#I always feel bubbly even after I've read them a hundred times

[evesaintyves]

Trick or treat! 🍭

thank you @annabtg !!

i know you like jily so im writing you a @jilymicrofics i guess? i've never really written these two characters before except as guest appearances but here goes

(863 words)

Scouring charms were invented by a man, it's obvious, because it takes about nine passes to get the dried-up spat-out Pablum off the wall. James thinks the mess is cute and she should leave it—it's almost like art, he said once, the spatter-pattern of flecks on the wallpaper. He was raised with house-elves and never learned to clean. Right, our little Jackson Pollock, Lily muttered, and James didn't know what she was talking about.

Every day he disappears into the box room and polishes a broom he hasn't ridden in months. Sometimes the two of them duel in the back garden, with Harry in his highchair behind an iridescent bubble of defensive spells. James rarely gets a shot past Lily, but when he does, Harry cackles in his strangely bawdy toddler way and smacks the biscuit crumbs around on his tray. It can feel a bit like they're ganging up on her. James swaggers up, clears up her boils or whatever else he's hexed her with, and then murmurs in her ear, why don't we put him in his cot and have a lie down?

It wasn't so long ago that she'd have giggled and dragged him upstairs by the hand. Now she says I really ought to degnome the garden, they're digging up all our leeks, and for just a second there's a look on his face like he might suggest they just do it right here in the garden, but he doesn't. He doesn't offer to help, either. He scoops Harry up, takes him off to build a castle with the blocks she's always somehow stepping on. She zaps the gnomes with disproportionate venom and spends most of the afternoon outside.

This life looks so much like what she'd imagined, little cottage, ivy climbing round the door, kitten and baby and husband cuddled up in the big downy bed, but it feels so different—like when you look at a photograph and your face is asymmetrical and weird, different from the mirror, familiar but wrong. These curtain-twitching, lay-low, you're joking me Mad-Eye he's been a mate since forever days of known unknowns and unknown unknowns and nightmares, constantly, of being chased; worse, almost, this ennui of stuffing nappies down the overflowing bin and picking up the hundred socks James somehow peels off daily.

When she was a girl, the morning glory on the chain-link fence used to turn their purple faces to follow her. She still remembers, and sometimes recites in her head, the fussy formulas for wolfsbane, veritaserum, the little trick for making a paste of aconite with the side of her knife.

Even Petunia, these days, is leaving her boy with a sitter and going to cocktail parties, holidays by the sea—that's what Mum said in her very last letter, anyway. She sounded so proud. Lily used to think she'd done well for herself, pulled off quite a trick, married for love and got money in the bargain, but now she might as well be in some pebbledash in Cokeworth, sweeping the kitchen lino. At least she'd get to go out to the shops.

Ten scouring charms later, she can still feel the grit of cereal bits when she runs her nails over the wall. The wallpaper's going discoloured, there, and it's hard to tell anymore what's paisley and what's Pablum. Lily half-remembers a story she read, or maybe heard about, where a woman falls ill and goes spare looking at the wallpaper in her sickroom. The thing is, Lily can't imagine being bedridden, going mad. Who has the time? Who would do the laundry?

I feel like a waste of talent, she whispers to James that night, in that shifting awkwardness before sleep, when she's wondering if he'll reach for her and trying to decide if she wants him to. This time he does: slides his hand down her arm and interlocks his fingers with hers.

You're not a waste of anything, he tells her. He presses a kiss to her neck and then buries his nose in the hair behind her ear. After a minute: This isn't a waste. It's like school. Like detention. We just have to get through it so we can go on with life.

I never got detention, she says.

Well, I'm sorry. You missed a lot of fun.

Lily snorts.

Seriously, James says. Maybe I'm just stir-crazy, but I actually miss it.

You just miss chatting shit with Sirius.

Well yeah, all right? But I miss those times. Even the boring, shitty times. One of these days—

Lily rolls her eyes. Oh, stop.

—No, let me finish, one of these days Harry will be off at school and we'll be moaning, oh, I miss when he was just little, getting peas in the carpet—

You're not the one cleaning up the peas.

Well, you're better at that sort of thing. But I do about three-quarters of the nappies.

Lily sucks her teeth. That's true.

See, he says, sounding delighted. We agree!

Harry and the kitten are both snoring, and five minutes later, James is too. When Lily finally closes her eyes, the paisley-swirls and speckles are there inside her eyelids.

[theshinobiway]

you’re literally my favorite naruto blog i love your stuff so much!! you write and understand team gai better than kishimoto!

THAT IS SUCH A HIGH COMPLIMENT?? Thank you so much for that anon! 

I’d hesitate to say I understand any character better than the original author, but I certainly put more focus on those characters more than Kishimoto--hence the Team Gai blog. In one way, I understand that Team 7 was always the flagship on the series, but I certainly disagree with Kishimoto when it comes to their decided endings. 

As an author, I know that it can be overwhelming to manage multiple characters and to neatly tie up hundreds of plot points, but for characters that “broke out“ like Lee and Gai, I wonder sometimes if Kishimoto stifled his own creativity with those characters to keep Naruto in the focus. It would certainly explain why the ending didn’t seem to fit the original premise for many of his characters.

If I could give anyone general advice for writing any character that isn’t your original work, it would be the following:

If you are intending to keep their characterization as close to canon as possible (which is what I do to preserve the authenticity of the character that everyone already loves) I would like to stress the importance of looking for character qualities through a non-biased lens. 

What I mean is this: In fandom, we often like to create caricatures in our head of what characters are like based on a few of their major qualities. Hence, this is why Team Gai is always SO out of character when I see them written in the fandom. If we’re being honest, here’s a comparison chart of how Team Gai is portrayed versus how they actually are; Be warned that I was extremely blunt with these.

“Fandom” Team Gai vs. Reality:

Fandom!Might Gai: Springtime of Youth! TALKING IN ALL CAPS! KAKASHI, RIVAL! Portraying this man with sex appeal, ever? Either you mean it as a joke at his expense or you’re REALLY into KakaGai.

Real!Might Gai: Goofy, but with Sagelike Wisdom. Youth is a theme of his teachings and a catchphrase, but he acts like an adult most of the time. EXTREMELY Emotionally literate--Gai is not oblivious! He can read people really well! Will know if you’re hiding something, even if he can’t remember your face. Can lose his temper if his loved ones are threatened or if his direct teachings are disobeyed. Gai gets tired too--Lee can wear him out! Goofy old sensei who combines humor and wisdom with some of his eccentricities. 

Fandom! Rock Lee: Springtime of YOUTH, 2.0! Very Stiff Ways of Speaking! Lovesick! ‘Creepy’ if he’s not the love interest of the work. Cinnamon roll who would never get mad, ever. Feels like Gai 2.0. Woah when he takes off his weights he’s really cool!

Real!Rock Lee: A SERIOUS CHARACTER. Lee can be goofy with his friends as much as anyone, but Lee’s usual expression is serious! He’s self-motivated to an unreal degree. Diligent, tidy, and disciplined. Hopeless Romantic. Very gullible! Extremely idealistic, to the point of possibly deluding himself. Minor codependent behavior exhibited towards role models. Hot-Blooded. Adores cute things. Secretly envious of those around him. Lower self-confidence. Seeks approval.

Fandom!Tenten: Loves weapons, but does she have a personality besides that? Let me just fill one in. Portrayed often as either uptight and like a bully, or as a slightly more tomboyish Sakura. “The Tomboy” archetype. Tenten wants romance just like every other girl, what do you mean? Lovesick/heartbroken over Neji, stays single for the tragic romance. She was Neji’s training partner! She can’t stand Gai or Lee and looks down on them. Often has weak characterization because she gets sidelined into being a love interest. (...and then her entire character revolves around her (male) love interest.)

Real!Tenten: Loves weapons of all kinds, especially Kunai. Impulsively buys weapons she likes. Doesn’t understand many of the girlish inclinations like love and delicacy, but is not anti-feminine. Has canonically stated that she has never been interested in love or relationships. Has never had a crush on anyone. [Also, she was not Neji’s exclusive training partner, she was simply his training partner for the third round of the Chunin exams. ALL of Team Gai regularly trained together or in different pairs at any point in time. This was a comment that was taken way out of context by shippers and has spread false information ever since. This fact is no more real than Lee "balding."] Is tactless, but definitely not a bully. She loves to investigate and play pranks, especially when older. Balances work and rest. Is the “glue” of her team. Cares about her self-image. Has deep insecurities about how others perceive her, and constantly compares herself to her team.

Fandom!Neji: “Destiny Boy.” Either a brooding, calloused douchebag or a brooding, “bad boy” douchebag. Goes out of his way to say mean things OR doesn’t utter a single word for the entire story. His and Shino’s personalities are indistinguishable. No emotion. Stiff. Not empathetic in the slightest. Unhealthy portrayal of his personal relationships, even his friendships. Who would want to be around this guy? I’ll just make him the ‘strong and silent’ type with anger issues and snarky one-liners and call it a day.

Real!Neji: Disciplined and traditional. Reserved, not emotionless. Has a WIDE range of emotional expression and communicates primarily on the nonverbal level. Speaks in either metaphors or to the point--it depends. Some modicum of patience for foolish behavior. Master of projecting his problems. Is only a ‘bully’ pre-exams, but was already on the comedown by the time we’re introduced to him and his team. Deeply emotional at the core, but can be overwhelmed in his by own emotions, especially when it comes to his ego. Learns to maturely manage himself later on. Very perceptive of his surroundings. Cares very deeply for Hinata, his team, and his close friends. Hinata is his closest female relationship whether you like it or not. Witty and sometimes blunt, he doesn’t go out of his way to be a jerk once he’s older. Fits into the respected "big brother" role for both Hinata and his friends.

The Conclusion

When reading through characters and their actions, I cannot stress enough that you often have to let go of your preconceptions of a character and actually look at what they are thinking and doing and how. Your idea of a character's canon personality should be measured up against their canon. Do not measure a character’s canon against your caricature.  

Again, fandom will always do what it wants and take creative liberties where it chooses--as is their right as an audience--but discussing canon and ‘accuracy’ of a portrayal is another thing entirely. 

My assertions about Team Gai focus on their canon portrayal of their personalities and the goals they had within the story of Naruto. My headcanons are always kept separate, and my assertions about their character arcs and endings have to do with how to approach--through the literature--their internal/external conflicts and to reach an appropriate resolution that makes sense within the story.

Thanks as always for contributing to the blog!

[izzet-league-mad-scientist]

Alright, so now that it seems I'm actually going to be using my tumblr for the first real time since I created it 3 years ago, I've gotta start with something. And honestly, what better way to inaugurate my introduction to the Homestuck fandom at large and to spur on some interaction than to state my opinions on the infamous spider girl herself, Vriska Serket. I'm sure that this is a flawless idea that will have no consequences whatsoever.

I suppose this train of thought begins with something I realized when desperately pawing through liveblogs for someone whose homestuck experience was similar to my own. Specifically, by figuring out which blogs I liked and which I did not, I narrowed down what my own opinions were by process of elimination. It started with simply those who were unenthusiastic or frustrated at the mysteries of the comic, shortly before I also nixed those who vehemently hated any of the trolls for their intrinsic character traits (If I had a nickel for every blog that posted a huge essay-rant about how Gamzee's willful ignorance is the worst thing to ever exist, an intrinsic moral flaw, and completely opposite to anything civilized, I'd have two nickels). When I got to Vriska's introduction, however, I really figured out what was going on.

As always, reading liveblogs, watching livereads, or really any media form of re-experiencing a favorite through others, is about finding your own emotions mirrored in someone else, vicariously re-experiencing the emotions you felt upon your first experience with the topic. And to that end; I could finally pin down my own opinions on dear Vriska.

Vriska, to me, is a deeply tragic character. She's been traumatized and manipulated and used since her youth, and the scars and coping mechanisms she developed from all of that lead her to only repeat the cycles of violence, running others and herself into the ground. While of course I hated her upon introduction, you'd be pretty heartless not to, it quickly turned to feeling bad for her upon further information. It becomes clear pretty quickly that all of her terrible actions are consequences themselves of what she's been through and the worldviews she's developed to cope with that.

Her complex about being strong vs being weak follows pretty directly from her upbringing; she had to be stronger than other strolls, the strongest, even, to keep spidermom fed, and to avoid injury herself she had to go after the weakest other trolls. And she's doing them a favor, really, 8ecause if she was weak then she'd 8e eaten herself; so really she's just saving them the trou8le of dying in a worse way! She can't bring herself to feel real remorse for her actions, because if she ever does then she'd be crushed under everything she's done. And I mean really, this is a 13 year old who's killed hundreds of other children since she was like 8, that's not something that she can just accept without shattering. And as always, she's just doing what she has to to survive, so in her mind it was always necessary. She falls into the trap that deeply hurt characters often do, in that she only sees one option that isn't weakness or death, and becomes blind to any other way.

I would never say that Vriska has done nothing wrong, because she very obviously has, in so many ways. But a character doesn't need to be free of all wrongdoing to be worth sympathy, even if you don't forgive them. And that's what I was looking for in livebloggers, that peculiar combination of hate and pity (hah) that has always been my experience with her. I just want her to have a happy ending, not to forget what she's done but to atone and feel remorse and finally be able to be at peace with herself. She almost gets that after years in the dream bubbles pre-retcon, after being forced to accept that she doesn't have anything more to do, after finally being free of any plans or webs, of having all of her irons out of the fire and firmly out of reach. But of course, we don't see any more of that after Terezi:Remem8er.

Either way, she's a uniquely compelling character in her own right, one I might even give a similar pedestal to Zuko in How To Write a Sympathetic Bad Guy. Unlike Zuko's archetypal and fantastic redemption, her story and arc is meandering and erratic, her actions grey and her morals suspect, even at the end of the story. But it is truly masterful to have such an organic character, one who flouts conventions and simplicity so regularly, become such a presence in a fandom as to be known even to those who don't know anything else about Homestuck.

[tryingmybestpls]

Not A Team: Part 2- New World Order

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The Reader gives a speech at the opening of Steve’s exhibit and has a talk with Sam following his speech.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER, talks of death, talks of mental illness, feelings of isolation

Read Part One here

Listen to the playlist inspired by the series here

Y/N felt like coming here today was a mistake.

Her stomach tossed and turned like a stormy sea, threatening to send her breakfast all over Rhodey's shiny shoes. She was second guessing everything. Was her dress nice enough? Rhodey had told her she looked great, but she hadn't worn a dress since Steve's funeral-Oh God, what if he was lying to her? No, he wouldn't lie to her-but what if he felt bad? Jesus, dd her shoes look stupid? Maybe she shouldn't have worn heels-but then she always wore heels with dresses and if she wore flats that would look childish. Did her speech sound coherent? Fuck, what if she messes up. Would they think she was doing it on purpose out of retribution for what Steve did? No, they didn't know what Steve did, what he had done to her. What if-

"Hey, hey. What's wrong? You look like you're going to blow chunks." Rhodey cuts through her thoughts like a hot knife through butter. He puts his hand on her back, "Breathe, Y/N."

"Maybe this a bad idea, Rhodey. I mean they have Sam. I think Sam can handle this." She stumbles over her words, trying to calm herself down. Her heart was racing a hundred miles a minute and she swore her hands were shaking,

"You're going to be okay, but you need to relax. I've read and reread your speech a dozen times. It's perfect." Rhodey tries to soothe her, his hand rubbing her back. Y/N squeezes her eyes shut, working on slowing her breathing. In through her nose and out through her mouth.

"Hey pretty lady, I was wondering where the exhibit is. I'm supposed to be giving a speech there today." A voice calls out, sending Y/N's eyes flying open. She turns on her heels, being greeted by the sight of Sam walking towards them, holding the leather case that carries the shield. Y/N can feel the tension melting out of her shoulders as a smile spreads across her nervous face.

"Rhodey, I think they might be letting anyone speak here today." Y/N teases, the anxiousness slipping away, releasing its hold on her. Rhodey chuckles, shaking his head at his friend's antics. She hadn't seen Sam since the days following Steve's funeral and right now, he's a welcome sight. Sam rests his hand over his heart, feigning hurt as he gets closer.

"You wound me, woman." Sam jokes, smiling right back at her. They embrace, her arms wrapping around his neck as his go around her waist, "I missed you, kid."

"I've missed you too, Sammy." She murmurs back, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. They pull away and Sam smiles at her, the skin around his eyes wrinkling. Rhodey clears his throat, gently touching Y/N's upper arm.

"Hey I need to go talk to some people, alright?" Rhodey announces, almost as if he is asking permission. Y/N just smiles and nods, the smile staying on her face until he walks away from the two.

"How are you feeling, Y/N?" Sam questions, to which Y/N sighs, looking down at her shoes.  She stays quiet for a moment, feeling his eyes on her.

"You want the truth or you want me to tell you what I tell Rhodey?" She replies, looking back at him. Y/N shifts from one foot to another, glad they were far from the crowd that was gathering. He gives her a look, giving her an answer without opening his mouth. She sighs again, twisting her wedding ring around her finger.

"I don't sleep, not really. I get maybe an hour a night if I am lucky. I-The house is filled with boxes that I can't unpack because-" Her voice cracks, her chest rising and falling quickly. She bites the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to not cry, "I thought that leaving the apartment would make him go away, but it didn't."

"Well Steve was always stubborn." Sam responds, making a laugh bubble out of her throat before she could stop it. There was an "I'm sorry" buried in the joke and Y/N knew it, but decided to only focus on the joke.

-

The stage looked daunting.

She forced herself up those steps, the person who had introduced her still had his hand outstretched towards her. Y/N wondered if she could make a run for it. Sure people will be mad at her, but she won't be forcing herself through this. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, the clapping nothing but a ringing in her ears. For a moment, her eyes landed on the giant banner of her husband, a lump forming in her throat. He was watching over her, his face emotionless as his eyes seemingly followed her every step. Cameras flashed as she stood on the stage, striding over to the podium. Once she stood in front of it, a hush fell over the crowd.

Y/N Rogers had saved thousands of lives. She was an Avenger and had faced countless foes. Hell, her wedding had more people in attendance than this event, but she still felt sick to her stomach. Y/N gave them all a smile as she forced herself to calm down, swallowing hard before speaking.

"To say that Steve Rogers was a special man is putting lightly. He was a hero that many of us, myself included, aspired to be one day. And while many of you only knew him as Captain America, I was among the lucky few that got to know him just as Steve Rogers. Now I could stand up here and tell you about every battle he won, how valiantly he fought-but everyone else is going to do that. Hell, you can read about it in the exhibit." Y/N chuckles, blinking away the tears in her eyes as the crowd laughs.

Y/N finds Rhodey and Sam in the crowd, both of them giving her smiles of encouragement. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the diamond on her wedding ring sparkling in the light. It's the first time she's worn it in a while, but it felt almost right to wear it. Once again, she's pretending like Steve didn't leave her. No, Y/N is ignoring that completely, almost blissfully. These people only know Steve as Captain America, as a god-damned American hero. She isn't going to tarnish that, won't ruin his legacy. And regardless of what Steve did to her, she is still in love with him and she wants to talk about the man she fell in love with, not the one that hurt her. Y/N inhales and exhales shakily before continuing.

