#Knowing very well there's plenty of danger in the Tower already

[onaperduamedee]

I've just realized that Martine Janata aka Setalle Anan burnt out in 973NE. Siuan and Moiraine became novices in 972NE

THEY PROBABLY KNEW SETALLE

Also Seonid was raised to the shawl in 971NE

When blorbos meet, it's the best feeling

[rewrittenwrongs]

Having thoughts about the League of Assassins. It’s pretty common among them to form hierchy/ranking around who’s a better fighter and who beat/killed who. I can’t remember if it’s canon but I like the idea that to prove your teacher has taught you all they have to teach you must kill them (not sure how that applies to history/math/whatever but. Moving on.) Working off of that idea, a lot of assassins in the organisation would already respect Tim for causing the death/defeat of the Council of Spiders; assassins that are so skilled they kill other assassins for fun. Him then TRICKING RA’S AL GHUL AND BLOWING UP (almost??) ALL OF HIS BASES, AND THEN OUTSMARTING HIM AGAIN WHEN HE TRIES TO DESTROY EVERYTHING BATMAN HAS BUILT, I feel like it’s reasonable to assume a lot of them would’ve decided Tim is the bigger threat or at least proved himself very formidable and a large threat. I imagine a lot of them would’ve sought him out in Gotham and pledged loyalty to him (kind of like Minions seeking out the evilest leader thanks for that thought brain), maybe doing full on traditional rituals to prove the transferring of their loyalty, like blood oaths or ritual spars idk, maybe giving him gifts or displaying their skills so he accepts them as allies rather than being disrespected and killing or maiming them since that’s the standard they expect in the League.

And Tim is uh. Very confused. Very surprised. And also trying hard not to show it. He accepts all the gifts and pledges and shit, because he sure as fuck ain’t gonna turn them back to Ra’s, but after that he doesn’t really know what to do with them. He hires a bunch of them at Wayne Enterprise and Drake Industries, tasks a bunch of them with working for Red Hood on the down low, maybe sends a couple on undercover missions to Arkham Asylum so they start treating inmates as actual human beings and stop using shock therapy or something, and makes sure to write them all up fair contracts and great pay with good work bonuses and plenty of leave, and makes sure most or all of them start going to therapy. The assassins love their new leader and would do practically anything for him.

But anyway, all that aside. I’ve had those thoughts in my head for more than a month. Something that just recently occurred to me is Mara al Ghul. Damian’s cousin. Another child raised by the League of Assassins, only this one never left.

Until, that is, she watches this freshly-immunocompromised vigilante arguably outsmart her grandfather twice, and decides he is the bigger threat, actually, I want to be on his good side when he takes over the world.

So now Tim is being forced into basically adopting this feral child, who’s only experience in American society was undercover missions to kill people, who thinks decapitated heads are reasonable gifts, who’s introduction to Tim was something batshit insane like dumping the Joker’s head in his lap because the Joker is Gotham’s most dangerous rogue and of course Tim will appreciate having him gone. But even with a well crafted facade she can tell Tim is unnerved and horrified, so she must be doing something wrong. Maybe it was because the Joker is Batman’s enemy and not Tim’s specifically? But Tim doesn’t have any arch nemesis aside from maybe Ra’s who she obviously can’t kill, so she does more research into Tim’s life and background and finds out Captain Boomerang killed his father so next she brings Tim HIS head and she can already tell he’s much more pleased this time. But there’s still that edge of unsettlement and wariness, and he’s acting so strange around her, so she digs deeper and finds out about the Titans Tower incident but Tim sent all these other assassins to work for red hood so they must be on good terms, and then she finds out about all the bad blood between him and Damian and Dick so she starts trying to kill them next, starting with Damian obviously (a mix of jealousy over him leaving the league and a good amount of cousin rivalry/cain instinct), but Tim stops the fight and tells her to stand down and now she’s scared that he’s going to punish her and Ra’s’ punishments were always so harsh and perhaps this time she can’t quite fight down the urge to hide.

Meanwhile, Tim is being dragged through a parent arc kicking and screaming, the bats are wondering why the hell there are suddenly so many assassins only after they scare off Ra’s, Jason is more or less vibing because he thinks the assassins are from Talia and the Joker’s dead so of course he’s ecstatic (even tho he wishes he knew who did it so he can thank them), Dick and Damian are still reeling from learning Bruce is alive/getting him back from the time stream when all of a sudden this masked child comes out of nowhere mid patrol and attacks Damian, and isn’t backing down even though Dick arrived quickly but when Red Robin arrives and yells stop she’s already three rooftops away by the time he’s done speaking. Everyone is tired and doesn’t know what the hell is going on except mayybe Oracle.

[zerokurokawa]

Daughter From Another Lifetime, Part Two (Bonten!Rindou x Reader)

(part one)

After the conversation with his you, the mother of his child, Rindou did everything he could to make up seventeen years worth of lost time with his daughter. He picked her up from school in his nice car, took her out to eat, took her shopping, and even taught her how to drive like a father should. Other than spending time with d/n, he had other things on his agenda was well. 

He couldn't help but to notice how great you looked to be in your early thirties. Both of you looked amazing. You, with your e/c, h/c and h/l, and overall beautiful physique, were as stunning as the day he had met you. Truth be told, he had never fallen out of love with you and thought of you often. He craved you, needed, and wanted you. Hell, he even thought to himself about having a second child with you if it wasn't too late. He enjoyed being a father after all. 

One night, after taking d/n out to eat, he brought her home on time as promised. You and Rindou had a set schedule when it came to your daughter. He would pick her up from school, take her out on certain days, and drop her back off at home before or at nine. Only this time, Rindou had invited himself inside to talk more. 

As d/n went to her room, he sat himself at the counter once more, making himself at home in your humble apartment. 

"I think I should buy you a house." He stated, out of the blue. 

"I don't need your help with that, I've got plenty in savings and we're doing just fine here." You sounded cold. 

"It would be my gift to you, y/n... I want you to live comfortably and never have to work again." He said, taking a sip of the wine you had poured him. He was still wearing his suit, which was neatly pressed, from work. His lilac and purple hair cascaded down his shoulders as he watched you intently. 

"You would really go that far, huh?" You were leaning against the counter now, cleavage out. He was obviously trying not to stare, but what could a man do? He wanted you, badly. He wanted you back so bad that he even told his brother about your return and the fact that he was a father. Needless to say, Ran was surprised that he was an uncle and couldn't wait to meet his niece. 

"Yeah, I would. I would do anything for you both." He said, leaning in across the counter and propping his arms on the edge. He wanted to get closer to you, but the damn counter was in the way as you were standing opposite of him. You stayed silent while he spoke up again. 

"I want you both to live happily, without worry. I've kept my promise by putting her first. I've been leaving work early and picking her up. I've spent time with her. I've gotten to know her likes and dislikes and she's just like me!" He rambled, a wide grin creeping upon his face. He was trying to win you back. 

"I'm glad, Rindou." You smiled at the thought of your daughter finally having her father in her life. You had seen how happy it made d/n to be around her dad. She even came home one day and told you all about the awesome shopping trip he took her on and how she got everything she ever dreamed of, including the newest iPhone. 

"So why don't you give me a chance to prove myself even further?" He smiled, taking his hand and placing on top of yours. He got up from the counter and walked around to where you were standing. He towered over you, his eyes gazing into yours. 

"What do you mean?" You asked, tilting your head to the side. You wanted him, but not all that he came with. You knew he was in a very illegal, dangerous line of work and you didn't want that to affect your relationship any further than it already has. You caught yourself thinking about the Tenjiku days and how often Rindou would come home with wads of money from seemingly nowhere. That's when you knew he was up to no good. 

"I mean... me and you. Let's give us another chance." He started to wrap his arm around your waist. You let him, for a split moment, as you were lost in his gaze. The next thing you knew, you two were inches apart and he was leaning in further. Right when he was about to kiss you, or so you thought, he tilted his head while brushing back a piece of hair behind your ear. 

"I think... we can make it work this time." He whispered gently into your ear, his breath grazing your skin, causing you to shiver. You stayed silent; lost in a daze of confusion and thoughts as he leaned back, arm still wrapped around your waist. 

"I need time to think about this, Rin..." You trailed off. You wanted him, badly. You were scared though. You were terrified of numerous things. What if he brings work home and someone comes after you and your daughter? What if he gets caught and gets sentenced to prison? What if... he gets killed? 

He backed away, trying not to upset you. He could see the look on your face. As he turned to leave, he asked one more question. 

"Promise me, you'll think about it?" 

You nodded your head in response, still in a daze of thinking. He left without a single word. 

(Tagging: @rukiasluver @merrymerrykiss @burndownyourparade) <333 <333 <333

[enweasley]

Restricted Section ; Finn Weasley x Sallow!Reader

AN: HII! So I haven't seen this being done much (or even at all but I barely looked) where people would write fanfics of their own characters in Hogwarts Legacy, so I decided to do so! Quick introduction to the character:

This is Finn Weasley; He's in Gryffindor and has a very loyal but mischievous personality. He's also pansexual! He LOVES herbology but he loves solving mysteries and exploring secrets even more - even if it's super dangerous. However, he will go to any extent to keep others out of danger (ironically). Finn can be really harsh to people if someone hurts him or the people he cares about. He's not perfect, though, he has some flaws. He does have a short temper and can say pretty horrible things without meaning to. He can also be quite reckless and finds it hard to accept other people's love and care, leading him to forget to keep himself from getting hurt.

That's all for now, but I'll probably add more to his story as time goes by!

(Please excuse any grammar mistakes, I'm trilingual and grammar from 3 languages can mix me up a lot C:)

--

Summary: The new student needs your help sneaking into the restricted section for something 'very important'. However, he doesn't expect you to cover for him when you get caught.

Warnings: Swearing, small panic attack, gets a little heated at the end. Kinda cheesy but we love that :)

Reader's gender is never specified!

--

"Excuse me! Y/n Sallow, right?" Interrupted from your game of wizard's chess alone, you turn around to be met with a pretty tall red-head. You couldn't help but think about how gorgeous he is, but you swallow your excitement.

"Yeah, that's me. You're the new kid aren't you?" You disenchant your chess game and give him your full attention. "I watched your duel with Sebastian in the Clock Tower, you're really good!"

Finn seems to flush at your compliment. During his short time starting in 5th year here in Hogwarts he's gotten plenty compliments on how he's been able to learn and execute spells so quickly, but for some reason your compliment had a special affect on him.

He chuckles lightly. "Thank you, I'm just trying to catch up quickly." He couldn't seem to keep his eyes from wandering over your features. "It's Finn, by the way. Finn Weasley."

"Oh, another Weasley! Well it's lovely to meet you! Did you need anything?" You ask politely.

