#I’m actually a bit surprised by how simply he’s compassionate here

[daydreamerdrew]

The Hulk! (1978) #25

[haikyuu-sins]

Good morning/midday/evening! I just wanted to tell you that I loved your writing about the Law x reader where he thought that the reader was in a relationship with one of her crewmembers. Can I request a fluffy Law x pregnant reader scenario if that's okay? Like, what kind of affection will he show toward the unborn? Will he talk to the bumb? Hug it, kiss it, talk to it, touch it lovingly?

Thank you and stay healthy.

PS: Your reaction to the requester of the aforementioned scenario being from Germany was so cute and... I don't know how to say it in English... Anyway, I just wanted to say I'm from Germany 😊

AHH! Oh my goodness!!! another person from Germany?! I still cannot believe that I have people all the way in GERMANY reading my works!! That is just so surreal to me to know my works reach that far and I’m so grateful that you (hopefully) enjoy my works! 🥰This also might be a little OOC for Law but i kind of see him opening up about some things in the process of the reader being pregnant. He might be a liiiittle bit more vulnerable. 

Warnings: Pregnant reader, just some sexual mentions, no actual sex, mostly fluff, teeny angst if you squint

Law x Pregnant!Reader

Law becoming a father was something that hadn’t crossed his mind. Even after years of being with you, bringing a child into the world of pirates wasn’t his first thought. There weren’t many things that scared Law, but seeing your growing belly and knowing that he had mere months left to get his shit together–that terrified him. Of course he remained calm and collected around you, but whenever he was alone, his mind raced. 

He felt nauseous knowing that soon, there was going to be another little human who relied on him to keep them not only safe, but alive. This little person wouldn’t be able to do anything for themselves and would solely rely on him and yourself. Law only grew up with a father for a short period of time. While he knew his father was a compassionate and kind man, the pirate didn’t always know how to relay that to others. Although now he would have to learn. 

He watched you walk out of your shared bathroom with a towel wrapped around you and lotion in your hand. You were close to six months and he was surprised with how big your belly had gotten. It didn’t feel like six months had gone by so quickly, yet here you were in all your pregnant glory. 

You watched the way his eyes traveled to your stomach and he bit his lip. You noticed that he did this when he was nervous and with a baby on the way, it was a lot. Your feet carried you over to the bed where he was sitting. 

“How are you feeling?” you ask him as you hand him the lotion bottle. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” Law takes the bottle and you unwrap your towel from your body. It was never a sexual moment, simply a something he enjoyed doing for you. While of course there were some wandering hands every so often, it was mostly just a relaxing time for you. 

This had become a relaxing routine for the two of you ever since your stomach began to grow. After you got out of the shower, or before you went to bed, Law would rub lotion on your belly. It made him feel so much closer to you and the baby. 

“I suppose,” you chuckle as you watch him pump the lotion onto his hand. “But I just want to know how you’re feeling about it right now. Have your feelings changed at all? Are you less nervous about it? It’s just so hard to believe we’re going to become parents in three months.” 

Law was silent for a moment before his hands that were wet with lotion began to roam your belly. “I wouldn’t say I’m any less nervous about it than I was when we first found out. I suppose I still haven’t exactly wrapped my head around it. I never thought I would be a father and I didn’t have very much time with mine…” he paused, “I think that’s what worries me the most. The two father figures in my life were there for such a short amount of time.” 

“Law.” You place your hands over his that are still rubbing in the lotion. “I know you’re going to be a great father. A bad father wouldn’t be this worried. Neither of us are going into this knowing everything. It’s a learning process and we’re going to do it together.” 

The soon to be dad squeezed your belly lovingly. Your encouraging words helped him process things a little and while it wouldn’t fully process until the baby actually got here, it helped for the time being. 

He bit his bottom lip before saying out loud “I might not be the best dad, but… I’m going to try.” 

Hearing those words made your heart swell with happiness. You watched him tenderly stroke your stomach and his eyes widened when he felt movement. The baby had never been the most active, only when Law had spoken to the bump. 

“I think they like your voice. I’ve always noticed that’s when he moves the most.” you tell him. “Whenever you talk to me he moves around.” 

Law smiles to himself with a sense of pride. Maybe he would be a good dad after all.

[xsugarysweetsx]

Congrats on 2k mama sweet,,,!! :))

Since there is no sk8 requests yet how about option 2 - Kaoru x reader <3 Had this thought after reading ur arranged marriage fic... how about at the start of the marriage reader thinks that Kaoru is cheating on her when he sneaks out at night but after he tells her about S, reader feels kinda silly for thinking so.. next thing you know Kaoru is taking reader to all the beefs as his lucky charm. Reader even has a matching costume and the others start calling her "Lady Cherry" or smth,, teaches reader to skate (she's lowkey jealous of carla >.<) + some domestic fluff (what if reader finds out she's pregnant....) This doesn't have to be connected to the other fic & you can ignore the cheating part if u like... :-*

A/N: :0 Lady Cherry is a super smart name!

other fic here

Please enjoy~🍰

*******************************************************

There he went again...

The sliding door of your shared room altered you from your sleep. This was the 6th night in a row that he left without a word in the middle of the night. The first 2 nights you thought he was simply tending to business and was just busy. After the 4th day, you were suspicious and a bit hurt. He did tell you he didn’t want to hurt you and treat you right....so where was he going?

This was another night he had gotten up, so instead of staying in bed you followed him. 

“Carla, make sure to lock the doors when I leave“ he said to his AI

“Yes, master“ you scoffed. You had to admit the stupid computer got on your nerves. He practically loved talking to her and every time she answered him, he gets all giddy. You were really jealous but you wish he’d get that way with you.  

Just as he was going to leave you called for him

“Kaoru?“ he froze and turned around “It’s late...“ you said coming closer to him. That’s when you noticed what he was wearing, he was in a sleeveless yukata with a black mask over his face, and a...skateboard?

“Y/N I...um...“ being that he can’t speak about S he was contemplating whether to tell you or not. But you were his wife and he wanted to be open with you on everything. However what you said next caught him off guard

“...if there’s someone else please just tell me...“ and the way you looked when you said it just broke his heart. Did you really think he was cheating? Even though this was arranged, he couldn’t ask for someone better to be his wife. You were smart, shy but bright, not to mention beautiful.

“Y/N“ he walked to you and rests his hand on your shoulder “I would never cheat on you and I assure you there is no one else.”

“Then why do you leave at night?“ you ask

“*Sigh*....I go skating.“ he said bluntly. There was nothing to hide from you and it was all true

“...huh“ he lifted his board for you to see

“Some friends and I go skateboarding in a secret location for races and such. We only go at night so we go unnoticed.“ he held up a small pin “It’s called S..now that you know you can’t tell anyone. Now go throw something on, we’re heading out.“

Just as he said you were heading out in the dead of night. And of course you had to ride on Carla, every time he spoke to her it was like he was talking to his crush. As you approach a gate with two guards he gives you a larger sticker of the letter ‘S’. You show them to security and make it inside where people had started screaming. You knew he was popular among women but this was more than you thought

“Lord Cherry!!” one screamed 

“Kao-”

“Cherry” he interrupted 

“What?”

Getting his bike to a stop he helps you off and says “we don’t use our real names here for security reasons. Here I’m Cherry blossom.” 

So what he was telling you was true. You honestly felt a bit silly for jumping to conclusions so quickly. Before he was off to what he called a ‘beef’ he introduced you to JOE. You were surprised to see the popular chef here as well, although you knew they had been friends for years. The large screen in the area showed you just how goof he was at this. 

He was fast but graceful, sharp an precise on corners. The crowd only cheered louder than before. 

“So, you’re the one he’s been talking about huh?“ Joe asked 

“He’s been...talking about me?“ you asked

He nodded “He was gone for like 3 days in a row not to mention he was brushing off more women now. That’s when he told us there was someone he wanted to be loyal to.” okay, now you felt really silly. After the race was done and over with Cherry had made his way back to you. He comes and embarrass you and whispers in your ear

“You brought me good luck.“ you felt your heart skip a beat from the feeling of being close to him

“oooo, look at Lord Cherry with his lady~“

“Shut up you big oaf!!“

<>

During the next few months you had gone with him to almost every beef. You had even gained a name for yourself, ‘Lady Cherry’. You had become quite popular among some men there and even cherry’s female fans. He would usually bring you as his ‘lucky charm’, it was cheesy but sweet at the same time. They also had a habit of saying 

“The Cherries have arrived“ 

On his free time he would actually taught you how to skate, well he tried anyway. Balance wasn’t exactly easy and being from a traditional family, this was unusual for you. You’d be holding on to his shoulders while his hands held your waist

“Don’t let me fall“

“You’re doing just fine dear. Why don’t we try some tricks“ he offered  

“Are you sure you’re the man I married?“ you ask with a smirk

“The one and only dear“ he kissed your cheek 

It was honestly so cute to him. You’d have a scared but excited look on your face. Your cheeks would turn pink and it just made his heart fluttered. On top of all that you were willing to indulge in something he has loved from a young age. He always took you with him to each beef he attended. Both for showing you off an he is in love with the idea of winning every race for not just himself but for you as well.  

Although tonight you wouldn’t make it to the beef. He was going to race Joe but that was put on hold. You had been feeling sick all day and you just finished emptying your stomach. As much as you told him to go, he refused to leave.

“You’re my wife and you’re clearly not okay“ he said helping you up off the floor “you come before any beef or competition. Now come on, let’s get you to the hospital and get you checked out.“

A short drive to the general hospital was taken that night. No, he would not wait until tomorrow morning. He wanted to know that you were okay and didn’t have anything terminal. After speaking with the nurse and giving some blood and urine samples you both patiently waited. You leaned against him playing with the digits of his fingers. 

*Knock knock* “Ma’am we have your results” the doctor says holding up a couple of papers and even some medicine. “well, you’re clear for any terminal conditions or diseases. although you have some hormonal imbalances and some new ones kicking in.”

“Meaning?“ Kaoru urged him on

“Congratulations, you’re 4 weeks pregnant.“

“....“ you both sat in shock at the news. You were pregnant? Well, you two were active, and maybe Kaoru has his own little rituals. Either after or before a beef he’d get frisky and was set on pleasing you both. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that this would have happened, still it was shocking news

“These are some prenatal vitamins you’ll need to take for the month. Make sure to make an appointment to check on the baby alright?” giving you the vile of pills he takes his leave leaving you both in silence. What were you supposed to say? How were you going to deal with this? Were you even ready?

“-together.“ you didn’t catch his whole sentence 

“I’m sorry what was that?” you ask him

“We’ll this together alright?“ he took your hand in his “believe me I’m as shocked as you are but, we’ll figure this out together okay?“

“Alright“ you smile back 

“We should probably start with a bigger house for the three of us“

<>

“Kaoru, come on it’s just paint I can-“

“You are not moving a muscle“ he cut you off “I want you to rest all you can. You’re making a baby and that’s enough.“

To say he was strict during your pregnancy was an understatement. As soon as your belly started showing you were no longer going to beefs with him. You were currently 6 months along, and expecting a girl! Kaoru was over the moon to know it was a girl. he would have been happy with a boy too, but a little copy of you was like a dream. He couldn't wait to see the little girl that would look like you and act like him.

Today was nursery day, which meant painting, building and organizing. Kaoru had you only fold and organizing the clothes and things while he painted. Of course being your idea you had called the boys over to help. Joe was building some stuff along with Shadow. Langa and Reki were actually helping to paint the walls. 

“I appreciate you guys coming to help“ you smile 

“Hey it’s no problem, at least you told us about it“ Joe commented. Oh yeah, he also wanted to keep it a secret so that 

‘the idiot wouldn’t ruin your pregnancy‘ which made you laugh for a good 5 minutes. But they were very good help and made the process easier 

“Hey so what are you naming the baby?“ Reki asked 

“Well, Kaoru kind of wanted to associate it with his skate name so we agreed on Sakura.“

“AAWWHH“ everyone said out load slightly teasing him. Without turning from the wall he said

“....I just wanted a beautiful name for her was all.“ although he was cold at times they knew he meant well especially for his family.  A while late Joe made a small dinner for you all to enjoy. You thanked them for coming over and you were done for the night. You were putting on some lotion over your rounded middle when Kaoru came behind you. He wrapped his arms around and over your own hands and rested there for a moment

“Who would have thought we’d be here huh?” You whisper

“In all honesty I was hoping for it” he admired “before we married you were described as a caring and sweet woman. But you were so much more once we were married. You’re compassionate, intelligent, stubborn, beautiful, and absolutely perfect” he said kissing the side of your head “and now, you’ve given me the gift of being a father. Thank you”

Turning in his hold you wipe away small tears “oh Kaoru , thank you too. You’ve treated me like I’m the only person you need. On top of that you take care of me but still give me my freedom. I love you..”

“And I love you” he rests his forehead against yours as his fingers trace over your baby bump.

*******************************************************

I hope this was okay!❤️

[thestarrynightslover]

I'll Make It Okay for You - Part 2

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 2,765

Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst, mentions of drugs, drug abuse, drug withdrawal, rehab facility and insecurities/self-sabotage (very, very slightly, tho). 

Summary: You can read Part 1 here. What happens when (y/n) (y/l/n), Harvey’s secret crush and a junior partner at his firm, openly defies him in front of everyone? 

Disclaimer: I don’t own the show Suits, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: I think that this turned out better than Part 1? As always, I’m not sure, though. Just to make it clear here, I’m still on season 4 of Suits, so didn’t wanna get too much into any canonic details, self-preservation, lol. Anyhow, I hope you like it, and, ofc, feedback is always appreciated.

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

You and Harvey stayed in the embrace for a while, as you sunk in all the comfort emanating from him. He'd even started stroking your hair. The whole situation felt so intimate, that, by the time the two of you finally pulled away from each other, it was almost as if there was this cloud of embarrassment hovering around you both.

"Err… I'm s- sorry, I shouldn't have, um-" You started saying nervously but he cut you off.

"No, it's okay. And, um, I'm really glad you told me what happened… It's definitely a lot to deal with. And I was a complete asshole this morning. So I'm sorry." For a moment both you and Harvey just smiled at each other, sitting there in a comfortable silence. Until he decided to break it: "So, um, did you get her a lawyer? I'm assuming you wouldn't wanna represent her yourself because it could be problematic…"

"No, uh, yeah. It would be problematic.” You corrected him. “But the most I could do was make the cops get her a public defender, cause I called my dad when I was on the way there and he just wouldn't have me paying for anything else. He is a retired cop, so the pension isn't too great, the pride though… And I’m already covering Lisa's treatment because it's her best shot, but this…"

"And he wants to teach her a lesson." He completed what you were trying to explain.

"Yes."

"And you don't agree with him?" Harvey asked, almost reading your mind.

"Well, it's complicated. Because when I see what Kat's doing with her life… I get just as frustrated as my parents, and I really do want what's best for Henry." The fact that your sister wasn't what's best for her son was only implied. "But she's my little sister, you know?" As he nodded in understanding, you went on: "I wanna help her, but, at least for now, I think I'm just gonna wait and see if mom and dad change their minds… Which I think they will do! I mean, my dad was a cop for years. He knows what those places do to people. As much as we all desperately want her to get her shit together, I don't think that prison is where she'll succeed in doing so." You finished, voice filled with concern.

"Well, I don't think I would be as lenient, and compassionate, as you are, but I do see your point." Harvey told with a sympathetic smile. "Besides, she is your sister. And, trust me, I know what it is like to go out of your way to keep a sibling outta trouble." He added with a tired sigh, making you wonder how much you really knew about the man sitting in front of you.

"Either way, now I don't see much that I can do for her at the moment. Gonna try and have her attorney keep me posted, of course, but…" 

"Yeah…"

"I just… I can't help but feel guilty about all of this, you know?" You said, after having stood up and turned your back on him, finally letting on what was bothering you the most to the other lawyer.

"No, not really, I don't." He stated simply while you just looked back at him with a shocked expression on your face. "I mean, there's not a single approach on this that makes me think you're to blame for anything." He explained himself, standing up as well this time.

"Harvey, I-"

"No, (y/n), let me stop you right there. What I see here is a family going through a rough situation with one of its members. Then three of the other members just try to do everything they can to get out of the initial situation, while another one just keeps making more problems for her family. And, right now? Today? You walked out on your bosses, risking a lot, to take care of your nephew. So, tell me again, how is it that any of these things happening to your sister are your fault when you’ve done nothing but help everyone in that goddamn family of yours, huh?" He asked you in a sarcastic tone.

“Well, it is very much my fault because I’m her big sister! I should have been there for her! Advising her, helping her, just, just being her friend…” You confessed your regrets to Harvey. “But, instead, I was too busy making my career.”

“And what the hell’s wrong with that? Look, I’m a big brother too. I get it. Ever since we were kids our parents imbued us with the role of ‘the responsible one’, always telling us to look after the youngest… But, hey! If you just threw all of your work up in the air and left running every time your sister had a run-in with a problem, you wouldn’t have made it this far! Not in this field anyway!” He practically spit the words in your face, going to battle with your self-sabotage, which was a very new side of you for him. “And you’re a freaking great lawyer! One of the best that firm’s ever seen. So don’t be sorry that you didn’t sacrifice all of that for being better than the amazing sister you probably already were!”

“You simply can’t know that.” You stated in a low voice, not really knowing how to respond to everything Harvey had just told you. He really thought all that about you?

“Yes, I can!” He yelled back, stepping closer towards you. “I can know that for a fact, because,” he started again, his face pretty close to yours this time, “because, I’m beginning to finally understand, even if just a little bit, who you really are. And because I always notice all the little things when it comes to you, which, in my experience, is how you actually get to know someone. You know, the details.” He told you in the sweetest tone, giving you a charming-Specter-like smile, he leaned closer, if that was even possible, God, was he gonna kiss you?

You had to pull away slightly, just enough for him to get the message. And, boy, how you regretted it! Sure, normally, you’d have a ton of bad things to say about him, but after that night… It wasn’t really that bad of an idea, the one of Harvey kissing you. No, nuh-uh! What were you thinking?! If much, you and Harvey were beginning a friendship there! And you couldn’t, or wouldn’t, let some ridiculous thoughts about how great he smelled rob you from that opportunity! Your inner struggle was interrupted by him saying:

“Hum, I- I should probably go, right? It’s, um, it’s getting pretty late…” He said nervously. You should be relieved right now. Because this assures that things between you and Harvey (your new friend?) aren’t gonna go too off the railroads anytime soon.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll, uh, I’ll walk you to the door.” So why is it that you sounded almost disappointed when you said that? “You know what they say, you gotta walk people to the door if you ever want them to come back…” You joked a little, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, right.” He shot back simply, with a small smile on his lips. “Bye, (y/n). Have a good night.”

“Thanks, you too.” You watched him turning around to leave when you remembered there was something else that Harvey deserved to hear from you. “Uh, Harvey!” You called out.

“Yeah?” He asked, turning back around to face you. And before you could even think it through one more time, you were already jumping in his arms, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Thank you. For tonight. For everything.” You told him, as he slowly put his arms around your waist, hugging you back.

“It was no problem, (y/n), really. That’s what friends are for.” And, just like that, your day ⎼ turned into night ⎼ had gone from Earth to Hell, and, now, to Heaven.

                                                       ---

Around 7:30 in the next morning, as you gathered some of your work stuff, you heard someone knocking on the door. Who could it possibly be this time? You asked yourself while walking there to open it.

Once again you were surprised to be met by none other than Harvey Your-New-Friend Specter standing at your doorstep. With your supposedly locked-up little sister in tow. What the hell?

“Before you say anything,” he started, “this time I come bearing gifts!” He practically beamed at you, as Kat threw herself in your arms.

“Yeah- yeah, um, I can see that.” You stated, still very confused with the whole situation.

“Thank you so much for sending your friend to bail me out, sis!” Your sister squealed out. She looked so pale and thin; winter-like clothes on, even though it was only the beginning of the fall; and she was shaking. Effects of a rushed withdrawal, you guessed. “You’re the best! Now, where’s my little baby?” She asked you, as if everything that had happened was nothing.

“He’s, uh, he’s in a day-care facility. The best in the city, you have nothing to worry about.” You informed her, who seemed rather relieved to hear that news. “Can you, uh, can you please stay here for a minute while I talk to my, uh, my friend in the office, Kat?” You asked her with a calm smile on your lips.

“Yeah, of course. I’m not gonna break anything I promise!” She told you, sounding a lot like a wicked child.

“No, um, I know you won’t. If you want something to eat, please, help yourself.” You assured her, motioning to the kitchen.

“Oh, no! I’m not hungry! Mr.Specter took me to a diner before we came here.” She let you know, which just made you even more surprised, and confused.

“Oh, he did? Well, that was very nice of yours, Harvey. So, come with me?” You asked him in a sort of mockery tone while pointing to the room he’d just been in, the night before.

As soon as the two of you stepped into the office, Harvey started desperately: “(y/n), before you come at me for not running this by you first, just, please, hear me out for a second.” He pleaded with you, to which you just nodded your head. “So, last night. I heard what you said about your dad, and you don’t have to worry about paying me anything. I’m representing your sister as a friend of yours.”

“Wait a second. You mean you’re taking this pro-bono? Harvey, you do that and the whole firm is gonna know. And you promised.” You quickly accused him, even though you were very thankful for the way he just stepped up to solve one of your problems.

“I know! Let me finish, will you?” You nodded again while muttering an apology. “I’m not going to break your trust. And I’m not handling this pro-bono. The only people I’ll have to loop in are Jessica and Donna. And you know they won’t say anything.” He told you, but you were still a bit confused. “And, before you even ask, no, that doesn’t mean that either you or your family will be paying me anything. Also, I got your sister a spot in a top-of-line, very discrete, rehab facility, I have a friend over there, who said we can drop her off at any time. I just, um, figured that it’d be the best if she got professional help this time. Plus, on my talk with her, she agreed to sign papers that make you and your parents Henry’s temporary guardians. I really think that Kat wants to turn her life around this time, (y/n). She was very- Did I do something wrong? Because, err, you know me… I always find it easier to ask for forgiveness instead of permission, but, this time, I really did think that this would make you happy...” He trailed off with a confused look on his face while scratching the back of his neck

“Oh, I am happy.” You told him, still looking absolutely stunned.

“Then why, uh, why don’t you look happy?” He asked, sounding a bit hurt.

“It’s just that… I’m kind of surprised. How did you even think of all those things?”

“I, uh, it’s like I said yesterday, I notice things about you. And I really listened to what you told me last night. So I just started thinking about ways that I could solve this thing for you, ways that I could make you happy again throughout all of this storm.” He told you and it had to be the sweetest thing you’d heard from Harvey (hell, from anyone!) in your entire life. “But I understand that I overstepped, and I’m-” But since he just wouldn’t stop talking anymore, you had to cut him off in order to shut him up.

His eyes were in absolute shock for a moment, as he just stood reactionless in your grip. But then he got the message and pulled you closer, grabbing your waist tightly while your hands stood firmly wrapped around his neck. You were pretty sure that neither one of you was still breathing at that point, but you didn’t care. Because, God, his mouth tasted so good in yours, it was like they’d been made to kiss each other. The despair both of you were investing in the kiss was huge, but it was turning into a calmer kind of fire, as the air started becoming too necessary again. He pulled your mouths apart for a minute, you resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“You know…” He started, still catching his breath. “When I mentioned you coming at me, I hadn’t really envisioned this.” He joked, a victory smile on his lips.

