackhole for everything else that’s free-standing in the ship, including Stephen.

“No!” You shout.

The Cloak secures around one of his hands, but the pull is too strong. Stephen slips out, getting closer. Peter jumps from where he’s been sitting, a web shooting at Stephen to grab him. It secures, and when he tries to grab a metal pole inside of the ship, it snaps off.

You watch in horror as Stephen leaves the inside of the ship. Peter’s about to fly out behind him, when mechanical legs pop out from his back, stretching the length of the hole. The legs dip momentarily, before jumping back, pulling Peter and Stephen inside.

Tony works fast to block up the hole with metal, you jump from the top of the platform, landing harshly next to Stephen. He’s on his side, letting out a groan.

“Stephen,” You murmur, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey.”

He looks up at you, letting out a breath of relief. He grabs your hand, squeezing tightly. “You’re okay?”

Your eyebrows draw in, “I’m fine.”

He nods, twisting to sit up. You turn his head so that you can get a better look at his face, fingertips brushing against where the shards had touched his skin. You can’t even tell they were inside. The blood that is on his face is from being thrown away a few seconds ago.

“You have to be more careful, especially since they’re after you.”

Tony walks by, his suit disappearing.

“That’s why we gotta turn this ship around.” Stephen agrees, pushing to stand. You help him up.

“Yeah, now he wants to run. Great plan.” Tony says.

The Cloak of Levitation drapes itself over Stephen’s shoulders. You straighten it, walking behind him to follow after Tony. “No, I want to protect the stone.”

“And I want you to thank me.” Tony stops at the front of the ship, presumably. Except, there is no control panel, just a giant warped mess that allows you to see into the stars. And two giant mechanical arms with a singular place on both sides where you can stick your arm inside of to navigate it. “No, go ahead. I’m listening.”

“For what? Nearly blasting me into space?”

“Stephen.” You warn, “We can’t really fight in here.”

“Who just saved your magical ass? Me.” Tony turns around. 

“I seriously don’t know how you fit your head into that helmet.”

“Admit it, you should’ve ducked out when I told you to. I tried to bench you. You refused.” Tony says.

Stephen’s face twists. “Unlike everyone else in your life, I don’t work for you.” He glances at you, you turn your head to look at him, eyebrows raised.

“And due to that fact, we’re now in a flying doughnut, billions of miles from Earth with no backup.” 

“I’m backup.” Peter says from behind you, raising his hand.

“No, you’re a stowaway. The adults are talking.” He motions between the three of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused as to the relationship here.” He motions at Peter. “What is he, your ward?”

“No.” Peter says, offering his hand. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Doctor Strange.” Stephen says.

Peter drops his hand. “Oh, you’re using our made-up names. Um… I’m Spider-Man, then.” 

Stephen looks at you, completely unamused. “(Y/n), we should go back to Earth.”

“I’m not arguing with you.” You tell him. “In fact, if Thanos is going to go to Earth to kill half of our population, I say our best bet is to be down there.”

Tony scoffs. “You mean your best bet?” Stephen’s head snaps in his direction, your eyes narrow. “So you’ll be able to use the dead for your own personal army? By then it’ll be too late.”

“I don’t want billions of people to die, Tony.” You hiss. “For you to suggest that is a little offensive, don’t you think? I gain nothing from that.”

Tony tilts his head. 

That’s enough for you, jaw tightening, body feeling as if it’s been submerged in hot, bubbling oil. You start toward him, hands in fists at your sides. You could take deep breaths to calm down, but you think hitting him might make you feel better instead.

He doesn’t have to say anything, you know exactly what he’s thinking. While Tony has never questioned your sudden decision to switch from being a civilian to an Avenger, he has never let you forget that your abilities are far from heroic. He thinks they’re downright villainy. 

In times like these, you wonder whether or not he thinks you’re actually trustworthy, or if he’s just keeping you close, waiting for the day you finally turn on them. He’ll be the first one in line to take you down.

“I really hate it when you suggest otherwise.” You tell him lowly.

“(Y/n).” Stephen says behind you, trying to call you back.

Tony doesn’t move from where he stands. “(Y/n), we both know that you get tingly when it’s mentioned that people are dying.” He says, not caring that Stephen and Peter are standing feet away. You press your lips together. “Half of the population could die by Thanos’s hands today. You’re telling me you’re not the least bit excited by that?”

The creeping feeling begins. You grit your teeth, hard, trying to resist it. “No, because I’m human.” You tell him, unsure if you’re trying to convince yourself or him. It’s tickling the back of your neck, goosebumps starting to form. You won’t let him be right. “And even if my body reacts, my mind knows better. I’ll never stand by when I know I can help.”

“That’s where I don’t believe you.” 

You stop in front of him. “What’s your brilliant plan, then?”

Tony crosses his arms. “This ship is self-correcting its course. Thing’s on autopilot.”

Stephen comes to join you two at the front of the ship. He stops behind you, hand appearing on your lower back, rubbing slightly. You grind your teeth, tilting your head to the side to subtly let the shiver run through your body.

“Can we control it?” Stephen asks. “Fly us home?” There’s a pause where Tony doesn’t respond. “Stark.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you get us home?” He repeats.

“Yeah, I heard you. I’m thinking I’m not so sure we should.” 

“Tony.” You snap.

“It has nothing to do with you.” He says.

Stephen’s hand falls, moving to get closer to Tony. “Under no circumstances can we bring the Time Stone to Thanos. I don’t think you quite understand what’s at stake here.”

“What? No. It’s you who doesn’t understand,” Tony moves to stop less than a foot away from Stephen. “That Thanos has been inside my head for six years. Since he sent an army to New York and now he’s back. And I don’t know what to do. So I’m not so sure if it’s a better plan to fight him on our turf or his, but you saw what they did, what they can do. At least on his turf he’s not expecting it. So I say we take the fight to him. Doctor

“Do you concur?” Tony finishes. 

“All right, Stark. We go to him.” Stephen says. You throw your hands up, shaking your head. “But you have to understand if it comes to saving you or the kid or the Time Stone. I will not hesitate to let either of you die.” He pauses. “I can’t, because the universe depends on it.”

“Nice.” Tony pats Stephen’s arm. “Good, moral compass. We’re straight.” He turns to walk away, in Peter’s direction. He lets out a sigh. “All right, kid.” He knights Peter. “You’re an Avenger now.”

A smile slowly spreads over Peter’s face, he nods.

You lace your fingers together in front of you, walking closer to the warp to see the stars better. You’re not entirely sure if you’ll have the element of surprise on Thanos’s home planet, or if it’ll even matter. Either way, the team you have gathered on this spaceship is far from the one you’re used to.

You can’t believe that Tony pulled that argument on you again, especially in front of Stephen. He’s already suspicious that you’re not the only entity in your body, because the reactions you have at the mention of death are unnatural. You seem uncomfortable, but the involuntary shivers say otherwise—but they’re exactly that, involuntary.

The last thing you want is to confirm that you’re unstable, because you’re not.

“(Y/n).” Stephen murmurs, coming up beside you. You close your eyes, tilting your head back, taking in a breath. He wraps his arm around your body, hand pulling you into him. “You know I don’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” You tell him, opening your eyes. “I’m tired of having that conversation with Tony. And I do think it would be a better fight on Earth, where the rest of the Avengers are. Our crew doesn’t mean much.” 

“Well, I would say we could hijack the system, but we don’t know how to steer it, or get back to our planet.” Stephen says, looking down at you.

You meet his eyes, before resting your head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He presses a kiss against your temple. 

—

“Hey, what’s going on?” Peter asks, coming up behind you three.

“I think we’re here.” Stephen says.

You watch through the warp as the alien planet gets closer. From what you can tell, it’s a desolate place, not a single living being seems to be inhabiting it. Your eyebrows draw in, thinking that this could make the fight against Thanos easier, if he’s got no other people to help him.

That’s assuming he’ll come alone.

“I don’t think this rig has a self-park function.” Tony says, walking away from the warp. He stops in front of one of the mechanical arms, pulling it open to stick his hand inside. “Get your hand inside the steering gimbal.” He pulls the clasp down. “Close those around it.”

Peter follows Tony’s directions. “Okay.”

“You understand?” Tony asks, glancing over.

“Yes, got it.” 

“This was meant for one big guy, so we gotta move at the same time.”

“Okay, okay.” Peter says, readjusting his stance. “Ready.”

You watch as the planet gets closer, the spaceship beginning to rumble. You share an unsure look with Stephen, before moving to find a pillar to hang on to. 

“We might wanna turn.” Peter says, and then his eyes widen. “Turn! Turn! Turn!” 

Tony has to change into his suit to be able to properly steer. From the force of them turning, you’re thrown a step off to the side. The brand new suit begins to cover your body, possibly reacting to your heart rate when you realize this thing could explode on impact if they’re not careful.

The ship comes into contact with one of the structures on the planet, jerking you from side to side. The rest of the suit covers your body, allowing you to lock your hand in place. You watch as Peter goes from his street clothes to the Spider-Man outfit.

Stephen quickly casts a shield to encase the four of you, the spaceship breaking into pieces. A second later, it slams into the planet, throwing you forward. You shouldn’t have moved more than a foot because of your grip, but your fingers unlock. You slam into the metal flooring, landing on your knees next to Stephen.

He glances down at you. The ship proceeds to slide until it hits a dip, forcing it to stop. As soon as you’re no longer in motion, Stephen drops the cast, turning to help you to your feet. The mask falls away from your face as you shake your head.

“You all right?” Stephen touches your face, moving your hair back.

“Fine.” You breathe.

Tony pushes to his feet. “That was close.” Electricity from severed wires crackles above you. “I owe you one.”

Peter hangs upside down from the ceiling using his web. “Let me just say, if aliens wind up implanting eggs in my chest or something and I eat one of you, I’m sorry.”

Your face twists, “Peter—”

“I do not want another single pop culture reference out of you for the rest of the trip.” Tony says, pointing at him. “You understand?”

Peter holds his hand out. “I’m trying to say that something is coming.”

A small, metallic ball rolls into the middle of your group, and before any of you can react, it explodes. You’re thrown several feet into the air, slamming into the wall, and landing harshly on an uneven surface. You take quick breaths to keep from triggering the pain that’s taking over your ribs.