Finn almost forgot why he was talking to you in the first place, but managed to remember before already humiliating himself in front of you. "Right, yes. This may sound quite forward, but Sebastian told me you're really good at sneaking around. Is there a chance you can help me sneak into the restricted section of the library tonight? I can't say why, but it's very important."

You were a bit surprised at his request, but kind of prideful that you were the first person he was led to for it. You smiled widely. "Of course! I'm surprised my brother didn't take you himself. Meet me at the grand staircase at 9. Don't be late!"

"Wait- Don't you wanna know more about why I need to sneak in?" He asked perplexed.

"Nope. I'll take any opportunity for sneaking around. Either way, you don't seem the type to burn down the castle or anything. Plus, you said you can't say why you need to sneak in."

He mentally facepalmed himself. How could he forget he just said that? Maybe he just wanted to talk to you longer. "I'll see you at 9!" You smile at him and walk away.

You take a long breath after turning away from him. Holy shit he's cute.

-

You're both crouched at the railing of the stairs looking down onto the central hall at exactly 9pm, analysing the prefects walking around and guarding the doors of the library.

"Okay," you whisper. "First of all, we need to go invisible. Have you learnt the disillusionment spell?"

Finn looks at you like a lost puppy, his head slightly titled. You almost had to tell him how cute he looked, but held back.

You pull your wand out and whisp it over your head and body. The wand leaves a blue trail of light before all there was left was your aura.

You continue whispering to the lost boy in front of you. "This is the disillusionment spell. It doesn't turn you completely invisible but it's better than being completely exposed."

You point to his hand holding his wand. "May I?" He nods hesitantly.

You slowly hold his fist clenching onto his wand and do the same movement you did on yourself over him. Finn could barely focus, the feeling of your soft hand on his summoning an army of butterflies in his stomach. You couldn't help but feel the same tingle in your stomach too.

Clearing your throat, you speak. "That's the movement for the spell. Just think of it and do the movement."

He did as you said, and suddenly you were both just two ghosts staring at each other's remains.

Finn chuckles enthusiastically. "This is awesome!" He whisper yells.

You laugh at his excitement, wishing you could see his freckled face through the spell.

"Okay, let's go. Stick close to me." You begin to sneak down the stairs, through the hall, and quickly side past the prefect turned away from the library door. You can feel Finn following closely behind.

After you both get into a safer corner of the library away from Madam Agnes's sights, you remove the spell off you.

"Here's the plan," you start. "You go get the key from Madam Agnes's desk draw over there, I'll distract her."

Finn nods. As you start to turn away, Finn grabs your arm gently and looks at you with his adorable puppy eyes.

"What if you get caught?" He sounds worried. You can't tell why he'd be worried about you, though.

You give him a cheeky smile. "Me? Get caught? You should worry about yourself, Weasley." He chuckles, shooing away the blush creeping into his cheeks after hearing you call him by his surname. "C'mon, let's go."

As you throw a book across the room, Finn conceals himself and scurries to grab the key. You quickly do the same and meet him at the entrance of the restricted section.

Exposing yourselves from the spell, you watch him unlock the gate before you walk in.

"YES!" Finn cheers, surprising you both with a tight hug. There's a pause before he realises what he's doing and slowly pulls away, taking his warmth away with him. "Sorry... Got excited."

You laugh sweetly at him. "I don't mind." He continues walking down the stairs of the forbidden room, but not before shooting you a relieved smirk.

"Lumos." You cast, making the eery room brighter and less intimidating.

As you squeeze between abandoned bookshelves and over piles of junk, you reach a collapsed set of armour. "Repai-" Finn begins to cast before a loud screech interrupts him.

Almost out of thin air, Peeves flies through the wall in front of you. He almost knocks you down, but Finn's quick reflexes catch you before you hit the ground. You find yourself wrapped in his arms, yours tightly around his neck.

"Shit, are you okay?" Finn asks you breathlessly, his worried eyes glaring into yours.

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine-" But once again you were interrupted by the same squeaky, loud voice of the poltergeist.

"I'M TELLING, I'M TELLING," Peeves squeals mockingly before flying straight upwards towards the main floor of the library.

Your heart squeezes into itself. You've never been caught before, why now? Your uncle is going to kill you if he finds out you were sneaking around the castle, and in the restricted section of all places.

You didn't realise your breath was quickening until you felt arms lowering you onto the floor and rough but warm hands palming each side of your neck.

"Hey, hey. You're alright, sweetheart. Take a breath." You hear Finn's soft voice whisper in your ear. A little voice was in your head screaming How do you expect me to breathe when you're making my heart beat even faster??

You breathe deeply before letting out a small chuckle. "I'm okay. I'm fine. Just go get whatever you need to get. I need to deal with Peeves before he gets us both in trouble."

Finn looks at you as if asking you if you're sure. You just nod and sprint after Peeves, the last thing you hear is a distant "Repairo" before making it back to the library.

"PEEVES YOU STUPID POLTERGEIST." You try catching him, forgetting he's a literal ghost as your arms flail right through him.

"Y/n Sallow." You jump at the voice of Madam Agnes behind you. You slowly turn around while Peeves chuckles menacingly at your head hung low in shame. "And to think I'd get a break from the Sallow siblings, you come running along. Wait until your uncle hears about this."

"No. No no no-" You get interrupted by her. "That's enough. You're a bright student, you should know better than to go sneaking around the restricted section especially after curfew."

"But Madam Agnes-"

"And Peeves here tells me you were with someone else." Peeves twirls and rolls around mid-air, celebrating your punishment. "Please tell me you were forced to come here by someone's hand instead of it being your own choice."

There's a pause. You could never snitch on Finn like that. You only just met him but you know better than to put his record at risk on his first week of school here. This was your own choice anyway, you weren't forced. Finn helped you down there, so you're gonna help him.

"No. I came here all alone." You said in a low but stern voice.

Madam Agnes sighs at your lie, but she knew how stubborn you and your brother were, so she let it slide.

"Detention after classes tomorrow. You're going to sort the books to their respective places until they're all done. It doesn't matter if it takes you all night." Your shoulders slump. "Peeves, escort her to her common room, please."

With a sigh from you and an evil chuckle from the poltergeist, you begin your walk to your common room. At least Finn's in the clear now.

Little did you know, Finn saw the whole thing from behind one of the shelves. He couldn't help but let a grateful smile reach his lips.

--

The next day, Finn runs to the library to find you after his classes. It's already dark out by the time he finishes his extra tasks and from talking to Professor Fig. He doesn't know why he's in such a hurry, but he won't let his confidence escape him just yet.

Once he's in, he find the library to be completely empty, not even Madam Agnes in sight. He hears distant curses and shuffling coming from the second floor and he can only assume the source being your complaining.

As he follows the sounds of frustrated mumbles, he finally finds you at the end of the second floor in a dark corner holding a bunch of books to shelf up. He smiles at the sight of you awkwardly balancing everything in your one hand and walks over to you, taking a pile of books from you.

"Need help there?" He looks at you with a teasing smirk.

You look at him with a grumpy face. "Oh haha, Weasley. I can handle this on my own, thank you very much." You snatch back the books he took from you, instant regret flooding your features as you immediately struggle to balance them.

Finn immediately takes them back from you and effortlessly holds them over his head, extending his arm upwards far from your reach.

"Hey- Hand those back, Weasley." You try hopping to reach the books he so graciously stole from you.

He chuckles at your efforts while you claw up his chest and shoulders, trying to tug down his arm. After a harsh tug, Finn loses balance of the books he's holding and he tries catching them but ends up stumbling forwards.

The books fall to the side as Finn catches himself on the bookshelf, trapping you between it and himself.

You lock eyes with him, your hands clutched tightly onto the thin material of his shirt over his chest. You're both breathing heavily, chests almost touching with every breath.

You can feel Finn hesitate as his hands slowly reach to cup the back of your neck, his thumb over your cheek. No matter how much you willed yourself to, your simply could not take your eyes off him.

"Thank you." He whispers. Your eyebrows furrow.

"For what?"

"For covering for me." His stare snapping between your eyes and lips. "I heard you in the library after we got caught."

"You mean after I caught got?" You tease.

Finn smirks at your remark, his hold on your neck squeezing for a second. "Whatever you say, sweetheart." The nickname melts into your ears and into the rushed beats of your heart.

"Hey, Finn?" The use of his first name makes the blood rush to his cheeks, his breath hitches.

"Yeah?"

"You dropped my books."

"Shut up." Finn lets out in a desperate breath before pulling you into him, his lips roughly but passionately meeting yours.

His other hand shifts from the side of your head to tangle into your hair, tugging it lightly. You let out a little whimper, but that's all it took for Finn to deepen the kiss even more, his tongue slightly grazing yours. Breaths were escaping through your noses, desperate for air but never desperate enough to separate from each other.

Your fingers weave through his long, soft ginger locks. Your other hand clutches desperately onto the collar of his shirt.

You both finally pull away from each other, your hands gliding down to rest on his chest.

"Fuck." Finn leans his forehead on yours, leaning in for another quick peck. His hazel eyes are glazed over, looking into yours like they hold the world. He slowly brushes a strand of your hair behind your hair, memorising your face as you memorise his.

"I was hoping you'd do that." You chuckle breathlessly. Finn laughs with you, his eyes holding nothing but love as they stare into yours. "Oh yeah?" You nod, your nose lightly touching his.

"Now help me with these books, Weasley. You're still responsible for my detention." You playfully push him away and start picking up the books he previously dropped.

"And I'd do it again as long as it ends like this every time." He smiles at you cheekily.

"Do it again and I'm telling Sebastian you used a love potion on me."

And with that he got to work helping you sort the books out.

[self-indulgent-paw-patrol]

Hey, where do you think Ryder's parents are? It's been confirmed (though I can't remember where, it was on some kind of social media) that Ryder's parents are around somewhere, but where??? Do you think they approved of him leading a team of rescue pups? I wonder how they react when they hear news about rescues, especially the really dangerous ones. I mean, he's been inside an active volcano (Ultimate Rescue: Pups Save the Tigers) trapped in the Lookout as it was rocketed towards outer space (Mighty Pups tv movie) inside a poorly built and unstable skyscraper during a crazy storm that ultimately collapsed with him still inside (PAW Patrol: The Movie) nearly crushed by a meteor AND a firetruck in the same week (PAW Patrol: The Mighty Movie) dealt with multiple super powered evil doers that threatened the well being of the whole town on SEVERAL occasions (every Mighty Pups episode) and faced off against a fellow kid genius that wanted to and was capable of leveling the whole town and teleporting everyone to the moon in order to turn it into her own city (All Paws On Deck) just to name a few, imagine hearing on the news that your kid went on a life-threatening rescue mission and it's not even the first time and you know it won't be the last, that must be terrifying. You know, Adventure Bay's local news must be crazy. Hold on, in those rescues where all of Adventure Bay was in danger that means Ryder's parents were also at risk, unless they don't live in Adventure Bay which is VERY unlikely, I wonder how Ryder felt about that, must've been scary for him.