"Steve was so much more than just Captain America. He was my best friend and my husband. He was the type of man to pick up flowers for you just because. The type of man to tell you that you looked really pretty even though you were covered in dirt and ash. He would let me go on and on about things that didn't even matter, but with the way he paid attention you would think that I was telling him the secrets of the world. Steve loved staying in and having movie marathons-he-he had a list he'd carry with him to write down things he needed to learn about. Before we dated, he would text me randomly, asking me why Jar Jar Binks is hated so much or asking me to explain what emojis are. He never quite got the hang gof the latter." A laugh comes out of Y/N's mouth, the crowd following suit. There was a smile on her face, a warmth spreading in her chest.

"He's the man I'll be in love with until the day I die, but then I'll fall in love all over again because I'll be able to see him again. Steve was the sweetest, kindest man I've ever met and while I will always wish we had more time together, I was lucky to have him as long as I did. We were all lucky to have him." Y/N pauses again, her throat constricting with emotion, "Even though he's gone, Steve lived a long life-a life longer than some of us get and I am happy that so many different facets of his life is going to be explored and shared with so many people. I hope you all enjoy the exhibit. Thank you."

The applause that followed was almost thunderous. Y/N smiled as her heart slammed against her ribcage, cameras flashing as she made her way off the stage. She was glad it was finally over as she moved to stand next to Rhodey and Sam. Sam kissed her cheek before he climbed up the stairs to the stage. Rhodey rubbed her back, telling her quietly that she did great. She just nodded in response, her eyes on her friend, watching as Sam leaned the shield against the plexiglass podium.

"Thank you Y/N for making my job a lot harder." Sam teases, causing everyone to chuckle. Y/N smiles right back at him, shaking her head as her friend carries on, "Steve represented the best in all of us. Courageous, righteous, hopeful. And he mastered poising stoically. "

Sam's a natural at this, standing up there like its nothing. And while Y/N should be focused on the speech, her eyes keep drifting down to the shield at his feet.

"The world has been forever changed. A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after five years away, sending the world into turmoil. We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we're in. Symbols...are nothing without the women and men that give them meaning. And this thing," Sam chuckles, picking up the shield, "I don't know if there's ever been a greater symbol. But it's more about the man who propped it up and he's gone. So, today we honor Steve's legacy, but also, we look to the future. So thank you, Captain America. But this belongs to you."

Y/N feels sick to her stomach as she watches Sam hand the shield off. Her chest feels tight and she-she can't be here. There's a ringing on her ears and she can't breathe. Y/N pushes through the crowd, not bothering with pleasantries as she does it. A dozen emotions rack her body, causing her hands to start to heat up. She forces it down, deep down as she walks into an empty bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Sam gave away the shield.

He gave it away.

Like it was nothing.

And she wants to scream, wants to cry, but it won't come out. Y/N won't let it, not now when she is still in public. She walks over to the sinks, her hands gripping the counter. Her eyes are rimmed with red, eyes all watery. Her red painted lips press into a thin line as she forces herself to not cry, practically glaring at her reflection. What did her therapist tell her to do? Ah yes, breath in and out. In and out.

This was all too much way too soon. She couldn't handle this. She was being bombarded with memories and emotions already and now Sam giving the shield away? She felt like she was going to lose it. A part of her felt like she was overreacting. overthinking this whole situation. And maybe she was. Y/N did that from time to time. Tony had told her she was an expert of making mountains out of molehills. Maybe Sam just didn't want to be Captain America, didn't want to shoulder that burden. That was understandable. It was a shitty, shitty job-one that Sam didn't ask for. He shouldn't be forced to take on the mantle of Captain America, not when the previous owner had tossed it away so carelessly.

Yet, the bigger part of her was incredibly upset. Angry at the fact that Sam handed off the shield to be shelved in a museum. Overwhelmed by the amount of Steve that was everywhere. Confused over the multitudes of feeling that were swarming her body.

And there was nothing she could do about any of them. She just had to grin and bear it, just like she's been doing since Steve decided he much rather spend an entire lifetime with a woman he knew for a few months. So Y/N collected herself, blinked away her tears, and left the bathroom. Her feet had a mind of their own, carrying her towards the one place she didn't want to be.

The exhibit.

Steve's image is plastered on every single surface, telling the details of every part of his life. Scrawny Steve, bootcamp Steve, darling icon of patriotism during the war Steve, frozen Steve, Battle of Manhattan Steve, cartoon Steve punching Hitler, Steve during Sokovia, Steve on the run. Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve. He covers every single square inch, which makes sense because this is his exhibit. And while Y/N knows she should just turn on her heel and not put herself through it, she throws caution to the wall. She's already incredibly upset, so she might as well pour gallons and gallons of salt and lemon juice into that open wound.  So she forces herself deeper into the exhibit, running straight into the very last man she wants to see at this moment.

"You know I wasn't expecting to find you here." Sam tells her as soon as her foot enters the next room. She keeps her mouth shut, so he adds "Rhodey is looking for you."

"You know on his right sleeve of his suits, right near his wrist, he had my initials stitched. He told me he wanted to carry a piece of me into every mission, into every fight." Y/N announces as she looks at a picture of Steve on a mission, most likely taken by Natasha. Sam sighs, walking over to her, wanting her to see his point of view.

"Look I know you're upset-" He starts, but is immediately cut off by a dry chuckle slipping out of Y/N's mouth as she walks around the room. She wants to lay in to him, wants to give him a piece of her mind.

"Oh I am far past the point of being "just upset", Wilson. It wasn't yours to give away. I-I don't care if you didn't want the mantle, but..." Her angry words trail off once she realizes what part of the exhibit she has reached, her face dropping.

Y/N stops in front of a part of the exhibit labeled 'Two Heroes United'. Her eyes roam over the pictures of her and Steve's wedding and the pictures taken throughout the duration of their relationship, so much more than what the file Rhodey had left detailed. So many smiles, so much happiness filling each and every picture. Her facade is cracking, chipping away as she forces herself to study every picture, studying their faces over and over, trying to see if there was something she had missed, if-if there was something she could have said or done to hold onto him a little longer. If there was something hidden behind his smile, behind his touches, they don't reveal themselves in the photographs.

She's just a footnote in his life, a blurb at the end of a long story. A tool to make him look like an all-American family man. Bucky and Sam had much larger parts of the exhibit dedicated to their roles in Steve's life and who they are outside of being Steve's friends. Y/N-well Y/N gets this, a paragraph saying that she was on the team and then married Steve. She is just haphazardly tacked onto the story of his life, a cute story to make people feel all warm inside. He got his happily ever after, they'll say-or they'll whisper to one another God she was so lucky to have him. They won't ask if she got her happily ever after or if she feels lucky now.

Sam got to hand off the shield, got to throw away the title of Captain America. He gets to keep on living his life after this, but Y/N-Y/N will always be Steve's wife. And it doesn't matter how many people she saved or what she did with her time on earth, she will only be know for being the wife of the man who abandoned her. Y/N's tied to him for eternity, stuck loving a man who decided to love someone else.

And then, just like that, something inside of her just snaps. Her facade fully crumbles, leaving her unable to mask what she's going through.  Y/N's eyes fill up with tears and she's unable to blink them away before they spill over the edge, sending tears rolling down her cheeks. And as she stood there, crying in the middle of the exhibit dedicated to Steven Grant Rogers, a depressing epiphany popped into her mind.

The shield was the last part of Steve that she had that wasn't tainted in some way, a piece of him that she could still bear to see. And Sam had just given it away, leaving her with nothing but memories that would haunt her.

-

"I watched your speech. You did really good, Y/N." Her therapist praises, giving her a soft smile. Y/N nods, twisting her wedding ring on her finger. She had decided to start wearing it again, even though her feelings about Steve were still conflicted. While a part of her thought that this meant she was healing, Y/N knew it was more likely tied to the fact that Sam had given up the shield.

"It-It felt good." Y/N replies, shifting in her seat. She had thought it was a subtle movement, but Dr. Raynor gave her a look. After a few months of court-ordered appointments, the therapist knew Y/N all too well and she sure as hell knew when Y/N wasn't telling the truth.

"Something is upsetting you. What happened?" The doctor questions, clicking her pen. Y/N dreaded the noise. It meant a longer session, more bandaids being ripped off in order to force the wounds into the light. It would mean she would return to her home a little colder, a little emptier.

"Nothing happened. It-I had a good day. A good week." Y/N tries to reassure her, even going as far as to give her what she thought was a honest smile. Dr. Raynor held up her pad of paper, making a show of slowly bring the pen down to the paper. Y/N's smile falls and she looks down at her hands, letting out a small sigh.

"He-Sam gave away the shield. He gave it away like it was nothing." The ex-hero announces, feeling like a scolded child. Raynor lowers her pen and paper, settling back into her seat.

"And you feel like he shouldn't have?"

"No. No, Steve-Steve chose him. Steve gave him the shield because he knew that Sam was good, that Sam could handle it. And-And Sam just gave it away." Y/N stammers, picking at a thread that was hanging off her shirt.

"You know, I think that is the first time you have said his name aloud." Raynor mentions, causing Y/N to stop her movements. The thread is caught between her fingers, pulled taut. The doctor continues, "You always refer to Steve as 'he' or 'him' or 'my husband'. You never say his name."

"I don't think I was ready to be around...Steve. Not that much." Y/N tries to shift the focus, shame filling her, her face feeling hot. She knows she has her reasons not to say his name, but she still felt terrible about not being able to say his name.

"But you still spoke at the opening of his exhibit. I'm sure everyone would more than understand why you couldn't. So why did you decide on speaking?" The therapist asks, taking down a couple notes of her pad of paper. Y/N stays silent for a moment, letting go of the thread to start twisting her ring again.

"I-I don't know. Rhodey asked me and I-I guess I thought I could do it. And the speech wasn't bad I just-I wasn't expecting Sam to give away the shield." Y/N responds, her voice soft. She feels so small, sitting here on this charcoal grey couch. Y/N almost felt...stupid for being so angry at Sam. It wasn't his fault at all and as Y/N said everything out loud, she felt like such an asshole.

"If you would've known that Sam wanted to give the shield away, would you have stopped him?" Dr. Raynor replies, leaning forward slightly as she takes a few notes. Y/N feels herself sinking into the couch.

"I don't know. I-I wish he would have just told me so that we could've talked about it." She answers, looking out of the window. Dark grey clouds filled the sky, blocking out a lot of the sunlight that wanted to shine down on the city. Y/N didn't know if she would have actually forced him to keep the shield. That wasn't on him to have hold on to hat chunk of vibranium. It was wrong for Steve to have thrown that all on Sam. What would be the alternative? For her to keep the shield? Y/N highly doubted that the United States government would allow that.

-

Y/N was watering her garden when her phone started to ring in her back pocket. She quickly moves to shut off the water hose before she slips the phone about her pocket. Sam's name and picture appears on her screen, making uneasiness fill her stomach. Y/N exhales through her noise loudly before answering it, holding the phone against her ears.

"Have you seen the news?" Sam asks, not even letting her get a single syllable out.

"No, I've been outside-What's going on, Sam?" Y/N questions, making her way to the house. Something was definitely wrong. Sam never called her unless it was for emergencies. if they did communicate, it was mainly through texting. Her heartbeat started to race, as did her thoughts. A million different scenarios filled her head, each one worse than the last.

"You need to turn on the news right now." Sam replies as she opens the back door, quickly crossing the kitchen and walking into the living room. Her hands are almost shaking as she picks up the remote, turning the television on. Luckily for her, the last thing she had been watching was the news. Unluckily for her, she was greeted with a man holding the shield-Steve's shield, dressed in what looked like an off-brand, shitty version of the Captain America suit.

Anger filled her body. It had been four days tops since Sam handled off the shield and already, they had found their 'new Captain America'. The man in question was smiling smugly in the ill-fitting suit, waving at the camera, holding onto his shield tightly. God, Y/N wanted to beat the shit of the man and every single person who had okayed this. She could only hear bits and pieces of the speech as the news replayed it, but even that bullshit was too much for her to handle. She muted the television, tossing the remote on the couch.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?" Y/N exclaims, her hands getting warm. The Avenger was unable to get to anything articulate as rage filled her. She quickly put the phone on speaker, setting the device down just in case her hands caught flame.

"I know. I know. It's fucking bullshit." Sam replies, sighing. Y/N paced in front of the television, trying to calm herself down before she burned a hole through her rug. On the screen, the fake Cap was talking about something, a saccharine smile spread across his face. Y/N wanted to take that God damn shield and smash his teeth in.

"That asshole has my husband's fucking shield. They-He isn't supposed to be Captain America, okay? It's just not-It's not theirs to give away." Y/N's voice cracks towards the end, tears filling her eyes. While she wasn't Steve's number one fan, she hated that they had already chose someone to take up his title. If Sam wasn't going to be Captain America, then no one should be Captain America.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I wouldn't have given away the shield if I would've known...I'm sorry." Sam murmurs over the phone. Y/N covers her face with her almost glowing hands as she tries to control her breathing, not able to respond to Sam’s apologies. Her sadness and anger quickly shifted into something else. 

Something inside of her switched on, something that she hadn't felt in a long time, not since she was a hero, back when she was an Avenger.

Y/N wanted to go to work.

------

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@lady-elena-adeline​ @simonedk​ @hersilencedscreams​ @rqmanoff​

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part II

Part I (complete)

Part III (complete)

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Making deals with a vampire was one thing, (Y/N) supposed, but fulfilling such a deal was quite another.

When Zeke— who held the contradictory position of the regional Commander of the Hunters as well as the alpha of a local werewolf pack— had approached her with the idea of infiltrating Eren Jaeger's inner circle, she had jumped at the chance; her great-to-however-many-degrees grandfather really had been Jean Kirschtein, and she had read his old journal, and her curiosity about the Old Ways was always bubbling just beneath her skin. Zeke, she thought, must have known of her curiosity, because his offer had been everything she was searching for.

You'll have your answers, he told her, And we'll have ours. One way or another, the problem of Eren Jaeger will be solved through your efforts. There is no possible way to lose.

If only she had known how wrong Zeke had been.

At first, things with Eren were simple— well, as simple as things could be with such a delicate arrangement. It had been beyond easy to bait him into approaching her at the Creature bar on 76th Street, and aside from the first time, allowing time for Eren to feed was almost nothing. Even the process of feeding itself wasn't much of an ordeal— there was hardly any pain since he drew from her wrist after a warm soak, and the whole thing took less than five minutes— but around the second time, when the visions began, things began to be… different.

Little snippets of Eren's past began to come as the two of them interacted more and increased the amount of regular feedings. Sometimes it was as little as a feeling, a memory of a face that (Y/N) had never seen before; other times, it was like (Y/N) was truly there centuries ago, in a land that would one day become her home. Now, almost every time she let Eren drink from her, she was thrust back into a world where humanity was (literally) with it's back against the wall, fighting demons and mindless monsters just to survive; and, sometimes, the visions were so intense that she would come back from them terrified, shaking, and incapable of cogent thought. It was during those times that Eren held her, silent, resigned, and yet somehow caring until she was herself again.

It was strange; in the visions, Eren was often passionate to a fault. He was wild, like an animal, but kind, too. During times like these, when he cradled her in his arms as she was trembling with the force of a particularly poignant memory, (Y/N) wondered if the centuries had truly changed him, or if he hid that passion beneath the jaded indifference she had come to expect.

"You think too much," he told her as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. "Your heart is racing."

Of course it was— the terror of watching hundreds of people be consumed by the very wrath of hell itself would do that to a person— but (Y/N) had no rebuttal. She did think too much, and the end result was muddled reports sent back to Zeke and a clouded heart.

"You loved her."

It was a statement, not a question. Mikasa— the brave, beautiful woman that Jean Kirschtein had once loved— may not have always known it, but Eren truly had felt very deeply for her.

"More than life," Eren replied.

(Y/N) thought back to the memory— the sheer panic Eren had felt at the thought of losing his comrades, the desperation with which he strove to save them— and she amended her statement.

"You loved them all."

Eren hummed.

"More than the wide, wide world."

And (Y/N) thought that, perhaps, he truly meant it.

"What did you see this time?" he asked, his voice soft.

(Y/N) pulled back so that she and Eren were face to face, her legs straddling him. His eyes were glowing-green, and she shivered beneath their scrutiny.

"I saw a field full of demons," she told him, unable to meet his gaze. "You and Mikasa were defenseless, yourself having been pushed to your limit, and Mikasa's blades having been broken. There was nowhere to run, and you— you screamed, and—"

A large, warm hand caressed her cheek, and it occurred to (Y/N) that it was her own blood within Eren that gave him such warmth with which to comfort. She placed her smaller hand atop his, and the world seemed to freeze for a moment to allow this brief, intimate interlude.

"Do you understand now?" he asked as he did almost every time she had a vision. "Do you see why I did what I did?"

As always, (Y/N) shook her head, moving his hand from her face.

"No, I don't."

The response was never met with anger or frustration; Eren was only ever resigned to it. Before, (Y/N) might have felt scorn for such a man who cared so little, but now that she had seen who Eren had been, what he'd been through… perhaps he was simply tired of caring so much.

"You're beautiful when you're thinking."

The words caught (Y/N) off guard. She had known that Eren had thought she was attractive— his emotional feedback told her that much— but she had never thought that he would voice such a thought. The compliment heated her cheeks, and (Y/N) had to fight the urge to bury her face in her hands.

"I've always thought," said Eren, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully, "That one can never truly appreciate the beauty of a blush until one could see it with the eyes of a vampire, or smell it as it rises on the cheek."

Eren placed a hand on her face, tilting it until their eyes were level.

"And as a vampire who has seen many beautiful blushes on many beautiful women, yours is the most bewitching of all."

(Y/N) swallowed thickly.

"Why are you saying this?"

Eren cocked his head to the side, studying her. It was a long moment before he spoke, but when he did, he gave an answer that (Y/N) was not expecting.

"Because it's true, and because I would very much like to kiss you."

(Y/N)'s heart leapt into her throat, but she didn't dare move one way or the other. She just stared at Eren, slack-jawed, as he stared patiently back.

"Why?" she asked when she had collected herself.

Eren shrugged. "Does that matter?"

(Y/N) supposed very much that it did matter, but she didn't feel the need to say so. She studied Eren closely— the latent hunger in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the stain of her blood on his lips— and she thought of how gentle he had been with her, how patient. She had no doubt that he would prove to be equally so in other matters, and she wanted him— but something stopped her.

It would be wrong of me to allow this, she thought, letting her eyes wander to Eren's lips. I'm his enemy, a spy for the Hunters. Allowing him and myself the potential of intimacy is too deep a betrayal, even for me.

Even so, she didn't stop him as he shifted her closer; even so, when his lips brushed hers, she kissed him back, tasting her own blood on his tongue.

"This is a bad idea," she whispered against his lips, shifting in his lap.