You close your eyes, feeling the nanotech spread from beneath your chin and over your face to conceal your identity from the intruders. When you prod your fingers into sensitive skin, you let out a hiss. You really hope nothing is broken.

“Thanos!” You can hear a man yell.

The sound of Stephen’s magic makes you turn your head to see where he is. He’s got a shield up, two knives sticking out of it. The man who’s just thrown the knives begins to yell, but he’s silenced when the Cloak wraps around his head.

Another man rockets into the air, Tony jumping to fight him. You push yourself into a sitting position, wincing at the smallest movements. You use the wall as support, watching Tony and the enemy send beams back and forth, until Tony launches a rocket that explodes at the perfect time, sending him back.

Tony grabs a hold of the man, throwing back onto the ground. He lets out a laugh though, pressing a button. Blue lightning appears out of a triangular disc, which magnetizes Tony to the steering gimbal that Peter had used.

Peter lets out a scream, backing away from a woman with antennas that glow at the sight of him. As he scoots back, he shoots his web at her, trapping her where she is. The man that Tony had been fighting comes over, kicking Peter across the room.

“Stay down, clown.” He says, trying to shoot Peter.

Peter’s fast, the spider legs shoot out from his back, carrying him into the scaffolding above. Every time the man fires, he misses, but when Peter comes down to attack him, the man throws a gadget that opens like a net, securing around Peter, electrocuting him. 

“Die, blanket of death!” The first man shouts, trying to pull the Cloak from his face.

Tony finally pushes himself off of the steering gimbal, immediately flying over the man fighting with the Cloak. He hovers his hand over his head, powering it up. The Cloak of Levitation then disappears, going back to Stephen.

You take a step down from where you’re standing, making your way toward Stephen. The man that’d taken down Peter, pulls him into his arms, holding a futuristic gun against his head. “Everybody stay where you are. Chill the eff out.” 

He reaches to touch a button on the metal mask he’s wearing, making it disappear. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s human. He’s got the complexion, nothing out of the ordinary. Unlike Tony, who’s got the man with grey skin and red accents.

“I’m gonna ask you this one time.” He points the gun out in Tony’s direction. “Where is Gamora?”

Tony holds his other hand out to the man in retaliation. “Yeah. I’ll do you one better. Who’s Gamora?” The helmet falls away from his face.

“I’ll do you one better.” The grey man on the floor says. “Why is Gamora?”

You stop next to Stephen, hand wrapped around your ribs. He notices this immediately, eyebrows drawing in.

“Tell me where the girl is or I swear to you I’m gonna french fry this little freak.” He presses the gun to Peter’s head. 

Peter’s eyes narrow, and then return back to normal. Tony doesn’t like this. “Let’s do it. You shoot my guy and I’ll blast him. Let’s go!” His hand turns into a large blaster, mere inches away from the grey man’s face.

“Do it, Quill! I can take it.” He says, staring into the barrel.

“No, he can’t take it!” The alien girl says.

“She’s right. You can’t.” Stephen says.

“Oh, yeah? You don’t wanna tell me where she is? That’s fine. I’ll kill all three of you and I’ll beat it out of Thanos myself.” Quill says, pressing the gun further against Peter’s head. “Starting with you.”

Your face twists, Stephen squints. “Wait, what, Thanos? All right, let me ask you this one time. What master do you serve?”

“What master do I serve?” Quill repeats. “What am I supposed to say, ‘Jesus’?”

Tony deadpans, looking over at you and Stephen. He then looks at Quill again. “You’re from Earth.”

“I’m not from Earth, I’m from Missouri.” Quill says.

“Yeah, that’s on Earth, dipshit.” Tony shoots back. “What are you hassling us for?”

“So you’re not with Thanos?” Peter asks.

“With Thanos?” Quill’s face is twisted. “No, I’m here to kill Thanos. He took my girl. Wait, who are you?” He pulls the gun away from Peter’s head.

Peter’s mask falls away. “We’re the Avengers, man.”

“Oh.” Quill takes his arm off of Peter.

You allow the mask to fall from your face, too. 

“You’re the ones Thor told us about.” The girl says.

Tony looks over. “You know Thor?”

“Yeah.” Quill says. “Tall guy, not that good-looking, needed saving.”

“Where is he now?” Stephen asks.

“He’s going to Nidavellir to get some weapon.” Quill says.

Tony removes his hand from the grey man’s face, allowing him to get up. “What kind of weapon?”

“He said it would be able to kill Thanos.” Quill shrugs, “That’s all.”

“Maybe another hammer.” You suggest, the suit begins to fade away, taking the original with it too. It leaves you in the clothes you’d been in before Bruce fell through the ceiling. “I’m (Y/n).”

“Star Lord, but my real name is Peter Quill.” Quill says.

“Oh, hey. I’m Peter too.” Peter backs away, “But I’m Peter Parker.”

“Enough, kid.” Tony points at him. “Tony Stark.”

“Doctor Strange.” Stephen says from beside you.

The alien girl wrapped in web hops forward. “I am Mantis.”

“That’s Drax.” Quill says, motioning to the grey man.

Tony nods, starting for the door, “We should step out, get a feel for the planet.”

“There’s not much out there.” Quill says, but he doesn’t argue.

Peter walks over to Mantis to free her from the webbing. Stephen goes to follow, but you place a hand on his chest to stop him, he looks down at you. You give him a pained smile, waiting for the others to leave the ship first.

“Are you coming?” Peter asks, stopping at the exit, looking back at you and Stephen.

“We’ll be out there in a minute.” You tell him.

He nods, going to join the group. Your hand falls from Stephen’s chest, going to take a deep breath, and wincing when a sharp pain stabs through your ribs. He doesn’t miss this, grabbing your elbow to keep it up.

“What happened?”

“It’s my ribs.” You tell him.

His fingers reach for the hem of your shirt, he meets your eyes. “Can I?”

“Yeah.”

“Put your hand on my shoulder.” He tells you. You follow his direction, looking down to watch what he does.

He pulls your shirt all the way up to your chest, where you bunch it up to make it easier to see. He tilts his head, face smoothing briefly, before his eyebrows draw in. Stephen’s fingers brush against the skin over your right side.

You press your lips together, letting out a noise. 

“When did this happen?” He asks, applying more pressure.

You suck in a shaky breath. “When the alien had sideswiped me, I hit the car that was parked on the side of the street.” You tell him. “And when Quill threw that bomb—”

“You landed on the same side.” Stephen says. He pulls away, you let go of your shirt. It falls back into place, wrinkled. “I think they’re just bruised, but you’ve got to take it easy.”

“I figured as much.” You tell him, turning to start at the door.

He walks by your side. “I thought you said you could take care of yourself.”

“I can.” You say, “I know when to ask for help.”

“That’s not what I had in mind.” 

“Well, that’s a shame.” You glance at him, going down the ramp.

He doesn’t look very amused. “(Y/n), if you think you’re unable to fight Thanos—”

“I’ll let you know.” You say, stepping onto the dirt.

A shock goes through your body, as you freeze where you stand. 

Death. The word echoes in your mind loudly. You can’t help the way your body reacts, goosebumps covering every inch of your body, until you’re shivering as if you’re freezing.

“(Y/n)?” Stephen grabs your shoulder.

“I’m fine.” You chatter out, hugging yourself. “We’re just walking on a graveyard, is all.”

You force your legs to work, moving forward. The coldness leaves your body the further you travel, warmth returning. No matter where you step, the dark feeling clings on.

“The hell happened to this planet?” You hear Quill ask, he’s holding up a glowing yellow pod. “It’s eight degrees off its axis. Gravitational pull is all over the place.”

“Must’ve been a massacre.” You say, Tony turns to see you and Stephen joining. “I can feel it.”

He makes a face. “Feeling dark?”

“It’s hard not to.” You come to a stop, crossing your arms.

“We’ve got one advantage. He’s coming to us.” He says, moving around. “We’ll use it. All right, I have a plan. Or at least the beginnings of one.” You gather in with Quill. “It’s pretty simple. We draw him in, pin him down, get what we need. Definitely don’t wanna dance with this guy. We just want the gauntlet.”

Drax yawns loudly.

“Are you yawning?”

You glance away, eyes landing on Stephen, floating in the air in a sitting position. He must be using the Time Stone, because there’s a ring of green around his forearms.

“In the middle of this, while I’m breaking it down? Huh?” Tony says, Drax and Mantis look over. “Did you hear what I said?”

Drax briefly looks at Mantis before he looks back at Tony. “I stopped listening after you said, ‘We need a plan’.”

“Okay, Mr. Clean is on his own page.”

“See, ‘not winging it’ isn’t really what they do.” Quill says back.

Peter raises his hand. “Uh, what exactly is it that they do?” 

“Kick names, take ass.” Mantis says proudly.

Drax nods. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Your face twists, you let out a loud sigh. “There goes my hope that we had a working team.”

Tony stares at them blankly. “All right, just get over here, please.” When they don’t move, he addresses Quill. “Mr. Lord, can you get your folks to circle up?”

Quill nods. “‘Mr. Lord’,” he lets out a laugh. “Star-Lord is fine.” He cocks his head to the side, Drax and Mantis come closer.

“We gotta coalesce. Cause if all we come at him with is a plucky attitude—”

“Dude, don’t call us plucky. We don’t know what that means. All right, we’re optimistic, yes. I like your plan.” Quill says, Tony and you make eye contact. “Except it sucks, so let me do the plan and that way it might be really good.”

Tony closes his eyes.

“Tell him about the dance-off to save the universe.” Drax says.

“What dance-off?” Tony asks.

Quill makes a face, stuttering, “It’s not a—it’s nothing.”

“Like in Footloose, the movie?” Peter asks.

“Exactly like Footloose.” Quill leans forward. “Is it still the greatest movie in history?”

“It never was.” Peter says.

Quill squints at him, smile dropping.

“Don’t encourage this, all right?” Tony says, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “We’re getting no help from Flash Gordon here.”

“Flash Gordon?” Quill takes a step after him. “By the way, that’s a compliment. Don’t forget, I’m half human.”

Your attention has diverted back to Stephen, who’s snapping his neck from side to side, still floating. “Honey?”

“So that fifty-perfect of me that’s stupid,” He pauses, “That’s one hundred percent you.”

“Your math is blowing my mind.” Tony says back.

You step up to Stephen, “Hey, Tony!”