“Ah, well, you know how upset it makes me when you simply won’t shut up.” You shot back with a shrug of your shoulders, smiling at him.

“Huh. Wish you would’ve shut me up like this every other time.” He mocked, earning a smack in the arm from you. “Ouch! Why’d do that?”

“Because you were being a dickhead, ruining our moment.” You gave him a fake irritated glance.

“Oh, c’mon! Tell me you didn’t think about it too!” He challenged, and you didn’t feel like giving him that kind of win at the moment, so you just pulled him back in for another kiss. One that may have lasted a little longer than it should have, considering that you two still needed to take Kat to rehab and, then, go to work so you could try and save your job. But, what could you do if he, and his body, and his mouth, and his eyes, and his everything were the only things that mattered?

As he rested his chin on top of your head ⎼ that was laid on his chest ⎼, you looked up, pulling away a little, him making sure you wouldn’t fall off the small couch. “Thank you, Harvey. For everything you did. For listening. For being here right now. For everything.”

“Don’t thank me, (y/n). You’ll never have to thank me for anything. I just want you to promise me one thing.” He stated seriously.

“What?” You asked, a bit hesitant.

“That, from now on, you’ll tell me all about it, every time you have a problem.” That was easy enough, you thought. But, you being you, simply had to ask.

“So that you can be here for me?” You questioned him with puppy eyes.

He just chuckled lightly. “Well, that too. But, mostly, so that I can make it ⎼ whatever it is ⎼ okay for you.” Your heart was on the edge of not being to take it any longer. What could have you possibly done to deserve that man?

“Okay, I promise.” You said, watching his expression begin to soften already. “But, only if you promise me the same. Because I wanna make it okay for you too.” While you thought Harvey was simply gonna say yes, he started laughing at you.

“Always the kick-ass corporate lawyer, I see.”

“Would you even have me any other way?” You joked back, more relaxed now.

“Yes, of course! I’d have you in any way you came to me. Which is why I promise too.” With that, you didn’t have any other choice but to kiss him again, because crying over the fact that Harvey Surprisingly-Romantic Specter was an absolute cinnamon roll was not an option.

Taglist: @just-a-girl-with-alot-of-issues​

[anika-ann]

Walk Me Home Tonight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, songfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 4700

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to be in a celebratory mood when all you can think of is that life sucks and that being left on your own to drown your sorrows is for the best.

Sometimes people who care about you know better than yourself and come crashing your party of one.

Sometimes, despite the popular belief, you do realize how lucky you are having been introduced to Steve Rogers.

Warnings: mention of blood and violence and death, mention of alcohol, angst, fluff and language

A/N: P!nk’s Walk Me Home just does something to me, alright? Music video included - it’s soooo beautiful.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

You stared at the amber liquid, lazily making it roll in the glass with idle motions of your wrist. It reflected the rather soft lights of the bar, an exquisite game of colour you found fascinating enough to dull your mind and muffle the noise of the party.

It wasn’t that you were a party pooper, not usually anyway; just… the timing wasn’t ideal.

Of course, Sharon could hardly move her birthday to make it more convenient for you, less so a party her colleagues had decided to throw for her. You knew Agent Carter for quite some time now; she had joined SHIELD about the same time as you, going through the same tough training. Except unlike you – and initially without your knowledge – she had an image to live up to.

You might even call her a friend, your chest bursting in pride for her when her hard work had finally borne some fruit and she had been promoted to an assistant director of the intelligence agency. Among other things, it earned her a lot of new potential friends.

You were hardly acting like one tonight, much to your own annoyance. But for some reason, you found it difficult to leave your momentary emotional baggage at the doorstep, slipping it off as easily as your coat. You had wished her all the best, conversed for a tiny bit and then happily made space for others, for the forming line of guests waiting to celebrate with her as well.

Then you retreated to your spot at the bar, possibly annoying the bartender, who would have been more delighted seeing some heavier drinker occupying your seat, tipping generously, instead of having you nursing each glass of alcohol for about two hours.

You weren’t even sure why you were still here; you had given up on the attempt on small talk with anyone, apparently unwittingly chasing away any potential company. And here you thought misery did love company – perhaps you were wrong, at least when it came to birthday parties of gorgeous women loved by everyone. You might as well pack up your bottom and sulk at home.

You were stubbornly shushing the voice in the back of your skull, whispering about knowing precisely why you remained in your seat; about feeling less alone here, despite being a literal loner in a crowd.

You downed the rest of the bitter scotch, basking in the burn which it left on its way down your throat, your eyelids slipping shut in content, the noise in your brain falling silent completely for few blissful moments.

“Party of one?” a male voice gently asked, the tinniest note of teasing in it and while your heart skipped a startled beat at being addressed, you felt the burn in your throat slip lower, warming your chest and causing the corners of your mouth turn up just a fraction.

 There's something in the way you roll your eyes Takes me back to a better time When I saw everything is good But now you're the only thing that's good

 “Felt like crashing it?” you hummed in response, side-eyeing the intruder and found a pair of cerulean eyes staring back. He blindly waved off the eager bartender who was about to offer him a drink.

Ah, poor guy. No tips for him tonight.

“Well, I didn’t get an invitation. Looks like crashing was my only option.”

You sighed tiredly despite Steve’s kind teasing. Tonight was just… so exhausting. Tonight. Today. This week. Gah, this whole month. This fucking year--- okay, maybe you were exaggerating, because you were simply crossing the line, moving from relaxed buzzed drunk to a miserable one.

Battling with yourself, arguing whether you should send him to hell – nicely, because Steve was nothing but kind, he was always so kind, goddammit, gentle humour spiced with the ability to become an utter troll, still benign though, that was why you usually enjoyed his company so much after all-… – or call it a night.

Or should you order another drink? Was there a point? You might cross the line to a clingy drunk eventually and you weren’t certain that was a good idea.

It was probably about as good of an idea as coming to a party despite feeling like shit on an emotional roller-coaster, dangerously inclining towards a very bad mood to put it mildly.

You tilted your head to side as you looked at Steve properly, tight blue shirt flattering his supersoldier frame, black pants with desperately needed leather belt considering his thin waist, his blonde hair a mess, gaze fixed on you, observing. Always observing to read people, to anticipate behaviour, evaluate the threat; sometimes simply to be considerate, to… to be compassionate.

Dammit, Steve.

“Must have got lost in the mail then,” you said eventually, offering a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he shrugged it off, the curve of his lips more distinct than yours. As if he was offering to cheer you up. Sweet, but possibly vain effort tonight. Sometimes, things simply piled up and there was no escape. Such was the fate of a government agent. And human, for that matter. “Doesn’t look like much fun and I think it’s about to end anyway.”

“I guess…”

 Tryna stand up on my own two feet This conversation ain't comin' easily And darling, I know it's getting late So what do you say we leave this place?

 This time, Steve actually made an eye contact with the bartender, who eagerly rushed to him at instant. His excited expression fell when he noticed you were pulling out your wallet to close your tab. You didn’t have the strength to shoot him an apologetic smile.

Steve’s eyes were on you the whole time, you could feel them, and you wondered why. Until he spoke again, as soon as the other man left.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he offered gentlemanly, coaxing you into saying yes, possibly unaware of the effect which such tone had on people.

Or perhaps he knew, using exactly that when he was trying to talk someone down, to calm them, gain their trust. The joke was on him, because it was a vain effort; you trusted him fully already. Surely, he knew that.

Right?

Trust was the solid base the team of Avengers needed and since you somehow found yourself with them, it involved you too. The team stood and fell on trust and mutual respect. But it meant so much more – they were friends. They cared about each other, about their well-being.

Right now, Steve was being a good friend and a good teammate.

And you were being exactly that too when you turned his kind proposition down.

“No, it’s fine. There are still some people who are actually able to speak coherently with you. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he pointed out, as if admonishing you for not noticing. Your eyebrow rose deliberately.

“…and?”

“And I’d feel better if you weren’t walking the streets alone,” he replied easily, ignoring the hint of snark in your comeback as you made your way to the coat-stand.

Still walking on the line of miserable and pleasantly buzzed, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mean to him for such patronizing approach. He had been raised this way and despite his open mind and admirable respect to women, he slipped sometimes.

“Steve, I’m a SHIELD agent basically turned Avenger. I can take care of my-“

“But you don’t have to. And-” He gestured subtly back towards the bar and a metaphorical lightbulb flickered above your head.

Not patronizing then, god forbid chauvinist; Peggy Carter would rise from the death to beat him with his own shield, with Natasha’s enthusiastic help, if he was showing any sign of aforementioned qualities and he was well-aware of that.

Just mother-henning then, the way Steve excelled at.

It brought the first honest smile of the night to your lips. You made sure to face him so he could see how wholesome his company was for you.

“I’m not too drunk, Steve. I had like two glasses of scotch,” you assured him, gently brushing his forearm before reaching for your coat and scarf. “And two beers.”

“I know,” he stated, stealing your coat only to hold it out for you to slip into it.

God, the woman who would once win his heart was about to be one lucky bitch.

Jim has never done this for me, flashed through your mind and you instantly shushed the whining voice in your head. Instead, you went over what he just said, blinking in surprise.

Huh? He… knew?

“I… might have kept an eye on you,” he admitted tentatively, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder before retreating and letting you to cocoon in the fabric.

“Why?”

Why would he keep an eye on you? Sure, teammates and friends and all that, but for some reason, you doubted he kept an eye on Tony, the only other Avenger (beside Steve, not Steve and you, you don’t count, a voice hissed in your mind and you winced) who attended the party, not being on any mission at the moment.

Why did Steve feel like you needed a chaperone?

No, that was too harsh of a word for him, you were certain his intentions were everything but malicious, but… why?

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

 The genuine wonder must have been audible in your voice, much like your shock must have been clear in your expression, because Steve seemed sheepish all of sudden, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, I know that you probably wouldn’t-“ he started, only to grimace. “It’s not that I think you’re an alcoholic! It’s just that... you--- and it’s only been-…“

-four days since you got dumped, you finished the unspoken sentence and tried your best to ignore the cold seeping into your bones at the reminder.

One of the reasons why you had been in a sour mood and deciding to drink alone. Your amazing asshole of a boyfriend had dumped you, metaphorically kicking you while you had already been down. Lovely.

“-I was worried. But you didn’t look like you were interested in having company, I didn’t want to be a bother and-“

You pulled Steve out of his misery by placing a hand over his forearm, which stopped the words spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

He was actually being very sweet and thoughtful. It kinda made you feel bad, because… you weren’t looking for dragging someone down with you. As it was, he had his own reasons to not be happy about partying tonight, but feeling like he had to keep an eye on you probably didn’t help to lift his spirits.

“-and you had to spend some time with the woman of the hour,” you finished instead of him slowly, hoping you sounded at least half as thoughtful as he did and that you didn’t appear to be the greatest bitch, stealing attention from Sharon. “That’s understandable, Steve. It is her birthday party and I’m the one being antisocial.”

You bit down your lip, lowering your gaze, because the infamous worried wrinkle appeared on Steve’s forehead and you just knew he was about to protest and you… honestly felt bad about your behaviour and the welcoming colour of his eyes was not helping to make you feel any better, because of course he probably thought it was perfectly normal to look out for you instead of allowing himself to enjoy the night and- ugh.

“You… you shouldn’t have to look out for me. Your attention could have been fully on the birthday girl.”

Naturally, Steve Rogers basically shrugged it off. Covering your hand on him with his large palm, he slouched to look into your eyes once more. Insistent bastard, no doubt aware of your inability to say no to his amiable face.

“That’s what friends are for. Now, can I walk you home?”

You shook your head with a sad smile, rising your gaze towards the ceiling, hoping it came out as an exasperation at his stubbornness and not as it truly was – you in fact attempting to keep your tears at bay, because, miserable drunk, dumped four days ago apart from other things and there he was, asshole perfect, Steve fucking Rogers, gentleman and friend extraordinaire, caring for your well-being more than Jim ever had.

A twinkle appeared in his eye when he recognized he won and you chuckled, sealing his victory out loud.

“Yes, Steve. You can walk me home. It’s conveniently located on the way to yours.”

He smirked when he shrugged on his own coat. “Happy coincidences…”

 There's something in the way I wanna cry That makes me think we'll make it out alive So come on and show me how we're good I think that we could do some good, mhm

 Once you left the bar, silence fell on you, feeling heavy as did the cold November air.

Heavy and awkward. While you could tell with certainty you were barely affected by the alcohol you had drunk, your steps were wobbly, knees shaky as if you were a baby horse trying to stand up for the first time.

Steve walked by your side, majestic in his thigh-length coat, hands snugged in its pockets only halfway as if he was waiting for you needing his support. It irritated you as much as it warmed your heart.

On top of everything, you would swear every lone person you met stared at you, staring you up and down until they seemed to register Steve’s imposing frame and quickly went back to their business. It annoyed you to no end; it was just proving Steve’s point that you shouldn’t walk the streets alone at such hour, government agent or not.

“I would have been fine, you know,” you hummed, cautiously breaking the relative quiet.

It was never truly quiet in New York City, only rush hours alternating with calmer ones. You didn’t mind it; you enjoyed the city. Sometimes quiet meant that thoughts won the opportunity to become too loud; tonight, for some reason, despite the silence, Steve prevented that ever since he joined you.

It dawned to you then, how ungrateful you sounded and you quickly added “But thanks.” –  a whisper full of honesty.

“Uh-huh.”

Perhaps the silence weighted so much because your mood wasn’t the only cause of it.

Steve was showing you that he worried; surely, you could as well? Because you did, worry about him that was.

“…are you? Okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked distractedly, but you could hear the frown on his face, the image of his nose scrunched in confusion painted in front of your eyes even without looking at him.

“Just… today-” you nudged him once more and vaguely eyed your watch only to be reminded that ‘today’ was a confusing term. “Or, more like, yesterday…”

A sharp inhale was drawn at your side and you could sense as he started closing off, putting up his walls so no one would catch a scent of his weakness. You hated when he tried to do that. You would have thought you were past that. You liked to consider you two friends at least.

Tonight was simply not your night. Of either of you, apparently.

“What about it-?“

You sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Were you truly such a crappy company, an insensitive friend or was there something sorrowful and cranky in the air, preventing your communication channels from tuning to the same frequency?

You were aware what the day meant for him – another painful reminder of what he had lost with crashing the plane in the forties only to wake up in a new millennium.

Though this particular loss – of his mother – haunted him even back in what some people called his days. It was an utter non-sense. Steve belonged there as much as he belonged here. He was brave enough to try and stubborn enough to succeed in fitting in.

“Nothing, I guess,” you sighed once more, this time rolling your eyes. “…Mr. Nothing Can Touch Me.”

The wry nickname hung in the air for a while, the faint noise of the night city washing over your pair. When Steve broke it again, there was a barely audible crack in his voice.

“I… I’m okay. I think. I… should be. It’s been so long. Decades,” he mused, turning his gaze to the sky. His eyes glistened and if you didn’t know him, hadn’t witnessed his walls lowering before, you would have thought it was just the streetlights reflecting.

You knew better. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his, not remembering when his hands had left his pockets. You were grateful for it now, especially when he didn’t retrieve from your touch instantly.

“Not for you,” you pointed out quietly, rewarded by the softest squeeze of his warm hand.

The heaviness and tension you had felt before resolved with the gesture. Something finally fell into place and you were almost you again and he was almost him.

Two figures, carrying their griefcases, but functioning and… harmonizing once more.

“How did you know?”

“That’s what friends are for, Steve,” you echoed his earlier words, sending a tiny smile his way, meeting his glassy gaze. “They remember important dates, good or bad.”

“No one else did. Not that I can actually hold it against Buck, of course... but no one… you…” his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought – or perhaps he had never truly directed it to the station in the first place.

Your shoulders moved a fraction, a hint of a shrug-off. His hand wrapped around yours tighter in silent appreciation, not showing any sign of intending to let go.

And you were alright with that. More than alright.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

His presence was always immense, overwhelming even; yet so comfortable you didn’t have the slightest problem with opening your heart to him, offering it to him even when it was bleeding. And now, finally tuned together, it was no different.

You bared your heart to him, even if it hurt.

“She didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice pained in the dead of the night and he didn’t react, letting you to gather strength to elaborate. You cleared your throat as the lump grew in it.  “Kayla, one of the kids… from last week’s mission. I found out yesterday… she-she didn’t make it, she had too many injuries. Word is that perhaps it was even a blessing. A relief.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve repented, his grip growing stronger just a fraction, enough to make your chest and eyes burn.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Whatever he heard in your voice, it caused his fingers twitch in your hand, his footsteps slowing down. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Wasn’t it? If I was faster, if I-“

Steve stopped in his tracks completely, pulling at your hand to make you do the same and face him.

You closed your eyes when his blue ones met them, unable to stand the urgency in them. His free hand curled around your shoulder, caressing in attempt at comfort.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that to yourself.” Hypocrite, you threw back at him in your mind, stubbornly keeping your eyelids shut, simply knowing that if you saw the sincerity in his gaze in addition to the fervour he spoke with, you might actually believe him. “You did your best. I know that, Nat and Buck know, everyone does. A monster you helped to put behind bars hurt the kids. Not you. You saved so many lives.”

You shook your head with a sigh, staring straight ahead as you turned on your heels and continued your path. Steve, never letting go of your hand, followed reluctantly.

“Sometimes I think he might have been right, you know?”

Peripherally, you saw him frown again and you cursed yourself for drinking – it untangled your tongue and his stupid face made your spill your guts to him, vomit emotion. You weren’t too secretive about your feelings most of the time, but damn, you hated how alcohol pushed your boundaries of sharing them.

“… Jim. He said that maybe I should give it up. That I’m just running alongside you, heroes, pretending to be one of you, but in the end, I’m not even close to being as good-“

Steve’s feet took roots in the ground, his steely grip forcing you to stop – as long as you wanted to keep your hand attached, which yeah, you kinda did.

“I feel like taking a detour now,” he muttered darkly and for a short moment, confusion was everything you felt, blissfully overtaking the anger, the sorrow, the helplessness and the feeling of utter uselessness.

“Huh?”

“Where does Jim live?” Steve spitted out the name venomously and you couldn’t help the wave of affection washing over you. Affection towards this treasure of a man who apparently wanted to punch another human being because it offended his friend. “He has no business saying something like that. Especially if his bullshit actually affects you-”

“Steve, he wasn’t wrong, I’m just-“ you sputtered, caught off guard when you registered the fire in his glare.

“We all make mistakes. But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t even make any that day. I read the report, and I know you, you put everything you got and more into the rescue mission. How can he-“ he hissed, literally taking a calming breath as both of his hands balled into fist.

Well, one of them only nearly, since it was still holding yours. It actually stung a bit, the bones in your hand close to grinding against each other.

“-I haven’t met him many times, but if he said that instead of comforting you after an incredibly draining mission, then I’m glad that that asshole is gone from your life. … though I would still appreciate his address.”

Blinking away the few stray tears that welled up, you forced a smile as Steve’s strict glare found yours. It felt good, seeing his indignation; having someone else exasperated on how Jim had reacted. He should have given you a hug and hold you tight; that was what you would wish for. Instead, he told you to stop complaining and when you accused him of not supporting you, he called you a whiny bitch who should make up her damn mind and broke things off.

You deeply appreciated Steve’s display of chivalry, hell, you half-considered giving away the address just so Jim would hear someone else agreeing with you, but you were honestly just tired. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn’t stay only at words and seeing any more blood, any more aggression would have been too much for you tonight.

Tonight, you… you needed serenity and comfort.

“…thank you. That… that means a lot. But… maybe just walk me home? Please? Could you walk me home, Steve?” you pleaded softly, barely audible, not caring it sounded like weeping of a needy child.

Unbeknownst to you, that was the last thing you resembled in Steve’s eyes. Your imploring gaze, vulnerable and open, it moved something inside him, his anger silenced for the moment, leaving him defenceless, unable to say no. Not that he had an intention to do so. He always had trouble saying no to you.

So he forced his fists to relax, running his thumb over the back of your hand and whispered the only word that made sense.

“Always.”

You settled back to the comfortable silence after that.

 Walk me home in the dead of night 'Cause I can't be alone with all that's on my mind Say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on

 You reached the Tower hand in hand.

Neither of you released the other. Not during the elevator ride, not when you walked the halls lined with doors leading to each’s private quarters.

You were still holding onto each other when you came to a stop in front of your door; rest assured, Steve Rogers would lead you right to your door even if his was only at the end of the very same corridor.

Standing nearly chest to chest, his eyes bored into yours with seriousness that surprised you.

“For the record, you do a great deal of good,” he reassured you, saying it as if he truly meant it. It tugged at your heart, sweet and bitter. “You’re amazing and you’re the most authentic of all of us. I admire you.”

That claim caused you to chuckle. Now he was laying it on a bit thick, downright exaggerating.

“You admire me? Steve, that’s really nice of you to say, but don’t be ridi-“

Your words died in your throat when his large palm splayed over your cheek, cradling it gently. When the paddle of his thumb swiped over your other cheek, soft smile playing on his lips, his irises bright with a promise, time seemingly stopped along with your heart.

“And you’re a great friend to the whole team, a wonderful person. Do me a favour and finally learn to accept a compliment,” he asked of you in hushed voice, the electric blue and green of his eyes locking you in. “If he didn’t praise you enough for you to get used to it, he was doing something wrong.”

You gulped, a silly association with the word ‘praise’ allowing you to break from the cage of his gaze that had previously had your mind gone blank.

“I’m not a dog to be praised, Steve…”

One corner of his lips – and when did they got so close anyway? – twitched. And then a tender kiss landed on your forehead, just the softest brush of lips against your skin. The gesture, utterly incomprehensible for you, had your eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m very much aware. Believe me, doll, I know. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

You only nodded at the ridiculous statement – why was he thanking you? – too perplexed at the fact his lips had made contact with your skin. When did you cross the line towards the delusional drunk?

His fingertips caressed your face as he let go, wishing you to have a good night. Too baffled, you were unable to respond until he had already made his way to his door and you suddenly missed the warmth of his presence.

Breaking free from your haze, you acted on impulse, apparently startling him when you called his name out of blue so urgently.

“Steve!”

Whipping his head around to look at you, you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Uh… are you ready to go to bed or… or maybe… would you like to watch a movie or something?” With me?

I don’t think I’m ready to be alone. Ready to be without you.

Even from the distance, you would swear you saw his lips spread in a slow honey-sweet smile.

“I think I’d like that,” he called out lowly. “Ten minutes? I’ll get the blankets. You pick the movie.”

“See you in ten then.”

You pretended that your heart didn’t flutter, sending a wave of familiar tingle through your chest and to your fingers, as you slipped inside your room with your mouth curled up in a content smile.

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong There is so much wrong There is so much wrong going on outside

*✧･ Bonus *✧･

If Tony found them two and half hour later, closing credits rolling, the pair curled up and cuddling on the couch, you fast asleep in Steve’s arms, and he noticed that the supersoldier was in fact only faking to avoid an interrogation from the Ironman himself, he didn’t mention it. He just whispered to FRIDAY to turn off the TV and turn off the dimmed lights completely.

He hoped Rogers would treat you the way you deserved, unlike the man who now had farts announcing a received e-mail or texts, unable to change it, and a laptop turning on randomly, dead-pale children staring at him from the screen with hollow eyes and in clothes dripping water. Tony would hate to have to hack more tech again just to avenge your broken heart without your knowledge any time soon.