Look, ONE THING I CAN SAY FOR SURE. Wherever Ryder's parents are, they SURE AS HELL ARE NOT IN ADVENTURE BAY.

They very probably approved of him becoming a Rescue Team leader, which makes me believe they might be rescuers themselves! This boy couldn't have learned all his rescue knowledge AND everything else he knows on his own without having firsthand experience with at least one thing while studying the others. His parents must be either into vehicle engineering, building engineering or rescues, he's learned one thing by osmosis and the other he had as a hobby until he decided to put the two together and get to work.

But as much as they might have approved of that, I really doubt they live in Adventure Bay or even in Adventure City for that matter.

Guess who wrote a long post again LMAO but you did give me PLENTY fuel for that, SOOOOOO XDDD

First of all, there's exactly this problem of being worried about someone when they put themselves in dangerous situations and it's increased tenfold if it's someone who's closely related to you. For Ryder to be able to work the way he does, he literally can NOT do it anywhere close to his family - he would get worried about them and it would make him possibly lose focus. He already has to worry and care for all his pups, which is a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. If ANYTHING happens to any of the pups, it'll be ON HIS ACCOUNT: He's the one directing them, instructing them on what to do, training them, sending them out in missions and dangerous rescues. He's already responsible for their safety and lives as it is, he can't afford worrying about his family too.

And then there's the other side of it: His family would ALSO worry about him, just like you said! He's literally ten years old in the show. He's not even a teenager yet! If his family would be anywhere nearby, be it his parents or any other relatives, they would be worried ALL THE TIME. Ryder has gone into extremely dangerous situations several times, he has risked his own life for his pups and/or for people he's been rescuing a few times as well, both movies being EXCELLENT examples for this. You cannot look me in the eye and say his parents or relatives wouldn't worry WORSE than Chase did in the first movie when he saw Humdinger's tower collapsing, knowing Ryder was in there. Now imagine watching the news and finding out last night's meteor shower freaking blew up the very headquarters tower your son was using AT THAT EXACT MOMENT to watch said meteor shower.

Now add the fact that, knowing he works with rescues, if something dangerous IS happening, they CANNOT try to contact him just to know if he's okay or not- because if he's okay, he can't afford stopping to answer them as he WILL BE WORKING. They can't reach for him to not make his line busy in case someone needs to call him for help, and to not distract him from his job. Any distractions could cost them Ryder's life, or maybe one of the pup's lives. Ryder has his pups as part of his family, so to lose one of them would be just as devastating for him and for nearly every resident in Adventure Bay.

My best guess, it's just that. Wherever they are, Ryder's parents are NOT in Adventure Bay, NOT in Adventure City and NOT in Foggy Bottom. They're probably States away, or whatever to name a longer distance. Maybe they're somewhere from USA East Coast even, who knows.

Ryder probably chose Adventure Bay to live and start the Paw Patrol exactly for these reasons: Very far away place, small town where he could start easy. Slowly and steadily, he's been expanding the Patrol over to other locations and becoming famous enough to be called for action in other countries/kingdoms too.

Back home he's learned firsthand a lot of several different specialties for rescue jobs so he could teach his future team, or at least give them a start, so they could study further on their own afterwards. And living far, they can keep in touch occasionally whenever they're not at work, and they can't interfere with his job.

If I lived close to my 10 years old son who works rescuing people with the help of a bunch of dogs and I would hear he's going off into extremely dangerous situations, no matter how much I say I'd trust those dogs with my life (because I am nearly 30 and not ashamed to say I really would), my mother instinct would scream louder than reason and I'd physically hold him back and yell at him to think about his own safety for fucking once in his life too.

It's better they're VERY FAR. For their own sake, for Ryder's sake and for the pups' sake too.

Now with that being said, someone please write a fanfic where Ryder and the Paw Patrol get called for a big search & rescue work in the very city where Ryder's parents are living, after some kind of disaster hit it. Yes, I'm throwing gasoline on the wildfire here, go wild. That would be an interesting topic to explore and write about.

[starksvinyls]

Title: Stranger Danger Rating: Teen+ Pairing: Peter Parker & Tony Stark Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Non-Sexual Age Play, Platonic Age Play, Mild Anxiety Summary: There's a man Peter doesn't know in the Compound. Notes: for @ageplay-may and the Spice prompt for day 15: "stranger danger". also a part of the little spider verse!! AO3 Link

Peter loved the compound. Tony had made sure that Peter had an additional room here for a regular bedroom and his play room, just like back at the tower, so he could be big or little while there. Everyone was fine with Peter aging down if he needed or wanted to, in fact it was almost expected that he would, especially when everyone was together and there were so many Dominant types around. There was plenty of space for Peter to run around outside, something he could only do in the city if they went to the park, and he got to use his abilities here! Unlike at the park, he could sticky climb the trees and the side of the buildings and he could do as many no-handed flips as he wanted without raising suspicions. 

The best part of the compound, though, was the movie room! There was a giant screen and rows of ultra comfy recliners, like a mini movie theater! Peter loved watching Star Wars or the The Lego Movies in there. There was even a fancy old timey popcorn machine! 

Peter decided he wanted to watch something now, so he abandoned his Lego creation on the floor of his playroom and rushed from the room to go find Tony. As he was coming up on the main common room, Peter could hear his Daddy talking to someone, but Peter didn’t recognize the other voice. Before he’d even fully registered that someone he didn’t know was in the compound, Peter called out. 

“Daddy! Daddy, can I watch-“ He froze in the doorway when he saw his Daddy and Steve talking to another man. 

He was older, his hair gray, and his dark suit was slightly wrinkled. When he caught sight of Peter, a slimy smirk spread across his face. 

“Well, who’s this?” The man took a step to the side, in an attempt to go around Tony. 

Peter scooted closer to Steve, who was positioned between him and the man. Steve reached a hand back, and Peter gratefully took it, moving to hide half his body behind the Captain. The man was setting off his Spidey sense, and his tummy was rolling with nerves. 

“That’s none of your business, Ross. Now, if you’d like to do an inspection of the Avengers training facility, you will have to make an appointment just like everyone else.” 

Ross turned to look at Tony, a sneer replacing the smirk. “Why? So you have time to hide things,” He turned back towards Peter. “Or maybe not things, hmm?” 

“You touch him, and you’ll regret it.” Tony warned. 

“My, my. Threatening an elected official, Stark?” 

“I did no such thing, merely giving you ample warning.” 

“Why don’t I show you around, Secretary?” Steve cut in. “Since you’re already here.”

“Very well.” Secretary Ross straightened his suit jacket and then turned to follow Steve when the Captain passed him. He didn’t bother with any parting words towards Tony. 

Tony quickly moved over to Peter once the other two were gone, and wrapped him up in a hug. “I’m sorry, bud. He just showed up, I didn’t have time to warn you.” 

“Who was that?” Peter took the opportunity to cling into Daddy. “He made my Spidey sense go all crazy.”  

“That was Secretary Ross, the one who was trying to push forward the Accords.” Tony explained. 

“You mean the one that almost tore everybody apart?” 

“Yeah, bud, that guy.” Tony pressed a kiss to the side of Peter’s head. “But don’t worry, all of that was taken care of, remember?” A nod. “Now, what were you coming to ask?” 

“Oh!” Peter pulled back and began bouncing on his toes, his smile returning. “Can I watch Batman Lego, please?” 

“Yeah, bud. C’mon, I’ll make popcorn.” 

[maddieautobot273]

Silk & Cologne (12)

A Miguel O’Hara x OC series - Link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 12 - Danger

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Female OC

Words: 3.2K+ words

Warnings: PG for some threats non-verbally spoken

Summary: Now it’s Lisa’s turn to deny her feelings, while Miguel and Peter B. realize Oscorp might go after her again

//////

Within a matter of minutes we arrived at the docks and one quick ferry ride later, we arrived at the small island where standing proudly, towering over us, the Statue of Liberty watched over the city. I had never seen it up close before, and it was pretty cool to look at. I had hoped to save this moment with my mom when she came to visit, but I suppose now was as good a time as any.

Toya and Touga seemed to stare at it in awe, both muttering to themselves in Japanese as they took some quick pictures on their phones as we walked.

“There’s the stage!” Hannah spoke up, freeing us all from our trance on Lady Liberty as we found the mounted structure.

It was a fairly large stage. There was enough room for a DJ set up and plenty of space for dancing. We’d have a lot of room to work with. “I’m already predicted a pretty intense routine here,”

“Right? Look at all this space,” Hannah beamed. “Now keeping in mind they might add in strobe lights and pyrotechnics, but still, we’ve got a lot of space,”

“So how do we wanna go about this?” I looked at my group members, eager to hear out their ideas.

“I can measure up the stage and figure out placements for the routine,” Hannah smiled.

“Toya and I will research METRO’S albums so we can get a feel of his music and figure out what moves will fit,” Touga had an eager grin on his face as he was already searching away on spotify.

Kasey crossed her arms, a proud smirk on her face. “Well, I took the initiative and messaged METRO directly,”

“NANI?!” The twins gawked at her in surprise. - WHAT?!

“You really think he’ll respond?” Hannah asked curiously.

He was quite a famous musician. I didn’t know too much about him, but I knew he was very successful, and with all that, understandably very busy.

“Well, until we hear a response, why don’t we follow Touga’s idea and listen to METRO’s music to figure out what kind of routine we’ll do?” I suggested. “It will help give us an idea of what his new song might be like,”

We all agreed, and after finding the security guards and explaining the situation, they agreed to let us practice for a while before the park would close. I felt the sea breeze blow through my hair as I stood on the stage, looking out into the harbor as I took in the view of the city. It was pretty nice to look at. I couldn’t imagine what the view would be like while swinging through the city. If only.

We did some warm ups before Touga played various songs from his latest album. He was the most familiar with METRO’s work out of all of us and walked us through the motions, showing and teaching us different movesets. He was a pretty good teacher. Turns out during his off time he’d teach dance classes for young kids back in Tokyo.

Until METRO’s new song came out or if he’d be willing to send us an early copy to practice with, this was the best we could manage for now.

We practiced for just over an hour or so before the security guard informed us that the park would be closing soon to start preparations for the festival. We gathered our belongings and as we were packing up, I felt my Gizmo vibrate as I looked over to see a new message from Gwen.