You glance over your shoulder to see Tony coming in your direction, seeing the problem. “Strange, we all right?”

You want to touch him, but you’re afraid of what’ll happen if you do. His head is still moving from side to side, eyes closed, as if he’s seeking something. “Stephen.” The Time Stone is glowing, a green haze is encircling his upper torso.

His head begins to move faster, letting out a grunt. A shout then leaves him, gasping as he falls to the rock below, eyes open and looking around. You crouch in front of Stephen, hands on his knees. He grabs one of them immediately, squeezing.

“You’re back.” You murmur. 

“Hi.” he breathes.

“Hey, what was that?” Peter asks.

“I went forward in time to view alternate futures.” He says, looking between you and Tony, who stands behind you now. He’s breathing heavily as he talks. The Time Stone glows brightly against his chest. “To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.”

“How many did you see?” Quill asks.

“Fourteen million, six hundred and five.”

“How many did we win?” Tony asks.

Stephen presses his lips together for a second. “One.”

You push to get to your feet, “How soon will he be here?”

He shakes his head, “Thirty minutes.”

You look at Tony, “We need to flesh that plan out.”

Tony nods, “Will my initial one work?”

Stephen takes in a breath. “Yes, actually.”

—

A storm cloud of grey and blue appears in the rubble, a boot being the first thing to come out of it. You adjust your footing, keeping your eyes on the giant, purple man that comes through it. The cloud is gone, and the air returns to normal. 

Your eyes find the gauntlet, which takes up the entirety of Thanos’s forearm, stopping at the elbow. When he turns his wrist the right way, you can see the stones he has, glint in the setting sun. He stops to look at the spaceship you’d come out of.

“Oh, yeah.” Stephen says, he’s sitting at the top of the steps on a rock. He’d volunteered to be the distraction, so the rest of you could prepare to fight. Thanos looks over at him, not worried. “You’re much more of a Thanos.”

Thanos looks away. “I take it the Maw is dead.” Stephen leans forward on his knees, nodding. “This day extracts a heavy toll.” He begins to walk. “Still, he accomplished his mission.”

“You may regret that.” Stephen tells him. “He brought you face-to-face with the Master of the Mystic Arts.”

“And where do you think he brought you?” 

“Let me guess. Your home?” Stephen asks.

Thanos stops, foot resting on top of a rock, gauntlet on his thigh. The Space, Reality and Power Stones displayed. You can’t tell if he has the Soul Stone or not.

“It was.” Thanos says. He lifts the gauntlet, and the Reality Stone begins to glow brightly when he closes his fist. “It was beautiful.”

The world around you begins to change, as he manipulates the area around you to make it look like it had before. A bright blue sky, green grass, a fountain in the middle of the plaza. There are people just like him, conversing around the park. And the giant building that’s falling apart, stands sturdy and clean.

“Titan was like most planets. Too many mouths, not enough to go around. And when we faced extinction, I offered a solution.” 

“Genocide.” Stephen says.

You duck behind the spacecraft, slapping a hand over your mouth, eyes squeezed shut as your body shakes. 

“But random, dispassionate, fair to rich and poor alike.” Thanos continues. “They called me a madman.” You sigh, not bothering to move from where you are. “And what I predicted came to pass.”

The scene fades away, bringing you back to reality. No wonder you can’t stay in control, here. You are literally on top of a graveyard, with so many undead beneath you that haven't risen since the day they died. They must be eager to get out, breathe the air above again.

What they don’t know is that it won’t taste the same as it did before.

“Congratulations, you’re a prophet.” Stephen says.

The good news is that if the dead haven’t been brought back before, there’ll be more power to it. They’re going to be decayed, sure. But they’re going to be stronger than the ones in New York, because these are new toys to play with. Besides, you can’t wait to see the look on Thanos’s face when he realizes that his own people are fighting against him.

“I’m a survivor.” Thanos says.

“Who wants to murder trillions.”

“With all six stones, I could simply snap my fingers.” He says, the noise filling the air. “They would all cease to exist. I call that mercy.”

You lift your head to see Stephen, finding him on his feet. “And then what?” He takes a step down.

Thanos looks away. “I’d finally rest and watch the sun rise on a grateful universe. The hardest choices require the strongest wills.”

Your lip twitches.

“I think you’ll find our will equal to yours.” Stephen says, clapping his hands together, and pulling them apart to show his magic.

“Our?” Thanos asks, lifting his head, tilting it all the way back.

Tony’s coming down with a piece of the spaceship, aimed directly over Thanos. As the purple stone begins to glow, he’s crushed by the mass, sending out a cloud of dirt and dust on impact. 

The mask crawls up your face, blocking it just in time to swarm you. 

“Piece of cake, Quill.” Tony says, doing a lap through a structure.

Quill begins to run, pressing the button on his mask again, which covers his face. “Yeah, if your goal was to piss him off.” He jumps, flying to where Thanos is.

An explosion of purple sets off, chunks of metal flying out, revealing Thanos underneath. He lets out a war cry, the Reality Stone glowing as he swings his gauntlet arm, creating a mass of alien birds that swarm Tony, carrying him away.

Peter takes the opportunity to shoot his web, covering Thanos’s eyes, flying by to kick him in the face. Drax slices across the back of his knee. Stephen comes through a portal, Drax swings at Thanos, only to be blocked. Stephen pulls out his own weapon, a sword made from the orange magic.

They take turns, going back and forth swinging at Thanos. He’ll dodge, switch sides, taking another hit from the back. He then punches Drax’s chest, throwing him into a rock that crumbles.

Stephen swings, Thanos catches the sword. Quill jumps through the air, using the rocks as stepping stones. Thanos finally pulls the webbing from his face, Stephen makes the sword disappear, opting for a shield, which Thanos kicks in to. 

Quill shoots at Thanos’s back, Stephen casts a spell to create more platforms for Quill to use, hopping from one to the next. He flips over Thanos, planting a bomb on his back, which beeps loudly. He backs away, middle finger raised. “Boom!” And then he falls through a portal.

The bomb explodes, Thanos stumbles forward, landing on his hands. Just as he’s straightening, the Cloak wraps itself around his hand tightly. Stephen casts another portal, one which Peter jumps out. 

He slams his fist across Thanos’s face. “Magic.” Disappears through the portal on the other side, which spits him out a foot above. Peter swings down on Thanos’s head. “More magic.” And pops out on the other side, Thanos turns at the wrong moment, “Magic with a kick.” He says, foot right across his face. The next portal opens up, “Magic with a—!”

Thanos grabs Peter by the throat, slamming him down into the dirt, choking him. “Insect!” He shouts, before lifting the teenager and throwing him into Stephen.

The two of them disappear in the rubble, you rise from where you’re hiding, beginning to creep around to find a better place to be when you raise this army. Thanos rips off the Cloak, which flies away to get back to Stephen.

Another explosion is set off, a wave of heat hits you like a truck, warming you up on the inside and out. This is Tony’s doing, as he repeatedly sends his rockets down where Thanos is standing. 

It doesn’t work. Thanos sucks the fire up through the Power Stone, shooting it back at Tony, which blasts him into one of the structures up in the air. He hits the floating middle piece, causing a different explosion. 

“(Y/n), now's a good time!” Tony shouts through static.

You come out into the open, Thanos’s attention turning to you. You fall to your knees in front of him, intertwining your fingers, staring directly at him. “Ready to see your people?” You laugh coldly, raising your locked hands up in the air, before slamming them into the dirt. “Rise!”

The ground begins to tremble, a shiver runs through your body, feeling the cold, dark energy building in your body. The dirt breaks apart, purple hands sprouting out in claw positions. You watch in amazement as the bodies pull themselves out of the planet, in almost perfect condition.

You push to get on your feet, watching as Thanos takes several steps back, as his own people come to stand around you. All of them stand around the same height, taking away his advantage. 

“You…” He trails off, voice accusatory.

With a finger pointed out in his direction, you tilt your head to the side. “Pin the survivor down.”

The undead move at him, coming in every direction. They’re strong, energy coursing through your body. You retreat the best you can while keeping your eyes on him. The confliction in his face is everything you were hoping for, as he looks between the people that he once knew.

When he realizes that they’re not going to stop for him, he lets out a scream, swinging at them. They take the hits, springing back to life mere seconds later. You watch from the top of the stairs in amazement. You’ve never had an army act like this before, with such violence.

Maybe it’s their will to come back. Or maybe, some of their spirits are still here, unable to move on. His face brings bad memories, from when they were starving and beginning to fall from the inside out. Maybe they know about his slaughtering activities on other planets, carrying out his ideas on poor, unsuspecting people that can’t defend themselves against his power.

Maybe this is their way of getting revenge for you.

You let out a laugh.

Thanos throws his hand out, a sharp and warm pain explodes across your left shoulder, twisting you to the ground. You land on your hands and knees, coming face to face with the chunk of flesh that Thanos has just taken from your body. The blood spurts out of the wound.

Your breaths pick up at the sight of the amount of blood leaving your body, stars coming to the corners of your vision. You let out a scream through gritted teeth as the feeling hits you full-force, tears appearing in your eyes.

“(Y/n)!” Stephen shouts.

When you look over your shoulder, you see that Peter has webbed Thanos’s hand with the gauntlet, pulling it away from him. Thanos still fights with his open hand, knocking away the dead effortlessly. He pulls Peter toward him when there’s an opening, punching him across the face, and ripping the webbing from the gauntlet.

Suddenly, a spaceship comes out of the brown haze, belonging to none of you. It hits the planet, as well as Thanos, and the entire army of the dead. You struggle to your feet, stumbling down the steps. 

Stephen is floating through the air, toward Thanos, when he sees that you’re alive. You follow after him the best you can, a burning sensation spreading over your missing shoulder when you see the nanotech forms over it. At least then, it’ll be covered.

A girl springs out of the rock to fight Thanos, one that you don’t recognize. Stephen uses his magic to lasso Thanos’s gauntlet, trying to pull it off of him. Drax comes up behind him, kicking the back of his knee to force him down. Quill shoots a triangular disc—the same one he’d used against Tony—underneath Thanos’s free hand to keep him from pulling at the gauntlet. 

Peter uses his web, swinging around to pull Thanos with Quill. While Tony comes around, grabbing at the gauntlet. Thanos is strong, though, pulling at Peter’s web. The spider legs come out, digging into the rock to keep him from moving. Stephen retracts his spell, casting a new one for a portal, where Mantis falls onto Thanos’s shoulders.