"How young you are," he said in return. "There is no such thing as a bad idea, only poor timing and execution. Take it from someone who has centuries of experience; rarely ever is the regret for having done something greater than the regret of not having done it."

So saying, he kissed her again, and (Y/N) threaded her hands in his hair as he reached beneath her shirt. His hands— warm, now, with the heat of her own blood— reached beneath the cup of her bra to cradle her breasts, and she exhaled a hiss as his fingertips found her nipples. She arched into him, pressing her flesh into his hands and parting their lips; he chuckled, dark and low, and she shivered at the sound.

"How many other Creatures have you tricked like this?" he asked, pressing kisses against her neck. "Tell me, pretty girl— just how many have fallen prey to your charms so that you can run back to your little doggy master with their deepest, darkest secrets?"

(Y/N) froze, stuck somewhere between fear, dread, and ecstasy. Eren knew— somehow, he knew— and yet he continued to touch her, kiss her, caress her as though nothing were amiss. Her whole body went still with shock, but Eren never stopped even for a moment.

"Come now, you can't think I didn't know." His lips were just below her ear now, and he closed his teeth around the lobe, teasing her with the sensation. "I can smell him on the papers in your bag; I can hear the clicking of the letters as you type your memos after I've pieced you back together for an evening. Most of all, I can hear the way your heart pumps a little faster when I feed you the information you want. I can taste your guilt in the very blood I take from you. You can hide nothing from me."

"Eren," she said as fear— rancid and terrible— began crawling up the back of her throat, "Eren, please, I haven't told him about the important things, I'm trying to make a case for you—"

He pulled away then, and when his piercing green eyes locked with her own, she stilled like a sparrow caught in the gaze of a cobra.

"I don't care," he replied simply. "You are what you are, and at your core, you cannot change that. It is the same with me. I'm not afraid of my half-mutt half-brother no matter what you tell him, and as long as you want what I have to offer, there's no reason not to take it for your own."

(Y/N)'s mind was reeling.

"Half-brother?"

Eren chuckled at her confusion.

"Oh yes, pretty one. Zeke Jaeger is my older brother, and I suspect he sent you to me just to you with the both of us." With a carnivorous grin, he added, "But little does he know that I play for keeps, and you're not the good little Huntress he must assume you are— that is to say, he must have no clue at all how hungry you are for vampire cock, hm?"

(Y/N) would be lying if she hadn't pictured Eren in… less than appropriate situations, but for fuck's sake, she wasnt blind. The man— vampire, Creature, whatever— was fucking gorgeous, and he damn well knew it, but that didn't mean she was gagging for it.

Did it?

"We can't do this," she said, pushing at Eren's chest, though he didn't budge an inch. "We shouldn't do this."

Eren cracked a grin, toothy with fangs that glistened.

"Says who?" he asked, his large, strong hands coming around to grab her by the ass. "You were perfectly fine with letting me kiss and touch when you thought I was in the dark— is it no longer any fun now that you don't feel like you're taking advantage of me?"

(Y/N) couldn't take it.

"Eren, be serious—"

"I am serious."

When she looked in his eyes and reached out with her own heart, (Y/N) knew that he was telling the truth. He wanted her regardless of anything, regardless of everything.

He simply wanted her.

Could that be so bad?

***

Eren didn't think that this would happen even in his wildest dreams, but when he saw (Y/N) splayed out on his gold silk sheets, he knew it wasn't the madness that Armin accused him of lying to himself about. No mind, well and whole or not, could ever conjure up such a vision. The woman who lay before him— naked and gorgeous— was beyond imagining. She was something from another world entirely.

"What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled as Eren stood over her, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. "Come hold me."

And how lovely was that? His natural enemy, his perfect prey, asking him to come hold her, as though his skin on hers was blessed assurance that he was there and wanting.

Maybe Eren was mad— or, perhaps he was dreaming. If he was, he hoped he never came back to himself. A world without this was not a world he ever wanted to return to.

"Yes," she hissed as he crawled atop her, his mouth suckling at her breast. No other creature that walked the earth could ever taste as sweet as her— having tasted many, many before, Eren would know— but even were that to be disproved, Eren wasn't sure he would much care. This woman would be his undoing.

"Touch me," she demanded, canting her hips up to him. "I want to feel you."

How could Eren ever deny her? He brought a hand down to her sex, caressing her there before parting her folds to quest for her clit. Having found it, he drew small, teasing circles, and she whined.

"Am I still a monster to you?" he asked into the hollow of her throat, placing biting kisses there as his hand kept busy with its work. "Still something to hate and abhor?"

"You're still a monster," she replied, so startlingly honest even now, "But I never once hated you. Oh Eren, please, I want you inside me, I—"

Her wish was his command; Eren plunged two fingers into her depths, and (Y/N) gasped at the intrusion. She was so wet already, and so tempting as she squeezed down on those fingers, rocking her hips as he withdrew them just to the tip and repeated the motion. The way she felt around his digits shouldn't have turned him on as much as it did, but as Eren slid in a third finger, he had to keep himself from letting out a groan.

"You're so beautiful," he told her as she writhed beneath him. "You truly, truly are."

Distantly, Eren wondered what Jean would think if he were alive to know who was finger-fucking his great-granddaughter, but when Eren remembered the nasty right hooks the taller man used to give him when he was being a shit, he figured that he would rather not know. Still, as he watched (Y/N) come undone on the tip of his fingers, he couldn't help but think that perhaps it was something of Jean's spirit— the part that even Eren had to admit was better, kinder, more human than most— that drew him to her.

"I want you," he said, withdrawing his hands and licking his fingers clean of her juices. "Do you feel ready enough?"

And then, as though to prove his point, (Y/N) sat straight up with the cutest little Jean-like scowl he had ever seen and pushed at his chest with no small amount of force. He went with the motion, and he found himself being mounted by her as she said,

"I'm not made of glass— if you can't wrap your head around that, I'll have to show you just what I'm capable of."

She did— and how! Powerful thighs— the thighs of a Hunter— levered her up and down on his cock, squeezing him until he thought he might die from it. He thought she was never going to stop impaling herself again and again, and by the time she did eventually tire, Eren was sort of hoping she never would. He was in ecstasy with her, and like the selfish bastard he was, he wanted it to last forever.

"Such fire," he said, reaching up to press kisses into the skin just between her breasts. "You've made your point, now let me take over."

Let me take care of you.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted as he thrust up into her, the head of his cock buried so deeply within her that he marveled at how she didn't seem to be feeling any discomfort. "Oh fuck, right there, please don't stop—"

Eren didn't stop; he couldn't. He was beyond restraint.

"May I?" He asked, tapping the wrist that was trapped in his right hand. "I won't take much, but I want to show you something."

Delirious, drunk with lust, (Y/N) nodded, and Eren pierced her skin with a single fang, letting a drop of blood fall onto his tongue. In that moment, as they connected physically, her blood connected them spiritually, and Eren groaned as he physically felt how close she was through the link he had created.

It wouldn't be long now.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried, and Eren buried himself as deeply as he could within her as he came. "Oh, oh, oh—"

And then (Y/N) was following him, shaking and gasping as her orgasm overtook her. It seemed that the world had stopped existing for a moment, and Eren found it hard to breathe even though he had no particular need to do so at all.

In the afterglow, they clung to each other like the survivors of a shipwreck; when the world began to exist again, it felt new, and as Eren closed his eyes to sleep, he knew that this changed everything.

I must keep her, he thought as sleep overtook him. I don't know if I could feel like this ever again for anyone else.

[hot-wiings]

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Requested By: Wattpad User

Edited: 8-17-2020

You laid on your stomach across Ochako Uraraka's bed. Spotify's 'Top One Hundred Pops' playlist could be heard in the background, but your best friend and you didn't care much for Timberlake's voice as you skimmed through magazines together. 

You stopped flipping pages and closed your magazine before tossing it next to you on the bed. Your attention was now turned to Ochako who simply stared down at her magazine. You noticed she hadn't really been flipping her pages or really participating in conversation like she usually would. 

“Is something bothering you Ochako?”

With a hefty groan, your best friend closed her magazine and tossed it next to her. She had a slight frown on her face as she turned to you. Her eyes were glossy and her smile was gone, she looked and acted nothing like the girl you'd grown to know and call your best friend. 

“[Y/N], have you ever been on love?"

A blush spread across your face as you thought of the boy who held your heart. The boy who held your heart, soul, and entire reason for being. Izuku Midoriya, your secret boyfriend, the man who held your affection. Not that you'd ever told him truly how deep your love for him ran.

"Yes, I have."

"There's this guy and I think... I think I'm in love with him.”

“Ochako... If you really think you feel this way about him, then you should tell him.” 

You had pulled yourself up from your lying position to a cross-legged sitting position next to Ochako. She sat in front of you with her arms crossed, hugging herself. She looked so troubled. So sad. 

“I... I want to, but lately, he's been spending less time with me, and more time with this other girl. I'm worried he might have caught feelings for her."

You reached out and pulled Ochako's hands into yours. You squeezed them as a way of comfort. 

“Ochako... If you really feel this way then you should tell him. You should tell him before it's too late.”

“You're right, [Y/N]. Thanks for the advice, you're like the big sister I never had.”

Ochako wrapped her arm around you tightly and pulled away with a smile on her face. A smile you hadn't seen in weeks. She looked more like the Ochako you knew. 

“I'm gonna tell Midoriya how I feel!”

Suddenly it was like a weight came down on your chest. Midoriya? Your Midoriya? Love of your life Midoriya? How could you have missed the signs? He was hanging out more with you, less with her. The way she tried so hard to get his attention. How could you have missed the obvious signs?

Suddenly you hated the fact you and Izuku kept your relationship secret. At first, it was so your classmates couldn't make a big deal about it, as time went on with your dad being All Might it just made more sense to help preserve Izuku's secret of being Toshinori's successor, but then the secrecy made it feel more romantic.

"You like Izuku?"

Your heart swelled as Ochako flopped back on the bed with an ever-growing smile.

"How couldn't I? He's sweet and nice. He's caring and he inspires me to be a better hero."

You bit your lip as you thought of what to say to your best friend. What could you say? 'I'm Sorry, I'm already dating him'? How could you hurt her like that when she's been nothing but a friend? How could you hurt her like that when she feels your like a sister to her? You couldn't.

The more you thought of Ochako and your boyfriend the worse your bad thoughts swirled. You'd never amount to great title your father left and the expectations people expected of you. Izuku would grow to fulfill your father's title, he would be a real hero. But what of you? You would grow to be an undercover hero like Eraserhead. But Ochako? She would look great at Izuku's side. She would be someone he could fight with side by side. She would be someone worth being with Izuku.

She would suit Izuku much better than you. They would be perfect together, better than you could be.

"Ochako, I have to go now. I hope it works out for you though!"

Quickly you got up off her bed and grabbed your bag before bolting out the door. Once you were away from your best friend and alone in the halls you slid your phone out of your pocket.

[Y/N]: Izuku... I think we should stop seeing each other. [Sent: 8:17 pm]

You don't even watch the little read sign pop-up. You don't watch Izuku's chat bubbles pop and go away. You just slide your phone back in your pocket and let the tears slide down your face.

You couldn't help but watch them as they ate lunch together. You were tables away from them, Ochako took this as you giving her and Izuku time to be alone together, really you were giving each other distance from the breakup.

You couldn't help but watch them as they ate lunch together. It had only been a couple of months, but it appeared a lot could happen in three months. As Ochako sat close to Izuku it felt wrong. As Izuku laughed at her jokes you felt sick. As Ochako leaned her head against Izuku you felt utterly disgusted.

Breaking up with Izuku was the worst mistake you ever made, but how could you not? If you hadn't Ochako would've been hurt. It was the worst mistake, but they were so happy and perfect together. They were like two halves of a whole.

They were two halves of a whole yet you couldn't help but stare at them. You couldn't help this jealous feeling from taking over as you hung out with Ochako. You couldn't help this wanting urge that overcame you every time you and Izuku passed in the halls. You couldn't help that he always crossed your mind. You couldn't help that seeing them together crushed your soul.

You couldn't help these feelings, yet you were the one who pushed him away from you and into the arms of your best friend.

Abruptly the chair next to you was pulled out and Katsuki Bakugo plopped his butt down next to you. Compared to yours, his lunch looked like a five-course meal. Of course, watching Izuku with Ochako really took away any appetite you had in you.

"Hi."

You smiled over at the blonde boy. Ever since you stopped sitting with Izuku, Katsuki had been hanging about with you. Contrary to what most of your class would say, Katsuki could be nice. His generosity came in his own rough way, still, he was a true friend to you.

"Stare at that shit-munches any longer and you'll burn a hole on his head."

"I wasn't staring."

Your words tumbled out quickly and fast. You didn't want anybody thinking you were crushing on Ochako's new boyfriend, not when they weren't privy to the information that said new boyfriend was your ex.

"Do you even realize how fuckin' obvious you make it? You're crushing on the damn nerd!"

"Shut up Katsu! You don't understand."

You pushed your lunch away from you and crossed your arms. You felt sick just having this conversation. You felt repulsed, and you knew the food would have a hard time going down.

Katsuki pushed your food back in front of you and crossed his own arms.

"So eat and explain it to me."

'I'm not hungry."

"Don't be fucking stupid. Not eating just because you're upset is gonna make you feel sick."

The sight of Ochako out of the side of your eye all over Izuku hurt and disgusted you. It repulsed and aggravated you. You didn't want to eat, yet, the look on Katsuki's face as he insisted you ate made you feel indifferent.

He cared for you, he was trying to be a good friend. For the sake of Katsuki, you pick up your fork and scoop some food in your mouth.

"I can't really explain it- I and Izuku dated before he and Ochako got together."

"Did the fucker break your heart?"

Despite Katsuki's gruff voice and colorful language, he still spoke quiet and kind towards you. Although, you could detect some disdain for Izuku in his voice.

"No, I ended it... I thought... I thought he could do better."

Katsuki doesn't say anything and you were sure you either upset him by talking about his enemy, or bored him to death by talking about your feelings. That was what you thought until you felt his warm fingers snap against your forehead.

"Ow."

He flicked you right out of nowhere.

"You're a fucking Idiot. If anyone could do better it's you. Deku was lucky he even had you, he never shoulda' let you go."

As the school bell rang Katsuki put his lunch container in his bag and walked away. He didn't head in the direction of class like everyone else. No, he was making a beeline for that shitty nerd, Deku.

The hard truth is you and Katsuki were a lot alike. You were both willing to suffer if it meant the one you truly loved was happy and thriving.

You sat on your bed, laptop, notebook, and homework books strewn across your lap. It looked messy, but not as messy as the rest of your room. You had dishes on the counter and clothes scattered in piles. It was messy like your life. You had kind of let it go to shit after you broke up with Izuku.

A quick, brisk knock on your door could be heard. You groaned as you pushed your work materials off of you to answer it. You hoped it wasn't your teachers, with such a messy room that would be embarrassing. Mostly you prayed it wasn't Ochako.

You unlatched the hook, twisted the knob and pulled the door open. You didn't know who you expected. Your teachers maybe, perhaps Katsuki. You didn't know who you expected, but you didn't expect to see him.

Izuku, with his messy green hair, looked like a mess. He was out of breath and it looked like his eye was purple and swelling. You wanted to pull him into a hug. You wanted to check out his eye and clean it up. You couldn't, that was Ochakos job.

He wasn't yours. Not anymore.

"Hey... What are you doing here?"

"I've been such an idiot."

You hugged yourself and leaned against the door frame as to not give away how nervous and timid you felt with him being here.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about us! I should've fought for us and I didn't. I thought you needed space. I tried giving you space but it didn't help. It just pushed us away from each other."

"Zu' it doesn't matter. We're just not right for each other."

Izuku walked closer to you and you hugged yourself tighter. You had to be strong, you had to push him away. You had to, but as he placed his hands on your shoulders you felt your distance fall.

"We are right for each other. We were perfect for each other."

"No, we're not!"

"Yes, we are! Kacchan told me everything. I thought you needed space, what you really needed was reassurance."

You turned around from him and walked further into your dorm. Why couldn't he let this go? He could be so much happier with her.

"You needed reassurance and I didn't give that to you. I didn't fight. I didn't try. I just need you to know that Ochako will never be it for me. She will never be the girl I want to tell all my secrets too. She will never be the girl I think about late at night. She will never be the girl I love. She will never be you."

"She's so pretty, nice, and thoughtful. Why don't you want her? My skills, my looks? Just mediocre. Mineta doesn't even look at me, and he would look at trash if it had a vagina. I'm just All Might's daughter. I'm not special in any other way-"

While Izuku could admit fault for not being there for you, for not noticing how insecure you'd become in your relationship, he would never admit to or apologize for threatening Mineta into never looking at you.

"Don't you dare say that! You have never been All Might's daughter to me. You have always been [Hero Name]. You prove every day that you are more of a hero than anyone here. Your special, brilliant, and beautiful. I'm in love with you."

Izuku pulled you into his arms for the first time in three months. The emotions inside you broke and you allowed yourself to let out everything that had been bothering you. Everything that had been making you insecure.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, but I'm here now, and I'm never leaving you."

As Izuku held you in his arms it felt right. It wasn't Izuku and Ochako. It was Izuku and you.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 19

First time reader click here

Summary+TWs: We're talking serious feelings here, okay? Reader, you're literally emotionally illiterate. You also have PTSD, which is finally addressed - kinda. Bruce does his best. And he also knows how to kiss... But y'all know that if you read my ramblings about lucid dreaming/shifting/whatever... Chile-, anyways...

My phone kept buzzing and I ignored it until Bruce declared it was time to take a break and review the results. Whilst the man was typing up the data on a nearby StarkPad, I fought the sudden influx of messages that I received from haters and supporters alike after Tony decided on tweeting a reply that could be interpreted in an alarming variety of ways. It was a smart move, I'll admit, but a fucking bother for me nonetheless.

Disabling my DMs and dealing with a follower increase in the thousands wasn't hard; I didn't consider myself a problematic asshole and didn't need to be afraid of "exposure". The parties I went to - I doubted there was any blackmail material in there and the few nudes I'd sent over the years were always face-less. As a gen Z, I knew my internet safety.

The trolls didn't bother me either. It was more sad than annoying, people shitting on others for clout. Iron Man stans were witty, at least, if jealous. I must admit I've never considered the influx of popularity I would experience should I publicly out myself as a friend of Tony's. Girlfriend? Intern? Science child? Whatever cover story he was going to feed the press worked for me, as long as I still got the hugs, the kisses, the dick and the attention.

"Tony..." Bruce groaned, evidently done with the data processing, had to have opened his social media to see his own skyrocketing popularity.

"Yeah, our Tony is being a Tony again," I chuckled, having reset my social media settings so my phone wouldn't constantly beep, vibrate and bother me. School was going to be fun.

Bruce shook his head, fond, coming over to my side of the lab after removing his own hazmat suit. His eyes shiny with newfound knowledge and hair turned adorably fluffy in the confines of the head covering. He was smiling softly. "Food?"