“How did your first day go? Tell me all about it so we can hang!” - Gwen

“Just packing up for the day. Meet up at my apartment in a little bit?” - Lisa

“Sounds good! We’ll bring the food!” - Gwen

We? Who’s we? I raised a brow at the message as Kasey and the others waved at me, calling me over.

“You better not throw a party while I’m there, my apartment is nowhere near ready for that,” - Lisa

“Bummer, I guess I’ll call off the discoball and strobelights lol ;)” - Gwen

I snickered softly at the message before lowering my wrist from my face as I met up with the others and we walked back to the ferry. After the productive day I had, I could totally go down for some good eats and hang out with my other group of friends.

//////

Miguel’s P.O.V.

It had been a grueling few hours of analyzing security footage, questioning other Spiders, and taking extra precautions to reset all the passwords that kept their spare day passes and gizmos locked in the vault for safe keeping. If there really was a mole in the society like Miguel and Peter B. theorized, they were making it incredibly hard to find them.

Miguel knew that the traitor had slipped the Oscorp guards the extra day passes, that much was certain. What concerned him was how they did it and for how long this little stunt of theirs had been going on. If they caused any trouble, the balance of the Multiverse was at risk.

Peter B. summoned himself into Miguel’s lab, arriving through a portal he fashioned from his Gizmo. “Just got back from talking with Peter in Earth-1997. He hasn’t noticed any activity with the collider since Doc Ock’s attack,”

“Nothing?” Miguel asked with a skeptical raise of his brow. “No chatter?”

“All quiet. The Harry Osborn of that dimension appears to be keeping a tight leash on things. He’s been complying with the Justice Department with their cease and desist order,” Peter B. explained as he snatched a spare empanada from Miguel’s bowl, noticing once again he had hardly eaten in the last few hours.

“So far,” Miguel added with a heavy sigh.

“Peter says he’ll keep an eye on him, and will update me if he hears anything,” Peter B. nodded as he munched on the snack, crumbs falling to the floor.

“Thank you,” Miguel nodded curtly in thanks to Peter B. before resuming his own research.

“No news here?” Peter B. asked as he went to lean against Miguel’s desk.

“No,” Miguel responded plainly before quickly adding. “Don’t get crumbs on my desk, Parker,”

“Alright, alright, I won’t make a mess,” Peter B. quickly moved away from the desk as he paced gently. “Do we even know for sure if the traitor is another Spider?”

“How else would they be able to get their hands on a day pass?” Miguel questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Fair, but think about it. Those Oscorp guards last week; You think it’s just a coincidence they already had their own passes the same day of the attack with the Doc Ock variant?” Peter B. milled over his thoughts as he walked over and sat in Miguel’s office chair that he never used. He always kept it aside for Jessica if she ever needed a moment to sit down.

Miguel thought it over as he turned to face Peter B. “You think it was a distraction?”

“I’m thinking; What if they were already dimension jumping before that attack? Why go after the Spider through the portal willingly to an alternate dimension they know nothing about?” Peter B. rambled on.

“Unless they needed the Spider,” the gears in Miguel’s brain quickly started to shift.

“Like an experiment?” Peter B.’s eyes perked up.

“It wouldn’t be the first time a villain tried to research and recreate Spider-Man’s powers, right?” Miguel shot Peter B. a knowing look as the realization came to light.

“The only way to know your enemy, is to become your enemy,” Peter B. quoted. “Something like that, right?”

Miguel nodded, uncrossing his arms. “You did good today, Peter. You can head home. I’ll handle things from here,”

Peter B. stared at Miguel’s backside, studying his body language to decipher if that’s what he truly wanted. Peter shrugged nonchalantly as he stood up from the chair. “Alright then,”

He pressed a button on his Gizmo, activating a portal to his dimension. “Remember to take a break every once a while, alright Miguel?”

Miguel didn’t respond as Peter B. vanished through the portal before it closed. Miguel stood by himself in the darkness of his lab, the only sources of light were a faint spotlight hovering above him and the LED lights of the many holomonitors at his fingertips.

“Lyla, go through our database of known anomalies. See what villains have been popping up less that could match our I.M.O.” Miguel commanded.

“Yep, yep, yep!” Her voice sang through the room as another monitor appeared, filtering through a list of Spider-Man villains.

Miguel studied each of them carefully. There had to be something he was missing. Was the traitor from Earth-1997 as well? Or considering all the stolen day passes maybe they contacted Harry from another dimension.

Lyla fizzled into existence next to his face. A look of concern washing over her. “You think Harry hired the traitor?”

“I do,” Miguel nodded.

“Do you think they’ll go after Lisa again?” She asked with worry.

Miguel didn’t— couldn’t answer, the words failing him. But his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, the irises of his brown eyes flickering red.

“As long as her dimension is showing signs that it’s repairing itself, I know she’s safe,” Miguel finally spoke.

“And if it falters at any point?” Lyla raised a brow at Miguel, hands on her hips.

Miguel offered her a stern stare. “I’ll handle it,”

“Well, you should probably warn her that Oscorp could go after her again,” Lyla suggested as she poked his cheek. “If she hasn’t already been thinking of that possibility,”

Miguel tried not to think about it. How she struggled to break free from that table. Her staggered and heavy breathing, smelling her fear and sweat that drenched her forehead. But the worst was when she called out, screaming for help. Hearing it in his nightmares woke him up last night, and he barely got any more sleep after that.

“Gwen should be with her by now. Jessica mentioned she’d be visiting her after checking in with Pav,” Miguel nodded softly, calming his breathing. “I’ll tell her later,”

“Tonight, Miguel,” Lyla narrowed her eyes on Miguel. “¿Comprendido?” - Understood

Miguel met Lyla’s gaze and couldn’t help but scoff playfully at her flawless accent. He had completely forgotten that he implemented that in her program. She just never used it before. “Yes, Lyla, iré a verla esta noche,” - I’ll go see her tonight

“Good!” Lyla smiles brightly as she poked his cheek again, a little more playful this time. “I think you two could use each other’s company,”

“Lyla, we talked about this,” Miguel rolled his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose, mumbling to himself.

“You ended the discussion, I’m bringing it back,” Lyla grinned as she shut off a bunch of the monitors, directing Miguel’s full attention on to her, “Now let me give you some pointers on how to talk to her,”

“Lyla—” Miguel raised his voice an octave higher, eyes narrowing.

“For therapeutic purposes!” Lyla quickly raised her hands in defense. “Just because she hasn’t been talking about the attack and her powers back in her dimension, doesn’t mean she isn’t thinking about it. Now shut up, sit down, and listen up, boss,”

Miguel didn’t know what he was more impressed with. Lyla’s ever confident demeanor or the fact that he actually reached for the chair, sat down and listened to her advice on how to talk to a woman he wanted to connect with better.

///////

Lisa’s P. O. V.

“Wait, but Chai literally means tea, why would you say it twice?” I raised a brow as I munched on my noodles from my Chinese food carton.

“Thank you!” Pav, aka Spider-Man India sprang up from his seat, pointing at me. “That’s like saying coffee coffee, it makes no sense!”

“Pav, I said I was sorry!” Gwen’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she tried to calm him down.

“Sorry doesn’t fix the damage to my soul Gwen,” Pav frowned with a disappointed look before looking over at Hobie. “Hobie was nice enough to get it the first time!”

“I thought it was obvious?” Hobie shrugged with a cheeky grin on his face as he teased Gwen with his chopsticks who playfully swatted them away.

I laughed at their antics as I continued to munch on my food.

After dance practice with my team, I quickly rushed home to try and get a bit more cleaning and unboxing done before there was a strange sound that came from the roof and within moments I heard knocking at my living room window by the fire escape and found three Spiders poking their heads in.

As we ate, Gwen and Hobie introduced me to Pav. He had gotten his Spider bite just a little over a month ago and seemed quite cocky and confident in his abilities and responsibilities as Spider-Man. Maybe a little too cocky. But judging by his skills, he seemed to have the know-how to back it up. Not to mention a smashing set of hair.

“So in your dimension, India is only a single country?” He asked.

“Basically,” I nodded.

“Lisa’s dimension is. . . Unique,” Hobie answered after a slight pause.

“My dimension isn’t supposed to technically have superheroes. I got bitten by a spider that accidentally took a dive into my dimension,” I explained.

“Oh, so it was an anomaly, then? Something from one dimension that ends up in another dimension that it’s not supposed to be?” Pav asked. “Like Mr. O’Hara described?”

“That’s how Miguel describes them,” Gwen shrugged.

“I kind of like Mr. O’Hara. Kind of intimidating, a little scary,” Pav shuddered briefly. I could imagine he was recalling his first meeting with him before he broke out into a wide smile. “But wow is he good looking,”

I nearly choked on my noodles when I heard him say that. So far he was the bravest of us to even say that out loud. I noticed I was being watched and saw Hobie gently snicker at me. I shot him a warning glare.

Don’t you dare.

“You don’t say. . .” My voice trailed off, trying to find my composure.

“I really should ask him about his skin care routine and weight training, but I don’t want to get too buff, you know?”

“If you’re too scared to ask him directly, I’m sure Lisa could ask for you,” Hobie suggested with a knowing smile as he winked playfully at me.

Fate of my universe be damned, I will use my powers to hypnotize you and make you jump out of the window.

“Oh, really? You two are friends?” Pav asked. “I’ve noticed he doesn’t seem to hang out with a lot of the other Spiders during my initial visit,”

“Oh, I mean, we’re. . . Good acquaintances,” I

My cheeks flushed slightly as I huddled closer into my chair.

Why was I feeling so embarrassed all of a sudden?

My mind wandered back to the end of our match in the arena. Seeing the look on his face when I pinned him down, the sweat on his face, and then his laugh. That tender laugh.

I huddled deeper into my couch, munching more of my food to hide my blush.

Gwen could sense my tense look and decided to take pity on me as she nudged Pav’s shoulder. “Miguel just takes great pride in his work. Protecting the multiverse is very important to him,”

“Absolutely. But, if the opportunity comes up, I’ll put in a good word for you,” I smiled softly at Pav while my eyes flashed a silent thank you to Gwen.

We all ate in silence for a few minutes before I readjusted, moving on.

“Okay, I gotta ask, what do you do for your hair?”

“Ah, just the usual things, prayers, coconut oil and good genetics,” he shrugged like it was the most basic information you could know.

“Coconut oil, I’ll remember that,” I chuckled. “Well, I haven’t been with the Society for too long myself, so maybe we can learn from each other,”

“Oh absolutely! Ever since I met Hobie and Gwen, I feel so much better knowing I’m not the only one with this awesome gift,” Pav smiled in relief.

“I’ll teach you all the ropes, Pav,” Hobie smirked.

Pav gasped softly, giving Hobie an idolized look. “I’ve always wanted an older brother,”

I smiled at their antics. As I took another bite of my meal, I received a message on my Gizmo. I glanced down at the preview screen and froze.