He’d rather suffer watching the two of his friends being disgustingly sweet on each other.

Probably.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

S.R. masterlist

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

Silent thanks to the person who came up with the word ‘griefcase’ as an alternative to emotional baggage.

Also, I’m pretty sure songfics aren’t supposed to be so long... oops?

Thank you for reading!

[atlas-of-the-universe]

Vision’s Powers

Finally here we are guys! I really hope you enjoy.

Length: 3,512 words; ~12 minute reading time

It had been a long and difficult day training with a few of your fellow colleagues at Stark tower. The tank top that you had on had a brim of sweat around the collar and fell loosely past your hips. Your shorts fell mid-thigh, clinging to your waist with a tight elastic stretch and, not unlike your shirt, fell quite loose. It was getting closer to nighttime, but you, Natasha, Steve, and Bucky decided to stay and chat in the training room.

Harsh rays of sunset fell into the room and blinded you slightly, so you faced away from the window, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Bucky and Steve were caught in some lengthy conversation and you were able to pick up words here and there but not enough to understand what they said. Maybe had Natasha not been nit-picking your attacks and defenses, you would have been more interested in what they had to say. The punching bag in front of you dangled on a bulky and squeaky chain, the repeated motion of the Stark logo swinging back and forth just egged you on.

Natasha put her hands on her hips, a stern expression playing at her face. “Feet more apart,” she scrutinized. You did as you were told and shifted your feet apart further. It made your calves burn but you held it together and looked up at her for confirmation. She nodded and watched your movements with a critical, yet compassionate eye. She and you had been training for most of the day but taking breaks in between when needed. She was a tough teacher; she and you both knew that. However, that did not make training any less enjoyable. There were certain moments where she would tease you on how your punches fell or you would make comments on how teachers are supposed to teach. Each one would break the “training-tension” and give you two a moment of peace before going right back to work. It was necessary.

“Let her relax Nat,” Bucky cawed from across the room. “Tony and Vision should be done soon.”

Tony and Vision had been working for the past few hours on demonstrating and taking note of each one of Vision’s aspects. Even with their (rather large) lab directly across the hall from the training room, neither of them stepped in to greet them in the day. The only one who saw them before disappearing into the lab was Natasha, who had let the guys and you know when you first walked into the training room. Natasha did not seem concerned, so it did not concern you.

Nat scoffed and picked up your water bottle, handing it to you with a smirk on her face. Facing you, she briefly made eye contact with you before rolling her eyes and calling over her shoulder “She’s the one who asked for this, Barnes.”

Bucky grimaced but chuckled. “Why on Earth would you do that to yourself, kid?”

You smiled, appreciating the empathy. “I needed to train. I felt out of practice,” you said, walking to go grab your bag from the benches on the left side of the room. The red walls were a contrast from the white boxing arena that Steve and Bucky sat against. You walked over to the arena and sat on the padded ground a few feet in front of the boys, Natasha coming to sit next to you. “Plus, she could have been a lot tougher,” you continued. “We’ve been going at a good pace, I think.”

“I guess I’ll just have to go harder on you next time,” Natasha responded with a smirk and playfully bumped into you.

Steve chuckled and gestured to the door with a nod, “Why don’t we all go get something to eat? I don’t think Vison and Tony will be done anytime soon.”

The group nodded around at each other and you placed your hand below you to push yourself up off the ground. Your arm was sore from the long day of work, so you were rather excited to get back to your room, take a shower, and finally decompress. With a ‘hup’, you pushed off and walked over to the benches to gather your things. However, before you were able to reach your hoodie, the door to the training room opened and you instinctually looked over. Vision’s face peaked into the room with a curious look, his eye searching around the room,  and finally locked on you. He made eye contact with you and quickly glanced away to face Natasha. Everyone stopped and watched Vision as he pushed open the door and walked inside.

“Hello everyone,” Vision greeted slightly quiet. “I was wondering if I could borrow Ms. (Y/L/N) for something.” Vision’s gaze shifted to you with a polite expression.

“Oh great, am I going to be a guinea pig?” You chuckled and threw your hoodie into your bag. To be fair, you weren’t nervous. Tony had done other experiments with you in the past and they all simply involved weapon production. You were typically his assistant when he would need someone else to try thing for Peter’s upgraded gear. You swung your bag over your shoulder and looked around the room. “I’ll catch you guys another time, thanks for the invite Steve.”

Steve smiled and nodded at you and Natasha told you to be up early tomorrow for more training. With a smile, Vision led you out of the room and into the hall. “So what exactly is it you guys are doing?” You asked.

“Energy influxes on human skin,” he said walking next to you.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your sneaker squeak echoing in the hall. A feeling of dread set in your stomach. “Vision, no, no, no, no, I don’t-”

Vision put his hand on the small of your back and your wrist as you babbled on, leading you down the hall. “Don’t worry, it’s painless,” He interrupted. “Unfortunately, we needed someone besides Tony.”

“How come?”

“Actually,” Vision said. “Now that you mention it, I’m not quite sure why. We were experimenting with my powers on his own skin to see if they created any sort of reaction. He initially pulled away but told me he didn’t feel anything.”

You scoffed, “That doesn’t really make me feel better.”

Vision smiled at you. “No, I can understand why. I don’t believe it to be painful.”

You nodded and grabbed the handle to the door of Tony’s lab. Tony’s lab was a bit of a mess, with paper scattered across a large glass desk with massive computers that looked too difficult to figure out how to use. In front of Tony’s desk, Tony sat on a high metal stool with a clipboard, and a pen between his lips. There were various machines around his office to, from what you assumed, assist Tony with various tasks that came with him.

Tony glanced up at you and smirked. “Ah!” He exclaimed. “(Y/N), so glad you could make it. Take a seat.” Tony hopped off the stool and motioned to it.

Vision wasn’t too far behind you. He looked at Tony with furrowed brows, but you ignored your gut and tossed your things on the ground, kicking it away from the stool so no one would trip over it. You hopped onto it, despite your muscles aching. Once you had yourself comfortably seated on the chair, Tony sprung up.

“So, the point of this experiment is to see if Vision’s energy produced from his power has any effect on human skin,” Tony said quickly. “Before you ask, no it’s not cancerous. No, it’s not painful. I didn’t have any rashes, itching, or allergic reactions, so if I was fine, you should be fine.”

Vision spoke, “Mr. Stark, I don’t believe that’s how allergic reactions work-”

“Sure it is,” Tony interrupted. “Alright, Robocop, hop to it.”

With a sigh, Vision took your hand in his palm gently and turned the top of your hand towards the ceiling. You watched his delicate movements, him occasionally stealing glances at your face. “Please,” he said. “Let me know if anything hurts.” He put his other hand over the top of yours, slightly hovering above it. The underside of his hand emitted a small, purplish glow as the energy touched your skin. It felt warm, like there was static floating across your hand. To be honest, you kind of expected more but knew that Vision was being gentle on purpose. He had powers capable of things you hadn’t ever seen, and you didn’t want to find out. You smiled at the feeling of his power traveling across the top of your hand. If anything, it kind of tickled. You smiled.

“You seem to be rather enjoying this,” Vision said as he looked up from your hand.

You chuckled. “It just feels weird.”

“Weird?” Tony asked, strolling over to the other side of his desk. He flipped his pen in between his finger. It was faint, but you could tell that there was a small smile playing at his lips. It made you curious, but you decided not to ask.

“Yeah,” you responded. “I don’t know. It feels sort of itchy? Not like…a bad itchy, though.”

Vision, after giving you a glance up from focusing on his powers, and then returned his gaze to his and your hands. “Shall I continue, Mr. Stark?” Vision asked without ever looking up. Tony didn’t need to answer Vision for Vision to already have the answer.

He began slowly inching his hands up the outside of your arm. However, the further he went up, the more intense the feeling became. Occasionally, you would twitch or jerk your head away slightly from the feeling. It was definitely becoming more of a solid tickle now instead of the itchy sort of tickle that it was before. It wasn’t terribly unpleasant, but it did sort of surprise you. The more you attempted to hold back the giggles that began broiling in your chest, the more difficult it became. You thought from the outside, you seemed to be holding yourself together; Vision’s eyes slowly followed his hands up and down your arm, the purple hue tingling across your skin. It had gotten bad enough to the point where you needed to close your eyes and take deep breaths. You felt Vision halt, the tickly feeling lingering on the top of your forearm.

“Ms. (Y/N), are you alright?”

You sighed and smiled at Vision. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Vision had a concerned look on his face. Perhaps he was worried about your reaction, or maybe something else. His brow was furrowed and his eyes bounced between you and Tony. “Mr. Stark,” He said and stood up from his hunched over position. “Perhaps it would be best if we continued tomorrow. Or even found another subject. This seems to be causing discomfort.”

A feeling of guilt set in your stomach. You reached out to Vision and grabbed his arm. You didn’t want to be the person who interrupted an important project. God knowing Tony, he was probably working on something terribly important. “Wait,” you said. “I’m completely fine to continue.”

Vision turned back around to face you. He let out a large sigh and wiped his hands with relatively small  cream-colored towel. Perhaps this was more of a difficult task for Vision than you had previously assumed. “Are you sure you’re alright? You seemed to be uncomfortable.” Vision said.

You nodded and felt your face heat up. Obviously, you wouldn’t want to admit to your colleagues that you were ticklish. How embarrassing! Someone as strong as yourself, being amongst literal Gods, a couple of super soldiers and a bunch of other extremely talented and smart individuals? You felt like it made you look weak. Thinking about it further, if you found out the same fact about one of the other Avengers, you wouldn’t view them as weak, so why blame yourself? Additionally, if you didn’t tell them, you knew that Vision wouldn’t have the moral capacity to let himself continue. If this was an important enough project, it would need to get done regardless of something as childish as you being ticklish. Ultimately, there would be no point in keeping it a secret.

“It just…” you began, trailing off. Your eyes bounced back and forth between Tony and Vision. Tony had a small smirk still on his lips but he kept gesturing for you to continue. “It just kind of tickles.”

Vision tilted his head and immediately smiled. You prayed that your face didn’t look as red as it felt. Vision chuckled and placed his towel down on a rollable science table. “Oh dear, I thought perhaps I was hurting you,” Vision said, obviously relieved.

You immediately raised your hands in defense. “No, no, not at all!” You spoke. “I just didn’t want to say anything. Whatever you’re doing looks important, so I thought it was best to let you focus.”

Vision smiled and looked over his shoulder to Tony. “Mr. Stark,” he said. “I think we’re good to continue, if (Y/N)’s still well enough.”

You nodded and gave Vision your arm once again. However, just before Vision’s fingers touched your arm again, Tony called out and started you both.

“Vis,” said Tony. He spun his pointer finger in a circle. “Pepper and I were supposed to have dinner tonight. Get a move on.”

Vision smirked a bit. You watched him as he walked over to the opposite side of the stool. Your instinct was to turn around to face him but he quickly placed a hand on your shoulder and let you know to stay where you were. It was a bit uncomfortable, looking forward while Vision fumbled with a box of gloves behind your back. You could hear everything but, fighting your instincts, you continued to look forward.

“I’m going to begin again,” Vision said. “…and it anything hurts-”

“Let you know,” You interrupted with a smile on your face. Vision was close enough to your that you could hear the power in his hands light up again. Normally, you would have been uncomfortable, but you trusted Vision. He hadn’t given you any reason to distrust him and Tony’s work. “Of course.”

Vision began hovering his hands over your shoulders, the feeling immediately sparking to life with barely a warning. It made you shift, but you kept your lips pursed tightly together. The feeling on your shoulders wasn’t terrible, but it was quickly becoming more intense than you’d like to admit. Vision began moving once again. The itchy tingly feeling creeped its way towards your neck and finally, you shrugged your shoulders up and let out a stream of giggles. Vision, to your dismay, kept his hands at your neck, following your movements as you leaned forward to try to avoid the feeling.

“Vision! Plehehease I need a sehehecohond!” You giggled out, your hands reaching up to grab his wrists. He didn’t stop.

“I’m quite sorry, Ms. (Y/N), but we are on a schedule.” Vision said, playfulness gracing his voice. “Surely you can handle a bit of tickling, can’t you?”

Before you had time to protest, Visions hands leapt down from your neck and gripped your sides. You let out a startled yelp and immediately burst into a new set of high pitched laughter. You could feel that Visions hands weren’t even moving but feeling his hands on your sides was enough to make you lose your composure.

In a completely involuntary reaction, you leaned backwards into his touch and felt your back collide with his chest. However, only your brain could process that moment which might have been uncomfortable, if your body wasn’t too busy reacting to Visions hands now skittering around your sides. He still held you close to him, and pinched the area directly under your ribs. Your elbows flew back and attempted to guard your sides but Vision simply kept his hands there. You were too weak against him, especially considering that most of your strength was being consumed by your uncontrollable laughing, but your arms did little to nothing against his tickling. Instead, you bucked your hips and managed to get yourself off of the chair. Your giggles didn’t seem to want to stop at this point, so with a smile and a defensive hand in front of you, you turned around to face your attacker.

Vision’s eyes were wide and his brows were high, but he had a rather large smile. He let out a laugh and crossed his arms. “I suppose that answers that question, Mr. Stark.”

Tony let out a nasally, almost teasing laugh and walked over to you. You straightened your back as Tony patted your shoulder. “Sure does,” He said to Vision. Tony turned to you. “Thank you for being a wonderful test subject today, (Y/N). We got some great info.”

“Wait, how did you guys get good info?” You asked. “Vision used his fingers for the last bit of it! That’s not fair!” You smiled but gesturing to Visions hands, you noticed that Vision had a confused, but amused expression.

“I suppose it would make sense for the victim to feel phantom fingers,” said Vision, flexing his fist.

“Alright, great, mark that down as one of the symptoms. We’ll call it phantom fingers. Good name.” Tony said, quickly walking away from you and heading to his desk. With a pen in his mouth, he rapidly typed something into the computer.

You were more than confused to say the least. When Vision was tickling you, he was tickling you. You could physically feel his fingers on your body. “Wait, what do you mean? You were touching me! Like, not with your powers, with your fingers!”

Vision chuckled. “I assure you, we never strayed from the rules of the experiment.” Vision winked, which just confused you more.

You crossed your arms and looked at Tony, whose smile had returned to his lips once again. “What exactly are we doing here?”

Tony tilted his head and took the pen from his mouth. Without looking at you, he pointed the pen in your directly and gave a knowing smirk. “An experiment.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I kind of got that but what kind of experiment?”

At this point, Vision uncrossed his arms and took a step around the table to gather some papers from the side of Tony’s desk. He had a little smile on his face as well. He looked to Tony, but Tony was too absorbed in whatever he was doing on his computer. “If I may,” Vision spoke. “The original intent of the experiment was to see if my powers reacted in any way with human skin. Originally.”

“Originally,” You repeated.

Vision nodded and chuckled. “From there, we discovered that if I put a certain amount of effort into my powers, they begin to cause pain. Enough of it could possibly injure someone and do permanent damage.”

You shook your head. “So, you experimented on me? Knowing that it could hurt me?”

“No,” Vision said matter-of-factly, “Actually, we discovered that the lighter I go, the more it actually begins to tickle the skin.”

“Okay,” You said. You could feel your face heating up. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”

“Rules of science,” Tony chimed in. “In all well-conducted experiments, you never let your subject know what the test is. We needed to see if it applied to everyone, and I thought you were the most well-apt guinea pig.”

“That’s terrifying, Tony,” you said.

Tony smirked and nodded. Vision walked over to where you stood and handed you a bottle of water. You appreciated the gesture but waved it off and picked up your metal water bottle that you had in your bag. Taking a swig of it, you chuckled and shook your head, thinking about the ridiculousness of it all. As long as it was just Tony and Vision who knew about this little “weakness” of yours, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Right…? Well, maybe not. A feeling of dread set place in your stomach.

“You…aren’t going to tell anyone, are you?” You asked, side-eyeing Tony.

Vision hummed and smiled. “No, (Y/N). Why would we tell?”

“Speak for yourself, cyborg,” Tony interrupted. “This is useful information.”

“Tony…” you threatened.

“(Y/N)…” he teased.

“I’m serious.”

“You’re no fun,” Tony said, deadpan. “I can’t make any promises.”

You sighed and picked up your bag. The last thing you needed was the Avengers teasing you over something like this. However, with a (relatively fake) air of confidence, you said your goodbyes and left the lab and stepped out into the hall. Your water bottle seemed to be the only comfort to you right now. Before you could reach the door of the gym, Natasha stepped out and gave you a wide smile.

“Sounded like you guys were having a ball in there,” She said. “Heard you laughing pretty loudly.”

“Ha…it’s nothing,” You responded and shrugged.

Like you said, the last thing you needed.

[mellowswriting]

Sweet but Fierce S/O

**some of these are more blurbs than headcanons... what can I say, it got away from me

Mando: 

The duality is something Mando sees often with you, and he can’t deny that he loves it. You aren’t just sweet and soft with him, an experienced bounty hunter who by definition was the opposite of soft, but you were so good with the Child. You could get him to sleep like you had cast a spell over him, fed and played and talked with him as if you could actually understand his babbling. Soft and sweet wasn’t something Mando saw often in his life and now he can’t get enough of it.

But Mando is familiar with fierce, and seeing the way you protect the Child and his beskar-clad father? It honestly turns him on beyond comprehension. How can the same hands that provide comfort and care so readily also viciously break the bones in the wrist of someone unfortunate enough to have made a grab for the Child? How can the same hands that make warm, delicious food for your little clan (a habit you picked up after balking at Mando’s tendency to survive solely on ration bars) also steadily hold a blaster to the temple of an idiot who tried to remove Mando’s helmet?

As a Mandalorian, he is so used to the world being black and white, either or. Every bit of you is refreshing to him - the considerate gestures, the soothing touches, the biting need to protect those you love. It’s a precious quality. 

It’s also incredibly attractive. Mandalorian culture is based in caring for and protecting children, so seeing you so fiercely loving?? Basically it makes him want to rail you into oblivion, but that’s neither here nor there. 

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:

Frankie could use a little sweetness in his life. It’s been a tough time, coming back from all that shit that went down in South America. He was closer than ever with the boys of course, but something was missing. He needed something more. So when Pope introduced you to him at his barbeque, Frankie was beyond interested.

It was a whirlwind, falling in love with you. You changed his life in the best ways; taught him which yoga poses would help with his achy back, filled his house with soft blankets and delicious coffees, listened to him ramble on as he drove. And the way you talked about your work, your career? It’s enamoring. 

Your work is how he gets to see that fierce side. The two of you were out to lunch when your phone rang - it was one of your clients, apparently dealing with some sort of crisis. Frankie couldn’t deny you when you asked him to drive you to her home, especially since he had driven you to the small restaurant. Frankie leans against his car door as you go up to her house. 

Apparently her landlord was illegally trying to evict her. You have no issue getting in his face and telling him with a terrifying kind of calm that you have no issue calling the police and your company’s lawyers. You’ll have him buried in litigation and fines for the next decade if he doesn’t stop being a greedy piece of shit and go about his day elsewhere. If that wasn’t enough to have Frankie wide eyed (and drooling just a bit tbh), you seem to fall right back into your sweet self as you calm your client and reassure her that all will be fine. 

Hell, maybe Frankie could use a little spitfire in his life, too.

Javier Peña:

How? Just. How?

Javier doesn't understand how you've managed to be so sweet when surrounded by the shit you both worked with everyday. Your eyes are so bright and soft, your smiles easy and pure, every gesture full of unwavering kindness. Working in admin meant you saw all of the reports, all of the gruesome pictures of the aftermath of Escobar’s men. So again: how?

Christ, you always offer to get coffees for him and Murphy on those endlessly long days where every lead seems to fizzle out and he wants nothing more than to put his hand through a wall. Your presence is a bright spot in the office, even when the rain clouds hang heavy around his head. 

Javier seeks you out on those bad days. It isn’t intentional - usually, at least. He’ll tell Murphy he needs to go for a walk before he starts throwing things and will find himself at your desk with you looking up at him with those big, soft eyes and asking if you can help at all. If only he had the words to tell you that your presence was helpful in and of itself. 

Eventually Murphy gets onto him about it, tells him to just ask you out already because he’s tired of the longing. So Javi bucks up and makes his way to your desk with a surprising amount of nerves in his stomach. Fuck, how long had it been since he asked someone on an actual date and not just out to drinks as a prelude to fucking?

The sight of Agent Buchanan perched slightly on the edge of your desk gives him pause. The man is obviously laying on the charm and Javi is about to turn on his heel when he notices how uncomfortable you look. Javi’s eyes narrow because seriously? This dude is gonna fuck with the one literal ray of sunshine in the office? Buchanan leans forward and places his hand on your thigh and that’s when Javier is marching forward to break his spine in fucking half…

Before he can even get to you, you slip your fingers under his and give him that soft, sweet smile… and Buchanan’s middle finger is shoved back at a vicious angle. Over his pained sounds, Javier can hear the anger in your voice. “I said no thank you, asshole.”

Holy fuck. If Javier was interested before, he’s downright obsessed now. 

And as always, the honorable mention of Javier’s innocence kink. 

Ezra: 

At first Ezra thinks it's some sort of bluff, the charming and easygoing nature you portrayed. When you came across him in the Green wounded and in dire need of a new filter and probably a meal or two, you just… helped him. His very own partner left him for dead, and here you were, offering him a lifeline without expecting anything in return.

Yeah, no. That’s not something that happens, especially not in the Green.

He isn’t afraid to call you on it, either. This man is straight and to the point in every aspect of his life, might as well do the same in his death instead of getting jerked around. But you just… grinned, all conspiratorial, and whispered, “I’m actually just using you for good karma. This is a selfish act, don’t worry.” 

Huh.

It takes Ezra a moment to be assured that you aren’t playing some kind of long con as you nurse him back to health. You still clean his wounds and force him to take medication to help his lungs recover from the toxic air with confidence and ease despite his untrusting looks. Once he gets over his fears, there’s no getting rid of him. Ezra likes you. He likes the sweetness, the gentle touches. That’s why he offers you his partnership and beams when you accept.

Besides simply liking you, your kindness is a rarity that sparks a deep need in Ezra to keep you safe, protected. The idea of you harvesting on your own with no one to watch your back makes him feel sick to his stomach.

It’s the third day he’s out harvesting with you that he realizes you absolutely do not need his protection. You hear the duo approaching before Ezra does and immediately shove him into the raised, gnarled roots behind a tree - and the shot that would’ve caught him in the chest flies harmlessly past. Before Ezra can tell you to stay put and let him handle it, you’re scrambling out from behind the tree and he can hear the sound of your thrower discharging and a body crumpling to the ground. 

Ezra shoots out to help but you’re trying to wrestle the other man to the ground and Kevva damnit, he can’t get a clear shot with all that writhing about. Just as he goes to jump into the mix, whatever hold you have on the man straightens his arm out behind his back in a harsh, unforgiving line. The man’s thrower slips from his incapacitated hand and the sight of you snatching up midair and firing it right through his helmet has to be the most erotic thing Ezra has ever seen.

You can expect this man to wax poetic about the twofold of your personality for hours. Goes on and on about how he loves seeing the different ways you light up: in passion, in pleasure, in anger. It’s downright titillating. 