"Sure."

We chewed our sandwiches in silence for a moment, each of us lost in our thoughts.

"I still can't believe Tony told everyone on Twitter you're his girlfriend, usually he keeps this stuff private or schedules a fancy press conference," Bruce's tone was thoughtful.

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that what it was? Seemed ambiguous to me..." I trailed off, confused.

"He worded it like that on purpose, I mean, you're still in high school," The scientist was confident in his words. "But I know Tony. I'm a hundred percent sure that he meant exactly that. Aren't you?"

Shock flooded me. Suddenly, I understood I completely misread the situation. "Um, no? I thought we were, y'know, just fucking. We never defined our relationship and we're definitely not exclusive." I said, chewing on my lip. "You make a valid argument, I'm a high school student and he's a grown ass man that does grown man stuff. Putting aside the fact that he could have anybody in the world so why would he choose me?" I was rambling, thinking out loud. Discussing my feelings has never my strong forte. "It would be stupid to impose monogamy on such a complex man like Tony. Downright idiotic to expect a genius to confine to social norms just because it suits others." I finished with a wave of my hand. Another bubble of thought that had festered within me for the longest time. I felt relieved, finally voicing it out loud. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders, a weight I wasn't previously consciously aware of.

Bruce was watching me intently, with an unreadable expression that held the tiniest bit of awe, admiration perhaps. The silence that followed was unnerving. I fidgeted with my hands, not really knowing where to put them or where to look.

"You know," He took off his glasses, fiddling them in his hands. "I'm not going to sugar coat it. For the longest time, I thought you were going to inadvertently hurt him when you get bored with whatever you've got going on. I respect you, don't misunderstand me, but you are young. Now, I've changed my mind. You've changed my mind," He punctuated his statement with his hand on mine, grasping it. "I think you managed to understand him in a way most people can't. Or don't want to. Understand and accept him in a way that some of us can't even after years of working and living side by side with him." Bruce's gentle fingers skimmed along the top of my palm.

"I don't always understand Tony but I do accept him," I agreed. "Because Tony is a great man."

"I think you're in love with him," Bruce said, absolutely having ignored my previous statement. Just like that, point blank, he pushed to the surface the very feelings I got so good at ignoring. There was no rest for me in this place.

My heart fluttered, picking up the pace. I kept my mouth shut, not trusting it whatsoever. My thoughts became akin to panicked hares, jumping and zigzagging aimlessly in my skull. I didn't see the point in defending myself because the scientist had pointed out the obvious.

Bruce looked at me, softly, warmly. "And don't think we haven't noticed the rise in team morale. The improvement not only in communication, but on the battlefield, too. It's easier to entrust your back to someone with whom you've shared a laugh and a drink the previous night. You're the glue that keeps us together."

Something warm and wet was on my cheeks. I stared at our clasped hands, his words echoing in my head over and over and over. The moment I realized I was crying, I willed myself to stop and failed spectacularly - only more salty fluid streamed down, some of it getting in my nose, on my lips. The sleepless nights were making me unstable.

It took a single sniffle for Bruce to pick me up and wrap up in his kind embrace. I didn't resist, tucking my face into the crook of his neck, holding onto the back of his lab coat, inhaling the smell of his skin and chemicals. It was familiar, calming. Minutes ticked by with me slowly leaking the tension out of my body.

"He loves you, too, maybe he just doesn't realize it yet." Bruce whispered into my hair. "I've never seen Tony so happy, even with Pepper. You are special and you are loved."

There was something unsaid, I felt it. It hung in the ear, it burned the tips of my ears, stood sharp on the tip of my tongue. "I love you too, Bwucie-bear," I whispered into the space between his ear and his jaw. His arms tightened around me.

The man placed several chaste kisses in my hair, running a palm over my back. In moments like these, the crush for him, the very crush that got out of control, blossomed fully into a deep sense of respect and admiration. He made me feel safe. He said all the right words at the right time.

Drowsiness overtook me. As usual, any worries and anxieties I had evaporated, once Banner had his arms around me, shielding me from the world. I didn't forbid myself this time: delicately, my hand slipped through the man's soft messy curls, eliciting a contented sigh.

"You haven't been sleeping well," He more stated than asked.

I had no choice but to nod. "Clint keeps dying in my dreams. Or even worse, he doesn't, he just suffers, endlessly, painfully." I admitted.

Bruce flinched under me, tensing. My face was in between his hands in a second, the scientist sternly looking into my eyes. "Why didn't you say anything? All of us assumed you were okay after what happened." He looked - angry. Not Hulk-out pissed but Bruce-pissed, which equalled a kicked-puppy look seasoned with a great pinch of disappointment.

"I am okay." I lied, shamelessly. "It's getting better. That's why I want to have a party - relax a little, dance, socialize. I don't think Tony would let me go on my own so I figured I can convince him to throw one here." I looked away. It was better for everyone if I dealt with my own problems - they were superheroes, not babysitters.

Bruce frowned. "Why wouldn't Tony let you go?"

"Because of that one time I snorted coke," I rolled my eyes at Bruce's naiveté, leaving the less obvious parts unsaid. Tony knew exactly what I was going to do once I got free reign, he considered it destructive and told me so himself. Admittedly, he had a point but still... I wished I'd been given a choice.

"I'll talk to him," Bruce nodded firmly. "That's not acceptable. He can't forbid you from making mistakes and learning from them."

He was met with my shrug. No excitement came from me regarding this particular turn of conversation. I was drained, limbs like jello, thoughts sluggish. My face was drooping.

"Let's get you to bed," Banner stood up with me wrapped around him. "You need a nap."

"No," I protested. If I went to sleep now, only Satan knew at what ungodly hour I would wake up.

"Yes, Princess," Bruce smirked. I wiggled uncomfortably - when he went all caretaker like, my ovaries wreaked havoc on my body and brain. My thoughts weren't appropriate if Bruce wanted me to see him as a father figure. The signals he was sending were mixed. People around me did that a lot and I wasn't sure how to act so I usually just went with the flow. I decided to do the very same thing in that particular moment.

Curiosity sparked within me, tightly interwoven with the deep longing that settled below my collarbones whenever Tony or one of the others wasn't sitting next to me or talking my ear off. I've almost forgotten how it was to be alone with my thoughts. The maze of my very own self was becoming unfamiliar territory. Alarming.

I allowed Bruce to help me shed my shoes and outer layer of clothing, shivering in the coolness of my room. Despite being a frequent visitor, I still had a 'guest' room in the tower - I mostly stayed at Tony's or Wanda's anyways. During our sleepovers neither me nor the witch minded sharing her enormous bed, to be fair, we could have fit at least two more people in it besides us. Tony took care of his own - all the tower's residents had their apartments furnished with the best stuff.

"Sleep now, Princess," Bruce chastised, tucking a blanket around me, having noticed an earbud in my ear and my smartphone in my hand. I had hoped to kill some time online, damn well knowing sleep wouldn't come easy.

"I don't think I can fall asleep, Bruce," I admitted, looking away. There was just so much going on. My brain wouldn't shut up and if I couldn't drown out the cacophony by being productive, I'd troll the internet, as usual.

Banner sighed, coming to sit next to me, leaning against the headboard. Gently running his fingers through my hair, brushing the outside of his palm against my cheek. "How do you usually deal with this?"

Involuntarily, my eyelashes fluttered. "Tony does most of the work," I admitted coyly. The engineer had a whole arsenal of tricks up his sleeve - sexy and exhausting tricks.

"I see," Bruce muttered, thoughtfully.

I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me with a look I haven't seen before. The usual mildly absent, slightly anxious face he wore was replaced by something I could only describe as hurt envy, like a kid looking at their schoolmate who had all the newest, coolest toys. I used to be on the receiving end of that look far too often and I hated it.

I hid my face against his leg, rubbing my cheek on the raspy corduroy fabric of his pants. "Got any good ideas of your own?" I wondered lowly, thinking about what in the world possessed Bruce to wear corduroy trousers on a semi-casual day, in the twenty-first century.

"Only bad ideas," He replied in a matching low tone. His soft fingertips relocated to my nape, goosebumps rising down my back.

"Humour me," I grinned against his leg.

Bruce was quiet for a moment, the sound of his thinking screaming louder than any words could have done. Knowing the scientist so closely, I found out he was full of surprises - bolder than he appeared outwardly and competitive to a boot. He thought he had a lot to prove to himself and by extension, to others. The unknown, the mystery dangling in front of my nose was exhilarating, trepidation addictive. It took me away from the chaos in my mind.

A gentle grasp on my chin had me turning to look upwards, Bruce's face flushed and focused on my own, open and trusting. He needed to see the obvious, that I trusted him to take care of me. He pulled and I followed, sitting up on my elbows, coming up to his shoulder level, our faces inches apart, enveloped in the unique, intense scent of his herbal tea. It was a tart, strong smell and it suited his quiet but passionate character.

Once, twice, I caught my eyes sliding to his plump lips. They looked far too appealing in this position. I usually strategically stayed away from positions so compromising, fearing the very thing that I'd already let happen, however this time the atmosphere was different. We stood on ambiguous grounds, waiting for Bruce to make a decision.

The man wasn't stupid, he saw the way I looked at him. The nightmares and inability to take a break from life put a significant dent in my resolve to keep a distance between us, romantically - I could have settled even for a pity kiss, a pity fuck. Anything to put my brain on pause.

His lips were softer than I had imagined. Skilled, too, he easily steered the kiss into the shallow waters of our combined longing.

With Tony, it was like an avalanche. Tony ran hot like Peterbilt engines, hard and fast, almost angry in his race for satisfaction. Tony was a man that was used to getting whatever he wanted and it became plainly obvious when we fucked.

Bruce was the opposite. He savoured the kiss, losing himself in a way that could almost be described as delicate. Bruce was humming, softly, as we tasted each other, holding the left side of my face with careful fingertips. Almost as if he was afraid to break me. The feel of his skin on mine was soothing in a way that made me sigh and relax even further.

"Wanna make you feel good." His voice had dropped, gone husky, but his breathing held even. He must know all about self-control.

"Yeah," I was ready to agree with whatever the fuck he was offering. My eyelids remained shut.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

PS. Letsby, please don't combust. The underwear is coming off in the next chapter. 😶

[inupipi]

ilyt beanie 🥺🥺 I've been fine!! im trying to manage my workload more and not neglect my responsibilities (aka homework lmao) so im feeling good :) hruu?

today i tried replacing xingqiu with kokomi and sayu and the little electro wolf things were dead so fast i thought that the event still wasn't over JAHSHDHD i managed to get 4 gold medals on this floor!!! :D but on the first and second? 😃 let's just say i didn't read the instructions for the rewards properly before i reset the trial sjdbbffbbf kokomi is actually really fun to play!! I can't dodge anything so all i did was stand there and let kokomi's jellyfish do its thing ajbdbfff

the portal does lead to somewhere if you're in the glowing bubble thingy for a world quest! but it's just mesmerising to watch, even on mobile with potato graphics 😭

puzzles in enkanomiya were the next level omd the hilichurls should riot over the constant change in nighttime/daytime that i caused. i managed to solve a bunch of them on my own, fortunately :D plss the moving wall puzzle made me so confused bcs how can it be symmetrical when the imaginary blue walls aren't in one line with each other. then i realised the colour didn't matter and u just had to fill in all of the space 🤡

i only have a hundred or so bcs i don't like it if the amount drops under 100 🖐 i just did gorou's hangout a few days ago and he's the bestest boy in the world, , , i was NOT expecting for us to have to retreat in the end after the confrontation 😭😭 i loved beidou's hangout out of the new ones the most, though. she really has great characterisation and writing. chongyun's still remains my fav tho bcs im biased 😩✨

NOOO JAHSHDHDHF im so blind sometimes too. what i did was i tried to get as many chests and those jade things as possible without asking for hints and when i hit around 70-80% exploration, i used hints

mwahh sorry for the horrible late response i've had a shit ton of work this week omfg i missed u sm <33 and pls do i knwo i always say this but if u have a way to get urself less stressed i think i will turn into a rainbow :D and im good!! just very happy right now for some reason BSHFSHB right?? i love LOVED making electro-charged teams with kokomi i had the time of my life... imagine getting all gold D: i dont have two main dps built (for some reason i felt like i said this already, i probably did but eh) so i had to rely on trial characters as dps and all my good supports, and xiao basically going solo for his floors <33 gooo xiao but right?? lifesaver for anyone who has zhongli NSJFBSH tfw cant dodge <//3 i get bullied sm for it ship save me pls omg i'll try going there today :D when i log on bcs i have class rn and i am abt to fall asleep oops omg i hope u mean date's quest?? that was so painful i was moving the outer walls for like half an hour before i realised there was another thing for the inner walls... the humiliation i felt was horrible (but also pls hepl me w puzzles i just leave it to a friend who comes in once in a while NSJFBHE) 100 or so... honestly same but its with like. 40 i have no knowledge on where to get the cores so i jsut go near tree go near rock domain and boom done :D omg omg ship i forgot to tell u built chongyun so that he's not on lv 60 anymore (he's also nearing friendship 10) and can i just say im in love i love this boy sm FBEJBFS at least he doesnt go gRGgRGGR on his idle <333 thats very big brain of u i got to like 40% and gave up and low graphics were not on my side

[samwise-writes]

The Gala: A Dance?

Part one, because this got really heckin' long. I've sat on this for too long, so here, have a thing.

Follows A Promise and The Invitation so those might be worth a gander for context!

CW: Hisoka; stalking; Possessive behaviour

She was uncomfortable. The fabric that was draped around her body felt as though it was suffocating her - she was painfully aware of how the outfit restricted her movements and of the overwhelming number of blind spots in the room. She fidgeted with a lock of hair that had escaped the carefully crafted updo she had managed to wrangle her ginger strands into only a few short hours earlier.

She was brought back into a more present state of consciousness as Mairi took a step closer to Serena's side. She must have sensed the shopkeep's uneasiness, as when Rea met the other woman's gaze, sympathy coloured the Hunter's blue eyes.

Rea held back a cringe and forced a smile onto her face, attempting to ease her posture into something even just slightly less defensive (at least in appearance). It certainly wouldn't do for the entire ballroom to observe how uncomfortable she was - the last thing she needed was hundreds of Hunters and other highly dangerous people to mistake her discomfort as something more threatening.

"I wasn't being facetious when I told your clown that these sorts of events were not my cup of tea."

Mairi made a face of displeasure at the mention of the redheaded magician - "Not my clown."

Rea snorted and a genuine smile cracked across her face for the first time since they had stepped into the building.

"Hey, you brought that nuisance into my life, he is yours." She paused thoughtfully before smirking, "Anyways, he seems to be a bit of a package deal with your boyfriend... so, he's yours, no take-backs!"

Mairi looked confused for a split second before a look of realization dawned and transformed into a look of horror, "Excuse me? No? Illumi is not my boyfriend." Rea cackled at her friend's reaction.

"If he isn't your boyfriend then why is he always lurking around the shop like he thinks he's being stealthy whenever you visit me?"

Mairi blinked at Rea.

"He what?"

Rea was not expecting her friend's reaction to be... well, what it was.

She didn't know that he had followed her to the shop all those times.

Rea was thinking as quickly as she could; now was not the time nor place for frightening revelations, (as one of the Zoldyck family members following you tends to be).

"You are way too easy to tease, you know. He only seems to be around when Killua is with you, so you can chill out. Probably just being a creepy and possessive older brother, like you said he has the tendency to be."

It was a lie - he hadn't only been there when Killua was with Mairi, but she didn't want to send her friend into a panic. She paused, closely observing the other woman, but for once Mairi's expression was difficult to read. Linking an arm with the Story Hunter she started pulling her deeper into the room, "let's go find something to drink."

She hadn't realized how much of an effect her words would have. Although reflecting, she should have known better. She herself had had a similar reaction to the Story Hunter’s when she first noticed the assassin's presence. It had taken a while to even become aware of him (and if he was anyone other than a Zoldyck she would've accused herself of getting rusty).

The eldest Zoldyck child was very much the opposite of Hisoka - while the magician was more than happy to make himself known through his loud and dramatic behaviour, and by flexing his aura and bloodlust all over the place - the assassin kept a very tight control on his own: if he didn't want you to know he was there, you wouldn't, at least not until it was much too late. It was a coincidence that Rea had even noticed him - and it was very much thanks (unfortunately) to Hisoka. The magician had seemed to sense something when he was in her shop one day, and the flare in his bloodlust seemed to trigger the slightest slip up in the assassin's aura (it was, after all, incredibly difficult not to instinctively react to Hisoka's bloodlust). That day Mairi had yet to make an appearance, so the shop owner hadn't initially connected the assassin's presence to her friend. She had a moment of panic where she lost control of her own aura, thinking that the Zoldycks had finally figured out who she was - and she had to fight to retain her control. She wasn't quite quick enough, and when she dared to glance at Hisoka he was looking at her with a manically delighted look. She hoped that he thought her reaction was simply from the unexpectedness of the flare in his bloodlust; something in his eyes, however, told her that he knew that she too had become aware of the assassin's presence and that the ravenette was the cause of her momentary loss of control. Needless to say, he was very interested to know what the possible connection between the little shopkeeper and Illumi was: as far as he knew only the Story Hunter had met the assassin before. In an attempt to deescalate the situation, Rea had stuck her tongue out at him in the most childish manner she could muster and told him to: "stop looking at me like that, you creep."

After that, Rea had been able to pick up on the assassin's presence whenever he did make an appearance. He never came in, but the former-Hunter was able to connect the fact that his appearances often coincided with her friend's visits. While she was concerned for her friend, she felt herself relax in the knowledge that he wasn't there for her, and therefore the Zoldycks likely still didn't know who she was. She never brought up the issue with her friend, she had clearly wrongly assumed that the woman had known.

Despite the levity that Rea had attempted to introduce by teasing the other woman (because let's be honest that royally failed), there was something undeniably charged in the atmosphere of the room. It was making the back of Rea's neck prickle. She wasn't sure if it was due to the disquiet that had fallen over her friend, or simply her own unease of being at the gala.

Unfortunately, it wasn't nearly as simple as that, and it didn't take very long to understand the true cause of the uneasy atmosphere.

The two women had managed to collect champagne flutes and were standing off to the side of the ballroom's dance floor, talking in hushed tones, both seemingly comparably more at ease than they had been just a quarter of an hour ago.

Suddenly Rea tensed up to a greater degree than at any other point during the evening so far. She stood stalk still as a certain aggravating presence loomed up beside her.

"Well, don't we just look positively delectable tonight," Hisoka purred in her ear. She could practically visualize the smug look the magician would be sporting; Rea had to fight every instinct in her body not to whip around and smack the man in the face. The women, in a controlled manner, turned to face the magician and another unexpected figure.

Rea thanked Mairi for what she did next because frankly, Rea had not expected Hisoka to look like that.