“Are you free to talk later tonight?” - Miguel

Miguel wants to come over? Here? Tonight?!

Even if he had already seen my messy apartment once, it was still in desperate need of a clean. Not to mention I still had boxes to unpack. I took a deep breath.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?” - Lisa

“I’m. . . Not sure. That’s why I’d like to speak with you. I don’t want to interrupt your dinner,” - Miguel

He must know that Gwen and the others are here.

“I don’t mind. You’re more than welcome to join us. We have plenty of food!” - Lisa

There was a slight pause in his response as I could see the three little dots jumping up and down on the screen. Why were my palms so sweaty?!

“All good, Lisa?” Gwen’s voice snapped me back into reality as I noticed the three of them had stopped their own conversation, staring at me. “Who’s texting you?”

“Uh, oh, no one?” I chuckled softly.

*BING* 1 new message!

Hobie snickered. “It’s Miguel isn’t it?”

Pav gasped, bringing his hands to his cheeks. “Do you like Mr. O’Hara?”

“I think it’s more than likes,” Hobie playfully jabbed Pav’s shoulder.

“Like I said, we’re just acquaintances!” I stated as I briefly checked the newest message.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you just the two of us,” - Miguel

“He said he finds me tolerable at best,” I clarified, glaring at Hobie as I stood up from my chair, cleaning up my mess as I brought it to the kitchen counter.

“You sure that’s all he finds you?” Hobie smirked.

I dropped my container on the counter as I turned my body towards him. If looks could kill, he would have been dead four times over by now.

“Hobie!” Gwen scowled him. She shot him a hard look before looking over towards me with a sympathetic look. “Don’t listen to him, Lisa, he just likes to cause drama,”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” I breathed heavily, trying to compose myself. “The boss is requesting a private meeting regarding classified information,”

“Say no more,” Gwen nodded with a reassuring smile as she motioned for the boys to follow her. “Come on guys,”

She opened a portal back to Spider-Society HQ. She made sure Hobie went in first as Pav quickly gathered his left overs, “Honestly Lisa, I don’t blame you. Mr. O’Hara is so bloody handsome— AH!”

Gwen shoved him through the portal, earning a laugh from me. “Take it easy tonight, Lisa,”

“I’ll see you later, Gwen,” I waved.

The portal closed, leaving me alone to my thoughts. I grabbed a pillow, screaming into it to get all my complex feelings and emotions out of my system. When I finished, I typed another message.

“Want me to save you some food?” - Lisa

“. . . Thank you. I appreciate that,” - Miguel

“Give me a few minutes to clean up and you can come over,” - Lisa

I brushed off my sweaty hands before I got to work to make the apartment and myself look more presentable and clean.

////

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[obesericewrites]

How WOULD Mr. Jaha(that have parent-child bond with mc) react to mc telling him they're pregnant tho? (Maybe different reactions for which ro is the one that got them pregnant?)

This is referring to the last RO ask~

Mr. Jaha with M: He has mixed emotions. He doesn’t know M personally like you did. So, he didn’t know the person you chose to have the child with. He’s hesitant about this new person in your life. Luckily, M seems determined to force a familiarity between them.

M hovers around Mr. Jaha. Asking random questions and trying to help him around the farm. When Mr. Jaha sits them down to confront them about their sudden talkative nature, M visibly becomes smaller. Mr. Jaha is both suspicious and confused.

“I…wanted…apologize. I know…upset I would be…if…something fam-….familiar happened with Dawn..” They say tightly. Mr. Jaha melts and he is quick to comfort the giant person and share a few kind words.

The entire pregnancy, there’s this unspoken respect between them as they both take care of you. Mr. Jaha absolutely loves Dawn and her rowdy nature and M feels comforted at the sight of him around their child. Of course, when Dawn starts picking up Mr. Jahas's sharp tongue….

…well…that’s both of your problems, not his. Cheers.

Mr. Jaha with S: He’s going to kill them. Yep, he’s already making a plan on where to hide their body when your finished telling them the news. He doesn’t like S at all, he doesn’t trust someone with such a dangerous profession.

He has met plenty of people in his younger years that reminded him of S. The scars and blood they left was a mess he alone had to clean. He won’t let you be a victim to that like he was and he is very clear about this to S.

“I don’t trust you, mercenary. Make one mistake and I’ll kill you.” He glowers, towering over the stone-faced ‘threat’.

The entire pregnancy, Mr. Jaha is watching S like a hawk. Waiting for just a single wrong move so he can act out. Of course, when S takes care of you and makes your life easier. Showing the clear affection they feel for you and their unborn child…

….well…he becomes just a bit softer on S. Much to S’s relief.

Mr. Jaha with B: The amount of glee he feels is overwhelming. Mr. Jaha is quick to congratulate B and start giving them help and advice. He trusts B with his own life and couldn’t be more proud of you for choosing someone who truly could take care of you and love you.

Him and B spend quite a lot of time with each other after that. He prepares B for parenthood, sharing what happened in his past with a very attentive B, they share a moment.

“Listen, Child. Don’t make my mistakes….protect your child from this world. Do what I couldn’t.” He says with a soft tone, his eyes distant. B clasps his shoulder and makes a promise they will never break for the rest of their days.

During the entire pregnancy, both of them are preparing to spoil the unborn infant to death. B crafting multiple cribs and toys while Mr. Jaha baby proofs the farm. Everyone in the village excitedly hovered around you and eyed the sky as mouths go by…

…let’s just say…your infant is going to be spoiled rotten by everyone…good luck with that.

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[benjaminthewolf]

Postal Dude (Postal/Hatred) Lol

To repeat what I said just one post ago, this is yet another case of me just up and not uploading a trade story until waaaaay after it was already written. 

WARNING: GRAPHIC DIGESTION

****

     Barely even able to hear the sounds of the current open and active battlefield surrounding you through your own terrified gasping and pounding heartbeat, your body almost instinctively makes a sudden desperate attempt to hide yourself away from the line of fire by leaping into the shadows and secluding yourself behind an inconspicuous enough cardboard box.

     Well, okay, it wasn’t exactly that hard to hide yourself, since, well, you were like, the size of a mouse. Regardless though, despite your size, you knew very well that nobody involved here was blind (though some may be somewhat visually impaired. Who knows? It's always possible.), so it never really hurt to be just that much more careful. Plus, you’ve been hiding from the peering eyes of potentially dangerous or just simply too nosy  humans your entire life, so you had plenty of prior expertise on this matter.

     Nonetheless, putting all that aside, the current situation was still terrifyingly deadly as shit, so as you silently shook and spasmed in a huddled up fetal position on the floor behind the cardboard box, all you could do was wait. And thus, wait you did.

     Eventually, as all things do, the shootout came to an end, and at that point, you slowly began to get more comfortable with coming out from behind the box. Risking a peak around the corner, the immediate sight that graced your eyes in those first few seconds almost instinctively made you hurl, but luckily, you managed to suppress your gag reflex for just long enough for the feeling to go away.

     The dead, bloody, massacred bodies of at least five or six police officers were strewn every which way across the floor, the sticky, metallic tang of their red, hemoglobin-infused juices seeping freely out of each and every bullet wound their ravaged bodies had received. And in the middle of this horrific, grotesque scene? One man, standing tall. Standing proud, standing unphased. As to his identity? There could be no mistake. The one who had just been behind this unfathomable, inhumane deed, was in fact the man who’s daily routine consisted of committing at least three of these atrocities before breakfast. That’s right. Postal Dude.

     At first, you were simply too stunned to move. There he was, right in front of you. And yet for all of the horror and shock flooding through your being at the current moment, your body just could not find it anywhere within you to run and save your life.

     “Man…” Postal Dude suddenly speaks up in a casual tone of what almost seemed like contemplation. You wondered for a second if this contemplation was about the shooting, but you almost instantly discarded this thought the moment you had been able to fully process it. There was absolutely  no way that somebody like Postal Dude would ever feel bad in the slightest for a shooting. What the violent man towering over you said next only confirmed your prior suspicions. “...I’m hungry.”

     This sentence was of no initial concern to you, but that lack of concern was quickly flipped all the way round one hundred and eighty degrees when Postal Dude turned his head, tilted it downwards, and made eye contact with you.

     There was now no time to think. No time to wonder if he had known about your presence beforehand. No time to ponder about if he had previously seen you when you first peaked around the box and you just weren’t able to tell because of his sunglasses. There wasn’t even any time to even gasp. No, all there was time to do was watch. Helplessly watch, completely and utterly helplessly watch as Postal Dude almost instantly swooped down and snatched you up in his grasp, a hold so tight to you that it was actually of little to no surprise as to why you couldn’t even gasp. He proceeds to raise himself back up to full height as his hand is brought up to his face, a cocky, overbearing grin creeping its way along his face as he proceeds to raise up his fist even higher. You weren’t really sure what he was doing exactly, that was until he managed to maneuver his fingers so that he was now holding onto the skin at the back of your neck like a momma cat would her kitten. Then, Postal Dude let out a smirk, and opened his maw wide, stretching out his tongue and teasingly going: “Aaaaaaaaa!”.

     Almost instantly spasming in fear as your body began teetering precariously on the fine line between sanity and totally freaking the fuck out, Postal Dude at last let go. Tumbling down through the air, and  desperately trying to not land on his tongue, your efforts would ultimately prove to all be in vain as your flailing body at last squashed down upon a spongey, wet surface that swiftly retreated back into a darker area before said area abruptly closed. Locking you up within its confines, with nowhere else for you to go.

     It didn’t take long before you at last were able to comprehend just what you had landed on and where it had retracted you into. It also didn’t take long before you realized just how stupid an idea it was to try to not land on the tongue, as what was the alternative? The concrete? In all honesty though, you really had no clue which one would have been better, because now that Postal Dude’s jaws had crashed down around you, it didn't’ really matter what options you had had before, because the only option you had now, was to get squeezed through Postal Dude’s upper esophageal sphincter and be squeezed on down towards his stomach.

     Deciding he wanted this to get done sooner rather than later, Postal Dude swiftly lifted up his tongue, causing you to harshly bonk and scrape your head upon the rough ridges at the roof of his mouth before you practically slid back down the slick, slippery slope that was the surface of his tongue, and in towards his gullet. 

     In a sudden spurr of desperately pumping adrenaline, you firmly grasp both hands onto Postal Dude’s uvula, haul yourself up onto it, and hold on tight. However, this did not seem to phase the psychotic, battle-hardened man on the outside in the slightest. Instead of making him throw you up, or spit you out, or anything else of that similar nature, all he did in response to your despairing plight for survival, was just simply, swallow.