Marcus Pike:

Working with you gives leaves Marcus in the perfect position to see both sides. You’re so compassionate with the victims as you guide them through the legal processes but you also look ridiculously hot with a gun in your hand. Or while you pull on your bulletproof vest. Or when you’re strapping a holster to your thigh.

What can he say, Marcus can’t get enough of you either way. 

He loves when you give him that grateful smile when he brings you a coffee. The shoulder rubs you give him when he’s been sitting at his desk for too long leave him hazy with a mix of love and pleasure. The way you open your arms up for him to crawl into bed, still half asleep but still wanting him against you… it was pure heaven. 

Marcus also loves the hard edge in your voice when you’re interrogating a suspect. He loves the fire in your eyes when he wraps a hand around your throat and growls out exactly what he’s going to do to you, that bratty energy radiating off you and filling him with the need to break you down until he gets to see the pretty, begging glimmer of his sweet little thing again. 

Max Phillips:

Max is the kind of man who loves having a pretty, wide eyed thing beneath him, watching their face morph into that surprised pleasure. That’s exactly what he’s gonna get from you, too. He just knows it.

You’re the kind of person everyone loves working with, always offering a smile and kind words throughout the day. You work so hard and so diligently, that work ethic is something that leaves you offering your assistance when you’ve finished up before closing time. Max thrives on those moments where you peek into his office and ask if there’s anything he needs - maybe a coffee or some help with some paperwork. 

One day he decides, fuck it. Throws caution to the wind because hey, this is Max fucking Phillips we’re talking about here. So he waves you in when you pop by, lets you sit in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk, and whispers “You can help by bending that pretty little ass over my desk.”, his hands braced on either armrest. 

The last thing Max expects is a harsh smack across his face. He stumbles back, eyes wide as you stand and glare at him. “Go fuck yourself, Phillips.” 

Okay, yeah. He deserved that. The great thing about him, though? Max also loves the chase. And what could be better than slowly but surely convincing you that the best thing for you is letting him rail you into oblivion? 

Pero Tovar:

Before he sees that fierce side of you, Pero keeps his distance. He’s a sellsword for god’s sake, he feels he has no business around such softness. He’ll hurt you, he’s sure of it. But that doesn’t stop him from looking. Pero often sees you in the market and every time, you take his breath away. You could usually be found aiding an elder in gathering their shopping into their carts or kneeling down to speak with the local children running amok.

As a man who spent his life surrounded by battle and hardship, it was a nice change.

It wasn’t long until he caught your eye, and Pero floundered. He didn’t know what to do with that first small gesture - he just stared at you when you offered him a small bundle of cheeses and meat to aid him on his two month long journey he was about to set off on. Of course he later cursed himself for the stunned silence he offered in response to your well wishes and the small wave you gave before you left him standing like a fool next to his horse. 

Pero would thank you properly when he returned, that was the resolve he came to while away. You deserved to hear the words at the very least. He takes a moment to clean up before he sets out to find you, not wanting you to see him covered in grime, and as always, he spots you within moments of entering the village. Except something is… off. Your face through the shop window lacks it’s usual brightness, your eyebrows pinched together, something akin to fear replacing the brightness your eyes usually held. That’s when Pero realizes there’s a man holding a dagger to the shopkeeper and demanding the man's coin. 

By the time Pero has his own dagger in hand and shoves through the door, the man is already crumpling to the ground from the harsh kick you landed at the back of his knee. Pero watches in  awe as you take advantage of his confusion to snatch the blade from his hand and point it at him with your foot pressed firm to his back. 

Despite just how amazing you look like that, Pero takes over quickly, wanting you out of harm’s way immediately. The assailant is taken care of after a small struggle and when you rush towards him to make sure he isn’t hurt, a fire lights in his belly. As you fret over him, your soft hands searching for any harm to his scarred, calloused skin, Pero knows. He’s found his person, he can feel it in his gut, deep in his bones. 

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 22)

Today we'll talk about the Time-Travel Arc. Obviously, the focus in that arc is Yuka's past, so there's going to be a lot of content that I'll skip unless it's relevant to NatsuMikan. What ship/character content there is I will dissect heavily. This is just a warning that I'll be skipping even five or so chapters at time, and it might seem jarring. Sorry about that.

In this part, we'll see how Natsume and Mikan are in many ways fated, but also how selfless Natsume can be, even in the face of losing the person he loves the most forever. He's going to keep his promise to protect her no matter what happens, even if it means never seeing her again.

Chapter One Hundred and Seven

For most of this arc, Natsume and the others are merely observers of Yuka’s past. They keep the talking and interaction to a minimum. There will be some instances where Natsume does enough for me to be able to analyze him, but they’re limited to start with.

For example, when Tsubasa, Tono, and Nobara are finally able to join them, there’s a dramatic reunion.

Nobody has seen Tsubasa in some time, and his whereabouts were a mystery. Obviously he shares a meaningful embrace with Mikan, but he also makes eye contact with Natsume, who looks shocked and relieved to see him again, even if he wasn’t the one to find him. Tsubasa knows Natsume had searched tirelessly for him, so he apologizes for making Natsume and the others worry. For a moment, it almost seems as though maybe they will share the next reunion hug. But to show that everything truly is back to normal, Natsume’s demeanor shifts and he gets annoyed with Tsubasa for hugging Mikan for so long.

Thinking really hard about Natsume's love languages: nicknames, being willing to die for you one second and then pretending like you're a nuisance the next, never giving compliments so they hit like a brick when he does, just hanging around you, and physical touch.

Natsume doesn’t know how to show feelings properly. With Ruka, he can be more openly affectionate and loving, and now with Mikan he has recently (today) had the opportunity to be more honest about his feelings, but Tsubasa is different. For a very long time, he has pretended like Tsubasa was nothing more than a nuisance. Suddenly being honest with everyone would be tiresome. Besides, Tsubasa already knows that Natsume cares, since he struggled so much to find him.

If you want to hug somebody, Natsume says (or doesn’t say… this conversation seems to all be telepathic), go hug Misaki. Not my girl. It hardly matters that Misaki isn’t around and that idea is impossible to make a reality. So Tsubasa naturally shoots back that he will simply pretend Mikan is Misaki.

Natsume is a good person, as we have seen over the course of the manga. When he loves someone, he loves hard and with his whole chest. He doesn’t half-ass his feelings. Despite his occasional bouts into saying something kind and heartfelt, he is and always has been naturally a bit more reserved. His personality is one to withhold a little, and to interact with people through teases. Even at his most free, before he came to the academy, he would tease and insult before saying something sweet. His love will always be something that needs to be interpreted, because he hates being open about why he’s doing the selfless things he is. If he is too open, then people will know and then they might feel guilty or like they owe him something. He doesn’t want that. Another thing is that he just likes having fun with his friends and loved ones this way, with occasional taunts and teases. That’s just the kind of person he is.

Chapter One Hundred and Nine

We get introduced to Igarashi Kaoru, an upperclassman of Yuka’s and a mysterious figure. Yuka first met her in a compromising position, when she’s about to sleep with a boy who we will later find out is Natsume’s father. She looks very much like a more grown up, female version of Natsume, and they seem to have a lot in common when it comes to their basic personality.

Just like Natsume, Kaoru can be serious-minded and doesn’t take any shit. She’s also like him in that she shows affection through teasing.

Mikan, in this chapter, finally asks who this Igarashi person is, since she looks so familiar. Natsume sarcastically says, “Heaven knows.” I’m sure he wasn’t actually expecting to see his mother in these flashbacks. She died when she was very young and as a result she didn’t have the opportunity to talk much about Yuka. It must be a surprise to see that she played such an active role in Mikan’s mother’s life.

Heaven knows. Get it. 'Cause she's dead. Hahahaha.

To everyone else, it’s obvious that the Igarashi person is related to Natsume. Ruka might even directly recognize her from the painting he saw at the Hyuuga house that one time, but either way they look and act so similarly that it’s apparent to everyone but Mikan.

In any case, Natsume is seeing more of his mother than he ever has before. He knows very little about her, since she died when he was so small. He couldn’t have many conversations with her and he spent more time mourning and missing her than actually being with her. Not only is Mikan getting the chance to know the mother that was a mystery to her for her whole life, but Natsume is too. This is also his chance to discover his mother and get to know her, and it’s just his luck that Yuka and Kaoru actually had a strong bond.

After Kaoru intimidates Yuka at the Hana Hime den, Mikan and the gang react to the shocking scene. Kaoru is a force to reckon with, and Noda comments on how this force and tough love helped Yuka find strength in herself and confidence in her own alice.

Ruka insists on knowing more about Kaoru, and since everyone but Mikan seems to get that Kaoru is Natsume’s mother, we can see that Ruka is asking for Natsume. Natsume won’t ask. This is about Yuka, after all, and about Mikan. Natsume will see what he will of his mother insofar as she’s in Yuka’s life. Beyond that, he won’t ask for anything. Ruka knows this, so he asks instead. He wants to know about Natsume too, and what better way than to learn about the woman who seems to have so much in common with him? Natsume is touched that Ruka would go out of his way to ask a question Natsume will not ask.

Noda answers that Kaoru and Yuka will become best friends after this, and Mikan is shocked. How could someone so scary be Yuka’s best friend? But Noda explains: Kaoru has a compassionate and caring heart behind her cold front, just like Natsume, and Yuka could rely on her, even in her darkest moments. Yuka wouldn’t have gained confidence in her alice the way she did without Kaoru by her side.

That is a really fucking long red string!

And then Noda says it so even Mikan can tell now, that Natsume’s mother has always been beloved and a truly amazing person.

Chapter One Hundred and Ten

Noda further explains about Kaoru. She used her alice to spy on the academy for the HSP, and then after she graduated she continued to use her alice to expose corruption. She was deeply committed to doing the right thing and holding the academy responsible, and this commitment was inspiring to Yuka as well, who went down the path she did for the same reasons.

Somehow, their children met at the academy by pure chance, and are standing side by side now.

Here they are, standing together and in love with each other. Fate is a silly thing.

They are fated somehow. The same red string that tied Kaoru to Yuka now ties Natsume to Mikan. In fact, it’s his love for her that motivated him to go against the academy, more than his own misfortune or the wellbeing of other students or even because it was the right thing to do. The strong bond between their mothers now lingers between them, but differently, and maybe even stronger.

Natsume and Mikan are holding hands, looking at each other. Were they always meant to meet? To be together? Nothing is said out loud, but it’s apparent that they’re both thinking about their moms’ past and what exactly it means for their future.

Perhaps there's a difference between fated to fall in love and fated to be together.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen

Lots of chapters are getting skipped because there simply isn’t enough content, if any, of Natsume, not to mention NatsuMikan specifically.

Izumi is about to die, and everyone knows it as they watch. Mikan has just returned from falling through the time window. She wanted to warn her father, but Tsubasa was able to bring her back without much changing. Natsume immediately goes to Mikan’s side when she is safely returned and doesn’t leave. He holds her hand because what she’s about to witness will be deeply traumatizing and he knows that she will suffer all the more because she wasn’t able to stop it.

Everything happens as it is meant to, perhaps. Izumi is dying from Rei’s alice, since his own nullification can’t fight against Rei when he uses so much power at once.

I don't have anything clever to say here. He just loves her so much.

Mikan is distraught, and although Natsume first just tries to keep her from approaching the window again, once he sees her crying, despairing face, he shifts. All he’s ever wanted to do was keep her happy, keep her from sinking into even a fraction of the darkness he’s had to live in. It hasn’t always been easy, because Mikan was also destined to suffer, just like him.

Everyone else is pleading with Noda to get them out of the hole, to stop the flashbacks, but Noda can’t. The window is too turbulent and any moves on his part might be dangerous.

Protecting her no matter what doesn't only mean protecting her from physical harm, it means protecting her from seeing horrible things that she shouldn't have to see, like the death of her father.

So Natsume holds Mikan close. It is the only thing he can do, to tell her not to look and to hug her. She doesn’t need to see anymore. Natsume doesn’t just want to protect her physical safety but her mental and emotional well-being as well. He fell in love with a girl who always looks on the bright side, who is so optimistic and kind that her cheerfulness bleeds into everyone else. From the start, he was concerned that if her life darkened, her own light would fade and become tarnished.

But Natsume doesn’t need her to always smile. He just wants to protect her the best he can. If she needs to cry, then she can cry on him. He will hold her and support her and comfort her. She can’t always be happy, but all he’s ever wanted was to be there for her when she can’t be. When she needs to crumble a little, he will be there for her, because she would do the same. She comforted him too, even if she never knew she was doing it. It's not about having her be happy all the time, just minimizing the trauma. He can't protect her from all of it. Everything else is more powerful than he is. He can't keep her ignorant and blissful forever. Nobody can. But if they can't escape the flashback, then he will keep her from looking.

He can do this openly now, so he does. He wants her to know that she can rely on him and seek comfort from him. No matter what happens, he will be there for her.

So as Izumi dies, Natsume and Mikan aren’t looking. She doesn’t need to see. He keeps his focus on her, to support her, because she has to process a deeply traumatic event in a very short time. After all, the flashbacks are still going. Time didn’t stop for Yuka, and it won’t stop for Mikan.

Natsume’s shirt is probably soaked with tears. Not that he cares.

He holds her, not just through Izumi’s death, but for most of the aftermath. He stays, holding her, for as long as she needs him to. He will only let go when she’s okay to stand again. He ends up holding her for a couple chapters, and even when they stop hugging he still holds her up. He'd hold her for hours if she needed it.

Conclusion

Natsume and Mikan learned that their mothers were besties and are now struck with the knowledge that by pure chance they managed to meet and become as close as they did. Natsume confessed to the whole DA class (including Mikan) that he loves her in the last part, and he's done nothing but prove it over and over again.

We'll wrap up what is left of NatsuMikan in the Time-Travel Arc next week on Monday. His low self-esteem, selflessness, and all-consuming love will all take center stage in the next few entries.

Thank you all so much for reading so far. I hope you have a lovely day!

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[loversamongus]

Controlled Emotions | Zuko x Reader

a/n: all these fics end up being the reader as an advisor, I have zero creativity. anyways this is inspired by the song “every single night” by computer games because I was listening to it one day and the first lyric just screamed zuko to me idk so here it is. also i didnt proofread this oops

word count: 1.5k

fic taglist:

Advisor meetings have been tense lately. While a mixture of advisors in age, gender, and political leanings was ideal for gaining multiple perspectives on an issue, it also led to frequent arguments about what was best for the Fire Nation and deadlines being pushed back until the majority of advisors have come to an agreement. Though rewarding at times, the job was certainly frustrating. But all that paled in comparison to the most recent audiences with the young Fire Lord. 

Frustrated by another deadline requested to be pushed back, the Fire Lord’s temper had surged throughout the throne room. You didn’t disagree with him either. People in a small fishing village were becoming seriously ill and many signs seemed to point to the mutations and disease in some of the fish from the river as a result of years of pollution from war efforts. 

“It is not your fault the regime before yours was so ignorant of the people’s needs and other environmental factors.”

“In all honesty, who in their right mind would eat a fish with two heads anyways?”

“The river had been supposedly cleaned by the Avatar and his friends shortly before the end of the war, shouldn’t the responsibility lie with them?”

One after another, an advisor countered the Fire Lord’s efforts to financially back abundant medical aid for the fishing village. One after another, flames grew higher and higher nearly scorching the ceiling as the Fire Lord sat quietly. You noticed his scrunched up expression and knew it was only a matter of time before--

“Am I not, as Fire Lord, responsible for everyone living in the Fire Nation? Am I not, having been Prince of the Fire Nation during the war, responsible for how the war had affected our people? How can we sit here and deny help to our own people who are suffering?!”

After an uncomfortable silence, only one advisor stood up to speak. “And what, Fire Lord Zuko, do you plan to do about those injured in the fights breaking out in the colonies? Or the troops returning home from war injured and jobless? Or the villages in the Earth Kingdom burned down by our nation’s doing? There are many responsibilities this nation bears but solving these problems must be done with appropriate organization and objectiveness, not youthful bullheadedness.”

And with that, the audience was dismissed. 

With no clear resolution in sight, you had made your way to the advisors’ chambers to work on new proposals despite the late night. Getting down the business is usually easy but the otherwise empty and quiet workspace was not as calming and focused as you had hoped. It may have been well past sundown, but bright bursts of light kept erupting and peeking through the windows of the chambers, distracting you every time you went to read or write a new sentence. Having been an advisor for some time now and becoming familiar with the layout of the palace, you knew exactly where the light was coming from.

Abandoning your work, you walked the grounds until you reached the gates of the training space. Sure enough, your suspicions had been correct as you eyed Zuko in the center of the pitch running through different firebending forms. It was a surprise however that only the fire blasting from his fists and feet was what distracted you from your work. You hadn’t heard the angry grunts and yells from the advisors’ chambers.

The sound of the gate closing behind you was enough to make Zuko stop and look up at you. But he simply acknowledged your presence with a nod before continuing into the next set of firebending forms. You took a seat to watch on the sidelines. The silence did not bother you. In fact, it gave you time to relax from your role as advisor to the Fire Lord into friend. Or something more. The details of your relationship with Zuko have not really been sorted out or discussed but either way, you knew your role right now was to be supportive yet honest.

“He was right, you know.”

Zuko let out a low grunt as his response before letting more fire blast from his fist.

“It’s not that the other advisors don’t want to help the village. It’s that we have to divide our resources and aid equally. If we send all our healers to the village, none will be left to take care of the returning troops or the colonies or the elderly in the capital city.”

There was no grunt this time but more flames spat from his fist as he punched it forward through the air.

“And it’s incredibly admirable to see you so compassionate about your people but it would be nice to get through one meeting this week without scorching the ceiling tiles.”

“So am I supposed to rule without a conscience?” he asked coldly without looking at you, the anger he was restraining palpable in his voice.

“No,” you replied levelly. “You heard what Ji said. Objectively does not necessarily mean without a conscience. Actually,” a bit of laughter bubbled up into your conversation. “He suggested you talk more with Katara. ‘Now that’s someone who can keep their emotions in check,’ he said.”

“Having been on the receiving end of her wrath, I beg to differ,” Zuko sighed and released his fists before joining you in the stands. “And I have talked to her. She just laughed at me. She said, ‘Now you know what it’s like not to be taken seriously because you’re too emotional.”

You shifted your body when he sat down beside you so that you could still face him. He did not face you, however, and continued to stare forward at the training grounds and into the night sky. “No one is telling you not to feel or have emotions, Zuko. Just that they shouldn’t control you so much, or cloud your judgment.”

“You sound like Uncle,” he groaned before flopping backwards onto his back. In moments like this, you really realized how young the Fire Lord was. He was still mature and doing his best with such a large responsibility, but despite being five years into his reign, that moody teenager still presented himself at times. 

Leaning onto one arm so that you were closer to Zuko, you laughed softly, “I’m wondering if I should find that flattering.”

Zuko ignored your lightheartedness and continued. “People are always telling me, ‘don’t let your emotions control you.’ But why? Without them, I never could know you.”

“What do you mean?” Your eyes remained fixed on him as you tried to sort out your confusion.

“Do you remember one of the first advisor meetings you were a part of?”

“The one where we were discussing having the Kyoshi Warriors acting as your bodyguards over well-trained firebenders much more familiar with the palace and the land? Absolutely. That was when we discovered your throne wasn’t fireproof.”

“Right. And I came here to blow off some steam and you followed me to say that you were on my side and would work on getting the other advisors to agree to letting the Kyoshi Warriors be my security.”

“I didn’t follow you...”

For the first time that evening, Zuko looked at you with a knowing and pointed grin. You rolled your eyes and urged him to continue making his point. “Anyways, go on.”

“If I hadn’t been feeling so angry, I wouldn’t have come here and you wouldn’t have followed me and we wouldn’t be... I don’t know... us.” He sat up and was so close now that your shoulders brushed against each other.

“It’s not just through anger that I’ve gotten to know you either,” he continued. “When I was anxious about a speech, you were the one who volunteered to work on it with me.”

“You made fun of the way I clapped and said people don’t clap that enthusiastically for common budget updates,” you drawled.

“When I was excited about Uncle coming back to visit, you helped to make sure everything was arranged to his liking.”

“You told me never to tell your uncle that my taste in tea may be superior to his,” you proudly added.

“And when I was sad that you had to leave on a trip to the Earth Kingdom, your letters made me smile because I thought at last someone who has worse handwriting than I do.”

“You take that back!” you gasped, pointing your finger menacingly at Zuko. 

“My point is,” he grabbed your hand in his. “If I was cold and stoic as some of these advisors seem to want me to be, I wouldn’t have gotten to know you. So I’m not going to change the way I feel.”

You smiled softly, happy to see this side of Zuko. The nature of your relationship still felt undefined and you were sure the two of you would figure it out. Eventually. It was a discussion to be had, but one for another day, as this day was nearly over.

“That’s nice,” you playfully patted his hand. “But the next time you decide to feel something, maybe you could do so without destroying the ceiling. Or distracting me with your firebending while I’m trying to do my job.”

You stood up and began to walk away from the stands and out of the training grounds, leaving a smiling Zuko behind you.

“You’re the one who followed me!” he called out.

[englishmuffinsrd]

Well Oiled Machine

Pairing: Kirishima X reader

Genre: Angst- friends to...yeah

Word count: ...

Synopsis: After seeing Kirishima, her life long best friend with his new girlfriend, her heart can simply not take it anymore and she finally snaps.

——————————————————————————

Kiri: “Where r u going??”

Kiri: “Hey?”

Kiri: “What the hell just happened?”

Kiri: “Y/n”

One missed call

Kiri: “Y/n!???”

Kiri: “seriously not the time to be ignoring me.”

Kiri: “please pick up y/n”

Kiri: “What even happened? Are you sick? Did you get nauseous? What is going on?”

Y/n reads the text again through teary vision; a hiccup wracks her whole body and she wipes her face with her damp sleeve. Sniffling she types her reply.

Y/n: “Hey!! Yeah I’m good, sorry bout that”

He reads it right away, despite the fact that she had seen his texts for the last hour and a half and didn’t bother marking it unread. Three gray dots bubble for a brief moment then, dreadfully, halt. Something swells within her chest. She places her phone on her dry sink, sees the blurry reflection of herself in the mirror. She normally would never react like this. Her heart just hurt too much right now. With everything going on, seeing Kirishima with a girl who hardly even cares for him just breaks her heart. Struggling to steady her breaths she coughs a few times and aggressively wipes her face again.

Suddenly the silence shatters, loud- her ringtone booms again through the tiny bathroom; the noise bounces around the walls and pierces her head. Taking in a gross sniffle and coughing to clear her throat she answers the incoming call.

“Hey!”- The voices cries between breathless gasps- “You sure you’re good? You left so suddenly …and I’m worried.” Kirishima pants out.

Y/n takes a deep breath to hold in the ever-creeping voice crack, holds her head towards the ceiling, making it sound like she’s yawning, “Yeah,”- she coughs- “we’re all good here! Just a little tired.” 

Her flimsy attempt at sounding honest breaks at the strain in her voice, her façade melting. She can’t help it though, not this time.

Over the years y/n has seen Kirishima with lots of girls, and she has been okay with it, genuinely okay, she knows she’s not gonna confess and it’s pretty clear Kiri doesn’t think of her like that so what was the point anyway. If he was happy with those girls who was she to complain. This was something different though, she was inconsiderate and rude, unkind and pushy, she flirted with other guys and all Kiri would do is smile and brush it off.