She places her hands on both sides of his head, leaning over him. Stephen works with Quill and Peter to pull on the other hand. Thanos is screaming, eyes a milky white as he turns his head to the side.

You come to a stop a few feet away, the sound of dragging footsteps behind you. It’s a few of the dead that hadn’t died with the ship. “Get the gauntlet off of him.” You demand.

They move to help Tony, fingers digging underneath it to get better leverage. Thanos stops resisting so hard, as Mantis’s antennas begin to glow white.

“Is he under? Don’t let up.” Tony says, pulling.

“Be quick. He is very strong.” She says.

“Parker, help! Get over here.” Tony orders. “She can’t hold him much longer. Let’s go.”

They all pull at the gauntlet, seemingly making no progress. Quill flies over, landing a few feet away, tucking his gun back onto the hollister. 

“We gotta open his fingers to get it off.” Peter says.

You move closer, “Do as he says.” The dead begin to work on his fingers, struggling against his strength.

“I thought you’d be hard to catch.” Quill taunts. “For the record, this was my plan.” Thanos doesn’t respond, mouth hanging open. “You’re not so strong now, huh?” He stops in front of him. “Where is Gamora?”

Thanos groans, “My Gamora.”

“No, bullshit!” Quill says, “Where is she?”

“He is in anguish.” Mantis says, Thanos’s face twists.

“Good.”

“He… he mourns.” Mantis pants, eyebrows drawn in, tears in her eyes.

You look over to see the same girl as earlier has now joined you. She doesn’t seem to be human, though. She’s robotic, and blue. 

“What does this monster have to mourn?” Drax manages to get out.

“Gamora.” The girl says.

Quill turns to look at her. “What?”

“He took her to Vormir.” She says. “He came back with the Soul Stone. But she didn’t.”

The helmet disappears from Tony’s head. “Okay, Quill, you gotta cool it right now. You understand?” Quill is turning to look at Thanos. “Don’t, don’t—don’t engage. We almost got this off!” He shouts.

“Tell me she’s lying.” Quill begins to shout. “Asshole, tell me you didn’t do it!”

“I had to.” Thanos hisses out.

“No, you didn’t.” Quill shakes his head, Thanos groans. “No, you didn’t.” 

Quill draws back, gun in hand. You reach with your good arm to catch him before he ruins this, but it’s too late. He hits Thanos with the side of the gun, Mantis loses her grip on him. She tries to regain her grip, but he hits Thanos again.

“No, you didn’t!”

“Quill!” Tony shouts, abandoning the gauntlet to grab Quill. “Hey, stop! Hey, stop! Stop!”

Peter pulls, it begins to slip. You jump over, grabbing the bottom. The suit explodes over your body, heels digging into the ground. “Pull!” You shout.

“Hey, stop! Stop!” 

“It’s coming, it’s coming.” Peter adjusts to get a better grip on it. “We got it, we got it!”

Thanos comes back at this moment, headbutting Mantis. The gauntlet is just slipping off his last finger, when he throws you, Peter and the few undead you have left. You land harshly, rolling once or twice before forcing yourself to get back on your feet. He then reaches up, grabbing Mantis by her foot, and flinging her off.

“Oh, god.” Peter says, jumping in the air to grab her. The spider legs come out, creating a case for them to roll in without touching the ground. 

Thanos kicks Drax off his leg, straight into Quill and the blue robot. He grabs the lasso that Stephen has been holding onto him, whipping it forward and letting go. You watch your boyfriend come closer to you, and continue to fly over your head.

Tony tries to blast Thanos, but he’s pissed now. All he does is swing his arm, batting Tony away. Drax, Quill and the robot get to their feet to run at him, then Thanos uses the Power Stone to stop them where they are, forcing them back on the cement.

Tony comes back, swinging at him with a nanotech blade. Thanos grabs his arm, headbutting him too. Thanos hits the staircase on the other side, doing backwards somersaults until he lands on his knees.

Thanos reaches up in the direction of a nearby planet that you can see. His gauntlet glowing purple as he presumably breaks off parts of the surface. With a closed fist, he throws it down, bringing the pieces to you. You duck against a rock, covering your head as brown fiery smoke leaves a path.

Tony tries to fly away, but he’s caught by one of the giant pieces of rock, crushing him beneath. The impact fucks up the gravity, as Drax, the robot and Quill take off into the air.

“Peter!” You shout, “Grab them!”

“Got it, Miss (L/n)!” He calls back, slinging to his feet.

The ground quakes each time a chunk lands on the surface. You throw your head back, searching to find Stephen, on a floating rock, not too far from Thanos. He moves his arms, bands of orange appearing, hitting his hands against the ground. The orange electricity jumps from each rock, until it reaches Thanos, exploding the surface.

Thanos jumps off, using the Power stone to send purple lightning back at Stephen. He’s prepared for this, it hits a shield, flying back at Thanos. Who shatters it into pieces with one punch from the gauntlet. He sucks it all up with the Space Stone, creating a vortex, spiraling in Stephen’s direction.

Stephen casts another shield, the vortex becoming a flurry of green butterflies, which is merely a distraction, as the next trick comes. Multiple arms come from him, spreading out, until they move in sync to become one, bursting apart as replicas of him take over the air, surrounding Thanos.

They move together, hundreds of lassos wrapping around Thanos’s arms, which he quickly breaks with the Power Stone. Static electricity takes over the air, until it’s just your boyfriend. 

Thanos reaches forward, beckoning Stephen to him. His gauntlet hand secures around his throat. “You’re full of tricks, wizard.” He reaches to grab the necklace, Stephen struggles to pull away. “Yet you never once used your greatest weapon.” He crushes the necklace in his hand. “A fake.”

He throws Stephen, and he rolls a few feet before stopping. When he doesn’t get up, you begin to move through the rock to get to him.

Tony sends nanotech to the gauntlet, keeping it from closing. He lands, breathing hard. “You throw another moon at me, and I’m gonna lose it.”

“Stark.” Thanos says. 

“You know me?”

“I do. Just like how I know that necromancer is (Y/n).” He says, you stop in your tracks, head snapping in his direction. “You’re not the only one cursed with knowledge.”

“My only curse is you.” Tony says, more explosives coming out of his back.

“Come on!” Thanos growls, letting the gauntlet take the hit. 

You begin to move faster, making it to Stephen. You land on your knees, ignoring the blossoming pain from doing it so many times today. You reach for his face with your only hand, moving his hair back.

“Stephen, babe.” You murmur, wincing when you use your other arm to rest on his chest. The technology in your ear tells you that he’s still breathing. You let out a breath.

You brush some of the debris from his face, forcing him on his back. 

Tony’s feet slam into Thanos, he does a backflip, landing on his feet, arms turning into giant hammers with blasters on the bottom. He hits Thanos into a rock, and when Thanos gets back on his feet, he tears the helmet right from Tony’s head. 

Another one forms in an instant, as he tries to block Thanos’s punch. It doesn’t work, Tony flattens on the rock.

“Stephen.” You whisper, “Come on.”

Thanos breaks the nanotech off of the gauntlet, using the Power stone to hit Tony with a powerful force, which Tony blocks in time with a shield. It comes around, like flames licking at a closed door. It forces Tony back, despite the pressure he’s putting to stay in place.

He throws the shield back when Thanos stops, nanotech transferring from a small space on his back, to his foot, which locks down Thanos’s gauntlet hand. Tony throws a powerful punch, landing it right across his face.

Thanos reaches up, brushing a part on his upper cheek, looking at his fingertips. “All that for a drop of blood.”

“(Y/n).” Stephen mutters. 

You look back down at him, finding his eyes open, on you. You nod, cupping his face with both hands. “I’m here. Are you okay?”

“Your shoulder…” He trails off, reaching to touch it, but he knows better than to make contact.

“I know.”

Thanos gets out of the trap, throwing Tony onto the ground, and laying in with the punches, slowly destroying the nanotech with each one landed. He picks him up, throwing him away.

Tony focuses the tech to his hands, taking away from a part on his thigh and hip, but Thanos blocks the rays with the purple glowing gauntlet. He swings at Tony’s face, taking the rest of the helmet off. Tony tries to throw a punch, it’s grabbed. With his only free arm, the nanotech forms a blade, Tony tries to stab, but Thanos breaks it off.

You watch in horror as he stabs it through the missing armor in Tony’s abdomen.

“No!” You let out, Stephen moves to sit up, you don’t stop him.

You clasp your hands together, raising them above your head, going to hit the ground, when a hand grabs them before they do. You make eye contact with Stephen, who shakes his head at you.

“It won’t help.”

“We should kill him.” You tell him. “We need to kill him.”

Tony lets out a grunt, Thanos walks him back until he sits on a rock. 

Stephen’s grip tightens. “This is how we win. This is the plan.”

“You have my respect, Stark.” Thanos says. “When I’m done, half of humanity will still be alive.”

You grit your teeth, “This isn’t right.”

“I hope they remember you.” Thanos holds his hand out, each stone glowing on his knuckles.

Stephen lets go of you, eyes on Thanos, “Stop.” He pants. “Spare his life and I will give you the stone.”

“Stephen.” You snap, “No!”

“No tricks.” Thanos says.

Stephen shakes his head, Thanos points the gauntlet at you two, instead.

“Don’t.” Tony groans, blood dripping out the corner of his mouth. 

Stephen slowly lifts his hand, a green haze showing before the Time Stone appears out of thin air, between his forefinger and thumb. Thanos hold out his other hand, palm up.

“Don’t do this.” You tell him, pressure behind your eyes. “Don’t, Stephen, I don’t want those people to die.”

He looks at you for a long second, before releasing the stone. It floats through the air, straight to Thanos. He lowers the gauntlet, taking the green gem in his hand. Your head falls, you let out a sob between gritted teeth.

When you look, Thanos is dropping the Time Stone into the slot on the knuckle of his thumb. “One to go.”

A beam hits the gauntlet, as Quill comes out of the rock and rubble, flying straight at Thanos, repeatedly firing. The same storm cloud that brought Thanos here has now materialized to take him back. He takes one step backwards, and it swallows him whole.

Quill flies right through where he should have made contact with Thanos. He gets to his feet, waving his gun. “Where is he?”