     Of course, it would take a lot more than just one gulp to send you down into the esophagus, but Postal Dude was determined to not let this perceived initial success of you not being squelched down instantly make you feel like there was still any hope for survival. Swiftly swallowing again, your hands suddenly begin to slip from their positions on the uvula as its slick, smooth nature makes it exceedingly difficult for you to keep your grip.

     Finally, Postal Dude swallowed one more time, and then, it was over. At last plummeting from your prior position on the uvula, the epiglottis covered up the entrance to the windpipe as the esophagus was left wide open, waiting oh so patiently for you to dive down into its tight, goopy confines, and squeeze you on down to your doom.

     Once your body was all the way within, reality at last hit. As your eyes widen in sudden mortal terror for your very life, you begin to do what little you could within the narrow, constricting area of the esophogas to push and shove with all your might against the squelching tunnel’s hold, begging and praying to yourself that somehow, someway, this would guide you towards survival.

     Unfortunately for you, to Postal Dude on the outside was nothing more than amused by your pathetic, futile resistance. Placing a finger upon the slight, shifting bulge you made in his throat, the sadistic man couldn’t help but let out a bout of hearty laughter at your struggles, that which you were able to hear from the inside, causing your heart to seemingly halt its pumping for but one mere second.

     Speaking of hearts, however, it wouldn’t be long until your anguished wriggling kicked back up as the pounding beat of Postal Dude’s heart at last became audible. At this point, your form had all but disappeared behind the larger man’s collarbone, and as such, all he could do now was just sit back against the brick, alley wall, and wait for the plunge to commence.

     Though you had done pretty much everything in your power to stop it, the ambient gurgles of the stomach began to echo and reverberate all around you as you were squeezed through the lower esophageal sphincter, plunging deep down into the acidic gastric juices of Postal Dude’s stomach with a great big *SPLASH*!

     Able to somewhat feel his stomach juices sloshing around as you splashed down into it, Postal Dude teasingly began to poke at his belly, before giving it a great big slap, causing you to once again tumble over and get your face and eyes soaked even further with the acids.

     Painfully rubbing the searing liquids from your cornea, you immediately began realizing just what was going to happen to you now that you were here. You felt your body spasming. You felt your mind cracking. And then you felt your instincts violently thrust over any other forms of thought that had previously been occupying your brain, practically flinging yourself onto the squishy, pillowy walls of the stomach, pounding and kicking upon them with all of your might while Postal Dude on the outside merely let out a great big laugh.

     “Oh, you really think that you have a chance, don’t you? Any sort of a chance? Any at all? Any kind at fucking all?” he mockingly sneered at your positively overwhelmed, broken form, as the more acids began to trickle in.

     At first, it was just a slight searing pain in your feet as you let out a yelping noise and practically tumbled over, causing you to land backwards into the pool of acids once more. Then, when you lifted your hand out of the churning goop, your heart sank straight into your sole, before at last, you had had enough. Only able to discern but the shocking, dysmaying finality of your current situation and at last somewhat accept that there was absolutely no hope for you left, your brain finally shut down, and your unconscious body plunged back straight into the gurgling, shifting pool, the activity within the organ having ramped up significantly since your arrival. And now that it had no resistance to speak of to work against, the stomach was finally free to churn you into mush.

     Having seen in your final moments that the liquids had already begun to sear off many layers of your skin until they were nothing more than liquid goop, Postal Dude’s stomach continued to glorp and churn as it seeped deeper and deeper into the melted gooey layers of skin that had previously been melted away, in order to get at the fresh ones and succumb them to the same fate. It wouldn’t take long before all of your skin layers were burned through, and the acids began working away at your muscles. Breaking down all the fibrous layerings of your strong, meaty brawn, at long last, there was nothing left for the acids to melt away at than your bones, and the acids began eagerly working at these skeletal remains with nothing but great, unaware indifference as layer after layer of bone exterior continued to melt and liquify away, until at last the acids breached into the spongy cartilage within. Finally, after a few seconds of searing away at the soft inner structure, the acids now had made their way, at long, long last, all the way down to the marrow. With a few gurgles and a growl, the once living, breathing form of your very body that had , once upon a time, held within it all of your love, hate, memories, and experiences, was now reduced to nothing more than goopy pudge that was to be churned up, homogenized, and pumped through Postal Dude’s intestines.

     Ramping up the mixing and shifting of the walls even more, the loose remains of your previous form at last began to crumble away as each gooey body part was broken off from the other while it swirled and shifted around in the homogenizing soup that was Postal Dude’s stomach chyme.

     When at last the mixture was well blended and uniform throughout, the stomach activity at last settled down, and Postal Dude let out a rather satisfied sigh, before all the air that had previously gotten trapped within his guts from all the swallowing he had to do to get you off his uvula at last came up in a great, big belch.

     Giving an asserting, cheeky smile, Postal Dude began to pat and rub over his still-busy stomach, which was currently in the process of churning the cellular slush of what was once you into his small intestine through the duodenum, continuously grumbling and growling as it did.

     Now that the process was over at last, Postal Dude slowly picked himself up off the alley floor, and began to walk out towards the street, with nothing more than a grin on his face, and a meal in his guts.

     “Oh, look at all these sweet, innocent pedestrians.” he began to lament to himself in his head as his tongue began to salivate wildly. “Absolutely no clue, no clue at all! That every single one of them has almost the exact same  potential to be next.”

[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

5 Times You Fell For Natasha & The One Time Natasha Falls

(A/N) hi im new to writing imagines and im currently writing a very long wonder woman/diana prince imagine that i might post so i posted this instead to see if anyone would read my garbage its over 20 pages already

Rating: Mature

Warning(s): Mentions of torture, mentions of child experimentations, heavy past-trauma themes, gay panics, ye olde im-in-love-with-my-best-friend trope, overused 5+1 trope

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,828

Synopsis: As the newest Avenger, you find yourself becoming best friends with the Black Widow. Your bond is unlike most, and it isn’t long before you begin questioning your feelings for her. AKA the 5+1 fic we’ve all read before but I’m doing it anyway

i

Of all the Avengers you expected to get along with, Natasha Romanoff was certainly far from the top of the list. You knew enough about her to assume she’d be cold, distant, and while she can be those things, she’s also so much more. She is, obviously, smart and beautiful, but she’s also funny and loyal and she cares so much more than she shows.

It didn’t take long, much to your surprise, for you and Natasha to become something like best friends. Despite your prior convictions, you find that you share a lot in common with the ex-assassin. You suppose you shouldn’t have been so judgemental at first, seeing as you, too, were forced into becoming something deadly and dangerous. 

What surprises you most about her, however, is just how soft she can be.

Your mission had been long and tedious. You’re exhausted the whole way home, dreading the thought of the others all waiting for you to return. However, rather than having all of the team welcome you home, somehow, Natasha had gotten the Tower cleared out. Just you, your best friend, some wine, and, to top it all off, she’s put on that movie she knows you love.

After cleaning yourself up, and after Natasha is satisfied that you aren’t fatally injured, you both settle onto the sofa underneath a fluffy blanket. She was always more touchy with you than the others - maybe it’s just because of how close you’ve become, or because you’re also a woman - and so it doesn’t surprise you when she ends up curled against you.

“You’re so warm,” she sighs, and you chuckle.

“Fire powers, remember? Human space-heater.” 

“How was the mission?”

You sigh slowly, your arm winding between her back and the couch so that you’re both more comfortable. “Carson got the files. No sign of- ah, of him.”

Her hand lands on your thigh, squeezing comfortingly as she sips her wine. “We’ll find him.”

The finality in her voice, and the sincere concern in her emerald eyes, are enough to make you believe her.

You settle into light conversation as the movie plays in the background, Natasha filling you in on the latest trouble the boys got into. Apparently, Tony made Peter a real hoverboard. So far, his lessons have gone incredibly poorly, and that’s why there’s a new dining table.

In the dim lighting of the tv, you realize with quite a start how lovely Natasha is. That’s not to say you didn’t find her pretty before - she’s gorgeous - but there’s something shifting inside you. She’d set aside her entire evening to plan this for you, to welcome you home in a way that wouldn’t be grating on the system or nerves. Everyone wants the Serpent dead - or, at the very least, in custody - and everyone is well-aware of what he’d done to you. What he turned you into.

And to save you from the inevitably stressful conversations, Natasha kicked everyone out so you’d have some alone time with her. Someone she knows you’re comfortable talking to, someone who understands.

Yes, something is changing. Something that simultaneously releases butterflies through your stomach and fills it with a heavy sort of dread.

You’re falling in love with Natasha.

ii

Parties are something you’re still getting used to. At least, the kind that Tony throws, which Natasha promises is not what all parties are like. Once upon a time, you’d attended plenty of Galas as ‘security’ for the Serpent, whose name even you never knew. Those were a far cry from the chaos of Tony Stark’s parties.

So many bodies, all pressed tightly together. It’s too warm, even for your standards, and even if the champagne is free and expensive and the food is delicious, you can already feel your tolerance levels lowering. You’ve been working on your temper, as it’s a direct link to your powers, but when a body shoves into yours every five seconds, it’s a little more difficult. 

Natasha, thankfully, senses your discomfort and is quick to meet you amidst the crowd. She’s in a short, tight black dress that leaves little to your imagination, and you hardly have the time to really appreciate it before she’s pulling you against her, leaning down to speak in your ear.

“Wanna steal some bottles and get on the roof?”

You nod all too eagerly, and the both of you are practically giggling like a bunch of teenagers as you snatch two bottles of champagne and two plates of food. Nobody seems to pay any mind, though you think Clint nodded at you as you passed him on your way to the elevator.

The roof isn’t exactly pretty, but it’s where you told Natasha all about your past and it’s where the both of you come when you can’t sleep - which is another quirk you share. You’ve spent a lot of long evenings up here, watching the sunrise in companionable silence or soft conversation. 

It’s your spot, basically, and so you’re quick to make yourselves comfortable by sitting down on the throw blanket Natasha had somehow snatched from one of the hallway closets without your noticing. You simply pass the champagne bottle back and forth, making fun of Tony’s latest attempt at setting Steve up and Bucky’s over-the-top reaction.

“I’m not sure what Bucky’s waiting for,” Natasha sighs, leaning further on her right arm so that she’s leaning closer to you. She’s nearly laying down, with how she has to sit without her dress hiking up. “He should just grow a set and tell Steve he’s in love with him.”

“It’s not nearly so simple, Agent Romanoff,” you say matter-of-factly, taking the bottle from her as she passes it.

“Oh? And you’re the expert on unrequited love?” 

The question actually makes you choke on the champagne; the alcohol stings your nose and waters your eyes as you sputter. “What? Unrequited-?” 

“I’m just saying,” Natasha drawls with a chuckle as she plucks the champagne from your hand. “You haven’t really had much experience.”