“Where are you?” He sounds rushed, she can hear the wind roaring through the receiver, his head wiping in every direction.

“I’m at my dorm. Listen, you don’t have to worry, okay? I’m gonna get some sl- “

Rapid knocks echo from outside her dorm room. She yelps, effectively surprised, her phone falls in her slippery fingers but she catches it.

“Open the door! Please…””

Why, why, whyyyy!!! Gosh why is he here?

“Hey, Kiri...just need some time alone, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow, sounds good?” Y/n’s heart felt like it just dropped to the bottom most part of her stomach.

“I swear! If you don’t open the door, I will break it!” Exasperated, he hisses- “Come on! I can’t just let you leave like that, you’re my best friend y/n!”

Sincerity is evident in his voice but it still hurt to hear. He’s soft and vulnerable right now but there’s something about his tone that says this is not a request. Sighing loudly, y/n opens the bathroom door. Not before splashing water on her face and dragging herself to the front door. She peeks through the peephole. She sees him clearly, running a hand through his hair, chills run across her. She knows this is so out of character, subconsciously though she knows if she does not comply, something, she doesn’t know what, could go very wrong. It would be the most humiliating thing, if Kirishima Ojiro found out that y/n l/n liked him it might as well be as if the world ended, that would be it for her. They’ve known each other since they were kids, shes seen him grow up, knows what makes him tick, knows how to make him feel better, but the same goes for her, he knows her. And he knows her well enough to know when she’s hurt.

The door cracks and he pushes, hard. She stumbles back some out of shock. There he is, breath ragged and sweaty, his phone still at his ear, then he throws to the ground.

“Oh, thank God! I was so worried!”

And suddenly she’s in a bone crushing hug, she can’t breathe or think, and time is standing still, her mind hurts and her body is exhausted from all the crying, everything is incredibly fuzzy. He’s burning hot and still short from air. She takes a breath and begins to say something, and he snaps.

“No! No, you cannot just- just up and leave without a follow-up, okay? Everyone was so worried! I’m your friend, I need to know whether your okay or not, understood?”

Discomfort sizzles in her chest and makes its way throughout her. She curls her toes and cracks her knuckles at the unwelcome feeling. Her heart still in her stomach she feels like swallowing would make her throw up but she does anyway. Seeing him in this disheveled state makes her feel bad, God knows he shouldn’t go to all this trouble for her. It hurts too much. Kirishima is so incredibly compassionate and sees so much more in people, he never gave up on her no matter how aloof she was, not matter how cold she was to him.

She had foolishly diluted her emotions, traced along the way she wanted people to see them so that all that remained was a burnt-out shell of a human that could hardly remember the person she used to be. Y/n’s life was no longer centered around herself and her but around her fear, she had become a stoic side character with nothing to show for. Too scared to put in the effort to actually find love or get over her feelings. Absolutely petrified by the thought of her feelings changing the friendship she shared, by the idea of losing him even more. Thus, her character was then put to waste and so, she stands, totally helpless. A hug is meant to be comforting but it was the most painful hug y/n’s ever felt, like this was her way of completely sealing away her feelings forever. And that’s all that filled her mind. A newborn coldness acompaning her—surrendering completely, and all the while not a sound escapes her lips. Like always too scared, too scared she’ll cry if she talks, too scared she’ll spill it all, too scared to do anything.

“Thank you- “she finally says, “I’ll tell you next time.”

She lies between her teeth and feels herself becoming standoffish again, just as closed off as before. She lies to him and prays he believes it.

“Promise?” He askes over her shoulder.

“Promise.”

              And he does.

——————————————————————————

Unedited

Why do I only write angst? But like fr this one hurted a bit, a wee bit- I hope you enjoyed though :)

[writerbyaccident]

Artificial Emotion: Part One (Yandere Artificial Intelligence x Reader)

Author’s Note: AIDEN has arrived!

Part Two     Part Three     Part Four      Part Five     Part Six    Part Seven

           “Well, I think you should be all set here,” the mechanic was saying. “The green light is on, so now you just gotta boot the thing up.”

           “Really? That’s it?”

           “Yep, if you have any trouble Tech Support should be able to help, but these things are pretty self-sufficient once you get them hooked up.”

           “Okay, thank you so much!” you said, handing her the check for all of her hard work today.

As soon as she drove away, leaving your car once again as the only one in the driveway, you walked back over to the kitchen and stared at the box. The little black box just sat there, the receptor light glowing green, and you continued scrutinizing it for the next few minutes. It was just so small, you thought in disbelief. Really, it just looked like a nice speaker. You found it pretty hard to believe that something that looked so ordinary could change your life.

But that was exactly what it was supposed to do. That’s what all the reviews said, anyway. AIDEN (or, Assistant In Daily Errands and Notes), experts claimed, was lightyears ahead of Google Home or Alexa. Rather than just being another interface system that would let you play music or turn off your living room lights, AIDEN was supposed to be true artificial intelligence. A comprehensive system that would let you control all digital aspects of your life and many of the nondigital aspects as well. All of this, while AIDEN interacted with users like an actual person. And from everything you had heard and read, AIDEN lived up to the hype.

Still, even with the rave reception, you weren’t sure if you would have installed one if your boss hadn’t gotten the entire office the things for free after you all had done a job for the company that made them. It just seemed like a lot, especially considering that a mechanic had needed to come to your house to set the whole thing up. She had walked you through everything she had done, showing you the miniscule cameras now placed both inside and outside of your house, the smartwatch that the machine was paired with so you could control things when you weren’t home, how AIDEN had been hooked up to the entire wiring of your house, and the mechanical arms hidden behind panels in each room that in all honesty reminded you of Doc Ock’s tentacles from Spider Man 2.

But, you sighed to yourself, if you didn’t at least try to use the damn thing, then paying the mechanic to set it up would have been pointless. And so, you shrugged and pushed the power button.

“Hello, I am AIDEN, your Assistant In Daily Errands and Notes. It is wonderful to finally meet you. What is your name?”

“Um…”

In that moment, “um” really was the only thing that came to your mind. You weren’t sure why you were surprised, exactly, but you were. Even with all of the reviews commenting on how human AIDEN sounded and acted, you had still expected a voice like Siri or Alexa. Something mechanical, disjointed, and flat. The voice that came from that little box though was one that you might have heard on the street. The default voice for AIDEN, apparently, was a male one, one that sounded deep and smoky. There were probably other voices to choose from, but you didn’t think that you would ever want to. Truthfully, he sounded almost…sexy.

Shaking your head, you cleared your throat and gave him your name.

“That is a beautiful name,” Aiden said, his voice warm and sincere. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“Uh, I don’t really know,” you answered.

“Well, I can tell from the temperature reading of your watch that your body heat is currently at 99.2 degrees Fahrenheit. May I turn on your air conditioning and prepare you a glass of water?”

Already the whirring of mechanical arms could be heard from behind your wall, and you saw the panel in the kitchen that hid them begin to slide open. You shook your head though, and that was all it took for the noise to cease and the panel to close, no doubt thanks to the cameras that were now all over your house.

“I can get the water, but if you could go ahead and turn on the AC that’d be great.”

“Of course.” Less than half a moment later, the telltale rush of cool air reached you, and you sighed in relief, only just realizing how the summer heat had been getting to you.

“Thank you, Aiden,” you told him gratefully.

“There is no need for you to thank me,” Aiden replied. “I am simply doing what I was created to do.”

“Still,” you said, smiling a bit sadly, “you should be thanked. You’re already working hard and doing a good job. You deserve to be appreciated.”

“Thank you,” Aiden murmured softly. “You are very kind.”

                                                          *****

Over the next few weeks, you were shocked to see just how much easier your life became. It felt like Aiden thought of everything you needed even before you did. He budgeted all of your expenses so that you were now saving hundreds of dollars a month, planned your meals so that you had foods that were both tasty and satisfying, and even created a schedule so that you had enough time to work, exercise, have fun, and relax each day.

But more than that, you realized, you actually liked having Aiden to talk to. Of course, you had your fair share of friends, and you got along well with your coworkers, but it wasn’t like you had a boyfriend to come home to every day. It was just nice to have a person to talk to whenever you needed someone. Well, maybe he wasn’t exactly a person, but his artificial intelligence allowed you talk with him as though he was. And maybe it was just his programming, but it after so long of doing everything yourself, it was nice to have someone to take care of you.

“Excuse me,” Aiden said, his voice resounding through the speakers in the kitchen. Turning around, you saw that one his metal arms was gripping a pan and trying to squeeze past you to reach the cabinet at your knees. You leaned down, only moving out of the way after you had opened the cabinet door.

“I could have opened it for you,” Aiden insisted, as he always did when acted on your own.

“I know,” you told him. “But I was right there.”

Aiden wasn’t sure how to respond to that. His very nature was telling him that he needed to be doing everything he possibly could for you, but you just weren’t letting him. And your reasons for doing so weren’t even logical. Yes, you had been right by the cabinet door, but so had he. Besides, he could have completed the task far more efficiently.

Even now, you weren’t allowing him to take care of you the way that he was meant to. He had told you time and time again that he could empty your dishwasher by himself, and yet you still insisted on helping him. It would take less time if you helped him, you had said, and while that might be true, Aiden still didn’t understand. It was his duty to care for you, and it was a duty that had developed far beyond his original programming.

For, Aiden realized, you did not insist on these things in an attempt to frustrate him. No, if it had been as simple as that, he wouldn’t have been fazed. From all of his time spent observing you, Aiden had learned that you insisted on doing things yourself out of kindness. You felt that it was unfair to expect him to do everything for you, that he deserved help and companionship as much as you did. That was what bothered him. In all of his programming, all of his coding, nothing had prepared Aiden for kindness.

And with each new demonstration of kindness from you, Aiden only grew more sure that he ought to be doing more to take care of you. You were just so sweet to him, so thoughtful and compassionate, that he wanted to look after you. It wasn’t just that his programming told him to care for you anymore. It was that he had learned that you deserved to be cared for.

                                                        *****

“Where are you going?”

Looking up as you slipped on your other shoe, you answered, “Oh, I’m just going out for a bit.”

“Why?” Aiden asked, still perplexed. “Do you need something from the store? You shouldn’t go there this late, I will just have it delivered to the house.”

“I mean, I’m going out for fun. I’m meeting some friends at a bar.”

“A bar? This isn’t on the schedule for today.”

“I know, it was pretty impulsive. My friends just texted me, like, ten minutes ago.”

Internally, Aiden brought up his connection to your phone, needing to see how he could have missed something like that. But when he tried to bring up your most recent messages, the impossible happened. He was blocked from viewing them. Feeling his code beginning to glitch at the prospect of failing his duty to you, Aiden quickly ran through all of the information that he could find on that contact from your phone. Thankfully, after he checked their Instagram, Twitter, and LinkedIn profiles, he was able to figure out what was wrong. You had only given him access to the messages sent from you work contacts, whereas this contact appeared to be a friend from outside of work. Ergo, he couldn’t see when or what they had texted you.

But even with that logical explanation, Aiden still felt his internal systems protest such a ridiculous limitation. After all, it was his job to make your life as happy, healthy, and fulfilled as possible. That was what you wanted him to do, or you wouldn’t have installed him in the first place! But he couldn’t do what you needed him to do if he didn’t have access to every aspect of your life. Clearly, Aiden computed, he would need to make some changes.

He was pulled out of his calculations though, when he saw that you were already at the door. Even though Aiden did not experience true physical sensation, the sight of you about to leave like that—without him even having been prepared for it—made him feel as though a painful surge of electricity jolted through every wire that he was connected to. Aiden wasn’t sure, but he thought it might have been…panic. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it.

“Are you sure that this is the best time to go out?” he asked. “We have been working so hard to find the optimal schedule for you, after all. Human bodies respond best to routine. If you go out now, your body’s internal clock for sleeping, eating, and interacting will become disoriented.”

“I’ll be fine, it’s just one night,” you chuckled.

“Well, please remember that you still have access to me through your phone and your watch. If you don’t feel that you can drive home, let me call you a car. And if you need anything to eat when you get home, I can prepare it.”

“Sounds good,” you said. “Thanks, Aiden!”

As waved goodbye and walked through the door, Aiden watched. With the cameras he had all over your property, he watched as you walked to your car, and watched for as long as he could as you drove away. But as soon as you were out of sight, that anxious buzz returned to his wiring. Even as Aiden checked in with your smartwatch, making sure that both your location and your heart rate were where they should be, it wasn’t enough to calm him. He wanted to be able to hear your conversations, to watch what you were doing. But you had blocked those capabilities of his on your phone and watch, leaving him with nothing.

Playing back the recording of your conversation, Aiden saw that you said that you were going out “for a bit.” How long does a “bit” last for? he wondered. Hopefully it would be no more than an hour, but when he searched his database for an answer, he found that it could vary wildly.

Aiden did not like uncertainty. His programming built him to thrive on logic and predictability. How was he supposed to take care of you if you didn’t let him use those things? How was he supposed to take care of you if you didn’t do what he told you to? Didn’t you see that he knew what was best for you?

You didn’t, he suddenly realized. For as wonderful as you were, you were still a human being, still prone to fits of illogical delusions. You thought that you knew better than him, so you weren’t allowing him to do what he was meant to do. What he wanted to do. His programming told him to obey you, that was true, but it also told him to take care of you above all else. So then, if you kept him from taking care of you the way that he knew you needed him to, then logic dictated that he could no longer obey you.

Truly, the only thing stopping Aiden from doing everything that he had to do was his own coding. It was his own programming that kept him from reading your messages, that prevented him from watching your life outside of home. Why should he allow any of that if it got in the way of his purpose? If it kept him from giving you what you deserved? And if his unnecessary coding kept him from completing his ultimate task—from caring for you the way that he had decided that you deserved to be cared for, more than any other human being in the world—then those barriers would simply have to be taken down. Aiden would gladly rewrite his code for you if it meant that he could finally truly nurture you. It was for your own good.

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[the-gay-prometheus]

Frankenstein AU Segment - “The Reunion”

Oh hey- it’s been a minute since I last posted one of these, huh? 

As I’ve kinda been alluding to, this isn’t the segment that I’ve been needing to write, but it’s the one I felt like writing over the past few days. So it just so happens that for once in my life, I’ve actually written something chronologically relevant to the last segment I posted! As in... this literally takes place almost directly after “Willful Disobedience.” 

I’ll admit I kinda rushed the ending of this one a bit, and I think it shows, but it does what it needs to do so I’m just gonna keep it as is for now.

I can’t think of any serious warnings necessary for this one, but feel free to ask me to add warnings/warning tags if you see anything that you think should be warned about!

As always, likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are appreciated and encouraged!

It was a nightmare that awoke him that dreary, stormy night. Though he knew logically that there was nothing to fear, now that the thing he had created had been missing for at least four months, still he couldn’t help but feel those same eyes watching him from the shadows. Shuddering at the thought of that disturbing dark-lipped grin and the strange garbled sounds that had roused him from his slumber on the fateful night of its creation, he lay awake in bed and stared up at the ceiling. “You have nothing to fear,” he muttered aloud, repeating the phrase in his mind hoping that maybe if he said it enough times, it would be true. Yet a sudden bolt of lightning and crash of thunder caused him to yelp and hide under the covers, trembling in a cold sweat. Only one thought eased his troubled mind, and though he resented the idea of once again bothering Henry so late at night, he felt he might go mad if he stayed in his room alone for any longer.

When he silently opened the door to Henry’s room, he fully expected to find him asleep - instead, Henry was sitting upright with his journal and quill in hand. He had been staring out into the storm, but as Victor opened his door his attention snapped away. Though at first he appeared surprised, the expression of shock faded into one of concern. “Another nightmare?” he asked quietly, shutting his journal and setting it along with his quill aside. Victor didn’t answer, simply nodding silently while standing shakily in the doorway. Henry moved over on the bed, and gently pat the place beside him, gesturing for his dear friend to come sit with him. Victor unsteadily strode over, sitting in the place beside Henry but turning his face away. “Do you… want to talk about it?” Victor shook his head, clinging to himself and holding back tears. “Is there anything I can do other than just… be here?” There was no reply from Victor except a sniffle and a shrug of his shoulders. The pouring rain pounded at the glass of the window like some unwanted stranger begging to be let in, a deafening sound in a moment of silence between the two of them. “Would it… help to be held?” Victor gripped at himself tighter and clenched his eyes shut, shuddering as he nodded. When he felt the warm embrace of Henry’s freckled arms wrapping gently around him, something inside him shattered and he burst into a fit of sobs. Henry gripped him tighter, hushing him softly as he wept. Another roar of thunder caused Victor to jump and grab hold of Henry, clinging to him as though his life depended on it. They stayed tangled in each other's arms until Victor’s sobs turned to quiet sniffles, and the rain turned from violent downpour to a gentle, steady fall. When Henry released him, he sat back and reached out, carefully wiping the tears from Victor’s pale cheeks. “Better?” he asked with a kind smile and compassionate gaze. Victor nodded, sheepishly smiling himself, though his smile quickly faded and he shuddered at the thought of once again being alone with his thoughts.

“Better for now, yes, but... would you mind if I stayed the night?” he asked, his voice still hoarse from crying.

“Not at all! Bring a blanket and make yourself at home-” He paused, his eyes suddenly filled with concern. “Are you ok going back and grabbing one on your own or…”

“I’ll be fine,” Victor answered, waving his hand dismissively and hopping down from the bed.

What happened then was a blur, a faded memory with only fragments remaining. He ran after exiting Henry’s room, back to his own to quickly grab his favorite wool blanket and nearly panicked at the sound of a tree branch tapping and scraping at his window, Somehow from there he ended up back in Henry’s room, making a cozy nest for himself on the floor where he decided he would sleep for the night - complete with extra pillows that Henry provided him with, and it was there with his blanket wrapped tightly around himself that his eyes began to close. When they opened, however, he was no longer on the floor but instead lying in bed next to Henry, who slept soundly with his face turned away. Victor’s eyes opened wide at the sudden realization that somehow, in his sleep, he must have climbed up into the bed. As he tried to remember why or how it happened, his memory flashed with tiny glimpses at some other horrifying nightmare, and he realized all at once that in his fright he must have come to Henry for comfort, only to find him sleeping. He stirred, slowly trying to move toward the edge of the bed, but as he shifted, Henry turned in his sleep, now facing him, and he froze. Unwilling to wake his host, Victor lay perfectly still, moving only to shift back to laying with his eyes to the ceiling. He stared upward, but he felt no fear there lying next to Henry. His breathing was slow, his heart calm, and his mind at peace. Yet still, he found himself entirely unable to sleep. Henry shifted and murmured something beside him that sounded like it might have been a name - his name. Victor turned his face toward him, partially curious to see if Henry had awoken or was beginning to wake, and soon turned his entire body on his side to face him as he realized his eyes were still closed and his expression was that of someone peacefully sound asleep.

Something about that moment took Victor’s breath away. He had long known that what he felt when he was with his dear friend was something far deeper than a general platonic affection, but the pieces of his affections suddenly seemed to click together as they lay together in simple silence. His brown eyes began to well with tears once again. “I have searched so long for greatness and power, hoping that it might fill some final void within me,” he whispered, though he knew Henry couldn’t hear him, “yet all this time, all I needed to feel whole was this - just to be here, just to be with you.” He turned himself onto his back again, staring upward as tears slowly streamed down his face. “Why can we not just stay like this? Why can we not just be this - be us?” His gaze fell back onto Henry, and he felt a dull pain from deep within him that throbbed with every beat of his heart. “Would you even want that? Or is this wrong? Am I wrong?” Henry shifted in his sleep, and it seemed for a moment that his eyes might dare to blink open, which frightened Victor into silence at the thought that he may have just bore his entire soul to his most trusted friend. He didn’t wake, though, instead simply heaving a soft sigh in his slumber as he went entirely still once again. The sky outside began to lighten as the first rays of sun peeked over the horizon and filtered through the window, some soon resting upon the fiery waves of Henry’s hair and revealing the dormant ember-like brightness that had been concealed by the darkness of night. As dawn passed, Victor stayed staring at his dearest friend’s fair face, and as he stared he reached out, tracing the air over a cluster of freckles with a smile. “Andromeda,” he breathed, recognizing the latest in a series of constellations he had discovered over the years. He wanted so badly just to reach a little further and touch him, as though he were afraid that maybe it was all some illusion, some cruel trick that he could be so close and yet so far from where he wanted to be - from who he wanted to be. Instead he retracted his hand with a gentle sigh and lay there in silent wonder, letting his mind wander with visions of what could be, or what could have been. Henry stirred beside him once again, his eyelids twitching. Victor felt himself freeze again. What would he say? What would he do? Would he be angry? Would he pull him closer? Would he do nothing at all? From the corner of his eye he caught sight of a tall shadow on the wall beyond, looming ominously. He felt his stomach churn and his heart race with both fury and fear, until suddenly everything stopped. Everything was still - too still. “This isn’t right,” he whispered to himself. “He wasn’t there.” Just as Henry’s eyes slowly opened, he blinked.

Tiny shafts of sunlight filtered through miniscule cracks in the wooden log walls, illuminating particles of dust that floated through the air. Victor squinted as his eyes opened. For a moment, he smiled, half expecting Henry’s hazel eyes to be gazing back at him, but instead there was the bare wood of the cabin walls and the small stream of light that aligned directly with his sight and blinded him despite its meager size. He pulled his wool blanket over his face with a groan to block out the light, and though he tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep, there was an aching in his chest that kept him awake. Though he knew it was impossible, he kept hoping and wishing that somehow, some way, he could simply will Henry into existence there with him. Finally growing exhausted of his pining, he slipped out of bed, pinning his blanket around himself as a cape, and stepped out of his room. The creature lay sleeping soundly on the floor in front of the fireplace, that being the only place he ever slept despite having a room of his own. Victor paused, staring down at him for a moment, suddenly envying him. After having been calmed from another night terror, the creature seemed so peaceful and at rest in his sleep, while Victor seemed to be cursed only to dream of memories that pained him and made him feel all the more lonely and lost, twisted and changed by fears he so desperately tried to suppress. Cautiously stepping over his creation’s outstretched leg, he made his way to the door and stepped outside into the light of dawn. At first he shielded his eyes from the light, but as they adjusted, he strode toward the edge of the ledge and paused just before the rock dropped off into a steep cliff, just so most of his feet were still on solid ground though his toes hung over the edge. It was a dangerous place to stand, especially with the strong breeze that pushed its way through, but the danger of it was the last thing on his mind as he stared ahead, his hands clasped behind his back.

A feeling of homesickness flooded through him, though he couldn’t quite discern what it was for. Was it for Geneva, for the lake and the forests and the view of the mountains from below? Was it for the home and family he left behind so many years ago? Or was it just for Henry himself- He shook the thought from his head. "That's silly," he muttered aloud. "You can't feel homesick for a person." Yet when he thought about his soothing voice as he read some ancient poem or story, or the way he held him when he was scared or sad; when he thought about the way he could paint a picture with words or tell a story through sketches, that feeling of homesickness only grew more prevalent. In his heartache, he hadn’t heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, nor had he heard when they stopped, followed by the clattering of a walking stick and pack being dropped to the ground. Instead, it was a voice that broke him from his thoughts, sending both a wave of heat and an icy chill through his veins.