"What are you doing here?" Rea's eyes were going between a very normal(?!) looking Hisoka, her friend's quickly reddening shocked face, and a man with long black hair, a blank face and dark eyes that resembled pieces of the void. After she got past the initial shock of Hisoka's appearance Rea gathered enough wherewithal to discover that the dark-haired man was in fact the assassin who had been stalking her friend.

"You know, it is only good manners for you to return the compliment," Hisoka tore Rea's attention back to him, getting in her face with a smirk.

"You know,” Rea gave the magician a practiced bored look, “it’s bad manners to fish for compliments." She was proud of her acerbic tone. She would NOT give him the satisfaction of knowing how attractive he looked. He kept staring at her, a smirk growing wider - she could feel her own face slowly becoming more and more flushed by the second.

She gave a huff, and crossed her arms, trying to play off her affectedness with nonchalance, eyes returning to her friend who seemed to be growing tenser and tenser.

"You don't look like a clown for once: congratulations."

The assassin's eyes moved from Mairi for the first time since the men approached them, and fell to Rea, before quickly angling toward Hisoka; he blinked as though taking in the other man's appearance for the first time.

"She is right, you know."

Rea had to swallow the laugh that came bubbling up her throat at the ravenette's monotone delivery and oddly unobservant treatment of his companion. She wondered if he really hadn’t noticed or if he was just acting like he hadn’t in order to get under the magician’s skin.

The assassin returned his gaze to Mairi, his eyes drinking her in.

After a short pause, he spoke again: “To answer your question… I was invited.”

Rea watched her friend blink a few times face getting even redder, shifting ever so slightly under Illumi’s gaze.

“Oh. Right. Yeah, that makes sense.” There was a pause and Illumi seemed perfectly intent on continuing to stare at Mairi. Finally, she cleared her throat and began again, “Um. Right. Hello.”

Rea wanted to save her friend from the awkward situation but was also attempting to ignore Hisoka, who looked unfairly good in a suit and was staring her down as though she was his favourite dessert.

Rea slipped her arm through Mairi’s again, but this time pulled the other woman into her a bit closer, she proceeded to intertwine their fingers and gave the hunter’s hand a squeeze. Illumi’s eyes narrowing the tiniest degree, fell to their hands, before following Rea’s arm back up to her face.

Interesting.

“So, what, Hisoka,” Rea started, returning her gaze to the other man and inwardly cursing herself for doing so, her voice much breathier as she continued “I refused to bring you, so you annoy this guy into doing so? Wanted to dance with me that bad, huh?”

Hisoka took a step closer so that there were mere centimetres between them, and Rea had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes: they flicked down to her mouth momentarily before meeting her gaze once again.

“Is that an offer?” His voice was so low it sent a shiver down her spine. He grinned at her reaction – and then suddenly he had one hand clasped around the back of her neck, thumb stroking over her pulse-point ever so slightly. A small gasp escaped her lips – she hadn’t even seen him move. Fire spread over her shoulders, and up into her face – she could only imagine how flushed she was.

"Oh, is this why you didn't want me to be your date? Because you knew your undeniable attraction to me would be a distraction from the evening?" He had bent his head down, his red hair tickling her forehead, as his breath danced across her ear. That snapped her back into action. Using her one free hand, she pushed him away from her with a solid press to the middle of his chest.

She sputtered, "NO YOU CLOWN. Shut UP. Just. Leave. I'm leaving."

Then she tugged on Mairi’s hand, attempting to draw her attention away from the other man who was back to staring at her: however, to Rea’s dismay, she was met with a sight she hadn’t expected. Illumi had one hand extended to her friend – was he asking her to dance?

She saw her friend was looking at her with wide eyes, as though looking for an escape. Serena opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out, Hisoka stepped closer to her again, placing his hand now lightly at her waist.

“Dance with me.” His voice sounded in her ear again, this time more serious than Rea had ever heard him. She made an apologetic face at her friend. They were stuck in the situation, it seemed.

Serena redirected her gaze, opting to trace the pattern of the marble floor, rather than meet Hisoka’s too-close eyes.

“I don’t know how to dance.”

There was a pause and Rea finally met Hisoka’s gaze. It seemed he was waiting for her to do so, as his sharp grin spread further across his face.

“Worry not, Dearest, I won’t let you fall.”

She cursed under her breath “Sure you won’t.”

She heard him chuckle, assuming he had heard her, as he proceeded to guide the woman out to the dance floor. He stopped a reasonable way in, avoiding the other dancers who had already begun to gracefully move through the waltz and then turned to face Rea.

She stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, as he rearranged them: taking her right hand in his left, and placing her left on his shoulder, before replacing his hand back at her waist.

“Wait – do you even know how to dance?”

He just raised an eyebrow at her for a moment.

And then he took the first step.

A/N: Frankly I had way too much fun writing this, and once again, I blame @crocworkships and our fantastic conversations for this.

[ughgclden]

some very late pairings for the lovely @izzyneedsabreak ,, thanks sm for the request i hope it makes you smile <33 this is going to get long, so let's go!!

for dead poets society, i'd pair you with...

(romantically)

you and charlie would just make so much sense to me as a couple in that you both seem to have chaotic vibes; charlie more so, obviously, but you work together well in that he manages to pull that chaos out of you. it's not uncommon for the two of you to be found talking animatedly to one another about something, perhaps plotting some sort of late night adventure, or one of his 'smart' ideas to rebel against the iron grip of hellton.

charlie can be quite soft with you though, often when it's just the two of you alone. he'll sneak you into his dorm at least once a week - he kicks cameron out and tells him to sleep on the floor of meeks and pitts' dorm, cameron isn't happy - and will let you lay against his chest as he plays with your hair and listens to you talk about your day. it's nice to see the quieter, more subdued side of charlie dalton, although the loud and obnoxious side is just as lovely.

supports you and your acting so much. you thought he was supportive of neil? it's ten times that. he sits front row for every show he can, bringing a bouquet of your favourite flowers to hand to you the moment you get off stage. before you can even get a word out, he's rattling off so many compliments and praises, genuinely so proud of you and your talent.

he would beg you to come to dead poets meetings and then show you off to the rest of the boys, even if they'd already met you ten times before. he'll endlessly praise you, shooting down any teasing that may come his way. he also definitely recites love poems to you dramatically, kneeling down and grabbing your hands as he tries not to break his serious act.

it's no secret that charlie loves hugs. loves them. he'll pull you into them whenever he can; either grabbing your hands and pulling you into his arms, or wrapping himself around you from behind, even just enveloping you in a hug and refusing to let go. he sways from side to side and hums under his breath.

makes playlists for you with his favourite songs that make him think of you. he pretends not to be flustered when he presents you with it.

you also become the muse of the occasional poems he attempts to write, claiming you can't tell the others or it'll ruin his reputation (it's obvious they're all about you anyways)

and

(platonically)

you and neil would obsess over musical theatre together, and would definitely go to each others' shows whenever possible. you're both constantly singing the soundtracks to your current favourite musicals, something both charlie and todd pretend to hate but actually think is quite entertaining to watch.

you both just get each other; when charlie introduces you to the poets you instantly click, getting along with each other really well (which leaves charlie feeling quite jealous, but shh). you're quite similar in terms of personality and balance each other out well - neil thinks he's found a great friend in you.

doing nothing with neil is a must. you'll spend time just talking about nothing to each other - you tell him stories about charlie, your other friends, your life, and he'll tell you stories in return. you both like sharing funny stories about charlie so that you can embarrass him later on.

neil confides in you quite a lot. not that he doesn't trust the other poets, but he likes that he can get an 'outside' perspective of someone who isn't one of the welton boys. he hopes you feel the same way about him.

writing to him over the summer to ensure he's doing okay, especially considering his situation with his parents.

constant teasing from him about yours and charlie's relationship - any chance this boy has to make a sly comment or quick remark, he's jumping at the chance. it's his favourite hobby at this point.

for the marauders, i'd pair you with...

(romantically)

you and moony are a match made in heaven. remus is absolutely smitten with you, and it's not hard to tell. the marauders are often quite a chaotic bunch and as much as he love them, he also adores the peace and tranquility your presence brings him. suddenly he feels like he doesn't have to go a hundred miles a minute and can take things one step at a time, enjoying the little things with you.

he'll usually read to you, picking your favourite books and letting the words fall from his lips softly as you both curl up together under a blanket late at night in the unusually empty common room, appreciating how cosy and full of love the situation feels. he takes breaks between lines to kiss the top of your head or temple before reading on.

remus appreciates you most after a full moon; you're always the one person he wants to see. you know exactly how to care for him, not making him feel incapable, but also being mindful of how tiring it can be and just allowing him to take time to feel like himself again. he likes that you're more than happy to patch him up, but you don't show him intense pity or guilt, just a desire to make him feel okay again.

this isn't to say your relationship is always soft and sappy, no. the amount of times you've been involved in their pranks and schemes is impressive at this point. they always end with remus grabbing your hand and dragging you along as you run down the corridors, avoiding whichever poor soul had the misfortune of being on the receiving end. muffled giggles are all that can be heard for long after you've found safety.

always wants to be your partner in lessons when possible. before the professor has even finished their sentence, he's locking eyes with you in a silent question. of course, you always want to work with him too. it's the perfect balance of getting shit done and having fun.

a lot of trips to hogsmeade. in the colder months, he'll wrap one of his scarfs around your neck and shove one of his hats onto your head, holding you close as you walk through the streets.

small forms of intimacy; thumbs stroking cheekbones, fingers threading through hair, soft smiles and whispered words. remus loves it all.

and

(platonically)

remus isn't at all surprised at how close you are with james, in fact he expected it from the moment you two met. you and james are good at keeping up with one another, always seemingly on each other's wavelength.

no matter your house, james insists you support gryffindor when a quidditch match is on. he doesn't want to hear any excuses. and if you aren't kitted out in face paint, holding a banner and cheering him on? he'll put on the most over-dramatic, disappointed display you've ever seen. he only stops once you beg for his forgiveness through rolled eyes, and he'll announce with a sigh that his heart will one day mend.

helping james out with his crush on lily is very common; this boy will come to you for advice on anything regarding her, because "you know how this works, you're in a relationship aren't you?" he's totally useless, as endearing as it is, and you and remus have to work together to come up with plans that won't end in embarrassment for your hopeless friend. and when they do get together? double dates of course!

gives amazing birthday and christmas presents. there's something you mentioned you wanted in passing? it's guaranteed james will be presenting it to you with a knowing grin. this boy is great at gift giving.

studying with him is actually quite productive; with you he manages to not get distracted, and you can both get your homework done amidst some friendly chatter and quiet music. he makes sure you take breaks often enough.

very protective. if anyone ever upsets you, whilst remus is comforting you it's guaranteed james will be 'taking care of it' for you. you're his best friend, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone hurt his best friend.

and for six of crows, i'd pair you with...

(romantically)

god nina would adore you. she thinks you're the most perfect person to walk the planet - it was love at first sight 100%. nina's quite a bubbly person, as are you, so there's never a dull moment or a lull in conversation; you always find something to be talking about, something to be doing.

this girl loves being near you, knowing you're close to her and with her. she'll often just take your hand in hers, or rest a head on your shoulder, just to remind herself that you're with her and she's the luckiest person.

she'd love to tell you stories about her heists with the crows just to see the look of wonder and excitement on your face as she recalled some of their greatest ideas, although he made an effort to ensure you never got caught up in their plans and ideas - she wanted to keep you safe, and she promised herself she would.

it doesn't matter how long you two have been together, nina flirts with you like she's still trying to win you over. every morning she'll wake you up with a flirtatious comment and often sends you winks and pick up lines throughout the day, even when it isn't the most appropriate of times.

a lot of bakery dates. nina has an extreme sweet tooth, so going out for hot drinks and waffles is a must in your relationship. she enjoys the calm it brings her.

sings to you quite often, despite the fact that her voice isn't quite the best you've ever heard. if it made you smile, she'd sing a thousand notes terribly off-key.

the worst morning person ever. if you want to wake up on time, it's best to set an alarm half an hour early to account for nina's constant pleas for 'five more minutes' as she pulls you back into her arms. and how could you say no?

and

(platonically)

i feel like i've been pairing you with a lot of big personalities throughout this, but i think you and jesper would be best friends instantly. from the moment jesper meets you, he takes you under his wing and refuses to leave your side. he latches onto you and even if you wanted, you couldn't get rid of him.

obviously, this is jesper, so outlandish adventures around ketterdam are a must despite the rare scoldings from kaz. it's nice to see how harmless much mischief you two can get up to, as jesper's witty personality means the night is full of hushed laughter and jokes. you're often the one who has to pull him away from his attempts at gambling away all of his money - you're the only one he'll listen to, and although he acts annoyed, deep down he's extremely grateful.

if you want to, he'd try to teach you how to use a gun and do the little tricks that he can. this isn't to say he wants you to join them on heists, of course not. but he feels a little safer knowing that, if necessary, you could protect yourself. nina is also thankful for this fact.

he loves to tease you and nina, which usually leads to a back and forth between them whilst you and wylan watch in amusement on the sidelines. it's always from a place of love, though.

calls you the most ridiculous nicknames, usually taken from an inside joke that happened two or more years ago. this boy doesn't let things go.

loves messing with you and teasing you, it's how he shows he cares and appreciates your friendship. he loves when you return this energy.

you're slightly quieter than he is, which he appreciates. he often feels like he can take a moment and calm down around you, making him not as impulsive. he thinks he's become a better person since the two of you became friends, often mentioning how you've rubbed off on him.

im hoping you enjoyed these bestie!! i rly hope i haven't somehow completely misinterpreted your personality through our chats,, but based on the vibes u give me this is what i'd have to say!!! :D

[fullmarvelheart]

Manhattan Incident

Pairing: Avengers x Enhanced!OFC

Word Count: 2,162

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of traumatic past, insomnia, passing out(..?)

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 1! I hope you all enjoy the story as well as the characters! Image is not my own. All rights go to the original creator.

Series Masterlist

I roll over and stare at my ceiling for what feels like the millionth time this night. Sleepless nights like this are not uncommon for me, unfortunately. Too many memories swirl in my head, bad memories at that.

The bright red numbers on the clock read 3:30am. I groan as I drag my hands across my face in frustration. Knowing that I'd just keep getting annoyed at myself, I tiredly throw the covers off my body and decide to go on an early morning run to relax my mind. 

When I step out into the crisp night, it feels as if a bucket of cold water has been thrown on me and I instantly feel awake.

I smile to myself as I lock the door behind me and stuff my key in the pocket of my leggings. It's a miracle I even found leggings with pockets! The cold air feels refreshing compared to my hot and stuffy bedroom. It helps ease my overactive mind.

The sound of my pounding footsteps on the pavement is music to my ears as I just focus only on that. It's extremely more pleasant that the hustle and bustle of cars and people that plague the New York  streets during the day.

I feel the energy flowing into each building and through each living thing as I pass by, though I try my best to ignore it.

The streets of Brooklyn are eerily silent besides the few garbage cans being rummaged through by raccoons or even some people. The few people that were still up stare at me, but I don't stop, I can't stop.

The slower I run, the more the memories start to return, the more the pain returns, the louder my thoughts get. I push my body harder, faster, to almost inhuman like speeds. I try to hold myself back as I feel my muscles screaming for a break. Though, the want to not hold back at all and run even faster than normally possible is strong, but my mind fights me on that. It fights me on both of those things.

Keep running!

No, don't! Stop!

Blend in, don't go faster!

Run faster! As fast as you know you can!

It's frustrating, and painful.

I begin to focus on my surroundings and realize I have no idea where I am. I slow to a stop before hunching over, ignoring the dull throbbing in my head that's beginning to form, hands on my knees in order to catch my breath. I could easily replenish my strength but I can't, I won't. Not after everything. Not while there is still a risk. I had finally found a place to settle, I'm not going to ruin that now.

I let out a loud sigh into the quiet night as I straighten up. My hand moves behind my head and allows my dirty-blond colored locks to fall out of the ponytail it was in. I begin to redo it when I hear a low rumble. I freeze, thinking I was encountering an earthquake, but the ground isn't trembling and it doesn't sound... natural. Small strands of my now loose blond hair brush across my face as the breeze gently tosses it around. The sound grows steadily louder and I begin the look around when I see it in the sky.

It looks like a star, about to collide with Earth. As it gets closer, I can't find the will to move away. It strikes, causing me to stumble to the ground. I raise up my hands to create an energy field around me for protection and notice nothing hits it. Lowering my hands, and ignoring the messy strands of hair across my face, I notice there's a some sort of bright beam.

"It almost looks like a rainbow." I whisper to myself as I stand and feel the raw power pulse within it.

The light suddenly fades, the blackness of the late night returning almost instantly. When my eyes grow accustomed to the dark, I notice a figure, shakily pushing themselves off the ground. They're no human, I'm certain of that. They radiate more power than anything I've ever felt in my life on Earth. It's weak, but still very much there. I can only stare at this person, my feet frozen to the ground.

When they stand up, their head falls back before they drag their hands down their face. By their side profile, I can tell it's a man. A man with what appears to be a cape, groaning in the middle of the street. He looks tall, strong, and has wavy long hair. I'm... intrigued by his sudden presence here, of all places.

Suddenly a bright golden light, with a bit of a greenish tint erupts from the center of his chest and cascades over his whole body. The cape disappears. I quietly gasp in awe. The power, I can feel it, I can feel it's uniqueness. However, the gasp wasn't quiet enough.

His head snaps towards me and I can see his fist clenching in the dark. Still, I stand there frozen.

But then I feel a presence behind me, a weak one of the man's.

A shadow maybe... I muse to myself.

He walks faster, with a purpose. He extends his arms creating two small but sharp daggers. He's still a bit away from me but I don't give him the chance to come much closer. Draining the power of the shadow behind me, and using what little strength I have from lack of sleep, I send an energy ball at him that glows a brilliant light blue before it knocks the man back several feet.

He lands with a thud and I don't give him the chance to attack again. Using the power lines running underneath the street, I teleport back to my room in my small home.

"Damn it!" I curse, flopping down on the bed, exhaustion weighing on my bones.

It's alright, I just need to lay low now... No one is up at this hour. No one saw... Hopefully they won't find me... 

.

.

.

A few hours later and I had finished eating breakfast. Turning on the early morning news, I drink my cup of coffee on the couch, relishing in the taste that touches my tongue and the warmth that flows down my throat. I lazily glance at the clock then look back at the TV.

Wait...

I look back over at the clock hanging on my wall and my eyes shoot open in alarm.

Crap! I'm going to be late for work!

I chug the rest of my drink, annoyed at the fact I can't savor it as I planned. Grabbing my keys and my purse, I dash outside. Let's just say I am pushing "on-time" when I get there. I throw open the door to the little café I work at and hurriedly weave my way through the customers.

"Eh, look who made it." One of my co-workers, Anna, says sarcastically. "Hey, everyone!" She calls back to our other co-workers. "Saddie's here!" I chuckle with her as this happens every-so-often... maybe like every other work day... yeah... I punch in and grab my apron before hurriedly tying it as I walk towards the front of the store.

She's still giggling to herself as I pull my hair back.