You open your mouth to argue, but quickly shut it when you watch Natasha’s tongue running over her lip before she takes a swig. When she hands the bottle back to you, you take a longer gulp than necessary.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” She asks, and this time you’re able to swallow before you make a bigger idiot of yourself.

Your cheeks are burning crimson, though, and despite it being late into the night the city provides plenty of light for Natasha to see how badly you’re blushing. “Uh- well, not- not really, no.”

“Do you want to?”

Is she trying to kill you? “I- I think so?”

“Is it Steve?”

“What?”

“You’re clearly into someone if me asking about unrequited love had you choking. So, who is it?” She leans closer, and you’ve half a mind to tear ass back into the elevator. 

“Nobody,” you have to look away from her intense, calculating gaze. 

“So it is Steve.”

“It’s definitely not Steve.” You take another long gulp of champagne before handing the bottle back over. 

“Bucky?”

“No.” 

“Wanda?”

“You think Wanda is my type?” You fix her with a look and she snorts.

“You don’t even know your type.” She huffs, pushing you lightly on the shoulder. “So… is it a woman, then?”

You puff out a rush of air, fixing the redhead with a pleading expression. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“I wouldn’t mind!” She smirks. “I’m not exactly straight, either.”

You have to look down to keep her from seeing the blush this time. Please don’t tell me that. “So, what is my type, then?”

There’s a thoughtful hum, low and somewhat musical. When your face no longer feels like it’s burning, you return to watching her. She’s actually thinking about this, you can tell in the concentrated pull of her eyebrows, the narrowing of her eyes. 

“You,” she begins, her lips stretching into a cocky smirk. “You are definitely a bottom. Is it Carol?”

“Whoa, wait, what?” You scoff. “What does that mean?”

“You are a bottom.” She repeats slowly, emptying the last of the bottle into her mouth and releasing it with a pop. 

“Why do I feel offended? Should I feel offended?”

“Of course not,” Natasha laughs. “You’re just submissive.”

“How would you know?” You argue.

To your absolute shock and alarm, Natasha has somehow maneuvered herself until she’s nearly sitting in your lap, one of her hands tilting your chin up so that you’re looking right into her eyes as she leans in close. So close, in fact, that you freeze up entirely, and she’s still moving. 

You barely register the kiss to your cheek until Natasha’s delighted laugh yanks you from your daze, back in the position she’d been in before as if nothing had happened at all.

“That,” she declares, “is how I know.” 

You rub the spot on your cheek she’d kissed with a pout, like a child scorned, and Natasha lets out a crooning aww. “You play dirty, Romanoff,” you mutter, trying to hide just how hard you’re blushing and how damn fast your heart is racing.

“Don’t worry, cherrybomb, you’ll get that first kiss one day.” Natasha winks, and you roll your eyes.

You open the next bottle in silence, taking a few pulls before passing it. “For the record,” you give her a small smile. “It’s definitely not Carol, either.”

She huffs out a small chuckle. “Yeah, I didn’t think she was your type.” She looks out at the city, and you follow her gaze. You hear her drink before feeling the bottle press against your palm. Her fingertips brush against yours, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say she was the one with fire abilities.

Again, you find yourself falling, falling, falling. 

iii

It seems Natasha isn’t the only one interested in your love life. As soon as you let it slip that, given the conditions you were raised in, you didn’t really have any romantic experiences, the onslaught of set-ups began.

At first, Tony was really pushing an agent named Hunter, but that ended rather quickly when you ‘accidentally’ burned a hole in Hunter’s shirt when he tried hitting on you. (Oops.) Then, there was Raymond and Damien and eventually he started throwing women your way.

That’s when you knew something was up. Not that you weren’t aware of his antics prior, but the first woman he sends your way is Sofia - a rather busty redhead who worked as a medic on your last mission.

This party is much more tame compared to what Stark usually throws, and maybe it’s because it’s something like an office party. All of the guests are SHIELD agents, and it takes place in one of the lower levels that had been cleared out for the event.

Unfortunately, that means you have nowhere to run.

It’s obvious why he’d set you up with her. There aren’t many similarities, but the red hair is definitely the biggest - well, red flag, really. She’s pretty, sure, but she’s no Natasha. All this really proves, though, is that Stark knows. 

Or, he knows something. 

“You’re the one the Serpent took as a kid, aren’t you?” Sofia asks, and you clear your throat awkwardly.

“Yeah, that’s, um, me.” It’s a discussion you’ve had with everyone Tony’s tried setting you up with - and just about every agent brave enough to talk to you. 

“Is it true you’ve got pyrokinesis? And super strength?” 

You nearly finish the fruity mixed drink that’s being served on silver platters. “I do.”

Before Sofia can say anything else, however, an arm slides around your waist. At first, you nearly shove away from the person entirely, but as soon as it registers that it’s Natasha pulling you against her side, you relax.

“Hey, beautiful,” Natasha greets you, decidedly ignoring Sofia’s confused expression. 

“Hey yourself,” you respond, blushing as your free hand settles on Natasha’s hip. There’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and it isn’t hard to guess at what she’s playing at. “This is Sofia, I think Tony wanted me to meet her.”

“Stephanie,” Natasha looks at the other redhead with a deceivingly sweet grin. Judging by the sudden discomfort on Sofia’s face, you can only assume she sees right through Natasha’s nice act.

“Er, Sofia,” she corrects.

“Right, sure, thanks for keeping my girlfriend company. Have a nice night.” With this, Natasha guides you away from Sofia to the other side of the room, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say she was rather agitated. 

“Thanks for the save,” you set your glass down on an empty platter and pick up a new drink from another. This one tastes like strawberries and citrus, but you can tell immediately that it’s strong. “Didn’t think you’d be the jealous type.”

At that, Natasha pulls away from you with a snort. “Didn’t know that Stark was turning on you. How many times has he tried setting you up?”

You shrug. “A few. They’re usually easier to ditch, though.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I dunno,” you take a sip of your drink. “Just didn’t think it was important.”

“I could have at least stopped him.” She sighs, then takes a long swig of her own cup. “She was… pretty.”

You watch Tony as he pauses mid-conversation with Bruce to look at you and Natasha. He’s got a stupid shit-eating grin on his face, and you immediately decide you want to punch him in it. “She was okay.”

“Not interested in dating a fellow agent?” 

“Not interested in dating someone who only cares about my past.” You clarify, looking down at your drink. 

Natasha’s free hand finds yours, fingers winding together to give you a small squeeze. “I get that.”

“I know you do,” you look back at her, that all-too familiar fluttering in your stomach back stronger than ever. 

Yeah, you’re definitely in love with her.

iv

When you were first saved by SHIELD, it took weeks for you to regain your ability to somewhat trust again. You were, after all, held in a fireproof cell - not a very good way to welcome someone. After the truth came out about why the Serpent’s secret weapon was a mutated girl, they were quick to ask you to join the Avengers in the hunt to bring him down. They promised protection, safety - promised he’d never get a hold of you again.

Of course, you didn’t believe them at first. It took a long time for you to feel safe again - anywhere, even the Tower. You’d spend long nights laying awake in bed, listening hard for any foreign sounds - which were all sounds, given that you weren’t used to being in the city. You had the worst nightmares, many of which revolved around the Serpent finding you and torturing you. Some were memories of how he turned you into what you are.

Those were always the worst, and thunderstorms always bring them back.

You can almost feel the searing pain of your body coming close to the brink of death, the crackling of lightning in your bones and veins, as you wake up in a cold sweat to the roar of thunder. For a moment, you’re stuck in the memory. You can hear his voice, telling you to be quiet, to be still. You can taste the blood in your mouth, smell the burning of your flesh. You think you hear a scream, and it takes a very long while for you to realize that it’s your own.

Your door opening throws you into a blind panic. You’re tangled in your sheets, and it’s a struggle to move away from the approaching figure. All you can see is him, his menacing glare, his snarling voice-

“(Y/N), it’s me,” but it isn’t him. It’s not him. You have to focus on that as a familiar face comes into view, one that doesn’t make you want to cry and run. 

Natasha doesn’t expect you to throw yourself into her arms, sobbing profusely. Her stiff, startled posture quickly relaxes and her arms wrap around you, pulling you close against her. She’s slightly rocking the both of you, quiet words you don’t understand leaving her lips.

As you calm down, you realize she’s murmuring something in Russian. You knew she was from Russia and that she spoke the language, but you don’t think you’ve ever heard her speak it around you before. 

It’s… nice, even if you don’t understand it. The softness of her tone is pleasant, anchoring you in the wake of your scrambled mind. Even after you’ve stopped crying, she doesn’t let you go, doesn’t stop speaking in that hushed voice.

I love her, you think mournfully. Holy shit, I’m in love with her. 

You pull back just enough to wipe at your wet cheeks, muttering out: “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I heard you screaming and I was terrified,” Natasha admits quietly. “I thought-” another roll of thunder makes you shudder, and the redhead moves one of her hands from your back to brush your hair behind your ear. “Did you have another nightmare?”

You let out a shaking breath. “It was a memory.”

You hear Natasha sigh, and the next flash of lightning is enough to catch the concerned expression on her face. 

“Do you want to sleep with me?”

The question should not make your mind go right into the gutter. Still, despite the warmth blooming in your belly, you nod. Natasha helps you untangle from your blanket, and while you miss the feeling of her arms around you, it isn’t long before she encourages you to lay back down. 

You’re surprised when you feel a hand on your waist; Natasha is rarely so hesitant to ask you to cuddle. You ease yourself against her, becoming a cozy cocoon of limbs and sheets. She tucks your head under her chin, her hand running small, soothing circles into your back.

“I’m sorry you can’t forget him,” she murmurs so quietly you almost don’t hear her.

Sleepily, you tighten your own hold around her slightly. “It’s okay, Nat. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either,” she reminds lightly. 

Yes, you’re definitely hopelessly in love with her. Well, fuck. 

v

You can almost hear the last thing Natasha said to you before you went out on this mission: “Kick some ass, be home for dinner.” An inside joke that started up rather early on in your friendship. You long to hear that voice again, the separation hitting you harder after your recent revelations about your feelings. To make matters worse, things have gone far south. 

Your worst fear had been correct: the Serpent was looking for you, and he was determined to get you back. Somehow, he managed to ambush you and your squad. After the first month, you lost communications with the Tower, and with SHIELD, leaving you to lead alone. What had once been a two-month mission became three, then four, then six. 

You’re exhausted by the time you’re back on the quinjet, both mentally and physically. The mission wasn’t successful at all; the facility you were supposed to infiltrate was supposed to be unguarded. Either the Serpent knew you were coming, or he was hiding something. He sent wave after wave of his goons after you, keeping you far from the place without the help of the other Avengers. 