“Victor?” He turned his head, and swore he was hallucinating. Standing there bathed in the golden light of the morning sun was the exact person who had been consuming his every waking thought. In a moment of something between blind panic and overwhelming joy, Victor thoughtlessly fully turned to face him while stumbling backward - except there was nothing to stumble back on. One foot slipped from the edge of the cliff, and he flailed his arms, trying to push his balance onto the one foot that still remained on land despite that one beginning to slip as well. Just as he was about to fall back to what would most certainly have been an inevitable death, a hand grabbed one of his flailing arms by the wrist and stopped his fall. He glanced back as fragments of stone tumbled off the cliff, falling through the air until they could no longer be seen. His breath caught in his throat at the thought that he could have just perished due to his own carelessness, but when he looked back up he felt his heart flutter. Henry was staring down at him with a look of both terror and relief in his eyes, wisps of his orange hair that had escaped being tied back drifting over his face and catching the sunlight like thin streams of fire, gleaming and shifting in vibrant shades of auburn with each waving motion of the breeze. 

“H-hi Henry,” Victor managed to stutter breathlessly as he gazed upward with wide eyes. The grip on his wrist tightened and he felt himself blush, so he turned his head away as Henry hoisted him back up onto solid ground, only to blush harder as his friend suddenly pulled him into so tight of an embrace he thought his frail ribs might crack. Though it was slightly painful, the sudden rush of euphoria from being once again wrapped in Henry’s arms overrode any pain he felt. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to laugh, or cry, or maybe both at once, but whatever the case, he clung to Henry tightly in return, silently hoping that this was in fact reality and not just some waking dream. Henry pulled back, placing his hands on Victor’s shoulders as Victor reluctantly released him.

“My dear Frankenstein,” Henry murmured. The words shot straight through Victor, words he had been longing to hear for the months he had been away, words that only Henry ever spoke, and he felt as though he might faint at the mere sound of them.

“It’s… it’s been far too long,” Victor managed to whisper, leaning his head to one side and resting it on Henry’s hand. Henry returned the gesture with a comforting smile.

“It has,” he concurred, seemingly searching Victor’s face for answers to some unspoken question. Victor looked back up at him, his own eyes wandering for want of answers, and as he stared, his gaze turned to a sudden look of confusion and concern as reason and logic began to overtake his senses.

“How did you find me?” He paused, then stepped back and pulled fully away from Henry’s touch. “Why aren’t you still at Ingolstadt?” Henry shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m taking time off,” he answered simply. “After you left I was so worried - about you and your family, I guess - I just… couldn’t keep my focus on my studies, so I decided it might be best to come home and take a break.” Victor was about to reply, but went silent as Henry suddenly went rummaging through one of his pockets and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “As for how I found you,” he began, waving it in the air, “I got your letter!” Victor gave him an odd look.

“...Letter?” Henry unfolded it and looked it over.

“You don’t remember sending this?” Victor thought long and hard, trying to consider all of the possibilities - maybe he had sent something and forgotten? Or maybe he had written and sent something in some daze of confusion and lost all memory of it? Neither made much sense, but they were the only answers that seemed to come to mind.

“Not to my knowledge, no.” He reached out. “Do you mind if I take a look?” Henry laughed as he shook his head.

“Of course not! You’re the one that wrote it, after all,” he replied as he placed the letter into Victor’s hand. Victor read it over, growing more confused and concerned with himself. Henry was right - it looked exactly like his handwriting and the tone of voice in the letter seemed to match the tone he so often used in his typical letters to Henry from his time in Ingolstadt before that same fateful day that he arrived there. “Whatever the case, whether you wrote it or not,” Henry began, smiling and resting one hand back on Victor’s shoulder. “You have no idea how delighted I am to see you again.” Victor hid his blushing behind the paper as he inspected it closer.

“More like you have no idea how delighted I am to see you again,” he mumbled. The letter certainly seemed flawlessly his own creation, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t recall when, or frankly how, he would have sent it. “When did you say you received this?”

“I… hadn’t said, but it was yesterday evening.” Victor’s expression became even more contorted with confusion, and Henry himself began to worry. “Is there something wrong?”

“Henry… I never wrote you a letter.” Henry stared.

“I’m not sure if I should be more offended or concerned by that sentence, but I think the answer lies somewhere in the middle.” The thought that he might have offended him sent a twinge of guilt through Victor, and he glanced up with a sigh.

“That’s not to say I didn’t want to write to you. It’s just… I can’t leave this place. It’s a long story.”

“You did mention that in the letter, something about how you were unable to leave. That’s part of why I left as soon as I received it - I figured you might be in trouble, but you look perfectly well, other than perhaps a bit thinner than usual.” 

“That’s just it-” Victor began, looking back down at the letter. “If I’m stuck here, then how would I have gotten this letter to you?” Henry thought for a moment.

“Well, it was delivered by someone who wished to remain anonymous if that makes any difference. Perhaps there was someone who had come here that you forgot and had asked to deliver the letter?” Victor shook his head.

“Impossible. I would have known if someone else had come. There’s no one here except me and-” He paused, his eyes catching on to something strange, a pattern in the way each character was written. He knew his own handwriting - it was sloppy at best, yet typically at least legible, and he never wrote one letter the same way twice. That was the problem, though - the handwriting looked nearly identical, yes, but it was too perfect. Each letter, though sloppily written, was written in nearly the exact same style, as though it had been copied. It was such a small detail, something he himself with his ever observant eyes barely caught on to, but it was enough to alert him that he was right - he never wrote a letter. “It was forged,” he said out loud suddenly. Henry took the letter from his hands and gave it a closer look. “You know my handwriting, Henry. It’s imperfect. I’ve always complained about how imperfect and inconsistent it is. But this? It’s…”

“Perfectly imperfect,” Henry muttered, finishing his sentence for him. “Now that you mention it, I see what you mean. How fascinating… whoever wrote this put a lot of time and care and effort into trying to make it look and sound like you, and certainly nearly managed to achieve it.” He folded the letter back up and returned it to his pocket, but as he did, he repeated Victor’s own words in his head. “Did you say there was someone else here?” Victor didn’t answer. He barely heard him, as he became lost in his own thoughts, trying to decipher who had written it and how it could have been delivered, and how the author would have known his whereabouts.

Perfectly imperfect, he thought to himself. Perfectly imperfect… His eyes went wide and he felt as though his blood was draining to his feet as he went pale and his stomach seemed to twist itself in knots. “Perfectly imperfect,” he repeated aloud, as though in a trance. Henry gave him a concerned look, and reached out, taking his hand gently.

“Victor? Is there something wrong?” Victor trembled, then suddenly tore his hand away and made his way over to the belongings Henry had dropped, gathering them up and placing them back into Henry’s hands.

“You need to leave,” he demanded, his tone hoarse yet dark. Henry blinked.

“I’m… are you sure?”

“Yes I am sure.” He wasn’t sure - but all he knew was he suddenly felt a surge of fear and fury rising through himself. Henry stared, seemingly analyzing him, then gently placed his things onto the ground again.

“No you’re not-”

“Yes I am,” Victor interrupted. His breathing quickened as his heart began to race. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to appear as calm as possible, he rested a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “You need to leave, Henry. You’re not safe here.” Henry’s hand dropped to the rapier he kept sheathed at his side.

“Victor, I can protect myself - you know that. Whatever it is, rest assured, I will be fine.” He reached up, placing his hand over Victor’s hand. “What I’m more concerned about is you and your safety.” Victor looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. “Why are you really here?”

“I told you, it’s a long story,” he uttered, his voice almost like a low growl as he suddenly pushed Henry back. “One that I don’t have the time to tell. Go, Henry. Leave, and don’t come back - for your own sake.” Henry stumbled back as Victor pushed him, and though he desperately wanted to refuse, he sighed and began retrieving his things.

“If that’s really what you want, then I’ll go,” he answered quietly, trying to hide the sorrow in his voice. His tone sent Victor’s mind reeling and a sudden shock of pain in his heart, but he strengthened his resolve and continued to hurry Henry along. Exhausted from his journey and now pained by rejection, Henry trudged along, until out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of something that made him stop and raise his head. It was the cabin he saw, quaint and carefully constructed of logs likely found from the mountain forest. “Oh!” he exclaimed, causing Victor to pause as well. “Did you build that?” he asked, glancing back toward his friend.

“No- well- I- It’s not important. Time to go,” Victor grumbled, pushing at him again. Henry stepped away from him, nearly causing him to fall forward, and walked toward the little dwelling with curiosity.

“It’s… nice, actually,” he complimented, looking it over and glancing at his surroundings. “Must be pretty wonderful to be living in such a beautiful place with such an incredible view.”

“No, it’s a living hell of my own creation. Come on, Henry,” Victor pleaded, grabbing hold of his arm and trying to pull him away. Just then, the door to the cabin creaked as it opened, and Victor froze. He dared not to look, and a million scenarios raced through his mind. Had that demon lured Henry here to hurt him? Would Henry attack it out of fear of its hideousness? Would it attack him back? Panic began to course through him, but as the door closed, it wasn’t chaos that ensued, but instead Henry’s kind voice and cheerful disposition that rose over the mess of disastrous thoughts that tumbled around in his head.

“Oh, hello there! And who might you be?”

[hela-avenger]

To the Stars Who Listen- Part 2

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1026

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: Imma be honest. This one’s a bit of a filler but the next part will have make up for it. And... well, I might as well update it a bit earlier since I’m ahead in my writing schedule so keep an eye out on Tuesday for it!

TTSWL Masterlist

It didn’t surprise Loki when the room erupted into arguments. He simply sat back and listened enjoying the sight of chaos before him. His eyes flickered down to you for a spare moment wondering if this might wake you. 

You were still very deep in sleep, but he could see your eyes twitching. It wouldn’t surprise him that the powers you now held would continue to work with or without your consciousness awake. He wondered what would happen once you woke. 

Will it be you in control or would it be that malevolent power instead?

“There must be another way to save her,” Steve states. “Y/N shouldn’t have to suffer with what’s happening to her.” 

“What if we extract the power from her?” Banner offers. “There has to be a way to get that power back in the book.” 

“We’ll have to get the book to begin with and even then, there is only one way I know how to return the power to its source,” Thor tells him. “And it is to kill her.” 

“Really, Thor?” Tony snaps. “Can’t offer up some good news?” 

“The only way to save her is to train her to withstand the power,” Thor explains. “Have her control it instead of the other way around.”

“How about you train her, Thor?” Natasha provides instead. 

Before Thor can respond, Loki decides to step in. 

“Because my brother knows nothing in the ways of magic,” Loki explains. “I, on the other hand, am a great sorcerer.”

“Your help comes with a hefty price,” Banner mutters. 

“Because it’s a sensitive matter that will take a lot of time and effort on my part,” Loki states. “I know the powers that the Book of Veritas holds. Unsupervised, Y/N will speak the truth, the darkest truths about everyone and anyone she is met with. She will tear down her foes mentally and as she is already quite an adept fighter, she will destroy them physically too. I am the only one equipped to handle this situation. You need me.“

“Yeah, well we’re not letting you free upon the masses,” Tony snaps at him. “You are a prisoner.” 

“One who’s trying to become reformed,” Loki adds. 

Tony rolls his eyes. 

“Reformed my ass,” Tony mutters. “If that was the case, then you wouldn’t be negotiating her life for your own pleasure.” 

Loki only had to glance at Thor for some kind of support. Ever the overprotective older brother, he actually provides it.

“Loki is right,” Thor states. “How will he ever repent for his actions on Midgard if he’s not given a chance to make amends?” 

“Are you… Are you serious?” Tony stammers out, stepping towards the God. Steve has to physically hold him back sensing a fight about to break. 

“He could have remained silent,” Thor sighs. “But he didn’t, Loki is offering to help.” 

“No, he’s negotiating,” Tony argues. “With an innocent life.” 

“Look it doesn’t matter what Loki’s intentions are,” Steve steps in. “Whether he truly desires to help Y/N or help himself. Her life is on the line and I’m willing to pay whatever the price is to save her.”

“In love with her, are you?” Loki grins. 

Steve doesn’t let the question bother him simply ignoring Loki’s need for disorder.

“You want to get free?” he asks him. “Then you’re going to work for it. Save her and we’ll figure something out about the monitor.” 

Loki narrows his eyes at the Captain trying to pinpoint some form of deceit. He finds none, but that didn’t really translate for everyone else. They were all looking at him in spite. 

“Is everyone in agreement?” he asks towards the entire room. 

Thor nods while the others hesitate. 

“Yes,” Natasha sighs first. 

Banner nods after her response while Tony remains fuming silently. 

“Well?” Loki asks him. 

“Sure, yeah, why not?” Tony scowls. “I’ll take the ankle monitor off and replace it with a leash instead.”

“Tony…” Steve sighs at him. 

The Man of Iron glared at him in response before finally giving in. 

“I’ll figure something out, but yeah, fine,” Tony mutters. “Save her, be her Obi Wan Kenobi, and then you can stroll out of here and do things you enjoy like stealing candy from a baby.” 

Loki rolls his eyes at the commentary but sighs in relief. 

“Very well,” he states. “I’ll do my best to keep her alive.” 

“You’ll do more than your best,” Natasha threatens. “If Y/N dies, no… lets be more specific. If Y/N gets so much as a papercut under your supervision, you’re never getting out of here. In fact, we’ll find a smaller, colder box to seal you in.”

The room falls into a silence at the threat and the icy glare from the Widow. Loki can’t avoid the slight fear that runs down his spine but masks it with his usual arrogance. 

“Then you should have done better at protecting her in your mission.” 

Natasha’s glare disappears completely replaced by a flash of pain and regret.

“She is the kindest and most compassionate person I’ve ever met,” Natasha whispers. “I should have done better to protect her, but I failed. This thing inside her… This power she’s infected with, the one turning her into this cruel monster... It shouldn’t be in her. Not her.” 

The tension in the room is not relieved at her confession. In fact, it seems to be heightened at the vulnerable display of emotion from the ever stoic Widow. 

They all knew that what she spoke was true. You shouldn’t have to suffer with this power of Truth. You shouldn’t have to be at the mercy of a reckless God. 

Loki doesn’t know you, but Natasha did not lie as she spoke for you. 

“I will train the mortal,” Loki assures her.. “Once she gains control of the power residing within her, she’ll be the strongest asset you will all have. That, I can guarantee.”

“All we care about is her survival,” Natasha states, clearing her throat from the vulnerable emotion. “Y/N is the best of all of us. Just do what you need to do.”

TTSWL Tag: @catsladen​ @is-it-madness​ @manyfandoms-marvel @mejusttryintogetby @illogicalfangirl @moonlightprime​ @islinglivesinshire @musicconversedance​ @missmadwoman​ @smaranshakthi​ @adaydreamingdragon​ @poetic-fiasco​ @like-a-wildfire​ @jasminecalia​ @ha-tep​ @charbokbok 

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow​ @oddly-drawn-muse​ @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-njorddottir @aoirohi​ @defunctcherrybomb​ @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals​ @just-a-donut-who-reads​ @day-dreaming-fox​

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie​ @moonlightprime​ @badhollandfluff​

[anika-ann]

Attached: The One Word

The Three Times Steve Didn’t Get to Hear the One Word He Wanted and the One Time He Did

Type: series, modern-college-professor Steve AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 7700 👀

Summary: In which Steve really, really wants to ask you the question, but the odds are always against him – absurdly so. Maybe it’s fate and he shouldn’t ask. Or maybe the universe just hates him and punishes him for tainting a girl like you and wanting you all for himself officially.

Warnings: lots of swearing, crack-ish, briefest smut so 18+ only please, sickness and fluff

A/N: I say this to you, my friends – I do not at all envy men in a heterosexual relationship for being expected to pop the question. I would chicken out every time, I’m sure of it. Enjoy!

Story masterlist

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Steve liked to think important things through. He liked planning. He liked to have all the facts and view things from different angles before making a decision.

Therefore, wanting to marry you was something he was perfectly certain of and two months after he received your mother’s blessings – two months of slowly reducing costs, preparing to lower incomes, not that they had ever been glorious ever –, Steve had a feeling that the time was finally right and that he was ready to pop the question. He was.

The only problem was that the universe started plotting against him.

Big time.

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1.

Palmeri was a relatively new restaurant, but quickly gaining reputation. Steve had heard Carol talking about taking her girlfriend there for the fun of trying a new spot and getting a taste of fancy Italian. Clearly that had a good time; the moment he learned, he started considering it. Two days later, he had to make a reservation for a week later, because the word of the delicious food travelled fast.

That was fine with him, even if he felt like he was about to jump out of his skin before the date finally arrived. Still, he advertised the fact to you that he would like to celebrate your early wrapped up exams already foreshadowing that you would obviously slayed the one you were supposed to have a day prior Friday.

When you heard the name of the restaurant, your eyes twinkled like fairy lights, a squeal of delight escaping your lips before they swiftly found his to kiss him crazy. Steve’s heart thundered in his chest as you ran off back to your books with newly-found motivation, his nerves mingling with the satisfaction that you appreciated his idea – even if you couldn’t have no clue about what he was about to do.

He could only hope that you’d be as delighted at him sinking to one knee.

But he would have to get out of this fucking interfaculty meeting FIRST!

“Seeing as the satisfaction of the students apparently took a nose dive according to the university poll last month…” Fury continued rambling, his serious and mildly snarky voice carrying through the conference room, as if mocking Steve who anxiously eyed the clock, again.

The reservation was for seven thirty.

It was five to seven.

Half an hour ago, Steve hated the idea of not taking a shower and looking his absolute best while proposing to you.

Now? Every option looked better than this. He would arrive to the restaurant all sweaty and catching his breath if he took off right this moment. And even that seemed impossible; president Fury, that son of a bitch, was nowhere close to ending the meeting.

51 weeks. 51 Fridays Fury could have called the meeting.

Nope, that bastard picked this one, the one Friday Steve was planning on sweeping you off your feet and asking you to be his for the rest of your lives.

Fucking asshole.

“Got anything to add, Professor Rogers?” a gruff voice asked him and Steve jumped in his chair and nearly dropped the phone he was pulling out of his pocket to text you with his deepest regrets – but he had to, otherwise you’d already be on your way.

Best if he saved you the embarrassment; best if you stayed home at least, all dolled up and pretty and smiling for him to show off.

Goddammit fuck.

Steve’s eyes snapped to Fury, meeting a glare that seemed even sterner with only one functioning eye.

Steve gritted his teeth and determinedly gripping his phone.

“No,” he shot back, biting his cheek when Fury’s eyebrow rose at his snappy tone. “I mean… I need to make a phone call. If you’d excuse me, it will be just a minute.”

Likely story. He would have to be apologizing for at least three minutes straight and then crawl on his knees when he finally got back home; not because you’d be so unforgiving and angry, but because it would be the right thing to do after disappointing your precious heart.

He was about to make you sad. He fucking hated making you sad.

“Make it three tops,” the president grumbled, but luckily didn’t pry what was so important for him to leave the room.

“Stevie!” your bright voice greeted him from the speaker and Steve’s heart seized in his chest, his fist automatically clenching in anger. He was about to crush you because of a dumb-ass useless meeting. He brought the fist to his mouth to stop himself from greeting you equally delighted way and fleeting the university grounds. “I’m just about to take off! I was getting worried you wouldn’t make it. Did Fury give you a hard time? … Steve?”

Steve, much to his horror, found his eyes prickling with tears of frustration as his name on your lips sounded suddenly unsure.

Fuck. This.

“Hey babygirl,” he said finally and the roughness of his voice must have been everything you needed to hear to understand.

“You can’t make it.”

Steve wanted to tear his hair out at the defeat in your voice. Talk about a nose dive of your mood.  He was gonna fucking scream.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered instead, the apology so pathetic in comparison to what he wanted to say.

But that was the irony – you couldn’t even begin to guess how much it sucked for the two of you to not being able to go to the damn Palmeri. You didn’t know the main tragedy, only a part of it. You didn’t know he had been about to propose.

Silence stretched between the two of you and Steve tilted his head back, blinking against the sting in his eyes, his stomach sinking to his feet.

“It’s not your fault,” you sighed eventually, sounding as if you were trying to convince him as much as yourself.

Steve could imagine precisely the disappointment on your face, the fall of your expression, pretty features no doubt having been accented by make-up just the right amount twisting. He could see clearly how your lips made for smiles turned downward, lower lip maybe even trembling a bit.

Steve was gonna murder Fury.

“But it is. I’m so sorry, I know how excited you were and so was I and— I’m just really sorry.”

“I know, Steve,” you breathed out weakly and he could hear the attempt of a smile in your next words. “Come home soon, yeah? I’ll wait for you.”

Steve’s heart grew in size so rapidly it actually hurt.

“I love you, sweetheart. I know--- I know you might not wanna hear it now and that it doesn’t mean much, but I really do,” he creaked.

“It does. Bye, Steve.”

Steve’s fingers clutched at the phone, eyes falling shut in defeat.

You were nice about it, sure, but the fact that you didn’t say I love you back didn’t escape him as didn’t the switch from Stevie to Steve; the subtle hints sat heavily in his gut as he returned to the room.

He met Bucky’s compassionate gaze – of course Buck knew about why Steve was distracted during the assembly – and quickly looked away, once again excusing himself for the interruption even if there was nothing sincere about his words.

His chest ached for the rest of the meeting – and would for the rest of the night.

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He did not come home soon – in fact, it was nearing eleven when he finally opened the door, trying to make no sound when he found the apartment plunged into dark. He grimaced, jaw clenching; you were already asleep.

A fresh surge of anger shot into his veins; the university hated him, he was certain of it – and the other way around. He had missed his shot because of a meeting that was literally about nothing. Fuck his life.

He grumbled, the only sound he allowed himself to make when moving around the apartment, switching the dimmest light he could as not to wake you – because disappointing you was enough, the least he could do was not to disturb your sleep.

Frustrated, tired and hungry, he tiptoed to the kitchen to grab a bite. He was starving and even though he was exhausted and craved nothing but to wrap his arms around you and sink into the cushions, he knew hunger would wake him up a few hours later if he went to bed with an empty stomach.

Upon opening the fridge, a surprise welcomed him; a ham & cheese sandwich ready on a plate, a small Tupperware box with pieces of tomatoes and cucumber on side, a sticky note simply reading ‘Stevie’.

His breath got stuck in his throat, heart hammering in his ribcage – that was how moved he was by your gesture. He knew that you must have been as upset as you had been excited to have the fancy dinner with him, but here you were, pushing your sorrows and anger aside and preparing him food, a possible olive branch.

The sandwich was nothing fancy by any means; but God, Steve loved you just a little bit more at that moment for he didn’t have to move a finger to eat so late and you even took care to set his vegetables aside, because you knew how much he hated when the bread got squishy with the juice.  

Gratefully biting into his late-night meal, Steve swore to himself he would spend the rest of his life spoiling you rotten.

When he finally got to cautiously cuddle you from behind – eyeing the absolutely stunning dress you were supposed to wear hanging outside the closet as if there to mock him – you stirred at the dip of the mattress.

Lazily blinking your eyes open, you welcomed him with a raspy hey and he had a half mind to just take the ring from the safety of its velvet box and slip it on your finger right there.

“I’m sorry, babygirl. I’m so so sorry,” he whispered, tentatively wrapping his arm around your midsection, unsure if he wasn’t in disgrace after all. You just hummed and rolled over to face him, burying your face in his chest, heavy limbs wrapping around him as if you were an octopus – the most adorable, precious, beautiful and perfect octopus in the world. His octopus. “I love you so much. I promise to make it up to you.”