"Shut up Anna, I was on time." I say with a small smile.

"Barely." She chuckles.

I was about to reply when I happened to glance at the TV. I gasp, staggering back with a hand over my month. Everything else around me fades. On the news is an image of a Q-Ship flying over Manhattan, one of Thanos' many ships. Then the people running in a panic outside draws my attention.

Damn, why is it always New York?

"Everybody run!" Anna screams, causing a panic. I find myself running too, but towards the danger.

I push myself through the people, moving them slightly out of my way with my ability, but not significantly enough for them to tell. I look up towards the ship that I can now see for myself. Iron Man's suit flies over the horizon of panic and I grow suddenly nervous. I can't believe I'm going to do this... Without any warning, someone forcibly shoves my shoulder, causing me to lose balance. Before I hit the ground, strong arms wrap around me and drag me to the side of crazed people.

"Watch where you're going, mortal. Anyone of them would have trampled you. You're lucky I was there." An accented voice says dangerously close to my ear while slightly laced with amusement and what sounds like terror.

I feel it before I even look at him, the energy... it's the same as the man's... the one from last night.

I snap my head in the direction of his voice and come face to face with bright emerald green eyes. I push myself away with a force I don't usually use on normal humans.

But he's far from human.

He goes flying into the wall, then looks back at me, stunned as I regain my footing, before realization crosses his face. I don't take time to look at him more but instead continue towards the chaos, forcefully ripping off my apron in the process. I run into the middle of the street to find one of Thanos' Children I recognize as the bastard Ebony Maw, disappearing on his whirlwind of debris chasing after a red flying blur.

I feel for a current running under the city and use that to teleport closer to Maw. Running after them is easier said than done. Debris and abandoned cars create an obstacle course for me to weave around. Instead of doing that, I continually teleport near him. It's faster but still tiring to do.

I eventually notice Spider-Man swinging to reach the same red blur. Maw tries to catch the red mass using light posts and eventually snags it, though a man falls out. I gasp in horror, freezing, watching him fall when Spider-Man swings between the buildings keeping the other man from falling. Too many males in this fight... geez... You all need some estrogen!

I stop, only a couple hundred feet away when feel the hum of energy that surges through the ship. The transport beam activates, sucking the man in the air while the Sider-Man tries desperately to hold him back. Maw starts to use his powers to lift up the post Spider-Man is clinging onto. Snapping out of my observational trance, I conjure an energy ball and aim it at Maw. He doesn't notice until it's too late. He flies backwards from the force of the collision, but manages to remain conscious, to my annoyance. Using his powers to prevent his fall, he straightens up and turns to me with that haunting smirk of his.

Objects begin to fly at me and I create as many energy shields as I can, blocking their path. I create a bubble around myself before draining the currents underneath me to send out a shockwave. The flying objects are pushed away or are obliterated, windows are blown in and shatter, cars fly out of the street and into the buildings, stone and brick crack and crumble from the force. Maw goes flying back also, unable to block my ability.

Feeling slightly drained, I fall to my knee. I look up to see Maw picking himself up from the ground. He sends me a snarl before jumping into the beam as well.

Panic floods my system as he disappears and the beam stops. I groan as I push myself to my feet and begin to run after them, convincing myself I could still help them from here. An idea comes to me and I come to a stop before focusing on the feel of the Q-Ship. It's energy is so powerful, I'm terrified. I haven't practiced with my powers lately, I barely have enough energy to do this after what I've already done. I have no idea if this will even work. But I have to help, somehow... I have to try!

I have to help to make up for that day. The day that I couldn't save her. The day I lost the other half of me. The day my twin was ripped away from this life. And I have to make up for everything since, in someway.

I reach out to the power source, and begin to drain the ship. My hands shake as I do so, the energy feels too heavy. I should have gotten closer. But the ship begins to move, I-I c-can't...

More power is pushed through the ship, enough to move it through the atmosphere. It's getting farther... too far.

The world begins to spin and I collapse. Though, I feel someone's arms holding onto me, preventing me from hitting the hard pavement below.

Then the world goes black.

Chapter 2

[sparklessswift]

19 Things I've Learned in 2019

1. “The desire for positive experience is itself a negative experience. And paradoxically, the acceptance of one's negative experience is itself a positive experience.” — Mark Manson (The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck)

I always thought that "How To Be Happy" things on the internet are true and those things can really change your life if you will try to do so. But while reading this book, I've realized that it's not. That the irony behind thinking of ways to be happy and positive just reminds us of what we are not and of what things we failed to have that we've always wanted. The more we try searching for ways on how to be happy, the more we can't attain happiness.

2. The quality of your life depends on the quality of your choices and decisions.

I've learned that you are the only one who's accountable for everything that you choose to do, for every thoughts that you entertain and for every decisions that you make. The quality of your life is shaped on whatever you want it to be. Whenever you feel like you're carrying a huge amount of emotional baggage, it's because you chose to carry it anyway. You chose to entertain the melancholia, you chose to let it enter your life. Do not blame your situation or even other people. Change the way you see things, make good decisions and choices and the quality of your life will be better.

3. Music is a form of enlightenment towards our true emotions.

I found out that longing to hear sad songs that we can relate to whenever we are feeling sad isn't a sign of tolerating sadness, it means we are trying to fill the gap between what we know and what we feel. Finding the perfect song that explains exactly the way we feel helps us figure out the right words to describe our current emotion. It makes us feel that we are not the only one in the world who's suffering. It's relieving to be so connected to a song that you feel as though, it was written for you.

4. Forgiveness is a nice thing to do.

There are times when we feel as though, people and even ourselves are not worthy to be forgiven and that no amount of apology will cease the burning fire. But one thing I do learned this year is that, forgiveness means letting go. Do yourself a favor and let go of the bad memories, what's important is that you took it as a learned lesson. Let go of the grudges that you kept for so long, it will give you a peace of mind. Let go of the idea that forgiving without hearing an apology is not necessary in life, it is. Forgive yourself for all the mistakes you've done in life and forgive those people who have hurt you as well. Release the pain by forgiving so you can finally move on.

5. Self loathe is the most toxic form of hate.

I've learned that there is nothing more toxicating in life than hating your own existence and body. It's like badly wanting a poisonous thing even when you know it is bad for you. It's like loving the lyrics to Taylor Swift's song "ME!" because it radiates self-love but there's always a cringeworthy feeling whenever you sing the words "I'm the only one of me, baby that's the fun of me" because you can't feel the message it conveys. And it feels like, no amount of motivation from other people can cure the poison in you. I know it's easier said than done but remember that only you can free yourself from self loathing so might as well start appreciating small things about yourself and sooner or later you will realize that it's fun to be the only one of you.

6. Being 18 is challenging. While it may be true that each year has its own challenge, being 18 is quite different. It's the time when your mind starts forming questions about life, existence, and future. It's like a climax to your own story, exciting as it may seem but it contains setbacks, challenges and a hundred thousand pieces of inspirations needed in order to thrive harder. In order to believe that you can pursue your dream of reaching the happily ever after.

7. Appreciate high school moments while they last. Realizing how fast the time has flown after my journey in high school is something I wish I was ready for. Funny how we're so attached to a moment from the past (e.g. graduation) that everytime we remember it, there's this bubble of thoughts appearing in our heads with the line “it felt like yesterday” and it feels so bittersweet. If there's one thing I can teach the other generations, it is to always appreciate each moment while it lasts. After all, moments will become memories that will forever be stuck in our head so might as well enjoy your high school life and make good memories out of it.

8. We are all temporary in everyone else's lives and that's normal. It feels relieving when you realize that each person that we meet has a temporary role in our lives. We are bound to lose connection with someone whom we thought will never leave us, we're bound to cut ties with people who are not good for us, and we're bound to be left behind or leave not because we want to but because we just crossed paths with each other, we aren't really travelling the same path not as what we thought we are. Learn how to appreciate someone's presence and learn how to accept someone's absence.

9. Do not drown yourself in the thought that internet validation is important. It is definitely okay to dump the idea that you're living in the wrong generation if you think likes/reactions, comments and shares are not important. Most people today still haven't come to realize that the internet has not just open-sourced information, it has also open-sourced insecurity, self-doubt, and shame. And we have to open our minds about it. Life is happier the moment you realize that you should not give a damn about what other people think of your posts.

10. Do not jump on hate trends in social media just because it's in. Cancel culture has made a noise in the internet this year and suddenly everyone are bragging their freedom of speech because they are jumping on the bandwagon (or should I say, we're? 😂) But one thing I do learned from all the hate trends is to be discerning. This is the best time you can practice cherry-picking and only utter a word when you think you really need to or when you think it is appropriate to do so. Just as Taylor Swift said, “You just need to take several seats and then try to restore the peace and control your urges to scream about all the people you hate”.

11. Being attached to someone does not mean you're into that person. Attachment is way too different than love and even infatuation. It needs not to be stereotyped. Sometimes all you have to do is to give yourself the benefit of the doubt about how you feel and you will realize the true value of a person to you.

12. The hardest struggle in life that we can ever experience is something that is related with our family. Indeed home is where the heart is. Family is our major source of inspiration and it can also be our major source of distraction whenever there are unforeseen circumstances going on. And I think dealing with those circumstances is the hardest struggle to face because there will always be a pain in your chest wherever you go that is inevitable. The pain that lies deep within you but bleeds through the surface of your body that you can't hide.

13. College is way too different than high school and you should be ready for it. Of course, culture shock will always be there the moment you enter college. You will start comparing high school and college in every single details, you will randomly reminisce high school memories while walking in the hallway and you will remember how easy passing the exams and getting high grades back then. In my first semester in college, I've learned that you will never survive if you are ill-spirited, proscrastinator, lazy and weak student. I've learned that college is survival and in survival, you should not come with unnecessary gears. I'm sorry Taylor Swift but in college, you should not bring a knife to a gun fight.😃

14. It's okay to have few friends atleast they are real. Making friends is hard and no one can convince me otherwise. People's intentions to you are confusing nowadays and it's hard to trust another set of new people. I've realized that the amount of friends has nothing to do about how you enjoy your life. What's important is that you have friends who are honest as the day is long.

15. Listen more, say less. This year I've learned the value of lending ears to those who are in need of it and even to situations that require much understanding before saying an opinion to avoid any conflict.  Do not be easily carried away by your emotions to the extent that you're no longer thinking if what you are going to say is appropriate to the situation. On the other hand, there are times that people who are venting out their problems do not need any piece of advice, what they need is someone who is understanding enough to spend time listening to their rants.

16. Things that are gonna make your life more interesting are things that you should say yes to. — Taylor Swift

Progress doesn't come in the blink of an eye. You need to challenge yourself to do new things in order to make a progress. It is even more okay to step out of your comfort zone sometimes in order to grow. Life will be more interesting when you accept challenges with conviction.

17. Follow accounts on social media who are good for your mental health. Do yourself a favor and start unfollowing accounts that triggers your anxiety, insecurity and self-doubt. Your feed should only contain things that motivates you and people that inspires you to be like them. It should not be a place to start who-did-it-better or who's-best-at-life competitions.

18. Acceptance takes time. I have learned that it is okay to still question things that happened to you 6 years ago. It's okay to still cry everytime it pops up in your head, it's okay if you are not a hundred percent healed and it's okay to have a mind with not enough understanding about the situations that you've been to even if it happened a long time ago. God put you there for a reason. You have to keep in mind that acceptance has no definitive time frame. Healing doesn't wait for you to be ready for it. It will just happen.

19. Procrastination can ruin your goals in life.

There will be no further explanation, there will just be procrastination. 😎

[vickypoochoices]

ABC Fluffs.

Thank you to @krsnlove for requesting this. It’s been sat untouched in my drafts for a while, so I thought I’d finally get around to satisfying your needs!

I’ll make this ZigxLyla because she’s my most recent MC so I guess she’s still fresh in everyone’s mind. I'm gonna refer to events in Partner In Crime quite a lot so if you haven't read it and are confused, give it a read [HERE].

The L ove confession answer is a little segment taken from an NSFW chapter of PIC. I promise it's tame, I wanted to keep this clean, but consider this your warning. (I don't think it even counts but i just want to make sure no one gets upset at a slightly suggestive piece!) Apart from that, I think it's all cute and fluffy!

Also, I started writing this from Zig's perspective and it just kind of stuck.

Tagging: @zigortega4life @emerald-bijou @littlegreenmoo (I fear the fluff may kill you off, but it feels wrong not tagging you!) @krsnlove @itsalliepg @choicesthot @hustacks

If you want to be tagged/untagged in any of my future stuff, let me know.

[MASTERLIST.]

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them? We literally spend every spare second of the day together! I guess things aren't too different to how they were before. As best friends (and roomies) we always used to be around each other the majority of the time anyway, and as we share the same friend group, hanging out with them has always been something we've done together. We're still the same excitable big kids that chase each other around the apartment half naked. But I have somehow managed to persuade Lyla to join me at this new dance class once a week. She's got two left feet and hates every second of it, but my girl drives a hard bargain. I'm stuck with all the jobs she hates doing taking the garbage out and she's demanding a full body massage as well. I know she loves to moan about it, but I'm sure deep down she's happy to be doing it with me. Maybe.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them? Everything! Every single inch of her is perfect. From her fluffy bedhead hair first thing in the morning to the tiny little scar on her ankle left from when she had chicken pox as a kid. I think what has always drawn me to Lyla though is her sense of humour. We have this banter together that I've never really experienced with anyone else and it's kind of a huge turn on for me.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.? I'm not exactly an extravagant person, and it's not like I have the money to do anything over the top. For me, it's all about the little things. I know Lyla well enough by now to determine what's going to cut it, and whatever it is, I'll do it. I'll run a hot bubble bath or make a last minute dash to the shop for chocolate/ice cream/wine. And making her favourite meal is always going to be a winner. But sometimes patience and understanding is all you need. If that means holding my girl for an hour whilst she smears make up all over my top and let's it all out, then that's what I'll do.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o? In a slightly bigger apartment for starters! Don't get me wrong, we both love our little space, but I guess we both know one day in the future it's not going to be the most practical. Obviously both our mothers have already brought up the subject of grandchildren daily. I'm sure that will all come one day, but for now our dreams have only stretched to getting a pet together. Apparently Lyla is a hundred percent a cat person, but I'm hoping I can work some magic and persuade her that dogs are awesome too. I think that basically sums us up. We haven't planned out what we want to do with our lives or what career paths to take, but our biggest goal is to have a dog pet together!

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive? I wouldn't say either of us are like overbearingly dominant or anything, but if I had to give you a name, i'd say Lyla just about has the edge over me. I'm not saying she walks all over me or that she wears the trousers or anything like that. But sometimes I'll just go along with something for an easy life.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting? If you ignore the little disagreement about what pet we should get and all the shit that went down with Dean, we really don't ever fight. Don't get me wrong, Lyla is stubborn as hell! But I learnt a few things growing up with a house full of sisters, so I'm more likely to let things slide. The only thing I struggle with is when the green eyed monster comes out in Lyla.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them? I know this is so cliche and people always say how lucky they are to call their other half their best friend, but I genuinely can say that. Everything is just so easy with us and Lyla knows me like the back of her hand. There's this other side to her that no one else ever gets to see and I love that it's reserved for me. Just doing simple things like walking around holding hands, showing my girl off to the world, I feel like the luckiest guy in the world that she feels the same way about me. Author's Note: We all know Lyla has every reason to be grateful for the absolute sweetheart that she's bagged herself, despite fucking him in a closet and then running away to her controlling fiance, then telling him to stay away. You sure you're grateful Zig?

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything? I'm making a point now of not keeping anything from Lyla after that spectacularly backfired on me with the whole Cherry thing! Safe to say I've learnt my lesson! I want to protect her with every fiber or my being, but I know a relationship is nothing without honesty and trust.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems? I guess you'd have to ask Lyla about this one for her. I know things were a little crazy with Dick Dean, and I'd like to think I helped her as best I could through all of that during the aftermath. For me though, going through it all pushed me to realise just how much I need Lyla. I depend on her more than I ever thought possible. I was this empty shell of a man that didn't want to get out of bed when she left. I know, I know. It sounds a bit over the top, but it really is true what they say; You don't know what you have until it's gone. And I plan on holding on tight to my girl from now on, and never letting go.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it? I'm not gonna lie, it sucks when I catch a guy checking Lyla out. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna be a dick about it. Knowing I'm the one that gets to take her home to our apartment to sleep in our bed makes things a little easier too. I think she's completely oblivious to any male attention anyway. And as for Lyla, she does have a touch of the green eyed monster from time to time. It's difficult sometimes, especially knowing how strongly I feel for her, and I hope I do a good job of showing her that on a daily basis. But I know that's the kind of thing we have to talk about, instead of letting it blow out of proportion like last time.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like? A reminder of how their first kiss went;

And then their lips collided in a frenzy, neither of them sure who made the first move, past the point of caring. Zig’s nose squished against hers repeatedly as their lips smacked together messily, Lyla’s kisses quickly intensifying, her tongue insistently pleading with his, desperate for permission to continue.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o? Again, a reminder of how that went down;

“I can’t do this when you’ve been drinking. I can’t take advantage.”

“Take advantage? It makes no difference if i’ve had a drink or not. I’ll still love you when I wake up in the morning.”

Zig shook his head sadly, hating the stab of hope he felt inside at the words she’d just said. “And I’ll still love you. Partner in crime, right?”

Lyla pulled back, tearing herself away from his neck. She looked him straight in the eye, hers wide and serious as she spoke. “You’re not listening to me. I’m in love with you Zig. And I’ll be in love with you even when the bubbles are gone and the hangover wears off. I...”

He crushes his lips against hers, walking her backwards and pinning her against the wall, his hands tangling in her hair which had come loose at some point. He pressed his body firmly against her, letting Lyla feel the full affect she had on him. Her hand drifted downwards, fingers stroking his full length through his suit trousers. Zig groaned, before slamming his lips against hers once more, leaving her breathless.

“Tell me again.” He hissed, pressing sloppy kisses down her jawline.

"I’m in love with you Zig.”

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like? It's not something we've talked about but there's no doubt in my mind, Lyla is the love of my life and there's nothing I want more than for her to become Mrs Ortega. One day though. There's no rush right now, despite what our Mum's might want from us. I want to do it right. After all that shit with that sham of a wedding to Dean, Lyla deserves to have the perfect day. I'm not saying i've thought much about how exactly I'd propose, but I do know it would be in the apartment. Regardless of if we still live there or not, that's where it's happening. Candles can make anything look beautiful right? As for the wedding, it can be whatever Lyla wants. We could get married in a castle, church, hotel, barn, even the middle of a mall if thats what makes her happy. As long as our friends and family are there and it's Lyla saying 'I Do', that's all I need.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o? Damn Aaron and his catchy nicknames! Lyla has taken to calling me Ziggypop since I let slip how much I kinda actually hate it. And she's a fan of rolling out my full name from time to time. As for me, I guess I'm kind of boring. I stick to babe/baby. And let's not forget beautiful, because I love how that still makes her smile every time I say it.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings? Well judging by how I reacted after our brief time apart, I'm a miserable prick without Lyla, so I'd say it was pretty obvious for others just how much I love her. I don't really know how to answer that one about what I'm like when I'm in love because it feels like I fell hard for Lyla the minute I laid eyes on her. I've spent years clutching on to those feelings, and hoping people didn't cotton on. We're both guilty of expressing those pent up feelings freely, now that we can.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching? We're definitely that couple that everyone hates. I love Lyla, and I don't care if we're in a room alone or surrounded by people. If I want to kiss my girl then nothing and no one will stop me. And it's not like Lyla holds back either!