Tony uses the nanotech to heal where he’d been stabbed, letting out a sigh.

“Did we just lose?” Quill asks.

You let out a sob, hand covering your mouth. Stephen reaches to touch you, but you jerk away, “Don’t, don’t do that.”

“(Y/n)---”

You stumble down the rock, putting a few feet between you two.

Tony looks over at him. “Why would you do that?” 

“We’re in the endgame now.” He says.

You lace your fingers, resting your hands on the top of your head, ignoring the pain that stabs through your shoulder and ribs. You take several deep breaths in through your nose, letting it out through your mouth. Your throat is tightening, making it harder to breathe.

“Miss (L/n), I’ve got them!” Peter shouts, you glance over to see Mantis, Drax and the robot coming your way. “Oh no, Mr. Stark?” 

“(Y/n), come here, please.” Stephen says, “I don’t want you to regret this moment.” Your bottom lip juts out as you turn around to face him, finding him on his feet. He’s got a hand out in your direction. “I’m sorry, honey.”

The suit falls away from your body at the same time Tony dismisses his. You shake your head at him, refusing to go toward him. “All those people…” You lower your arms to wipe the tears. “I can’t.”

“We haven’t lost yet.” He tells you.

Peter pulls Tony to his feet. Mantis stops walking with Quill, looking up. “Something’s happening.”

Mantis’s feet begin to disintegrate, eating up the rest of her legs, turning into flakes of dust that get blown away in the wind. Your face drops. At once, the rest of her is gone.

Drax’s left half of his body begins to follow suit, he looks up, “Quill?”

He’s gone too, Tony starts forward, “Steady, Quill.”

It works faster this time, “Oh, man.”

You turn with an open mouth to look at Stephen, “No, no, no!”

His legs are turning into dust, you rush through the rocks to get to him in time. Maybe if you touch him, he’ll stay. Maybe your abilities will work in reverse.

“There was no other way, my love.” He whispers, breathing shallow.

“No!” You scream, arms swiping through the dust where he had been a second ago. “Stephen, no!”

“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice is trembling.

“God damn it!” You cry, face pressing into the rock. “Bring him back!”

“I don’t feel so good.” Peter says.

“You’re all right.” Tony says.

“I don’t—I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know…” He falls into Tony’s arms. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go, sir. Please. Please, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go.” Tony carefully lowers him to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

You bury your face in your hands, silently sobbing as you struggle to breathe. “Stephen…” You whisper. “Come back to me.”

It dawns on you.

You scoot away from the rock, sitting up on your knees. You blink through blurry eyes, fingers laced, hands above your head. “Please, work.” You whisper, and then slam your hands into concrete, pressing hard. “Stephen, rise!” 

The ground is still, not reacting to your words.

“I said,” You raise your hands, bringing them down again. “Rise! Bring me Stephen Strange!”

Finally, the rock begins to shake violently, you sit impatiently, waiting for him to sprout out of the ground where he’d turned to dust over. Instead, the planet settles, and you’re left with nothing.

“He did it.” The robot says.

Your labored breaths quickly turn into deep breaths that begin to even out, the more you think about her. You push to your feet, attentioning turning to her. This wouldn’t have happened if she didn’t come here. 

“You.” You snarl out, Tony looks up at you. “This is your fault.”

She looks at you, eyes widening slightly, “Me?”

“Did you really have to be that honest?” You snap, going down the dirt. “You had to tell Quill that she was dead?”

Her face twists. “He was going to beat it out of Thanos whether or not I—”

“You don’t know that!” You shout, “Now they’re dead, and it’s your fault!” You stop a foot away from her. “This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t here. We had him pinned down, we were right there! Peter had just gotten the gauntlet off of his arm!”

“(Y/n), this was always going to happen.” Tony interjects, “Stephen said it himself, this was the only way.”

“I don’t believe that.” You look down at him. “Stephen would never leave me on purpose. He’d never do that.”

“He would if it meant you’d be safe.”

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!! i am no longer accepting requests.

once again, i'm sorry it's long. i got carried away hehe. and i was determined to write the entire movie so i did.

[thewolvesof1998]

[from @911-on-abc] I am OBSESSED with all of your wips but tell me about your Fast and Furious AU because I loooooove the first movie in that series asdfghjk <3

Hey! @911-on-abc

@hoodie-buck @forthewolves also asked about this fic!

The premise:

Officer Eddie Diaz goes undercover as a street racer to get inside the Nash Family and prove their criminal activities. However, after meeting Evan Buckley, Bobby Nash’s adopted son, things get messy and lines begin to blur.  Eddie can’t seem to get Buck out of his mind and as time goes on Eddie gets pulled deeper into the family making him question everything and risk his own freedom. aka. Buddie the fast and the furious. It’s going to be hot and steamy with car races and guns and well a lot of smut.

previous snippet:

I haven't written much more for this fic, I really need to rewatch the first movie before I properly start but here is another small snippet just for your guys:

Eddie has seen a picture of Evan Buckley in the file he was given on the Nash family, but seeing him in person was another thing. 2D Evan was attractive but seeing how his lips stretch and the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiled at something Eddie says was dangerous. When Eddie managed to pry a laugh out of the other man, it was deadly. If Eddie was a better man he would stop this, there were other ways to get in with Bobby than using his son but he felt himself drawn to Evan and it was more than just the case that had him showing up at Bobby's Sandwich Shop hoping to see piercing blue eyes behind the counter. When he enters he's met with brown instead of blue as Maddie Buckley smiles at him. He returns the smile easily, out of all the Nash family Maddie has been the easiest to get to warm to him. "Buck, someone's here for you." She calls out, sending a wink Eddie's way. The beaded curtain which separates the back room parts as Buck steps through, "Who-oh hey Eddie, you here for your usual?" "Yeah," Eddie flashes him a smile, "tuna sandwich, no-" "-Crusts, I got you." "You always do," Eddie says and Buck blushes at that.

This is very rough and will probably change in the final draft but I hope you enjoyed it!

Thanks for your asks <3

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

Lil’ Nugget [Doom AU]

@raventroll80 has this amazing idea and story so far of a Troll!Slayer doom AU and allowed me to write a little thing... and in true Omie fashion the thing I tried to write turned into a large thing.

so have my nugget of a child's pov of meeting the Big Guy and them confusing each other for different reasons. Full story is here and under the cut n.n

Also the hidey-hole is DEFFENTLY just that good.

Story: Heather saw the big armored thing long before it (…him?) ever saw her. She had a really good hiding spot, because her mom had found it and put her inside. She was supposed to stay inside, and Heather was! She just found that she could pull a chair over to the big cabinet in the basement hiding spot and peek out from the big curtains mum had covered the window with. 

Heather could peer and peek very carefully, watching the things outside. Sometimes she could see a pretty spider walk by, or one of the big crocodiles would slowly march by. Sometimes one of the monsters would come close to the building they were hiding in. Sometimes her mom would see her and wave when coming back from her trips outside to look for supplies. 

She really liked it when her mom did that!

Her mom was so brave, and smart! And always found new coloring books and goodies. Before Heather’s mom left this last time, she had said they could leave the basement bunker soon. 

Mom had told Heather all about the boat she found and that still ran. She was so excited to go on the boat, Heather sort of remembered being on boats when her dad was still with her and Mom. It was before the monsters came, Heather missed her dad.

Heather missed her mom too.

Mom had been gone for days now, and Heather was trying really hard to save the soup cans that were her mom’s favorite. The girl had already eaten the pre-made meals her mom had left. Before she could open a tuna can and try to figure out how to make the yummmy tuna can noodle thing her mom would make, she felt the odd vibrations that meant that the Monsters were moving about. 

Heather had climbed on the chair, then onto the big dresser so she could reach the window. Heather had to be really slow as she peeked first, then climbed under the curtains, making sure it covered most of her head until she got used to the light outside. That’s when she saw the big thing.

It was a really Big Thing! 

She could see it… him? Him from all the way down the hill. She could not tell if he was making those odd vibrations like the Monsters did. Though the girl could tell that this new big thing did not like the monsters, or he did?

It almost looked like this strange armored big person was playing with the monsters at the distance. This was puzzling enough that Heather braced on the wall, so she could stay in spot better, though not lifting her head farther. Just watching as the Big One started uphill after one of the ‘smaller’ Monsters.

Were they playing chase?

The Big thing with the green and tan armor launched at the smaller monsters, tackling two and wrapping his arms around them. The monsters vanished into a swath of glowing, almost glittering stuff! 

That was cool! 

It was also really impressive when a bigger monster tackled this new big thing and they rolled onto one of the cars out there. Heather tilted her head and watched with wide eyes as part of the car- not the one her mom hid behind the building. 

Was her mom scared to come back because the monsters were playing with this new thing? Heather would be scared of being out there too, but then again, her mom could hear the monsters coming. 

Heather gasped as teh two rolled onto the yard of the building the bunker was under. Saw them wrestling and rolling over one after the other. Breaking apart and then launching back into the weird wrestling-tag game of theirs. But at one point the girl realized a big seeming difference between the new thing and the Monsters. 

Other than the new thing being the only one in full armor, he had a tail! 

It looked part metal, and Heather wondered if it… he… had lost part of the tail? Needed a new tail? Tails were important to animals she knew, was it just important to this person to keep balance?

Heather ducked down and looked behind her, not for the first time wondering why she could not have a tail like the cats or something pretty like with birds-? 

There was a massive thud and it had Heather yipping a bit and looking back up at the window. Brown eyes widening as she looked up through the window to see her reflection in the silver of this new person’s helmet. Heather reflexively ducked a bit from her nose just over the window still to just her eyes. 

Did the monster throw the big thing?

There was dirt up against the window and Heather gasped as the helmet tilted, and then who was inside seemed to focus on her. She was just able to see the basic outline of features of a face that was more human like then any of the monsters. There was a reflection of green, or so it seemed like under the visor. The girl watched as a just massive hand lifted- he was so much bigger then she had thought until right up close like this. 

He took up the whole window.

For a moment, a big hand lifted and touched the window that Heather was peering out of. Touching the glass between them and Heather reached up to touch the spot and then tapped the glass over one of the big finger pads. Two thick digits seemed as big if not bigger than her hand.