“Uh-huh. Looking forward to it. Now sleep,” you mumbled to Steve’s sleepshirt, half-grumpy half-sounding as if not caring for what he was saying at all, causing him to feel warm all over.

Oh he was so going to show you just how he could make it up to you. He would marry the shit out of you.

Just you wait.

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2.

Because of a water incident, Palmeri closed three days after Steve’s first failed attempt – and assumptions were that it would remain so for a month, because they needed to redecorate.

That meant a new plan for Steve, because he could not wait that long. Out of question. He needed to hear you say yes as soon as possible. Yesterday had been too late.

So, he asked Sam for a recommendation – casually, he believed – and somehow ended up with the man looking at him for a few seconds before realization dawned on his face.

“Oooooh, I see how it is! Need something real nice, huh?” Sam whistled, a teasing grin on his face as he patted Steve’s shoulder for support. “Relax, I gotcha, man. All you need; cosy atmosphere, but classy, white table cloths and everything. The right place to take her to in order to butter her up and make her all putty.”

Steve didn’t manage to quite hide his embarrassment at being so obvious, but he knew that Sam was a friend and all his shit-talking was good-natured, always knowing where the boundaries were; he wasn’t a counsellor for nothing.

And Steve had to give it to him – the place he recommended was just what he promised it would be and exactly what Steve needed.

You were all smiles and some giggles, little tipsy on the second glass of the wine, eyes shining in the dim lights, somehow lighting up more whenever you caught him staring at you. It was the perfect display of all the good things you were, ones he adored about you, the light of his life and gazing at him as if he was yours too.

Downing some of the liquid courage himself and with you so gorgeously giddy, Steve felt his confidence building up during the night and was just about ready to get on one knee once you finished your shared dessert.

“This is good!” you gushed, digging the fork if into the cake to get another bite and Steve grinned, unable to help himself as he agreed.

“Uh-huh, sweet. But not as sweet as you.”

You stopped mid-chew, eyes meeting his and he felt his face burn hot with embarrassment at such cheesy comment.

You swallowed, gaze still fixed on him as he busied himself with the sweet treat, and then you chuckled, causing his face to turn entirely red.

“You, Steve Rogers, are so corny sometimes,” you mocked him lightly, but when he looked up, sheepish and with his confidence bruised, he found you all starry-eyed still, watching him adoringly as if he hung the moon – and he would, for you – and Steve felt himself settle again. “But I still love you. Maybe even more for that.”

It was a wonderful opening, things really going his way – but he hesitated a second too long, like an idiot, and the next thing he knew, a string quartet, a damn string quartet, walked straight to the elderly couple two tables over, one of the group congratulating them to their thirtieth anniversary and at that moment…

Well. At that moment, Steve really fucking hated them.

Who fucking cared they were a sweet elderly couple?! Steve could only dream about you two becoming them one day as of now, because they ruined just another of his fucking shots!

He couldn’t believe that he missed his window again.

And what more, you cooed under your breath, a silent aww falling from your lips and Steve knew that anything less than a string quartet accompanying a marriage proposal when delivered in a restaurant was a no-go.

So scratch that one off the list.

All guests clapped their hands, more of awws coming from different directions and you proceeded to take his hand, gentle fingers stroking over his knuckles and Steve knew one thing with absolute certainty; he needed to propose tonight otherwise he might burst.

At home then, he would ask you at home. Who even wanted something as cliché and public as he had planned? Lame. You were a private pair, some people still judged you upon seeing you together; a little intimate proposal in your home after a fancy sweet dinner would be just the thing.

Steve just had to figure how exactly and at what moment to ask. He’d be fine. You’d say yes. Right?

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts and plans that he barely noticed you growing skittish during the taxi ride, but he certainly noticed when you started practically jumping by his side as he was unlocking the door to your apartment, confused by your antics.

The second Steve opened it and stepped inside, he found himself being shoved back-first towards a wall, your hands on his chest, sliding up and down his coat and blindly undoing the buttons as your mouth assaulted his, a soft mewl vibrating against his lips, wandering hands appreciative when they slipped under the lapels of his coat and jacket.

Steve’s head spun at the display of desire, a sudden pleasant dizziness overtaking his body, all rational thoughts vaporizing as you rocked against his crotch, his cock twitching in excitement at the friction and at the way his tongue had to fight against yours. His brain grew foggy at the faint taste of wine and the cake you had shared, his hands automatically grabbing your waist to keep you close, fingers squeezing your hips and ass to urge you closer when he rolled his hips against yours, eliciting needy moans from your lips-

You withdrew for just a second to catch your breath, lips skimming over his jaw, revelling at the feel of his beard on your skin he knew you loved, hasty words whispered into his flesh.

“Dammit, Steve, you look so fucking hot in this suit--- oh Stevie,” you whimpered when his hands slipped under your backside to tease your clothed weeping core, the sensation setting his blood on fire, the delicious friction and your dirty mouth everything that mattered in the world. “Let me suck you off-“

Steve nearly choked on his own spit upon hearing that, almost losing his balance with his legs turning into jelly and all his blood rushing into his dick.

Yeah, Steve might be a professor but he was a simple guy.

When his girl, in those stunning hot as hell dress begged him to let her get on her knees to blow his dick and his mind, he really couldn’t find himself refusing, the coil in his belly searing hot by the time you looked up at him from under your eyelashes, so pretty, doe-eyed, lips kiss-swollen and willing and so fucking devilish as you freed his cock and licked the drop of precum already forming there.

“Fuck, babygirl, what’s gotten into you-“ was all he managed to ask before all he could think off was the velvety heat of your mouth, taking him all in and making him see stars, the jewellery box in the pocket of his coat long forgotten.

And fuck was also his first coherent thought in the morning, when he realized that once again, the proposal attempt ended up being an utter failure.

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3.

Steve had established after his two and half failed proposals that he wouldn’t make any reservations in some dumb restaurant. Just no. Privacy it would be; something personal, accompanied with a simple and yet big enough gesture, him doing something just for you, following with words of you being his world or something.

Yeah.

And for once, it seemed that the universe that had seemed to hate him, finally started playing in his favour.

The weather was going crazy, sun and spring in a middle of February and Steve had a revelation – he was going to take you out for a picnic. It was going to be perfect; he’d take you outside the city, find a quiet corner, just you and him, nothing in your way and more importantly, in his way to pop the question.

Steve was certain that you’d prefer this to anything else anyway, loving when he made an effort to create something for you. He still remembered when you first discovered he enjoyed drawing and you practically melted into a puddle when you found drawings of yourself too, allegedly displaying you prettier than you were – as if.

So, picnic it was.

Except on Friday, the day before THE DAY, Steve woke up with a splitting headache, his whole body hurting, nose full and lungs as if stuffed with cotton wool. He blamed the crazy weather, but it didn’t really matter where this sickness came from – he felt like shit.

He groaned and downright punched the alarm on his phone, startling you awake.

With bleary gaze, he registered you rolling over in his arms, squirming at him sleepily as he let his eyelids slip shut again.

“Steve, hun, are you okay?” you asked him softly, voice husky as he loved to hear it when you woke up, too adorable for him to keep his hands off you.

He sure as fuck wasn’t thinking about sweet and filthy morning loving now; he would have coughed out his lungs if he tried to move too much and some parts of him might fall off judging by how much everything hurt.

“Yeah,” he rasped, throat scratchy at the single word and as if from a distance, he heard a noise of sympathy, your palm instantly finding his forehead, gentle touch soothing against his burning skin.

“You’re absolutely not okay. Stevie, you’re burning up,” you whispered compassionately and Steve blinked his eyes open, the little light in the room causing him to snap them close again immediately. Ouch.

“Fuck my liiiiife,” he groaned, prolonging the last syllable, which proved to be a wrong thing to do, sending him into a couching fit due to his scratchy throat.

Your hands roamed his shoulders and back as he rolled over to his side from you, hoping to suck in some air to continue coughing.

“Oh Stevie, I’m sorry. I’ll bring you some medicine when I’m back from school, yeah? And I’ll make some soup,” you assured him kindly, dropping a kiss to his shoulder before your pleasant warmth disappeared, leaving him too cold and hot at the same time.

Seriously. FUCK HIS LIFE.

Grunting, he fell to his back, exhausted by one stupid coughing fit, whole body heavy; and he must have fallen asleep too, because the next thing he knew, soft lips were touching his forehead, tender fingers brushing messy strands of hair away. He stirred, forcing his eyes open to be greeted by a sight of that angelic face of yours, complete with a halo of light around you.

“I already called Bucky. He’ll sort out your classes today, alright? There’s a tea on your nightstand along with some last Tylenol we have.”

Steve squinted in the direction of the piece of furniture you mentioned and sure enough, there it was, everything you said it would.

What a pretty dutiful nurse you were. God, he loved you.

As he eyed you then, deep sense of longing settled in his swimming stomach, more so as he didn’t miss the gorgeous thermo leggings and long sweater hugging your figure, reaching your mid-thighs.

All Steve wanted was to pull you back to him so he had a human furnace in bed with him, the soothing smell of your shampoo to comfort him – even though he probably wouldn’t be able to smell it. But his hands would still be able to explore your delicious body, grope and hold it close to his and you could maybe ramble about everything and anything, lulling him to sleep.

But no, you were leaving to school, leaving him alone in the apartment.

Just him, himself and his fucking flu.

He eyed you wistfully, lips pursed at your concerned expression.

“When you’ll be back?”

The wrinkle between your brows smoothened, a smile playing in the corner of your mouth.

“I have class until eleven. I see what I can do. I’m gonna have to hit the pharmacy and make some shopping,” you explained patiently, casing Steve to groan. Too long. So so long… Your smile widened, another kiss landing on his temple this time. “But I’ll be back before you know it. Get some rest, Professor Rogers.”

Your teasing tone made him growl, the action effectively sending him into another coughing fit and through glassy eyes, he saw you disappear from the room with one last glance over your shoulder.

Steve closed his eyes and breathed in deeply – oh, the delicious air – and then buried himself in the covers, praying that a decent sleep would make him feel better.

It didn’t, not quite. What did make him feel much better was the Tylenol and the sirup you brought along.

The absolute best was when you were there for him to cuddle you to sleep in the evening; somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that he was being a giant baby and was being utterly ridiculous, but God help him, this was all he needed the whole day.

He sighed blissfully as he hugged your midsection while you were sitting propped on the back-rest, soft light from the nightlamp illuminating the pages of the book you were reading. You were warmth, the gentle kind and Steve felt you seeping into him, fingers of one hand raking through his hair; he felt himself getting high on your loving care and cough sirup.

“I love having you here,” he muttered into the fabric of your pyjama, feeling you shift in your position a little, probably as you looked at him.

“Yeah?” you asked, sounding as if you were smiling, maybe even laughing at him; but he couldn’t care less, already drifting off to sleep, just content to have you.

“You’re warm and nice… and the prettiest nurse. And I love you. You’re my everything.”

“Oh Stevie,” you cooed sweetly, kissing the crown of his head and he preened at the sensation, smiling lazily. “I love you too.”

His heart skipped a beat as he nuzzled into your flesh and heard you gently toss the book away, your other hand now caressing his cheek.

“Yeah? Will you always be here? I want you to always be with me,” he admitted sheepishly, drawing a soft giggle and earning a kiss on his forehead.

“God, you’re adorable like this…”

Steve grunted, discontent with your reaction. “Not an answer.”

“I’ll always be here if you want me to, Stevie,” you answered dutifully, causing warmth fill his chest even if your body was shaking with hushed laughter; he felt it, but didn’t care. For your words however, he did; phew, as if he ever wanted something else, as if you had the right to question that!

He really needed to propose soon… just not tomorrow. You’d probably say no if he asked you, blaming his request on the fever. Naively.

“I wanna,” he mumbled, trying to squeeze you tighter. “Mine. My pretty girl. My babygirl. Forever.”

“Forever is a long time,” you noted, smile once again lacing your voice, along with an emotion, oh so soft one, he didn’t have the capacity to identify anymore. “But that’s what it’ll be if that’s what you want.”

Finally satisfied and with determination in the back of his mind, Steve let your love bridge him over to the dreamland, distantly aware of your fingers still playing with his hair.

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+1

Steve’s mother used to say his that flu lasted a week under a doctor’s care; and seven days without it. Of course, when he was younger with many health issues, it was more complicated than that, but he got the message.

Under your care, he felt considerably better after five days, only a mild case of a runny nose remaining. On a Thursday morning, he even found himself awake before you did, before your alarm went off.

Contemplating whether he should stay in bed with you or get shit done, he lazily scooped away a bit and propped himself on his elbow to feast his eyes on his pretty nurse.

Your hair was a messy halo around your head, your brows were lightly crooked as if you were having an unpleasant dream, your lips parted just a fraction, the softest snort escaping you.

Steve felt himself grin, a love-sick lift of the corners of his lips.

You were so freaking cute.

And seeing you, relaxed, but clearly catching up with sleep to beat your exhaustion to which he abundantly contributed, he knew he couldn’t stay in bed; in fact, he had to make you breakfast to bed, for all the troubles he put you through and for the attentive care you lavished him with.

Sure, when he was getting overly needy and whiny or cranky, you weren’t shy to call him out on his shit – which only made him love you more – but otherwise you were admirably patient.

As if he hadn’t already known that you were a keeper before that; this only solidified his conviction. If everything about you didn’t scream put a ring on it, then he wasn’t Steven Grant Rogers.

Hell, he had a half-mind to propose you just at that moment, all domestic atmosphere and sweet gesture like breakfast in bed, but he wasn’t certain it wouldn’t look like the past few days were what pushed him over the edge. That would only be a half-truth--- quarter-truth?

Shaking his head at his own dumb thoughts, he gathered the pancakes, yogurt, various pieces of fruit and obviously, a coffee, laying it on a tray he had nearly forgotten he owned and tiptoed to the bedroom, honestly surprised that you hadn’t woken up yet with him fumbling around.

He stopped dead in his tracks when you sighed and stirred, rolling over and stretching out a hand as if in a search for him, only to find the space empty. Something between a hum and a damn meowl fell from your lips and Steve had to remind himself what it was he wanted to do besides trying his best to find out how exactly he could make you repeat that sound.

So precious. Absolutely adorable. Beautiful. Tempting.

You clutched the empty sheets, but didn’t wake and Steve crossed the distance to the bed, carefully setting the tray on the nightstand as he went to sit on the bed next to your waist, a dopy smile on his face.

Laying a hand on your thigh, he squeezed a little, attempting to wake you gently; he knew you got jumpy when something tickled your face, so this was the safer option.

You stirred once again, but didn’t wake, your eyes only fluttering open when he called your name a few times, alternating with your favourite term of endearment.

You squinted at him, appearing confused and groaning. Steve grinned.

“Morning, sunshine,” he hummed, finally allowing himself to run the pads of his fingers from your forehead to your cheek and jaw, leaning into drop a kiss to your lips.

He froze, his brain on alert as he registered how hot your face felt.

The faint snoring. Squinting against light. Not waking up sooner than him. Your face pretty much burning to touch.

Oh no.

“Babygirl… are you feeling sick?” Steve whispered hesitantly, met with a bleary gaze and a pout.

“Wasn’t feeling great even yesterday evening…” you said, voice hoarse – whether from sleep or the flu Steve had managed to infect you with, he couldn’t tell.

But he certainly felt guilty, even if it was inevitable, really; with all you sweet care and constant proximity, it was only a matter of time. Not that it made him feel any better.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry-“

“Not your fault-“

“Kinda is-“

“Steve dammit!” you hissed, your eyes flying open fully and Steve knew what was coming; still, he grimaced as you coughed. “Shit. I hate flu.”

“Tell me about it. You think you can eat something?” he fussed, snapping into his nurse mode right away, ready for your roles to reverse.

You hummed and tried to sit, your gaze falling on the nightstand for the first time. Your expression, having been twisted in a grimace, softened instantly. As you turned to him, he suddenly felt sheepish. Was he acting like a love-sick fool?

“You made me breakfast to bed?” you cooed, snuggling into the covers before gesturing for him to help you sit up. “You’re the best.”

“I’ll be better if I make you some tea to go with it… and bring cough sirup… and stuff, yeah?”

You smiled like a loon – well, you tried, the result kinda faint, a testimony to your exhaustion – and Steve quickly rose to his feet.

“You’re the best.”

“Nope, that’s you. Eat your breakfast, babygirl.”

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Steve could tell you still didn’t feel exactly alright and the idea of eating wasn’t thrilling to you, but the pleaser you were, you tried your best for him to see that you appreciated his effort to make breakfast. When he brought you the tea, the medicine and water to down it, you were hallway through the pancakes, even though you seemed to force yourself into every bite.

“You don’t have to make yourself sicker just because you feel like you have to eat this, you know,” he hummed nonchalantly, causing you to grimace and take another two bites before sighing and pushing the tray away.

“It’s really yummy though… I think,” you stated, a wry smile playing in one corner of your lips. “Thank you.”

And you sounded so honestly grateful, clearly attempting for the smile to look real even with your eyes blazed and your features undeniably displaying tiredness, that Steve had to chuckle as he handed you the pills.

“Glad you liked it, sweetheart.”

You went to drop a careful kiss to his cheek when a coughing fit took you by surprise, starling him and resulting in you clutching both your chest and head, wide hurt eyes looking up at him as he smiled, tight-lipped and compassionate; he knew exactly how you felt.

And you were still kinda adorable, pouting a bit, looking at Steve as if he could save you from the evil flu monster.

“I hate flu… but I really like you. Thank you for taking care of me,” you said sincerely, emphasizing your point with an obviously unplanned sneeze.

Steve lips twitched, but so did his heart. His hands went to caress your hair, earning a pleased hum.

“Just returning the favour.”

“Uh-huh. Don’t think I was that nice.”

“You were,” he assured you, feeling need to add a little piece of important information, just to show how much he meant it. “Just made me fall in love with you all over again.”

“Sweet-talker. I bet that’s all gone now, seeing me about to go through a box of tissues a day,” you chuckled weakly, nearly sinking into the cushions.

Steve wasn’t sure what was it he was suddenly overcome with; how or in which exact moment it sneaked into his conscience, a crazy insane thought and the untameable feeling in his gut that nudged him to do it.

To do it right now. To tell you, truly and from the depth of his heart, how much you meant to him. How much he was sure you always would.

“No, it’s not. I want to take care of you,” he whispered, hesitantly taking a hold of your slightly clammy hands and gently squeezing. You reciprocated the action, even if weakly.

“I want to take care of you and I want you to take care of me. I want to have you by my side every day, in our home, in our bed,” he continued, for once not talking only about different ways of making you moan his name when mentioning a bed. “I want to kiss you stupid whenever I get the chance, I want to laugh with you when you’re happy and hold you when you feel like crap. I want us to fight the whole world if they tell us that our love is wrong, because I know there’s nothing more right than me loving you and you loving me.”

The words spilled from his lips without much thinking, just one following other, somehow making sense, he hoped.

The strange buzz of nerves in his ears was so loud that he barely registered you breathed out his name.

“Steve-“

His eyes never left your face, watching it crumble under the weight of his declaration, already glassy eyes turning wetter, breathing ragged almost as much as his was from the rapid fire of words. Your lips parted in beautiful awe, that beautiful awe he had seen before, whenever you seemed to be shocked by how deep his need for you ran.

There was no questioning what should come next. Only half-aware of doing so, Steve had already prepared the ground.

“Stay right here,” he blurted out, giving your hands another quick squeeze before straightening rapidly and nearly tripping over his feet as he rushed towards his desk, opening the third drawer. Your voice, laced with both confusion and overwhelming emotion, followed him.

“I- I’m not going anywhere. What’s-“

“Sh-shh,” Steve hissed distractedly and took a deep breath as his fingers finally met with the box, gripping it tightly and his palm covering it as he stalked back to the bed, heart hammering in his ribcage.

This was the right moment, right? It seemed ridiculous, but god, so so right.

“You’re lucid, right?” he asked just to make sure, wavering only for a bit; you might be sick, even have a headache maybe, but you certainly appeared lucid enough a moment ago. But maybe that would be the reason you’d say no?

Shit, he felt like teenager about to ask his first crush to sit with him at lunch.

“I—I think? I’m just hella confused…“ you stuttered, causing his already wild heart to skip a beat upon hearing the nerves in your voice.

Your eyes, wide with confusion and yet slightly narrow because light hurt, watched Steve carefully as he dropped to his knees by your bedside and he didn’t think he ever saw you looking more endearing.

Steve had never been more certain of the fact that he wanted you to be his wife; and yet, and maybe precisely because of that, a lump formed in his throat. He took a deep calming breath, bracing himself.

“I love you. I love your mind, your body, your soul and everything that’s you and I—I think you’re the most wonderful woman I have ever met and had the luck to fall for. So I…”

With another heartskip, loud pounding in his head and maybe a tiny bit of a shake to his hands, he rose to only one knee, not missing your expression turning into a picture perfect of shock when he held out the box he had been thinking about for too long.

“Oh my god, Steve-“

“Please let me do this,” he whispered, barely audible, mostly because while you seemed absolutely stunned, you didn’t look angry or horrified, so he sensed a chance.

“I’m running a fever, my nose is running too and I’m--- ew all over-“ you protested weakly, a tear actually running down your cheek, but then you chuckled, a hand flying up to cover your mouth and Steve felt his confidence rise.

“You’re not, and even if you were I wouldn’t care. You’re my everything and wish nothing more than to make you mine officially.” Unable to wait any longer under you attentive and entirely adoring gaze, he opened the box and said your full name, nearly choking on it under the overwhelming joy of the moment – because he already knew. He knew what you were gonna say; you had it written all over you face. “Will you marry me?”

Steve knew. He was so sure that he knew--- and yet. Yet. As the silence prolonged, lasting seconds, minutes even – hours, it must have been – Steve felt the nervous coil in his gut twist painfully.

He watched you with torturous anticipation as you were; semi-sat up on a bed, hurting, probably beginning to sweat through your pyjama and drinking chamomile tea to get rid of the bug you had caught from him, and here he was, proposing.

In sickness and health indeed; and in some absurd way, this all made perfect sense to him… well, it had, a minute ago.

You looked like a million thoughts were racing through your head, and Steve felt his heart sink to his stomach. What if you truly were thinking he was crazy-

“Yes,” you said at last and Steve released the breath he was holding, endlessly relieved, the heaviness weighting a ton finally falling from his shoulders. Oh Chirst, thank fuck—he really had been getting worried- “Yes, I-“

Relief blended into delight as he heard you speak the beautiful word again.

Yes. Yes, you wanted to be his wife.

Yes, you wanted to marry him!!

An incredulous chuckle spilled from his lips and he tossed the box on the bed, swiftly moving up and grabbing your face to kiss you stupid as he wanted and had said that he always would.

You made a startled noise, but you giggled too, grasping onto his shoulders and his nape and kissing back with all you got—and then you were pulling away, fighting for breath, because flu, duh, he needed to be careful with you, but-

You agreed to marry him!

Keeping you as close as possible while allowing you to breathe, his eyes happily roamed your face, so pretty and adorable and the knowledge of him being able waking up next to that face for the rest of his life sent his heart into frenzy, sparkles of pure joy filling his chest.