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship. I think I'm quite good at reading people, females in particular. Definitely a benefit from growing up in a house full of girls! Nothing really scares me or surprises me now with the opposite sex.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative? What wouldn't I do to make Lyla happy? I've sat through every soppy chick flick known to man with Lyla and I know I'd do the lot. Kissing in the rain, the iconic lift in the water, some sexy pottery making...Seriously though, I know I might joke about it, but all I really want is to see my girl smile, and to be the one making her smile. Whatever she wants, it's done. I might not be full of amazing romantic gestures, but I'll still try my hardest all the same.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them? Lyla will rule the world one day I'm sure of it. I mean, if that's what she wants to do. She's been stressing out recently because she doesn't have her whole life figured out yet, but I'm doing my best to convince her she doesn't have to. She's amazingly smart, and she can pick things up quickly. Whatever she eventually decides on, I'll be there to support her the whole way. Lyla has this awful saying that apparently all of the cool kids say 'Live your best life' that she constantly says to wind me up. And annoyingly it seems to do the trick. I'm planning a few more dance classes just for starters, so she might end up regretting those words of encouragement.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine? Spice up our relationship? That makes me cringe, I hope we never get to that point! Lyla is all about routine in everything. I've watched her do the same things day in, day out for the last three years. And now we're together I'm here to shake things up a little bit. I said shake, not spice! I'm not really making her try out new things forget about those dance classes. I just think life could still be fun if instead of getting up an hour early for work to eat breakfast and slap make up on, she spent that time in bed with me instead. She's too beautiful to hide behind make up, and obviously I wouldn't say no to an extra hour in bed with my girl.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic? Pretty good. I know that Lyla's favourite coffee is a salted caramel machiato with a heart drizzle on top but she doesn't even know that herself. I know she bought a load of cakes in the first time she met my Mum because she wanted to make a good impression, and ended up telling her she'd baked them all herself. The lie still lives on, and Lyla has to fill the sink with dishes everytime Mum visits! And I know that she got her stubborn streak from her father, which explains a lot!

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life? There is no comparison. Aside from my family, Lyla is the single most important thing to me. That question is like asking a fish how important water is to them, that's what she is for me. I don't just love her, I need her.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

"Babe, have you seen my jacket?"

Zig stopped in his tracks, his mouth falling open and his eyes widening in disbelief as he drank in the sight of Lyla.

The shiny black leather was a stark contrast against her pale skin, a touch of pink barely visible as it crept along the exposed flesh of her neck, her long hair twisted to one side.

She stood with her back to him, head cocked to the side as she peered at him from over one shoulder. Her teeth sank in to her full bottom lip in an attempt to suppress a giggle.

Zig swallowed hard as his eyes slowly lowered. Past her small shoulders, the excess material bunching up and hanging off of her. His tongue slowly traced around his lips as his gaze lowered further still, finding her hands bunching up a fistful of leather, the curve of her bare ass now visible. Her hips swayed seductively from side to side, her voice vibrating in her throat as she let out a low purr "This one?"

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle? I think the problem with us has always been that we're too affectionate. Not that I'm complaining! When I hold Lyla it's like I've got the whole entire world just sat there in my arms and I never want to let go. The fact that I can hold her all night long and kiss her sweet lips until we need to come up for air is just an added bonus! So glad we're out of the friend zone!

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of? Something like spending close to every waking minute of the day for weeks on end trying to find a way out of an unwanted marriage for her? Or is that too specific? I would do anything and everything for Lyla. Nothing is too much for the woman I love.

[friendelius-writes]

Through the Window |:| Tom Holland

Mob!Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: As Tom's new neighbor, [Y/N] didn't know that a look through his window costed them lots.

A/N: Low-key a bit creepy, but hey, I would be curious too. (This is my first official fanfic on this blog! Thank you so much for reading~)

Written by @friendelius-writes

Warnings: Guns, swearing, some violence, angst??

NOT MY GIF

It was a tough two months at [Y/N]'s new home as everything was, well, new. They were completely alone in this new, clean, neighborhood for the first time.

For a while, they didn't know what to do as they were used to hot dinners and nagging, but now, they've been stuck with frozen dinners and the sound of loneliness blasted across the house. Wanting to scratch that itch of going home diminished after meeting their next-door neighbor, Tom Holland.

During a cozy, summer morning while [Y/N] was setting their garden, he was the first person to introduce himself to them. The simple interraction made them feel welcomed and known in this unexplored territory. Now and then, if [Y/N] was outside at the same time as him, Tom would simply make small-talk with [Y/N] before being swallowed by his home.

However, something was tugging in [Y/N]'s mind about him. From generic observations, they have never seen anyone going in nor out of that house besides Tom. Most of his windows were crystal clear and displayed furniture in the room, but [Y/N] hasn't caught sight of that brown-haired male. [Y/N] assumed it was because he's busy, but the amount of time [Y/N] spent at home looking through his windows proved otherwise.

He seemed to be invisible for most of the day as [Y/N] seen no sight of him until those rare moments where he leaves his house and starts up his fancy car [Y/N] doesn't know the brand of. They've never seen Tom return, but he's leaving the house again in a few days. All his groceries were delivered to the back of his house and were always gone by morning. A gardener came once a week as well as someone from the cleaning department.

Once, on a warm, summer evening, with the darkening sky speckled with faint white, [Y/N] was slurping a smoothie as they gazed at the blaring television. The AC was blasting, and [Y/N] was snugged into a reclining chair. A commercial for the next big oven invention was dancing off the white walls, and the smooth hum of the microwave warming their T.V. dinner was the added touch.

Once the microwave chimed, a black van slowed right in front of Tom's house. While rising to grab her T.V. dinner, [Y/N] spectated the van through the kitchen window and observed two men dragging along another person towards the front door with another man dressed in a suit following behind. [Y/N] didn't catch a glimpse of the person, but [Y/N] immediately snatched their chicken nugget dinner and sat back down to watch it unfold. This could reveal more about him.

Bashes at the door alerted Tom, so, he swung the door open and, immediately, confusion jumped onto his face as he glanced between the well-dressed men.

"Why the hell are you here?" Tom demanded as he ushered the men inside in case any prying eyes were watching.

Once [Y/N] shut the television off, they maintain focus on the show unfolding before them as they finally see Tom Holland interact with human life. Unfortunately, they couldn't hear a thing, so they resorted in making up their own dialogue in their head, totally oblivious of the truth.

"We're sorry, mate," started one of the men, "but this little pipsqueak," he gestured to the cowering man, "was so fucking adamant about seeing you about his debt."

"You weren't picking up your goddamn phone, Tom," the other man added quickly with a sprinkle of irritation in his voice. Tom's jaw tensed and shoved his hands into his fluffed hair.

"Well, maybe, Sam, I fucking was purposefully ignoring to get a good night's sleep."

"It's, like, eight o'clock! Why are you fucking sleeping when you could be out having fun with the ladies?"

"Well, maybe, Harry, I'm tired," with a faint growl, Tom rubbed his face roughly, "how many times have I told you to not fucking appear at my fucking house when it's about work?! For all I know, someone could fucking be watching right now!" The twins rolled their eyes simultaneously, and Harry shoved the frighten man towards Tom.

"Just deal with him quickly, then," Harry spat. Tom ran his tongue against his bottom teeth, tightening his jaw. With arms wrapped around himself, he sighed of defeat and faced Harrison.

"I assume you have his file, Haz?" Harrison grinned as he whipped out the manila folder.

"Of course! Did you think I'd come empty-handed?" Tom seized the thin folder and opened it to glance at its contents. Once his eyes laid upon the man's history, Tom tutted and leisurely ambled towards the man who instantly found the pattern in the carpet more interesting.

"Oh, Chase Walker, what am I gonna do?" Tom slapped the folder shut and clutched Chase's chin to snap his head upwards.

"You are here because you wanted to see me, but as I clearly see in the database that you were supposed to return that 250 grand you borrowed from me," he released Chases's chin with a thrust and handed the folder back to Harrison, "the task was simple: get me that 250 grand by today." Chase's eyes wavered as he glanced at Tom and clasped his hands together after dropping onto his knees.

"Pl-Please, I beg you. I-I've only got a hun-hundred grand. I need more time! The re-recent tests on my wife are co-costly! Our insurance—"

"I don't care about your fucking problem!" As if on cue, Harrison handed him a piece of paper with scribbles at the bottom. Tom shoved the paper towards Chase's face.

"Do you not remember this? This was the damn contract you signed, indicating when you'll return the money." Chase shattered as his hot cheeks felt wet while feeling like he was being suffocated in a plastic bag, choking on his words.

"B-but I—"

"No 'but's," Tom tossed the contract to the side and eyed the twins, "take him upstairs to my office." The twins complied and hauled Chase up the carpeted steps.

"Where are they going?!" Exclaimed [Y/N] as they noticed they moved to somewhere else. Hurling their dish onto the table, they shot up and waited to see where they'll be by the windows. They caught sight of the five walking along the second floor through the wide window and then disappeared. For quite sometime, [Y/N] didn't notice them until they saw a barely noticeable Tom far from the window. Where Tom was, [Y/N]'s equivalent was standing in front of their bedroom window. Assessing the situation, their eyes widened and their hand rapidly covered their mouth that flung open at what was in Tom's hands.

"N-no! Wh-what are you doing?! Don't shoot me, I beg you," Chase crawled along the floor and gripped Tom's legs, wailing and pleading to let him live, "please! I'll do anything!" But Tom simply ignored him. He let Chase beg; he let Chase scratch his legs; he let Chase suffer knowing he's going to die.

"Harrison, throw me that silencer over there." Harrison tossed a slick, black, cylindrical silencer to Tom, and Tom caught it right before screwing it onto the front of his pistol. With Chase's cries slowing down, knowing it's not going to do anything, Tom kicked him off and aimed right between Chase's eyes. Once Chases's eyes started to water again, Tom pulled back the safety and pulled the trigger.

With a heavy sigh, he turned around and instantly noticed a figure right across at the neighboring house. His face hardened as [Y/N] realized he saw them. With fear bubbling inside them, they ran as far as they could to reach their phone downstairs. Tom swiveled to the men in the room, and pointed to the window.

"We've been spotted. Catch the person nextdoor, and bring them here!" Ordered Tom as the men sprinted out the door with no delay.

[Y/N] snatched their phone and dialled the police while running out the back door, hoping to get to their vehicle quickly.

"What's your emerg—" [Y/N]'s phone cracked against the ground as another tackled them. Harrison stomped onto [Y/N]'s phone as Sam forced them up while keeping a firm arm around their mouth to prevent loud noise.

[Y/N] whirled around in Sam's arms as Sam kept his stance and hauled [Y/N] towards Tom's house as quickly as possible. Inaudible sounds escaped [Y/N]'s mouth as their arms continuously pulled Sam's arm away from their mouth. Clearly, Sam was stronger than [Y/N], but they didn't give up anyway because anything was better than nothing.

[Y/N] was thrown onto the carpeted floor in the blood-splattered room and caught sight of the dead man lying against the chair. [Y/N] felt their stomach turn inside out and gagged at the image. They turned their head around to avoid it.

"Well, [Y/N]. How much did you see?" Tom's sickly soft voice penetrated [Y/N]'s brain that gave warnings that this guy just murdered a man in his own house. They looked up but refused to make eye contact with the murderer.

"Everything," [Y/N] announced with venom soaked in it. Tom threw his head back as a throaty laugh echoed in the soiled room.

"Pity. You've started to grow on me," informed Tom in a faux sweet tone. He took a few steps back and pointed the gun at their head.

"Sweet dreams."

And he pulled the trigger.

[soap-brain]

My prompt isn't part of the hug list and is kind of really angsty so feel free to ignore it if you want! XD I've read a lot of stories where the authors had Spock act like an asshole to make Jim run into Spock Prime's arms and it always makes me sad because I feel that it's unfair to expect Spock to act like his counterpart when SP had decades to accept his human side (1)

(2) so here's my prompt. Spock catches SP and Jim in a intimate situation (kissing or acting intimately or other situations) for whatever reason of your choosing (Spock and Jim had a fight, SP melded with Jim and the emotional transfer made them both act strangely...). The rest is completely up to you :)

it’s finally done!! this was a trip, man. at first i had /no/ idea what to write, how to write it, what you wanted exactly. then i started and it was slow and odd and then it began feeling good as long as i was careful, and now i’m SO PROUD OF THIS!! it’s my new favorite fic (sorry @ His Silver Lady)

i hope you like it though, it’s completely different from what and how i usually write, and i researched some interesting stuff (hey did you know they finished the golden gate bridge in 1937? and did you know there’s already a concept for roads to be replaced with solar panels?? the more you mcfreaking know i guess)

so, without any further ado:AOS Spirk, mentions of AOS Jim Kirk/Spock Prime, mentions of sex, established TOS Spirkwarnings for: a metric ton of sadness and Spock Prime whump, also references to suicide ideation; misuse of Shakespeare, Edgar Allan Poe, ABBA, Pacrim 2, The One With The Whales and a fuckton of odd metaphors

Rating: probably T??Wordcount: 4742

(it’s under a cut because it’s so damn long)

How can I then return in happy plightThat am debarred the benefit of rest,When day’s oppression is not eased by night,But day by night and night by day oppressed,And each, though enemies to either’s reign,Do in consent shake hands to torture me,The one by toil, the other to complainHow far I toil, still farther off from thee?I tell the day, to please him, thou art brightAnd dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven;So flatter I the swart-complexioned night,When sparkling stars twire not, thou gild’st the even.     But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,     And night doth nightly make grief’s length seem stronger.

How do you know something is missing? Something you never had - how do you know you’re missing it? You feel displaced, a bit empty, searching, maybe. It’s certainly not the best feeling there is, but it’s also far from the worst.

Because the worst is having been searching for all your life, and then you find what you were looking for - love and acceptance, given completely unconditionally. And then you lose it.

Of course, you had it. For a while, you were happy. You had everything you could wish for - and more.

And then you lose it.

You lose it and there’s no replacement, because that thing is gone. Forever. It’s not coming back, you can’t get a second one, no second chances, no winning in life.

You’re alone, lost and broken. Forever.

*∞*∞*

Blue. It’s the first thing he notices. Blue, like … like a summer sky. Like a warp trail. Like a science uniform, like the eyes of a dear friend. On the wrong person maybe, but still … still …

Well. He doesn’t quite know what to say. Not … right, certainly not, more like jarringly wrong, like an atrocious deformity. Everything is wrong about the stranger. He’s too tall, too slim, too different, too wrong, not sunshine-and-honey, more starlight-and-ice.

Perfectly wrong, perfectly right.

He’d thought he’d die here, alone, in the cold, finally, maybe, because he’s not entirely sure he wants to see what this universe becomes, out of time out of space out of order infinite entropy in infinite combinations different and wrong and perfectly, perfectly right after such a long time. Like coming home to a new place.

A difficult concept to explain or grasp, without a doubt.

    “James T. Kirk.”

The confusion on his face is all wrong, epidermis scrunching up in the wrong places. It’s perfect.

    “Excuse me?”

He found him.

    “How’d you find me?”

Not that he’s surprised, exactly. This is a Kirk, after all.

    “Whoa, whoa. How’d you know my name?” Confusion, worn so beautifully. Not what he wants to see, of course - not how he’d like to see it, certainly! - but … he’s grateful for everything by now.

    “I have been, and always shall be, your friend.” It’s a miracle his voice doesn’t break. Or maybe it does, but can you blame him? Miracles like this don’t happen.

He’s not alone anymore, not lost, not broken. Not anymore.

*∞*∞*

My glass shall not persuade me I am old; // So long as youth and thou are of one date.

They have no place in this universe. Or, well, he doesn’t. Jim, Jim, beautiful Jim - he does. He deserves so much. He’s so young, so bright, so fearless, so, so beautiful.

Spock found his missing half again. His t’hy’la, his sun, his everything. Like the universe falling back into alignment, a pendulum with unending weight and no mass.

And then it swings past.

There’s a marvelous ship launching, a goddess in her own right, and her crew is beaming sparkling smiles, turning their backs on Earth with no regrets.

Is this what an abandoned pet must feel like? Watch those it loves and admires turn their backs and walk away, not a glance spared?

His knees want to buckle under the merciless weight of the stars, of years and years lived and forgotten and never happening. Because - because they never were.

Six sets of eyes, blue, brown, golden-sunshine-and-laughter. They never were. And nobody remembers, because they never lived.

Now, they are brown, they are green, they are grey, and a bright, burning blue. Like a shooting star: can’t touch, can’t feel, but all you want to do is latch on. It won’t let you.

What is there to do, when you have nothing? Nothing left, everything taken. Nothing ventured and nothing gained - but. What to venture for? What is there left to fight for?

For the first time in his life it seems like maybe giving up is the right way to go. Maybe - maybe it was enough.

The thoughts don’t come at night, under glittering stars, so far away, held dear in memory. The thoughts don’t come at day, under burning sun, merciless. The thoughts are already here and they won’t leave.

You become used to it.

Have you ever tried reaching out to the stars? Even if they aren’t yours, all wrong because they are exactly the same -  have you tried touching them? Fingers stroking over a cheekbone. The eyes should be phoenix-gold, but they’re a morning sky. And the memory is but a dream.

“‘Let me help.’ A hundred years or so from now, I believe, a famous novelist will write a classic using that theme. He’ll recommend those three words even over ‘I love you.’”

So he will help. If nobody ever knows who for, then so be it. He can’t chase after a lover that was never his to have.

*∞*∞*

    “Do you genuinely believe he likes me?”

Sigh. “He is me, and I do know myself. Yes, Jim. Spock likes you.”

    “He doesn’t act like it though.”

So different. So much less calm. Exactly the same.

A smile the other man surely doesn’t see often from him - or his counterpart.

    “Vulcan education doesn’t make it easy to act on our feelings, if we even admit we have them.”

    “But - he doesn’t even use contractions when speaking! Hell, he told me off for using them in official reports! And you - I’ve heard you parody Bones’ accent!”

    “Jim, all I can ask of you is to give my counterpart time and ample supply of possibilities to change. I am over a hundred and ninety years old, and the majority of that time was spent in Human company. It … wears you down, eventually.”

Jim flips the stylus he’d been fiddling with. “I did everything you said though! We’re playing a lot of chess, we have dinner together, I ask to hear him play the lute, I get him little trinkets, I’m trying to be as respectful as I can be, I’m practically flirting with him non-stop - how many more situations should I needlessly and weirdly bend over something? How dense can a guy be!”