Then that bigger Monster was back, it seemed a lot more mad up close as its teeth sank into this bigger new person's shoulder and Heather yipped in fright. Just as she was dropping down she saw the Monster see her and she whined as she scrambled to climb down while the whole wall of the bunker seemed to vibrate and shiver.

Had Heather made the monster mad by distracting the big person from that weird game they were playing? 

She climbed down to the ground, almost missing the demonic arm reaching through the broken window. Just seeing the claws skimming close to her shoulder before it was jerked back and out. 

Heather grabbed the stuffed Easter bunny her mom gave her before all the monsters came. Running to the other side of the basement bunker and climbing under the big thick table that was in front of the cubby in the wall that her mom made for her. This was where Heather was supposed to hide if any of the monsters outside saw her.

Heather closed her eyes and pushed her face into her old easter bunny. Trying to use it to help control her breathing. She had to be quiet, no squeaking and had to make sure she did not feel herself making any sounds. 

Even when her legs twitched and tingled from being curled up in the hidey-hole. Even if it got cold, she had to be quiet and still, feeling the vibrations from above come and go until it did get cold from the broken window and Heather worried if she could fix it somehow. The bunker was supposed to be safe because the monsters could not smell them in here?

…right?

…could Heather stuff a blanket into the broken window once the monsters moved on if they got distracted?

It took a little longer than normal in this weird spot to recognize a certain vibration. The bunker door opening.

Was her mom back?

Heather stayed in her spot as something was off about the vibrations felt… odd. Not bad but still so odd that it confused her. When she was confused she was supposed to stay still and hide, or play dead.

If she was not so stiff and somewhat cramped Heather might have jumped as she felt the bigger vibrations then finally saw the big, metal foot being carefully placed. The air seemed to vibrate in that odd way it did with the invading monsters but… different. Not prickling a warning about something, like the all of you could be lost if those monsters found you. This was…

Rumble-y. 

It felt like what rock slides seemed like they should sound like. Like the earth was grumbling at you but not mad at you… like the vibration the big crocodile mommas were supposed to make? She could feel it in her chest and behind her ears. It made Heather wonder if this was what sound was like?

It was not dark in the bunker, but not as bright as outside. She could see the green armor of the big new person, and as they…he? He was lowering himself down and rested one of those massive hands on the ground. The basement bunker was so big normally, but now seemed like it was almost as cramped to this Big Thing as the hidey-hole was to her.

It took a moment and Heather realized the tan was not the color of his armor but dirt or clay from outside. It looked like it had been scrapped off mostly before he came into the bunker. There was another hand bracing on the ground that Heather could see from her spot and she tilted her head, surprised again that this bigger-big person seemed even bigger then before at the window.

She could see the main body of him as he seemed to be moving slowly through the bunker. He was moving to the bed away from the two windows, where Heather and her mom slept. The girl watched what she could, taking note of the slow, almost gentle movement from her point of view near the floor.

Movement had the girl’s attention. She blinked before remembering that this bigger-big person had a tail! …monsters outside did not have tails, did that mean this was one of those safe people her mom talked about finding?

…had he already found her mom and got her safe?

Could Heather ask if he could find her mom if the safe people had not?

The tail slid closer to her then swayed away, then slowly back, as if feeling where the table was and the underside of it. Heather was not really sure how or why, but she let go of her easter bunny and reached. Her fingers brushed against the metal tail, and it froze midair. 

There was that low, rumbly feeling again before the bigger-big person slowly lowered and turned. Looking back, and then keeping the tail still before lowering it as if to press against her hand then forearm. Then he lowered even more and Heather saw the helmet tilting to look back and then moving back and forth as if they were not sure she was there.

Was her hiding spot that good?

Heather pulled her hand back from the tail and gave a small wave, still staying quiet as this stranger started to turn around. Her hidey-hole mush be really good after all, he was acting like he was not sure she was there. Even sitting back before the helmet was taken off and set down on the ground. Then this Bigger than big person was backing up and lowering himself onto the ground to look under the table.

There was green before, large, piercing green eyes that scanned under the table before settling on her. Heather tilted her head, watched as this new person did the same, both just as confused as the other at what they saw. This bigger then big person seemed human, or human ish?

Those green eyes seemed to almost glow, watching her as intently back. Studying the girl as much as she was him. There was just something a little… off about him? Not really wrong though but Heather could not place it. His face did not look like the monsters, nor like he was mad at her.

Heather gave another little wave around her easter bunny again. She looked around and back, then she watched as one massive hand- again it seemed a lot bigger than by the window, it slid forward. Under the table and towards her, Heather watched the big gloved hand until it stopped just shy of the hidey-hole. Then inched closer for two digits to touch her arm and curled up knees. 

The hand was… warm, and Heather found herself focusing on those massive digits before reaching over and touching the thick… thick…

Claw?

Bigger than big, he had a tail, claws and glowing eyes?

Was… this not a human after all and one of those… the… what were they called? Heather remembered her mom trying to come up with a sign. Mountain man? Man of mountain? Mountain guard?

He definitely seemed as big as a mountain.

Those big claws were not hurting her, the big hand that was still edging closer was not snatching or grabbing but slid around her. Heather squeaked finally, saw the other finally blink before she was pulled out of the hidey-hole and then out from the table. This massive mountain of… big was moving, not dropping the girl as he sat back and upright. Both hands coming up and wrapping around Heather under her arms, holding her up between them and blinking slowly.

Wide brown eyes blinked back, the girl never looking away at first. Though looked really confused as this mountain person slowly brought her closer to and sniffed. He sniffed her? Her head and shoulder were definitely sniffed.

Heather tilted her head, and offered her easter bunny to the strange person for inspection next. It was the only thing she could think of doing. He could not have her easter bunny, but if he wanted he could sniff that too.

Those almost glowing green eyes did not seem as harsh as they did at first. The bigger than big man sniffed at the stuffed toy before shifting his hold. Heather was lowered into his lap and she looked around puzzled until one hand let go to awkwardly pat her hair and back. Heather shifted and still holding her easter bunny grabbed the other hand before it could leave. Just holding onto the top finger and then hid her face against his hand. She missed her mom, and all the hugs her mom would give Heather. 

This was not the same, but it was enough that the girl was willing to climb higher into the big lap and try to pat this nice mountain back on his closer wrist and thumb.

[jo-harrington]

For the AASB Blurb Game: Splinter cat 😌

Hehe oh I wanted someone to do something remotely cuddly. Although…splinter cat might not be…cuddly per se.

Oh well. ENJOY MY LOVE!

Find other Hymns of Heaven here.

And find the Master List for As Above, So Below here.

May 1984

"How much further?"

"Just a little ways ahead."

"Are you sure you know where you're going?"

"Why? Don't you trust me sweetheart?" Eddie glanced over his shoulder at you and smirked as he saw you dramatically trudging along behind him.

"Yeah but a hike through the woods isn't exactly my idea of a pleasant afternoon," you explained.

To be fair, this wouldn't have been Eddie's first choice either. He could take you to a million and one places around Hawkins, take you on a drive everywhere and nowhere while listening to the mixtape he had yet to give you, bring you back to the trailer where the two of you could just...make out a little bit...

Or a lot.

...the possibilities were endless.

He paused for a second to let you fall in step with him and offered his hand to hold as you walked. You took it immediately and he beamed proudly.

"I know it isn't a barn burner of a date," he began. "But I really appreciate you going along with it."

This was just...something special that he wanted to share with you. He knew once you got there, you would understand.

"Oh, I mean...I..." You were suddenly bashful. "I wasn't really trying to be difficult. I really do like spending time with you."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh." You looked down at your joined hands and swung them a little. "I'm really glad I came to Hawkins and met you Eddie."

It was an instantaneous feeling. Everything was a little lighter, brighter. The perpetual weight on his shoulders lessened. It was like one of the candles that had been snuffed out inside of him had sparked back to life, just by a declaration as simple as that.

Eddie was the one to become bashful now, as he tucked his face into his shoulder the slightest bit and let the curtain of his hair hide him from your adoring gaze.

Before long the two of you reached the broken husk of a fallen tree and he smiled.

"Oh we're here!" Eddie let go of your hand and motioned for you to stay back for a second. He slipped his backpack off his shoulders as he cautiously approached the tree.

It was a little sanctuary in and of itself, the broken fragments of the trunk had created a shelter against the elements. Parts of it were covered in moss and wild mushrooms that looked enticing but were probably extremely poisonous.

Eddie finally called you over once he was sure it was safe, and as you approached and questioned what it was he found, he began taking treasures out of his pack: a little ball of yarn he grabbed from Mrs. Wilson's basket, a few cans of tuna, and an old moth-eaten sweater that was destined for rags if it didn't go to this noble cause.

A soft, grey mother cat lounging within the protective cradle of the fallen tree with her litter of precious kittens. Her vigilant eyes darted from Eddie to you as a soft coo exited from your lips and she flicked her tail judgmentally.

"She's one of the cats from the trailer park," Eddie explained as he presented his gifts to her majesty. "I, uh...I feed them sometimes. I don't know if they're feral...but I think Lucy used to have a family and they left her behind."

"Isn't that always the way," you muttered and slowly offered your hand for sniffs. After a few seconds, a head was immediately pushed into your palm, demanding pets, and your fingers sunk into her fuzzy, velvety hair. "Lucy?"

"I named her," he admitted, "after Lucy Pevensie. From The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. Because she was the Queen of all the cats, but still the most friendly, and gentle. Aren't you Lou?"

Eddie popped the tab on the tuna can and Lucy's head immediately retreated from your touch as she became aware of the promise of food.

"She disappeared one day," Eddie continued, and presented her with the feast. "And...you know the whole hierarchy was in disarray, but she always meows when I call her. So I just...started looking and found her out here. She's crazy smart too, to have found shelter so she could have her babies safely."

Your attention turned from Lucy to the tree itself. The dead bark was scored deeply, probably by a lightning strike or some great beast of the forest that overestimated how much weight the brittle wood could actually hold. You ran your finger along one of the shallower scratches and then hummed as you looked back at Eddie.

"How sure are you," you began. "That she didn't just knock the tree down herself?"

Eddie scoffed and looked at you as though you had grown a second head.

"A tiny little kitty like Lou?"

"How sure are you that she's just a cat?" you questioned. "She could be a shapeshifter. Maybe she's something bigger. Look at these scratches."

"She's just a cat," Eddie insisted.