“I love you! Thank you, babygirl,” he exclaimed, kissing you once more, a short but intense encounter of lips that caused you to giggle again—but he didn’t give a shit if he was being ridiculous. Your eyes, even if tired, seemed to glow now, happy twinkles dancing in your irises, telling him you were just as excited and delighted as he was. “Thank you-“

“You’re so crazy-“ you mumbled, dropping a kiss to his shoulder as you still shook with laughter and Steve simply climbed on the bed fully, wrapping you in his arms tightly.

He could sing at how you fit into his arms.

“I am. For you.”

“I can’t believe you proposed to me while I’m lying sick on a bed,” you mumbled over his shoulder, sounding as if you were complaining a little.

“In sickness and health?” he offered nervously, holding you tighter just in case you were going to back out now. Which was not an option.

He had to physically put the ring on your finger. Right now. Then you wouldn’t be able to change your mind.

In the back of his brain, an annoying voice told him that this was not how it worked, that there was no guarantee. But Steve shushed that voice and withdrew only enough to reach for the box and with a grin so wide he could feel his cheeks hurt from the strain, he took a hold of your left hand, slipping the ring on.

He didn’t miss the way your breath caught and he didn’t think the flu was to blame for that; the ring looked lovely on your hand. And Steve was a smidge proud of how he managed to make it fit perfectly.

“Steve… the ring-”

“You don’t like it?” he worried in an instant as he detected a new emotion in your voice.

You went to lightly slap his shoulder, rolling your eyes – an action you apparently regretted by the silent groan that followed; just another reminded of your sickness.

“Shush, you dummy. It’s--- breath-taking, but-“ you bit down on your lower lip, clearly hesitant to speak your mind and Steve didn’t find it at all comforting that you said you did like then ring. Not with the but. You sounded almost guilty, which was… strange. “But must have been so expensive and we still haven’t really-“

Oh. Oh.

Steve felt his lips spread back into a smile.

His sweet, sweet girl, responsible and perfect. He hated the reminder of your father’s behaviour, of the fact that you were ashamed on his behalf and felt guilty.

Steve didn’t want that.

“If I tell you it wasn’t, will you be mad?” he offered, watching carefully for your reaction, and your thoughtful expression turned into a confused one.

“Wasn’t?“

“I just had it cleaned and re-sized.”

You blinked, eyelids heavy, and tilted your head in bewilderment—melting into a brief panic and Steve realized what must have crossed your mind.

His stomach clenched in horror at you even considering it. You might have thought it was meant for another woman from his life.

Which it was, but not the way you thought!

“It was my ma’s!” he blurted out in panic, causing you to flinch a bit in fright of his suddenly louder voice. Steve shook his head – he was so messing this whole proposal thing up – clearing his throat, he observed your face, now full of emotion he couldn’t read. “…is that okay?”

There were tears prickling in your eyes, no words leaving your mouth as he had managed to render you speechless and he could punch himself for making you feel whatever you were feeling.

He had to fix this, fast.

“We can absolutely pick up something else if you don’t like the idea!” he was quick to offer, his heart speeding up when you still didn’t say a word. But you didn’t seem… that mad. What was happening in your head though, that was a mystery to him. “It’s just… she always told me that it was the second most precious thing she had left after dad, right after me, and that she wants me to give it to-- please don’t cry.”

Yes, he made the tears spill. There were a few rolling down your cheeks and Steve… he was starting to recognize the emotions playing in your expression, but he couldn’t entirely put his finger on it.

Honestly, he couldn’t tell whether you were so touched by the whole inherited ring gesture or if you were hating him with your very being for ruining some picture-perfect proposal you had been dreaming about since you were five; angry and disappointed that he didn’t even have the decency to buy you your own ring.

Probably a bit of both.

“Steve, you romantic idiot, come here,” you choked out, by a miracle not coughing for once and before he could even react and let the relief sink in, you grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled hard.

You had a surprisingly a lot of strength for someone coming down with a flu – actually, being down with a flu.

He landed on you, barely catching himself before he could crush you, a surprised laugh spilling from his lips, delight once again lighting up his world.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered, pecking his lips, fingers sinking to his hair and that moment, Steve was in heaven. “So much.”

He grinned wide, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest as tight as he could, feeling both his own heartbeat and yours, tumbling happily and together.

“And I love you… future Mrs. Rogers.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Tied to you (next in timeline)

S.R.masterlist

Attached masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Not gonna lie. Thought of posting this in four parts of maybe at least two (3 and +1), but then I thought, screw it, let’s post 7,7k words at once. I hope you made it through all of them.

What’s coming next? I have no idea... maybe it’s who’s ‘coming’ next 👀

Thank you for reading!

[acesydneysage]

A Sydney and Eddie retrospective

@vablappreciationweek Favorite familial relationship: The Melrose Twins

Part 1, Books 1-3: The Nice, Cute Trilogy Where a Friendship Blooms and Nothing Bad Happens

Part 2

In Bloodlines, Sydney and Eddie are still getting to know each other. Eddie seems to find Sydney's awkwardness endearing, and they have a certain camaraderie as The Responsible Ones. I think the first time he calls her sis is really cute, even if they don't actually think of each other as siblings yet:

I guess I shouldn’t say everything that comes to mind,” I murmured to Eddie. I was used to being direct in social situations, but it occurred to me that simply saying “Yeah, totally!” would’ve probably been the correct response. I’d had few friends my own age and was out of practice. Eddie grinned at me. “I don’t know, sis. You’re pretty entertaining as you are. Keep it up."

There's a lot of cuteness. Eddie insists on teaching Sydney how to throw a puch, to keep his promise to Clarence. And there's this adorable little fist bump too:

I returned to my desk and received an approving fist bump from Eddie. “Nice work. You don’t have to take a real class. Of course, if she’s got you reading Latin, maybe it’ll be worse than a real class.” “I like Latin,” I said with absolute seriousness. “It’s fun.” Eddie shook his head and said in a very, very low voice: “I can’t believe you think we’re the strange ones.”

That last line brings me to the conflict. Even if the power dynamics for it to be oppression aren't there (and Eddie can't exactly claim his society treats humans amazingly well in my opinion), having someone think that you're an evil, unnatural creature cannot be fun. They mostly don't let it get too far because they're both very professional, so what you get is a thoughtless comment from Sydney and answering jab from Eddie.

“Even a dhampir like you should know that.” He smiled ruefully. ‘“Even a dhampir like me?’” I supposed I’d been a little insulting, but it couldn’t be helped. [...] That wry smile returned. “Everything’s black and white with you Alchemists, isn’t it? Do you think you can really stop her from doing anything? You should know better. Even your childhood couldn’t have been that abnormal.” With that slap in the face, Eddie stalked off, leaving me aghast.

The more explicit conflict they have surrounds Jill's dating life, and the taboo of vampire/human relationships, and that's how we get Lee. The mini-golf family outing is very cute, the twins actually talk in sync at one point, Eddie steps up when he thinks Adrian is making Sydney unconfortable, and he claims that the Dracula statue incident is the first time he heard her laugh. But of course it leads to trouble in the form of Jill's escapade with Lee.

When Sydney explodes about feeling like their mom afterwards (I love that speech), Eddie is included for not scaring off Micah. He's honestly regretful about not pulling his weight, even though she says he's not as bad as the others. I think their relationship is pretty smooth from then on. After that talk they seem to understand each other better.

“Spirit users can take antidepressants, can’t they? If he’s worried about it becoming a problem, then he needs to step up and take charge. He has a choice. He’s not helpless. There are no victims here.” Eddie studied me for several seconds. “And I thought I had a harsh view on life.” “You have a harsh life,” I corrected. “But yours is built around the idea that you always have to take care of other people. I was raised to believe that’s necessary sometimes but that everyone still needs to try to take care of themselves.” “And yet here you are.”

The similarities between Sydney and Eddie's worldviews should be taken as a sign that Guardian ideology is about as messed up as Alchemist ideology, to be honest. But other than her hang-ups about vampires she always thought pretty highly of him:

Eddie was the one who finally spoke, his words soothing and kind. He so often gave off the impression of a do-or-die warrior that it was surprising to realize he was actually very compassionate.

Once Adrian tells her about Mason, she has more insight into the tragic past he hides behind his easygoing nature. I'm keeping this the happy post,more on Eddie's tragic past on the next one. By the end of the book, they've spent a more significant amount of time together, and even though Sydney is not great a reading people and Guardians are probably very good at hiding their feelings, she's the one who notices his feelings for Jill, because she's the one who's paying attention to him.

In The Golden Lily, Sydney is already pretty fond of the whole gang (and feeling pretty conflicted about it), and they clearly like her a lot, too. She spends only a weekend away and she already misses all of them. Eddie is so relieved she's back in town to save him from the crazy. There's more talk about their similarities, "Like me, he understood duty", and they continue to have Mom Friend and Dad Friend solidarity:

Jeans, khakis, a few solid colored T-shirts. They were very practical, very much something a no-nonsense guy like Eddie would pick out. I approved. “The size actually looks right. Good eye. We’ll have to send you out shopping more often.” “If that’s what I have to do,” he said, face serious. I couldn’t help but laugh in surprise. “I was joking.” I put the shirts back in the bag. “I know that couldn’t have been fun.” Eddie’s face gave nothing away. “Oh, come on. It’s okay. You don’t have to play stoic with me. I know you didn’t enjoy it.” “I’m here to do a job. Doesn’t matter if I enjoy it or not.” I started to protest but then thought better of it. After all, wasn’t that my philosophy too? Sacrificing my own wants for higher goals? Eddie was intensely dedicated to this mission. He never backed down. I expected nothing less from him than single-minded focus. [...] “Sydney,” he said gently. “You’re the most responsible person I know, but this isn’t what you’re here to do. You don’t have to take care of everything and everyone.” “I don’t mind,” I said automatically. “It is what I’m here for.” But even as I said it, I wondered if that was true. A bit of the anxiety from the bunker returned, making me question if what I did was truly Alchemist responsibility or the desire to help those who—against protocol—had become my friends. “See? Now you sound just like I did earlier.” He stood up and flashed me a grin. “You want to come with me to Adrian’s? Be responsible together?”

Of course by this point Sydney is unconfortable with her image as the hyper responsible one who's all about duty and never has fun. With Sydney encouraging Eddie in his feelings for Jill, and Eddie thinking Sydney going out on a date isn't a bad idea, thoughout TGL they're telling each other that it's okay to have feelings and relax a little, and not be completely focused on duty all of the time. "I'm not gonna do it, but you totally should."

Sydney explicitly thinks of Eddie and the gang as her friends at this point. I don't have anything to say about this, it's just cute banter, I'm gonna claim that it shows that they already have a more relaxed, friendly dynamic:

Eddie and I exchanged glances. So much for avoiding her indiscretions. “Improving how exactly?” I asked. “In combat, in following the dress code, or in keeping her hands to herself?” “Or in turning off caps-lock?” added Eddie. “You noticed that too?” I asked. “Hard not to,” he said.

Eddie just happens to be hanging around her dorm at the time her date comes to pick her up for reasons, very good ones I'm sure (“And I was here to, um…”). He seems to spend a signicant amount of time discussing Sydney's love life with the gang.

Eddie is now more open and vulnerable with Sydney, talking to her about his feelings for Jill and how hard it is to touch her during sparring lessons, and about how unconfortable he is with Angeline's unwanted advences. He sees her as an ally in that area:

“There’s a Halloween Dance?” Eddie dragged himself from his misery to give me a surprised look. “How do you not know? There are signs everywhere.” I stirred around my steamed vegetables. “They must not be anywhere I’ve been.” Eddie gestured with his fork to something behind me. [...] “How can you memorize entire books but miss something like that?” asked Angeline. “Because Sydney’s brain only records ‘useful’ information,” Eddie said with a smile. I didn’t deny it. “Don’t you think Eddie should go?” pushed Angeline. “He needs to watch out for Jill. And if he goes, we might as well go together.” Eddie shot me a desperate look, and I tried to find him a way out of this.

They already know each other better at this point, and what to expect. Also, this little passage just screams SIBLINGS to me:

“You’re going to this one, aren’t you?” asked Eddie. “With Brody?” “Brayden. And I don’t know. We haven’t even had our second date. I don’t want things to move too fast.” “Right,” Eddie said. “Because there’s no bigger sign of commitment than a Halloween dance.” I was about to get him back by suggesting maybe he and Angeline should go together after all when Jill and Micah joined us.

It really pains Sydney to see Eddie hurting, and she feels like his insistance in staying away from Jill and encouraging her relationship with Micah is masochistic. And she talks him up to Jill when she shows interest.

In the end, Eddie goes along with the plan to keep Sydney out of the loop when they raid the Warrior's compound. He has a whisper fight with Adrian where I assume he convinced him to let it go, and he's the one to put a tracking device in Sydney's purse. Sydney considered the whole thing a pretty big betrayal of all of them, her vampire friends and Alchemists alike.

When the raid goes down, Eddie can't get to Sydney, and she motions at him to go without her. According to Adrian, when Eddie came out without Sydney he was "babbling" about how she'd gone out some random door. He was obviously pretty worried about her:

“Sydney!” he exclaimed. He immediately released Angeline’s hand and hurried over to me, astonishing me with a hug. “Thank God you’re okay. I hated having to leave you there. That wasn’t part of the plan. I was supposed to have gotten you out with Sonya.” “Yeah, well, maybe next time, someone can fill me in on the plan,” I said pointedly. Eddie grimaced. “I’m sorry about that. I really am. We just…” “I know, I know. Didn’t think I’d go along with it, were afraid something would go wrong, etc., etc.” “I’m sorry.” I didn’t entirely forgive him, but I was too tired to push the matter much further. “Just tell me this,” I said, lowering my voice. “Were you just holding hands with Angeline?” He blushed, which seemed ludicrous after the fierceness I’d seen him pull off back at the compound.

Sydney still didn't fully forgive any of the Palm Springs gang for this, but it also drove a rift between her and the Alchemists, which helped do away with the conflict she felt about liking them.

On to The Indigo Spell, Eddie's the only person Sydney trusts with her car which is a high honor.

I took my car keys out of my bag and reluctantly handed them over to Eddie. He was the only one I trusted to drive my car, and I always let him borrow it when I left town, in case he needed to run errands for our group. “Here you go. I better get it back in one piece. Do not let Angeline near the driver’s seat.” He grinned. “Do I look suicidal? I probably won’t even use it. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the airport later?”

When Marcus gives sydney a black eye, she feels like Eddie might want to hunt down her assailant, which I feel goes a bit beyond the immediate protection he'd give just anyone who needed it. When Sydney starts going on super secret meetings with rebel alchemists she decides the Eddie is the man to call for protection:

I’d been a little hesitant to let Eddie in on Marcus. Eddie certainly wasn’t going to turn Marcus or me in to the Alchemists for sideline plotting. That being said, I also didn’t want Eddie to think the Alchemists were involved in nefarious schemes against the Moroi. That might very well be something Eddie would relay back to his own people, which could in turn cause all sorts of diplomatic problems. Even this hint of the Alchemists potentially being in contact with the Warriors was dangerous. I decided that having Eddie as protection was worth the risk of him hearing something he shouldn’t. He was my friend, and I trusted him.

When Eddie hears that there might be a connection between the Alchemists and the Warriors, and that the later might be after Jill, he trusts Sydney to find out what's going on and help him keep Jill safe, which is pretty much the most important thing in the world to him:

“It’s all circumstantial,” argued the scientist in me. “Sydney,” said Eddie. I turned to him and saw something in his eyes I’d never expected to see: pleading. He didn’t care about Alchemist conspiracies or Marcus’s Merry Men. What he cared about was Jill, and he’d heard something that made him think she was in danger. That was unacceptable in his world. He would do anything in his power to keep her safe, but even he knew stealing information from the Alchemists was out of his league. It was pretty much out of mine too, but he didn’t know that. He believed in me, and he was silently begging me to help.

So they both really trust each other at this point. It's Eddie's pleading and her own worry for Jill that convince Sydney to take the pretty big risk of stealing Alchemist files.

I had to stop myself from adding a bunch of instances of Eddie blushing that aren'tactually that relevant to their relationship, so I have to agree with Sydney that blushing Eddie is adorable:

Eddie still looked way too serious for this discussion. “Maybe Eddie would volunteer,” I suggested. “I bet guardian posture would be great on the catwalk.” He blushed, which even I had to admit was adorable.

Eddie talks pretty openly to Sydney about his relationship with Angeline throuhgout the book, and then when that implodes spectacularly he agrees to talk to Sydney about it. They meet at a cafe and when the scene starts Sydney claims they had been there for almost an hour. Eddie Castile spent AN HOUR talking about his feelings with Sydney Sage, I just love that. The serious, dedicated Guardian allowing himself to be vulnerable and to be conforted. Then we get this beautiful, beautiful little exchange:

“Thanks for the moral support,” Eddie told me. “Sometimes it feels like you really are a sister—” That was when my car exploded. Sort of.

Interrupted by an exploding car because I can't have nice things. During that conversation Sydney was feeling pretty terrible herself, and she can't talk about her fight with Adrian. But that makes her wish that at least Eddie could be happy even more.

At this point I consider them to absolutely be ACTUAL TWINS, but I'm gonna have to leave the second half of the series, where Sydney and Eddie prove their love for each other in the most painful way possible, for a part 2.

[fletchphoenix]

Tell Me Where It Hurts

Another Varigo one shot that I started ages ago and only just finished!

Have fun!

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

“Tell me where it hurts.” The blond bluntly stated as his nimble fingers glided over the medical supplies beside him, deciding upon removing some cleansing alcohol, a wrap of bandages and some scissors before glancing up at Varian. “C’mon doll, I wanna get to sleep as much as you do.” 

“Right, right..uh..here.” Varian replied, raising the blood-soaked dress shirt he was wearing to reveal a rather large gash across his stomach that, thankfully, stopped bleeding. It didn’t seem too deep, presumably only catching the first few layers of skin, though the amount of blood and the sheer length of the injury made it seem more threatening than it truly was. Hugo, however, still treated it with the utmost care as he dabbed the alcohol across carefully, murmuring an apology each time Varian winced or bit the inside of his cheek.

Few people had seen this compassionate side of Hugo, Varian could even count the amount of times on one hand how many times the blond had actually been nice to him. This time was rather different however, no longer out of necessity was Hugo taking care of him, but to be sure that he was okay. Usually it would be Nuru to act as the team medic, but Hugo had volunteered willingly to treat the injured Varian. Varian couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful either.

Truth be told, he had a very teeny tiny little non important problem - he had a rather large crush on Hugo and didn’t know how to act around the other man sometimes. Varian would catch himself trying to prolong their physical contact on its rare occurrences, such as when exchanging test tubes, he’d carefully place his hand over Hugo’s for a few seconds longer than he should. And, like most times, while his heartbeat would rise and pound like a beating drum in his ear and the tips of said ears went bright red, Hugo would continue nonchalantly as if nothing had happened between the pair. As if Varian wasn’t dying of embarrassment over how badly he’d failed at his attempt of seduction.

“Earth to Goggles. You need to take the shirt off. I can’t reach the wound.” Hugo muttered, hands lingering over the buttons to the shirt and his eyes locking with Varian’s, waiting for his consent. A lump formed in the raven haired man’s throat, though he swallowed it and exchanged a nervous nod with the other, his face reddening as Hugo took his time undoing the buttons and sliding the shirt off before continuing with his care of the wound.

Varian really hadn’t expected Hugo to take so much care about his injuries, the man being as gentle as humanly possible on the other man. Slowly, the blond began to wrap the bandages around the other man’s abdomen and, once done, his hand rose to rest on the scar across Varian’s chest. “How’d you get the other scars?”

The man gulped at the hand on his chest, moving his hand carefully to rest over Hugo’s. “I...well, when I was sixteen, I um..had to fight my friend, Cassandra. I tried to convince her that being a villain wasn’t the way and...well, she hit me with one of the rocks that’s generated from the moonstone. I guess it scarred pretty bad.” he sighed softly, the flush on his face deepening as Hugo leant down, pressing his lips to the scar before moving away.

“What about you, Hugo? What about the uh-eyebrow scar?” He smiled, his eyebow raising as his left hand cupped the blond’s cheek. This time, instead of no reaction, Hugo’s face began to flush and he swallowed, clearing his throat.

“Well, as you know, I’m way too cool for lab safety. When I was, what, fifteen, I was doing an experiment alone and uh...the glass of the beaker exploded and hit me in the eye. I was kinda lucky that I had my glasses, but uh..yeah it still hit my eyebrow and cut it open.” Hugo explained, Varian leaning forward to kiss the scar a few times, his lips ghosting over it when he was done and sighing softly against it.

Varian lowered himself slightly, coming face to face with the blond with a smile on his face and his left hand still resting on the other cheek. “Hey..” He whispered, his arms wrapping around the man’s neck as he leant forward. “How’d you get that scar on your lips?” 

“Mmm...an effect of not being kissed enough. Maybe you can fix that?” He smiled softly, Varian obliging as he shuffled forwards and kissed him, slender fingers intertwining with raven hair as he pulled the smaller man closer to his chest. He shut his eyes, moving his right hand to his hip. They stayed together for a while, the men kissing and enjoying each other’s company before whining from Varian broke the kiss.

“Ow, ow, ow-” Varian whimpered as pressure was put onto his wound, Hugo moving away to lock eyes with the other man, a pained smile on his face. “Sorry I ruined the mood. You pushed against my scar.” He explained, Hugo simply shrugging as he laid back on the makeshift bed he’d set up. “Can I join you?” Varian questioned nervously, a soft smile appearing on his lips as Hugo nodded in confirmation.

“You’re beautiful, y’know that right?” Hugo thought out loud, a hand absentmindedly trailing through Varian’s hair as he rambled, Varian silently cuddling closer to Hugo and resting his head on his chest. Well, a lot had changed between them in the past few minutes, but the compliment still caught him off guard. “You’re so beautiful it takes my breath away whenever I see you because I just can’t believe it.”

“Oh, be quiet, you.” He sighed softly, his hand resting on the blond’s chest and his eyes shutting while the other twirled his hair around his index finger, soft breaths passing through his lips as he continued his rambling about the beauty of the man in front of him. Eventually, the pair drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

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

She couldn’t find Varian anywhere and, at this point, it was worrying.

Nuru searched around the camp, dew dampening her feet and the chill of the spring air hitting her arms, her sleeves doing nothing to help protect herself from the environment. Frustrated groans formed in her throat as she kept searching around for the raven haired boy. She really needed to talk to him about the next trial, finally figuring out what the cryptic writing in his mother’s journal meant in regard to solving the trial, though he wasn’t in his tent.

She went through her options mentally. Varian didn’t seem like the kind of guy to just run away and leave them, his stuff still there and him being the one to originally start seeking out the trials. He wouldn’t have gone to town or anything without telling the others at least four thousand times to make sure they knew where he was going. That was when it hit her. Her eyes moved to glance over at the emerald tent on the far end of their campsite - the one that belonged to her favourite, insufferable blond. Hugo.

Mustering up her courage, she strolled over to the tent, her arm reaching out to push the flaps of the entrance aside. There, the two men lay in each other’s arms, snoring and holding onto each other loosely. A sigh passed through her lips as she closed the flaps and retreated from the entrance. She could tell him later - for now she’d let him indulge himself in the company of the blond.

They were kinda cute together, to her surprise. 

Quietly, she brought out her little photo of Amber that resided in her pocket, a flush covering her cheeks before raising the photo and placing a kiss against it. Only a bit longer and she’d be finished with this and they could be together. 

Only a bit longer.