    “Always so impatient - ack!”

He’s so close all of a sudden, invading a personal bubble that hasn’t been invaded in a long, long time (actually, never. Because it never happened), smelling and feeling wrong, and exactly right.

Feelings are a confusing thing, but is there anything that’s quite as good?

    “What’s wrong?”

A hand on his elbow, and bright blues looking worried. A momentary lapse of control, and suddenly it’s so much harder to regain his balance, externally, internally, eternally. Of course it’s his presence that set the timer off, tick-tocking towards doom, the shallow contact on Delta Vega, the most intimate connection, a mind recognizing its counterpart, no matter how distorted.

    “Spock. Talk to me!”

    “Selek.”

    “No, you’re - you’re Spock!”

He sits up again.

    “Jim …”

    “Is it a medical condition? Do you need a doctor? Oh god, I’ll call Bones right-”

    “Jim.”

    “Yes?”

    “It is, in fact, a medical condition of sorts, but nothing modern medicine can help me with. Or you.”

    “What do you mean?”

Sigh. He doesn’t want to lie - his body craves the relief, the closeness, like a starving man craves food, the most delicious buffet laid out right in front of him.

If he touches it, it will wither away, leave, run, snarl in disgust. He won’t be able to survive that. The other alternative - abstinence, depriving himself - seems almost better.

Selek - Spock has never been strong. His mental restraints are mainly born from self-hatred, indoctrinated into him at a very young age. It makes it easier to deny himself.

But it has been so, so very long that he almost wants to give in.

Weariness goes deep - to your skin, after a long day. To your bones, after years. To your soul, after a lifetime of almost only mourning.

    “Tell me what’s wrong, so I can fix it.”

Let me help.

‘The history book on the shelf is always repeating itself’, after all.

    “I can’t let you. This is something I have to bear myself.”

    “No. Nobody is ever alone. Let. Me. Help.”

*∞*∞*

To have known him, to have loved himAfter loneness long;And then to be estranged in life,And neither in the wrong;And now for death to set his seal—Ease me, a little ease, my song!By wintry hills his hermit-moundThe sheeted snow-drifts drape,And houseless there the snow-bird flitsBeneath the fir-trees’ crape:     Glazed now with ice the cloistral vine     That hid the shyest grape.

Giving in is, in a way, always harder than abstaining. It opens up places inside of you - deep, dark, horribly twisted places. Of why you shouldn’t have given in, ever. Of why you shouldn’t have abstained, ever.

Sensorimotor memory is another fascinating thing. It digs deep and leaves grotesque scars, and touching them again shakes you to your very foundations.

*∞*∞*

The first day feels like happiness. Pure, unadulterated happiness. Like seeing the sun for the very first time in your life.

The second day is bittersweet. You can already feel it ending, a bit, even though you’re just cresting the highest peak.

The third day is regret and lack. It’s already over, almost. Sanity is returning.

Hour zero, day zero, ground zero afterwards is disgust. Not normally, no. But in this case - golden head on a pillow, bare shoulders and back covered in marks, a picture of utter exhaustion - it was wrong.

When you’re very young, and your mother tells you off for stealing your sister’s treats, and you’re unhappy and angry with yourself that you did something, took something you had no right to, already loathing the bliss you found in it.

This Jim, with this blue eyes and bright smile - that one hadn’t been meant for Spock. And he took him anyways.

He stands there, in the open bedroom/living space, mug of tea in his hand, looking down at the sleeper, and he resents every mark on the pale skin, every memory revolving around those marks.

There’s a chime at his door and he knows, instinctively, who it is. He allows admittance. There’s nothing to hide. Like a thief caught red-handed.

His counterpart barges in, chock-full with questions, and he stops dead in his tracks.

There’s shock, then there’s realization, and then there’s anger.

Selek watches him. He doesn’t have anything to hide, all his crimes out here in the open for Spock to judge.

    “You - you - he.”

Is there anything quite like fury choking your every word? Spock has every right to feel cheated, betrayed, stolen from.

And then his features fall.

    “It was you. Not me. You. He wanted you.”

Selek shook his head. “No, Spock. He wanted you. I’m sorry.”

    “Why?”

    “Why I did what I did? I’m old, Spock. I’m old and foolish and I’m alone. I don’t belong here. I’m weary. I don’t know whether giving in made it worse or better; it doesn’t matter. He’s not meant for me. And he only wanted to help. He doesn’t want me.”

    “But … you are more than me. Why - why wouldn’t he choose you?”

    “The simplest explanation I can give you is that he’s not my Jim, and I’m not his Spock. There’s a Jim and a Spock in every universe, and they belong together. But … this isn’t my universe, Spock. This isn’t my Jim. My Jim … was different. I’m sorry.”

Spock stares down at the golden head on the pillow, fighting emotions that remain unseen. Selek knows them all.

    “I need you to leave,” he chokes out, and Selek nods. Of course.

He dresses himself, puts on shoes, makes for the door.

    “There’s a dermal regenerator in the bathroom,” he says. There’s no answer. He doesn’t deserve an answer.

*∞*∞*

Spock sits down, hands shaking, knees suddenly unable to bear his weight. Jim is still motionless, deeply exhausted from -

Something ugly rears its head in Spock, dark and snarling. From servicing his counterpart, taken like some kind of whore. Jim is his, his, his alone, and he wants to hurt Selek, make sure he never lays a hand on Jim again. Illogical? Yes. But justified. Jim is his! Selek should have taken better care of his own Jim, then he would not be alone.

He trails a hand over Jim’s shoulder, fighting the urge to dig his nails in and mark Jim. The Human moves under his touch, pressing against it. Yes. Jim knows who his Spock is.

It is terrifying, if Spock is honest with himself. This urge to mark Jim, claim Jim, like his consent is of no importance.

    “Sp’ck?” He’s turned his head, lashes fluttering open and revealing crystalline blues.

    “I am here, Jim.”

Jim rolls around more, until he’s on his side. He stares, and then his eyes widen.

     “Spock! I - I can explain!” He scrambles to sit, bedsheet pooling around his waist.

    “There is no need.” It comes out colder than Spock wanted.

    “No, listen, I need to explain. Please!” Jim rubs a wild hand over his face and through his hair. “I - I - I don’t know how to say this, but please listen to me!”

Spock cocks his head.

    “I - oh god - I didn’t mean to - look, I had no idea how to interpret the signals I was getting from you, and Selek needed help. Spock, I couldn’t just - I couldn’t just let him die. But … I - Whatever we had, I -” He swallows harshly. “I destroyed it, didn’t I? Everything we could’ve had.”

    “I didn’t know you wanted - anything.” Spock exhales. There’s something in his chest, tight and loose at the same time. “I didn’t think you’d want … me.”

    “I did. I do. If you still do then I’m, I’ll.”

Spock closes his eyes. He had always tried to quench optimism with realism, or pessimism if his heart grew too bold. He had not dared hope - but he had thought. Had thought of Jim, just Jim, with him. As if nothing else mattered. (It didn’t.)

    “I do.” Said quietly, screamed across the rapidly shrinking distance between them.

Jim is smiling. Their foreheads touch without either of them consciously allowing it, so close together.

    “I do,” Spock repeats, watching the tentative smile on the Human’s face turn brilliant.

*∞*∞*

It’s an interesting trait, Human sentimentality. Certainly one of the greatest flaws and greatest strengths of their race, decidedly not to underestimate. Take this bridge, for example. 323 years old, it would be considered a waste of space and resources, logically, and would be set for destruction. Maintenance and continued safety checks cost a fortune that could well be invested elsewhere.

If you would propose that same course of action to any of the locals, you would decidedly not endear yourself to them, but the fact remains that the upkeep of the bridge doesn’t follow any kind of logical way of thought.

The paint alone, specially synthesized to protect the ancient materials, costs a fortune. A colorful metaphor for Human sentimentality.

If Selek were another man, one and a half centuries younger, not yet worn down, he would surely have chuckled. A joke. He doesn’t make those very often, the references he makes with his punchlines far too obscure for anyone to understand, and, as in this case,  they never happened in the first place.

The sidewalk isn’t made from concrete and stones anymore - a series of large remodeling projects allow all of San Francisco to be powered exclusively by solar panels that have been integrated everywhere. Roads now have a dull shine to them, looking far more finely fashioned than cracked concrete.

Selek wishes for the concrete. Watching where to step, careful to not bump into the man beside him, no matter how much he may want to, yearning for something half-remembered, half-forgotten.

‘Admiral.’ - ‘You used to call me Jim.’

He  used to, yes. In another time.

Now, it doesn’t hold the same meaning. Now, it’s a hollow ache, desperation, a void refusing to be filled except with unjust, unhealthy appropriation.

It used to be the warm glow of belonging.

And the yearning for it is a Human feeling, through and through. Sentimentality.

The pier is more or less deserted - it’s hardly the weather for a nice stroll. There’s only one person, ahead of Selek. They’re leaning over the little wall between the walkway and the stony shore, robes flying in the wind.

It’s for the better. As though less people would see Selek’s shame.

It was a selfish act, meant to resurrect whatever he once was and making it about himself. Selek has lived for other people. It used to be his primary enjoyment, fulfilling him.

A life, devoid of meaning now. And for how much longer? Physically, Selek doesn’t feel that old yet, and his luck has been bad. How much longer? Twenty years? How do you live twenty more years after almost a lifetime without your heart, briefest glimpse of happiness, those few years, so long gone?

    “And Quoth the Raven “Nevermore”!” the stranger exclaims, pushing away from the little wall. “Oh, you Humans. Always so doomy and gloomy. Find some enjoyment in life! Live a little!” He clasps Selek’s shoulder. “Oh, apologies. You are half Vulcan, after all. But do you hear yourself think? There’s more humanity in you than anything else.”

    “Can I help you?”

The stranger winks. “Oh, maybe, yes. Do you happen to know a man by the name of … Admiral James T Kirk?”

Selek stops dead in his tracks.

    “How -” His voice fails. “How do you know that name?”

    “About 5’10’’, brown eyes, brown hair, a bit curly … used to be blond! He likes horses, Shakespeare, flowers, astronomy … Do you know him?”

    “Who are you?!” There’s an age-old anger shaking in his chest, at the name seemingly used in vain by this stranger.

The stranger smiles like a cat that got the cream. “I am one of the Q.”

    “What’s your name? Who are you?”

    “Q.”

    “How do you know - how do you know that? Him.”

    “Mmmmmh, let’s just say I have my sources. But if I may: You two were fantastic for each other. A perfect fit.”

I know.

    “But then, he had to step on the, what was it, Enterprise-B and, well, the rest is, as they say, history. What a sad story. Such a bright, bright man, and he gets himself killed before his time. Pity.” The stranger grins, entirely too off.

And then he leans close to Selek. “Or did he? He was presumed dead. Did he die, Spock? Did you ever see a body? How do you know that he’s really dead? The bond? What if it broke because he’s inside a singularity that transcends dimensions?”

    “What do you want?” Selek is shaking by now.

    “It’s called the Nexus. I’m pretty sure he’s still alive in there!”

Selek starts walking again, trying not to shake, not to stumble, keep his lips pressed thinly together and blinking away the overboarding emotions, throat weighed down with ‘Ambassador Spock, sir, apologies for interrupting, but there has been a message from the USS Enterprise-B.’ on top of the scalding emptiness of knives in his heart, memories, memories, loss, over and over.

The hand on his shoulder almost makes him buckle; the bridge offset in dark, garish red against gray skies bleeds away into lush green, a garden, wild, but beautifully maintained, with crops and flowers; a chestnut horse nibbling on some grass, a black cat with a red spotted cravat prancing after butterflies.

    “Spock? Spock! There you are! What a feisty kitten! Come here!”

It’s a voice Selek would have recognized anywhere. His heart stops, free-falling; whether it’s relief or breaking, hollow sadness he couldn’t say, nostalgia and fear and yearning and ecstasy mixed together.

The caller comes into focus and Selek can’t help himself but reach out. Just one touch. One fleeting press of fingertips against fabric, against skin, against hair, and he would be content for eternity.

The vision fizzles and fades, replaced instead by the heavy gray around. It’s started to rain. Q is nowhere to be found.

*∞*∞*

    “They were thigh-la,” Jim says absent-mindedly, running his fingers over the fabric of Spock’s robe. It is not as though Spock minds - he has waited far too long for this. But Jim’s statement is perplexing.

    “They were what?”

    “Thigh- Thigh-la? It’s a term Selek used, I think it’s Vulcan.”

    “There is no such term. Perhaps you misheard.”     “No, no, it’s a thing! Um, they were like … it’s going to sound stupid, but they were - soulmates, so to speak.”

    “Oh. You are referring to the bond of t’hy’la.”

    “Yeah! Exactly!” Jim sits up to face Spock, excitement sparking from his eyes. Spock finds he misses the warm weight of the Human’s torso against his. “What does it mean, exactly?”

    “Like you said. Soulmates.”

    “Oh.” Jim leans against Spock again, tethering him back to the universe that is wide open and, for the first time, welcoming. Smiling. Like coming home to a new place.

Then: “Are you angry at him? Selek, I mean.”

Spock allows himself a deep exhale, Jim’s pulse loud in his fingertips on his neck.

    “I think … I think I am lucky to be unable to understand his motivation.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Selek is … broken, beyond words. I cannot imagine - such a life, only so few years with your counterpart, and then all the time spent alone. I cannot be angry at him for - for being desperate. For wanting.”

    “I wanted to help him. I really did. I still do. But … unless we find my counterpart, there’s no helping him, is there?”

    “I am afraid not.”

    “So he’ll never know love again.”

    “No. And not even - what you gave him, Jim, though well-meant - it was not the love he needs. You are not what he needs, even though it is of course easier for him to delude himself to think that you are. I do not blame him.”

*∞*∞*

They see Selek again for their departure, the first time since, well, since. The Enterprise is set to a set of coordinates that presumably hold a singularity, and Selek will be coming with them. Presumably. Dear Creator, Humans certainly are one of the most delightful species.

Command hadn’t given them a reason for any of this, and it hadn’t seemed like any of them even know why the Enterprise needed to go there. The Humans find it odd, but have decided not to argue.

Jim’s only barely keeping himself from touching Spock. They’re not exactly out - Spock had felt the need to inform Nyota, and Jim had of course told Leo, but to everyone else they were still Captain Kirk and Commander Spock, nothing more. Delightful in their insecurity.

Selek holds himself differently, even more of a paradox than he’d been before, more straight, more lively, but like someone else was pulling the strings. Hm. As easy as all these little beings are, they certainly are fascinating. You can never really know how they’ll react.

    “I’m happy to have you on board,” Jim ventures. He’d been worried about the old half-Vulcan, but then pre-departure-preps had hit him and he hadn’t found the time to check up on him, and in true Human fashion he had resigned himself to hoping that he was alright.

Selek reaches out to touch his shoulder, and Spock steps closer to Jim, warning, threatening.

    “I learned my lesson, Spock. And I’m grateful you didn’t take it amiss. Learn from my mistakes, Spock.”

Selek keeps to himself. The Enterprise shoots through the stars, brimming with eagerness as she always does, always did, in every universe, in every dimension, a beating heart bright like the sun, a beacon of hope. They all hope, each for their own sake, and the ship carries the hope out into the void, a cheerful resistance against inevitability.

Oh, they have no idea.

A flick, a flimmer of thought, and the Enterprise stops, dead, out of power, shining brightly among the eternal night.

Inside, there is mayhem.

They can’t see it of course, but the Nexus is there, waiting. Not an entity that had endeared itself with kindness usually - it’s a grotesque, ugly thing, devouring, feeding off life energy, the immortal souls trapped within. Paradisical for lower lifeforms, no doubt - that was, after all, the Nexus’ spiel - but for anyone with a bit of a mind to see beyond the veil, it appeared more of a parasite.

Its maw was gaping, tongue trying to reach out to the tiny silver ship braving its edges, like a predator in waiting. Thank the Creator for chaining it at the Junction; otherwise, it would’ve been unstoppable.

The old half-Vulcan doesn’t seem to be interested in the when’s and if’s and but’s presented in increasing desperation by the Enterprise’s crew.

    “It’s where I have to go. Please, let me. Allow me this one last thing.”

Ah. So he can feel it then. Splendid.

Jim Kirk doesn’t cry as he allows Selek a shuttle and wishes him farewell. Maybe there’s a part of him that understands.

And then the shuttle takes off, a tiny speck of silver, a shooting star, falling right into the abyss,  the beast’s open maw. The Enterprise crew doesn’t see it, doesn’t hear it, only the shuttle’s life signals cutting off as though it never was. In a way, it wasn’t. The nonexistent prime timeline dies with Selek - Spock. This one will be different. Far, far different, except for the constants that vein every timeline, every universe, every dimension, a tether to the greater order.

Perhaps it is only merciful to give the Enterprise something to explore here. The Nexus can’t touch them anyways. Their time hasn’t come yet.

So, an oddly colored nebula sparkles into existence, flickering in and out, a proper scientific problem. It will let them discover several properties of dark matter instability years before they should have that knowledge, but then again it’s nothing but a drop in the ocean.

*∞*∞*

The shuttle begins gradually fading away, mattering less and less in this - wherever, whatever. Then, there’s only the forest. Trees rushing in the wind, birds singing, golden sunshine and bright green, stones and leaves crunching underfoot.

The path is narrow but worn, boot prints and hoof prints engraved deep into the ochre soil. Around a bend and over a wooden bridge crossing a stream, until there is a small artfully rusted gate. It swings open easily.

The garden is lush green, wild, but beautifully maintained, with crops and flowers; a chestnut horse nibbling on some grass, a black cat with a red spotted cravat prancing after butterflies.

    “Spock? Spock! There you are! What a feisty kitten! Come here!”

There’s the call again.

The rusted metal is real under his fingers; the roses smell lovely and the leaves are green. It’s like coming home to a new place. Different, but home.

*∞*∞*

Let me not to the marriage of true mindsAdmit impediments. Love is not loveWhich alters when it alteration finds,Or bends with the remover to remove.O no! it is an ever-fixed markThat looks on tempests and is never shaken;It is the star to every wand'ring bark,Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeksWithin his bending sickle's compass come;Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,But bears it out even to the edge of doom.     If this be error and upon me prov'd,     I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.

there we go that was it!!! i really, really hope you enjoyed it, and i’m sorry for the super duper long wait. i’ll post it to ao3 some day, i think, as soon as i manage to come up with a title 

thank you for that wonderful prompt, anon!!

if you found every reference and stolen quote, let me know :D

also, disclaimer: i’ve seen the first four eps of tng, that’s how well i know q. i’ve never seen generations, of the poems i used i only ever analyzed one (the last one, aka my favorite). AND ofc it’s not beta read at all or anything, yikes!!! :DD

i think @gumballgladiator wanted to be tagged in this when it’s done? if anyone else wants to be tagged in stuff lmk!!

bye i’ll go to the gym now, i’m mentally exhausted :p