"Have you ever heard of a Splintercat?" you asked, eyes narrowed. Eddie tilted his head in thought, and wondered if you were teasing him or...

But you wouldn't.

...or if you really knew something that he didn't.

When Eddie hesitated to answer, you continued.

"It's this...well it's this mythical Cat, I guess. Legendary, folklore, that kinda deal. And it has spines along its body and it's big and ferocious, but it attacks trees so that it can get...I don't know, little critters and honey and all sorts of things to eat. But it leaves the tree broken and covered in...scratches and grooves.

"They don't have very good temperament," you scrunched your nose and reached out again to scratch behind Lucy's ear as she munched on tuna happily. "But maybe Queen Lou here knew she was gonna have her kittens. So she changed her shape a little, and her attitude, to be a little friendlier, and then found a big old sap like you to feed her the good stuff.

"No need to knock any more trees down when big, scary metalhead Eddie Munson is fighting for your honor and bringing you Chicken of the Sea, huh?" you asked in a baby voice.

You looked up to find Eddie staring at you with the most dumbfound, lovesick expression on his face.

"What?"

"Do you wanna get married or something?" he asked. You let out a honk of laughter and Lucy bristled under your touch until you shushed her. "No I'm serious that was...the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Fuck you, Munson, it was not," you giggled.

"It was," he insisted.

"Proposal worthy?" Your eyebrows couldn't get any higher on your forehead.

"Well, if the Queen here gives it her blessing," Eddie got to his feet and bowed before you and Lucy. "It would be my honor to be yours until the end of eternity."

You laughed again and got to your feet to swat at his arms and legs. The two of you chased each other around the clearing until Lucy let out an annoyed meow and retreated into her little shelter to snooze.

The Queen grew tired of your antics, so Eddie bowed again and encouraged you to curtsey, then you took your leave.

For days, Eddie thought it was just another cute and silly thing that he was growing to love about you.

But it was funny...

Because the next time he went to the forest to find Lucy and her kittens, they were gone. And several more trees in the area had been knocked down, covered in deep scratches and splinters.

[lizziexmeow]

TODAY'S UPDATE (241011) PART 1

00:00 SVT ‘LOVE MONEY FAME’ TEASER 2

00:00 BTS SEOKJIN ‘SUPER TUNA’ WEVERSE NOTICE

00:12 SVT HOSHI WEVERSE COMMENT

00:15 SVT MINGYU IG STORY BBC

00:52 BTS SEOKJIN WEVERSE POST

13:00 BTS SEOKJIN ‘SUPER TUNA’ RELEASE

13:05 TXT YEONJUN FEATURING FOR KATSEYE ‘TOUCH’ RELEASE

16:00 SVT WEVERSE MAGAZINE

17:26 SVT WOOZI IG POST

17:37 BTS NAMJOON IG STORY

[jojosleftyadventure]

I might as well post a handy (haha) dandy guide on how I draw my limbs too. Their heads are literally just wrists/ankles, so they don't really have features aside from eyes, a mouth, and hair. Facial hair also adds the illusion of them having chins without necessarily giving them a jawline.

[randomrabbidramblings]

Random speculation about "Rayman in The Phantom Show"

[A bit of story related theories from what we have at the moment. I only know Rayman's lore and abilities in a very superficial way, so if you know more about him and want to add something, feel free to!]

First of all: I find it strange the objective is just to fix Phantom's Space Opera Network's ratings… Will it make this a more open worlded Tower of Doooom? Nothing wrong with that, I'm just wondering if there will be more plot to this than we got told. How could Phantom possibly convince the Heroes to do such a thing after Kingdom Battle? And where would his expected song fit into the story? He seems like he's gone on the good side, so… no Rayman roast? Unless it's a friendly roast? I find Phantom's heel-face turn a bit odd.

[I'm very torn between hoping for him to betray the Heroes at the end and having him as a final boss, or actually having a friendly (or at least passive) Phantom. Both lead to a very fun time, lol. Evil Phantom thinking he got them all while Beep-0's like "I told you guys!" and nice Phantom trying (in vain) to convince the Heroes he's not a villain this time.]

The enemies seem to be all the kinds of Darkmess infested baddies we've already seen in Sparks of Hope and The Last Spark Hunter. They are called "supporting crew" by the narrator, so maybe the place isn't infested with them, unless it's all an excuse to hide the fact Phantom's show has disaster ratings because of them.

There are Darkmess eyes and puddles too, so looks like the DLC is set in between the previous adventures and Cursa is still around. Or Phantom somehow managed to get his hands on some of Cursa's minions, but this doesn't explain the Darkmess.

We can kind of piece together what's happening in this scene: seems like Phantom just made his entrance after the lift scene seen in the trailer (there's its staircase behind him) with Rabbid Peach and Rabbid Mario reacting accordingly. We can also get some info about the environment. It seems to be the entrance we already saw in the trailer. On the corners of the floor there are dirt mounds? Is that dust or sand? Is the building in a desert or just very dirty? In Phantom fashion, like the old theater in Spooky Trails, the place seems a bit run down with ripped wallpaper revealing bricks, torn curtains and glass on the floor. At this point I'm wondering if the problems with the Space Opera Network are due to the Darkmess infesting the place or to Phantom's... very poor understanding of "keeping the workspace free of hazards".

This is the lift Phantom is seen coming out from in the trailer. And of course it's one of the few things not damaged in some way. He has standards! I don't know what's with the green color theme for him instead of blue, but I like it! I imagine this lift connects the various sets we've seen. In this floor there seems to be some minor sets for different shows, like a cooking show with Alkementor, some kind of music show with DJ Cheep Tuna (no more stranded on Beacon Beach, Augie seems to have finally paid him, lol) and one with a red Spark. I think it's some kind of dating game? There are three hearts on the background screen and the floor has the shape of a pink letter.

Phantom in his intro scene and on the poster has three spotlights on him. Probably a callback to the ones that kept him invulnerable in each phases of his battle in Kingdom Battle or maybe they are hinting at another boss fight. Either way, he sure does seem like he's very afraid of ending up like last time with the spotlights following him even when he's inside the lift, lmao. It would be funny if he sometimes popped up in places where physically there shouldn't be any spotlights, but still lights shine on him for some unknown reason

Finally, I wonder if there will be Phantom's backstory portaits like we had with the Wardens. They could explain a lot of things, especially how and why he's apparently not evil anymore. I don't know how they managed a (supposedly) good guy Phantom, but I bet he's going to be very annoying (in a good way, lol) and a very insufferable boss to his crew. Reminds me of another insufferable, drama-causing Rabbid from Spooky Trails we've already encountered.

[ask-impatient-samurott]

Kappa shot up in the bed, breathing heavily.

What was that? What an unsettling dream... Kappa, after a few moments, let herself relax into the pillow behind her head.

Wait, pillow? Bed?

Kappa looked around. She was in a curtained-off room in a Pokemon Center somewhere. She was laid up in a bed with a cruddy, thin blanket thrown over her that greatly contrasted the fluffy pillow behind her.

This made her realize that the pillow behind her was actually one she brought from home. Glancing at the corner of the room, she saw her helmet and seamitars piled next to a backpack she didn’t recognize. However, she could smell her uneaten powdered doughnuts Morelet had given her within.

She reached a shaky hand up to rub her ears. She felt naked without her helmet.

A quiet voice came from behind the curtain. Nema peeked through, surprised that Kappa was conscious.

[Nema]

“Your voice is really shaky. Are you feeling any better?”

[Kappa]

“Uh-uhm. I dunno- I just woke up, uh...”

[Nema]

“Hey- it’s okay! Just take a breath. Or a few. Take several breaths.”

Nema wobbled over to the side of the bed and sat the large brown bag down next to it. To Kappa, it smelled absolutely divine. Her mouth watered and she realized just how hungry she was.

“Bleck- this smells awful. But! I got it specially for you.” Nema pulled out a plate covered in tin foil. She visibly gagged as she removed the tin foil to reveal a steaming plate of Tuna Pasta Salad. This dish didn’t usually smell as strongly of tuna that was left to ferment in a can for a while, but Nema had it specially made and filled with tasty fish and spices that would really satisfy any fish-eating water type that made the ocean their home. For example: a Samurott such as Kappa.

Kappa practically frothed at the mouth as the hurriedly snatched the salad from Nema, who, just as hurriedly slapped a fork on the plate for Kappa to eat with before she began using her hands.

[Kappa]

“Ghmmmffgg- fank you Nemba.” Kappa said, mouth full.

[Nema]

“You’re welcome! Just- eat it quick so I can stop smelling it.”

[1/3]

<PREV - NEXT>

[tunastime]

hello tuna betuna :floshed: um umm um um how about 17 for the spotify wrapped ask meme!!! :3333

HI SHEPHERD o/ it is. actually so funny that you picked 17. I love this song so dearly but it is also the title track to my original work. so we talked this over and I know you said I should write roxas because you like him and you know about him. so I did. tumblr: meet roxas, a character that I used to play in d&d that I turned into a little guy to write about.

(823 words)

Yellow sunlight spills into the empty showroom. For a brief moment, Roxas stands in the sun, gold across the highs of his face and his shoulders. He lets his hands fall from the heavy curtains normally obscuring the front shop window. He can make out one letter of the dark signage above his front door: just the X, lined in gold paint, done by his hand. The sky is clear, cloudless and cold to the eye, and the sun still hides behind the rows of buildings crowded into the shopping district, similarly pooling into homes and other businesses. He frowns, then, and turns away from the window, eyes sweeping across the room. It’s still quiet in the balance of awake and sleeping, where the town has yet to fully creep from their homes and into the district. 

It’s in this time that Roxas spends his morning, dusting off the high shelves and lighting small, rolling fires in the lanterns and the oven. Roxas makes his way through the still air of the front shop and to the conjoining, open air workshop. Tools and materials all sit neatly in their places, save for the heavy stacks of unburned wood and charred bits left over. With thick, leather gloves, Roxas loads the furnace, stacking wood in haphazard piles inside the main oven. The heat will travel up through the rolling oven and to the deck where he works, melting silver and platinum, and further on to smaller stations, for gold, copper, and other precious metals. For a moment, Roxas lingers in the cold winter air near the furnace. Tugging off one glove, he holds out his hand. With a snap, fingers pointing to the bark, the wood ignites, crumbling from the inside as flames lick the surface. The tips of his fingers turn ashy grey as he withdraws, shutting the furnace door.

As he rises, he looks up. The stack of the furnace reaches high above his head, over the buildings, and passes his upper story window, where his bedroom sits. The sky is still bright, and the small swaying waves of grey smoke do nothing to obscure it. Roxas wipes his sooty hands on his apron, ash still sticking to his fingers from his conjuration, as he wanders inside.

It’s an hour to opening, and Roxas, owner, manager, and sole employee of The Phoenix, stands in the center of his shop, hands on his hips, apron around his waist, tail swishing idly. For a town of retired adventurers, parents, old politicians, and the occasional traveler, there’s still enough to line his pockets and keep his building. The shop collects dust, and he cleans it. The fire goes stale, and he relights it. He turns metal into knives, swords, gun barrels, dishes, cutlery, and firepokers. For a moment, Roxas studies a bend in the floor, the flat of the ball of his foot pressed against it. He leans, flicking his tail, and releases. There’s a shop knock on the door as he stands by himself.

Snapped out of his trance, Roxas blinks. The time on the large, hanging clock says it’s still the same time as when he checked it a few moments prior. He frowns, wiping his hands again, flicking soot onto the floor as he paces over to the door. He peeks through the curtain, seeing the back of a head obscured by a thick scarf, before he opens it. The door sticks, jingling open as he forces it. The person turns. 

Her face is obscured by the thick, delicately patterned scarf she has wrapped around her head, but her eyes peek through, small, and brow furrowed. She holds herself as if she isn’t certain where she is, or would prefer not to be there at all, weight shifting on both sides. For a moment, she and Roxas hold eye contact, Roxas’ head tilting as she stares him down.

“You do commission work, yes?” she finally asks, voice coming sharp through her winter scarf. Roxas nods, stilted.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I do. I do commission work.”

The woman holds out a small, leather brown envelope with a small, green seal.

“I would like to commission you.”

“Oh,” Roxas says. “Would—normally I sit with a client and ask them questions—I can host you upstairs, or—”

The woman shakes her head.

“No,” she says. “Everything you need is there.”

Roxas blinks. The words won’t surface from his chest as he stares at the letter in his hands, the seal swirling in his vision.

“Right—” he starts. But when he looks up, the woman in front of him is gone. A breeze blows through the small street, cold on his exposed knuckles and ears and nose. He shivers, leaning out into the street, trying to catch a glimpse of red or gold or yellow. Instead, he finds nothing but cobbles and pavement and people. Roxas shuts the door against the cold street.

The letter weighs heavy in his hands.

(ask game is closed for now!)

[risualto]

“You should go out,” my mother said, through a screen.  Of course, having her voice in my ear for two decades meant that I could hear exactly how she would say it--she would try to sound like she was scolding me, but we would both hear the nostalgia in her voice from her own missed opportunities that made it sound soft, and I would pretend not to notice.

I, of course, complained that it was hot (81, I’d say, and then wonder again at when I would get around to learning to translate Fahrenheit to Celsius without manually calculating it step-by-step).  But I did go out to the bakery my mother suggested, instead of the little sushi joint I’d been thinking of.  That bakery, of course, was delicious.  One of the most delicious bakeries in the whole city, and one of the most memorable restaurants anywhere in the world, for me.  It just hadn’t been what I’d planned.

Shifting the planned sushi meal farther ahead in time was easier, ultimately, than taking the plate off the board and throwing it out on the designated trash day, so I went there for dinner, instead.  I’d never been to that restaurant for dinner, actually.  As I approached, I realized that meant the menu was possibly different in the evening, and the sign outside didn’t make it obvious how. 

Still, I went in, and found the place busier than I’d ever seen it: four people at the six-chair bar, with none of the three other tables occupied.  The hostess smiled at me, a little surprised but clearly happy I’d come back, and gestured to the seat at the corner of the counter.  It did take a little deciphering to figure out the evening menu, but I settled on a course of nigiri that seemed similarly priced to my favorite lunch set.  The names of the exact nigiri included were nowhere to be found on the menu, but I’ve only ever discovered a few sushi fish that I dislike.  (The only food allergy I’ve ever found is kumquats, and--more crucially--I have a good poker face.)  The moment my order was accepted, I quickly pulled my hair out of its tie and swept it over my left shoulder, both to make a curtain between myself and the other customers, and to avoid any attention on the back of my neck by the three older men sitting there.

The first point was, as it turned out, a complete failure.  Putting up an obvious sign that I didn’t wish to be spoken to was no deterrent when weighed against my obviously out of place features.

“The couple over there,” the chef said to me as he placed the second piece of nigiri in my course on the bar before me, “would like to buy you a roll.”

(She eats sushi!  She eats Japanese fish.  How? I heard, from over there.)

“Is there anything you’d like?  Maguro?  Anago?“ asked the chef.  His prompts were the two fish I said specifically that I loved last time I came here.  Tuna and saltwater eel.

I turned towards the over-there side of the bar and bowed my head.  “Thank you,” I said, and looked at the chef.  “Anago, please.”

“With cucumber?”

“Oh, yes!”

“Anago-kyuu maki, understood!” said the chef, loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear.  I ducked behind my hair, but kept a smile on my face whenever I wasn’t eating.  Now that I’d been offered food by strangers old enough to be my parents, to look ungrateful would be just about the worst social faux-pas I could commit, and I would prefer to be remembered for my sushi preferences than a bad attitude by the one sushi restaurant within walking distance of my apartment.  Some of my colleagues frequent this area, and half of my job is being a cultural ambassador, after all.  Of course, anyone who has been such a thing understands that this actually means you’re a local celebrity.  Your public presentation is an open invitation to speculate on not just your character, but the character of all foreign people.

Doesn’t that just make sense?

Now that I’d revealed myself to be capable of at least elementary Japanese, though, hair curtain or no, the two businessmen closer to me than the couple-over-there were determined to talk to me.  “Where are you from?” asked the older one.

I told him.  America.

“The West half or the East half?” he asked.  Seiban or touban.  Of course, if the words had been written down, I would have realized their meaning instantly--West half or East half--but I’d never heard them spoken before.  The rarity of those words could be equated to asking something like, Occidental America or oriental America?  With a few seconds to compute, one might be able to arrive at an understanding even without knowing the phrases fully, but a non-native speaker would be thrown for a loop.  My confusion must have showed, because he rephrased the question.  “West coast or East coast?”  Higashi-kaigan or nishi-kaigan.  Longer words, but ones that had been drilled into my head in my second year of language study.

When I answered him this time, the older man grinned and started telling me everything he knew about the area--the local baseball team, the time he’d seen Otani Shohei play there on TV, the abundance of casinos and how fascinating the process of minting casino chips was.  His companion, who I realized quickly was both younger and probably subordinate to the excited man, watched me respond softly in disbelief, and his colleague with the same, but to an exceptional degree.  I must not have been the first person to entertain this man’s excited tangents, I realized.

He was so excited to tell me all about how incredible the fish was in this city--”It’s a great success that you came here, and not to Tokyo!”--and this shop in particular, that I couldn’t help feeling a little warm to it.  “If Osaka has okonomiyaki and takoyaki,” he said, listing their local specialties, “then this shop has seafood.”  I chuckled.  “She even understands jokes!” he said.  I laughed.

Despite not being part of this conversation, clearly the couple-over-there were listening, because the chef came back to ask me if I liked shrimp tempura.  I said yes, and he told me that I was being offered some by that same couple.  So I turned over there and bowed, a little deeper this time, and thanked them a little more properly.  The husband shook his head, laughing, and pointed to his wife.  All her doing, he told me without words.  I tried to catch her eye, but she was hiding from my line of sight as if embarrassed by her own generosity, so I just bowed again.  She did assure me--through the chef--that I could take the food to-go if it was too much on top of my meal already.  (I did, in the end.)

And now it was almost a competition, because the older businessman turned to the chef and asked if he had anything in specially today, and to get three plates of it.  The chef did--I think what he had was a specific kind of tuna meat, but certainly not one I had ever heard of before.  I did, however, receive a thorough lecture on how it was very different from any preparation of fish that could be achieved in America.  (Pointing out that this man probably had no idea of all the ways fish were prepared in America would have thrown a wrench into the evening, so I just agreed that I’d never had this before.)

So I ate some of the most delicious maybe-tuna I’ve ever tried, and a free roll of eel and cucumber, with a box of shrimp tempura sitting beside me on the counter, as I explained that food was my initial inspiration for wanting to study Japanese, with music and history as close seconds.  And in return, besides the food, I got recommendations for a few tourist spots in the city I hadn’t been to yet, along with the name of a comedy performance troupe to look up on YouTube.

In the end, the couple-over-there refused to be outdone in terms of generosity.  They paid for my whole meal, telling me that I just had to make sure to come back to the restaurant.  I’d lived there a year by this point and never met them before, so it seemed unlikely I’d ever meet them again.  But it did make me think I should, perhaps, go to that restaurant for dinner every now and then to increase my chances, and perhaps speak to them.

The one point that everyone kept going back to during my meal, though, was that I understood the humor.  I knew when they were joking and when they weren’t, and that somehow served as proof of my mastery over the language.

Actually, though I didn’t say as much to anyone in the shop since pride has always been my fatal flaw, mastery would be a strong word.  The man I primarily spoke to, the businessman, was older (and so using very casual speech), excited, and at least a few beers in.  I grasped the literal meaning of maybe 70% of what he said to me, and that’s being generous.  And at times, I didn’t understand exactly what part of his delivery should make something he said particularly funny.

It’s not that I’m fluent in Japanese humor, or even textbook Japanese.  It’s that the way your mouth curls and your tone embellishes your words is more universal than you want to think.  I didn’t say this, though.  Not because I lacked the vocabulary to say it in Japanese, but because I lacked an opening in the mood to slide something like that into the discussion.  English and Japanese both have an expression that means “to read the room,” after all.

Being able to read people, however, is no substitute for learning languages.  After all, I did my best for the beginning of the night to close myself off as much as possible, hoping not to be approached.  Soft voice, no eye contact, hiding my face--and yet, things worked out the opposite way I’d hoped.  Not badly, of course, but differently to what I wanted.

It is a crutch, however.  One that got me enough of a leg up for about $35 of free sushi and a very good night, in the end.