It was initially a precaution, when Steve and Fury told the agents to do everything in their power to ensure the Serpent didn’t find you and take you again. Most of the time, you were with Natasha or Steve or even Tony, but this was the first mission they sent you off to on your own, and it’s the first time the Serpent has ever truly come after you. Even in the heat of battle, there was always someone trying to lure you away from the thick of it

You are, honestly, very lucky to be alive right now.

You lost quite a few agents. Several others are injured, the medics working on them quickly for the entirety of the trip home. Home. You want nothing more than to curl up in your own bed and cry.

Your first mission on your own, and you blew it. Badly.

It’s late when you arrive, and you’re damn grateful for it. You’re silent as you limp through the seemingly empty Tower, the wounds on your leg and side finally starting to bother you. Really, your whole body is just sore. You feel like there isn’t a surface on it that isn’t bruised.

Your attempts at taking off your bloodied uniform are futile. You can’t help the quiet grunts of pain as you try to simply unzip your jacket, the sting in your side just too sharp to ignore. 

There’s a soft knock at your door. You almost want to tell them to go away, but decide better of it and tell them to come in.

Natasha has uncharacteristically dark circles under her eyes, but the moment her gaze lands on you, there seems to be a spark of life within them. She breathes out a relieved sigh, shutting the door behind her and approaching you quickly, her eyes scanning all over your face as if she were drinking in every detail.

“They said you might not come back,” she says quietly.

You summon a small, cocky smirk. “Takes a little more than a small army to take me down.”

The redhead says nothing as she pulls you into a tight embrace. You let out a hiss when the contact causes your injuries to flare. Natasha immediately pulls away from you.

“You’re hurt.” She observes.

You shrug. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

“Let me look at it,” she orders, and you blush.

“I- uh, I can’t- really take this off.” You admit shyly.

“Can I-?” Her hand raises towards your jacket, and you nod reluctantly.

You’re embarrassingly flustered by the gentle way Natasha undresses you. It’s not even sexual, you’re just so caught up in the warmth of her gaze. The tenderness of her fingertips as they brush against your skin, careful as she helps you out of your shirt. 

You watch her silently as she looks at your side, then nearly let out a strangled noise of surprise when she starts unbuckling your pants. When you’re just in your bra and underwear, she guides you to your desk chair and urges you to sit. She leaves your room for a few moments before returning with a first aid kit.

She gets to work quickly.

“This is gonna sting,” she warns before pressing something that reeks like chemicals against the wound on your side. You bite your lower lip and try to focus on anything but the way her free hand is balancing itself on the bare thigh of your uninjured leg. Once the blood is cleared away, she clicks her tongue. “It doesn’t need stitches, at least. Why didn’t you get these checked out on the quinjet?”

“I got the least of it,” you mumble, looking away from her. 

As she applies bandaging to the wound, Natasha shakes her head disapprovingly. “Nope, you aren’t going to start thinking like that.”

“People died, Tash. To keep him from taking me.” You clench your fists at your sides as Natasha starts disinfecting your leg.

“And you are not to blame for that.” Her tone gives little room for argument, but still, you press on:

“If I was with anyone else - if anything happened to someone I knew - because of me, I don’t know what I’d-”

“(Y/N).” Natasha’s firm voice forces you to look back up at her. “I don’t know what I’d do if he got to you.”

“They died for nothing, Nat,” you whisper, unable to keep the tears from swelling in your eyes. 

“They didn’t die for nothing,” Natasha’s hands go still. “You aren’t nothing.”

You fall silent after that, letting Natasha work on your leg. This one doesn’t need stitches either, but it’s deep. You’re usually a quick healer, anyway - though not instantaneously like most superpowered humans. Natasha takes great care in wrapping it up, though, and you feel like she’s taking a bit longer to treat this one than the first.

When she’s satisfied, she doesn’t move from her position. She had gotten on her knees to work on your leg, and now she’s just… quiet. You know her well enough by now to know that she’s working out a way to ask you something - or to say something.

“I was so fucking scared that I’d never see you again,” she murmurs, finally looking back up at you. 

Your heart stammers in your chest at the intensity of those dark green eyes. “Sorry I was late for dinner,” you say to try and ease the sudden tension. 

She inhales sharply, and you don’t know how to process the wetness rising in her eyes. You’ve never seen her cry before. Not once. “When they said they lost comms, I really thought-”

“Hey,” you place a hand on her shoulder. “I’m back, right? I’m okay.”

There’s a wet sniffle, and Natasha blinks her tears back. “Yeah,” she smiles, “you’re back.”

Despite the shimmering tears threatening to fall, and despite the obvious tiredness in her eyes, Natasha looks breath-taking. You didn’t realize just how much you missed her face until now, and you try to memorize every detail. Her pouty lips, her soft and delicate features that hide the danger of the Black Widow. Those emerald eyes you hadn’t stopped thinking about for the entirety of the past six months.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s just how heavily the thought has been on your mind for so long, or perhaps it’s a combination of the two. You just can’t help saying it out loud, so quietly you almost hope Natasha hadn’t heard it: “I’m so in love with you.”

There’s a blink of surprise, and your stomach drops. Why did you say that? You’re ready to spew out some kind of shitty cover that wouldn’t have made any sense when Natasha’s response stuns you into silence.

“It’s about damn time.”

And then her lips are on yours.

You definitely didn’t think kissing would be all it’s cracked up to be, but once you get over the initial shock you eagerly melt into the sensation of Natasha’s lips moving against your own. She’s slow, patient as she guides you. One of her hands is cupping your jaw, the thumb smoothing over your skin as her other hand grabs one of your own. She places it on her waist, and you quickly move your other hand to curl into her hair.

You feel something blossoming inside you, warm and brilliant as a summer day.

When Natasha pulls away, you’re breathless and she’s wearing such a soft, tender smile. “You sure you haven’t done that before?”

You huff out a laugh. “Didn’t think it would ever feel like that.”

“Is that a good thing?” Her free hand brushes your hair out of your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. 

“Definitely wouldn’t complain about doing it again.”

Natasha laughs before pressing another kiss to your lips. “For the record, I’ve been in love with you for the past year.”

“Oh,” you blush. “Uh- sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” her smile turns wicked, a challenging spark in her gaze. “I just mean we have a lot of time to make up for.”

+1

“Hang in there, kid,” Tony encourages as another wave of bullets rains down on your cover. Raiding the facility again meant bringing backup, and backup meant taking care of the bigger waves of idiots so that you, Tony and a few others could get a head-start. Unfortunately, you’d been cornered on the roof. You flinch at the booming voice calling from somewhere beyond.

“You had nothing until I found you! You were an orphan. Your parents didn’t even want you! I made you powerful,” there’s a blast as an explosive is thrown too close to where you’d hunkered down. “I gave you a gift,” he continues, and then there’s a brief silence. “And this is how you repay me?”

Your anger flares, sharp and sudden. You stand up from behind the vent as soon as you hear the telltale clicks of an empty barrel. Your fists are consumed by flames, and suddenly everything comes bubbling to the surface: your rage, your hurt, your anger, your loss.

“You made me a monster,” you snarl. “You stole me and you turned me into a monster.”

His smile is cruel, merciless. “You’re pathetic. You were always weak.”

With this, you finally snap and launch yourself at him. Your fire knocks him back several feet, and he cracks his knuckles, which are beginning to turn a strange red. 

“You aren’t the only one with tricks up her sleeve, sweetheart,” the Serpent sneers as he sends a blast of fire at you.

You dodge it in time for it to not burn your uniform, and you quickly shake off your initial surprise before lunging at him again. It’s difficult fighting on the roof of the compound, but you quickly learn that every move he makes is one that he had taught you himself. 

He had always told you to let your rage consume you. To let yourself succumb to it, let it strengthen you. It was always a toxic way of living, and you haven’t used that tactic in many battles as you know most of his goons are simply hired mercenaries, but you feel it now. Like a drug you’ve long since quit, the high is immediate and intoxicatingly addictive.

He’s bigger, and he might be a little stronger, but you were his weapon. He made you to be more powerful than he was, and that was his biggest mistake. 

Your fire seems brighter, and it isn’t long before one harsh wave of it gets him. You suppose he isn’t fireproof like you are, if his agonized wail as he clutches his burning arm is anything to go by. 

Something cold pierces your shoulder from behind.

The pain of it doesn’t quite register at first, until another comes along. You turn to face the source.

Another one of the Serpent’s guard dogs. They came along when they were fifteen, and you always knew something wasn’t quite right about them. You can’t even recall their name, but the fury in their eyes is all too familiar.

You’re barely able to avoid the sudden wave of icicle spikes heading your way, a simple flash of fire just enough to melt them in time. With fire coming at you from your left, and ice from your right, you find yourself entirely in fight-or-flight mode.

Instinct takes over, anger fueling every action as you try to balance yourself between the two. You’re sweating, now, with the effort and it isn’t long before you’re starting to get sloppy. You almost want to ask Stark what’s taking him so fucking long, but you can barely think about your next move let alone call for backup.

Suddenly, ice appears under your feet. You scramble to catch yourself before a blast of fire sends you flying towards the ledge. With nothing there to stop you, you’re barely able to catch yourself before you go falling. You definitely haven’t tested how many floors you can fall from before, and you certainly aren’t going to start now.

Before you can register what’s happened, you hear someone yell as they fall over the ledge. Surprised, you look up to find Natasha going head-to-head with the Serpent.

Natasha. A blast of fire can do real damage to her.

Panicked, you scramble to your feet and slide over the ice to breathe fire out of your mouth at the Serpent. That’s something you recently learned to do (mostly because Peter wanted to know if you could) and that surprise is enough to send him dangerously close to the other edge of the roof. 

Natasha advances quicker than you can, and you’re horrified when, just as she kicks him over, he grabs her by the ankle and drags her over the ledge with him.

You’re moving before you can even think it through. You can only think about Natasha falling and how you absolutely cannot let him take her from you. Not when he’s taken everything else.

You’re plummeting after them, a powerful wave of heat behind you as you catch up to Natasha, who had just kicked the shit out of the Serpent. Before you know it, she’s in your arms and you’re-

“You can fly?” Natasha exclaims breathlessly, and- yeah. Yeah you can.

That’s new.

There’s blue fire emanating around you, but it doesn’t seem to hurt the redhead.

“I guess I can,” you fly a little too quickly back to the roof, landing roughly but keeping your grip around the woman in your arms. “All it took was for you to fall for me,” you wink, and she giggles despite rolling her eyes.

“Or you were just waiting to use that line.”

“Kid, you still with us?” Tony’s voice over the comm makes you wince.

“Nat dropped in and pushed him off the roof. Also, I can fly now.” You respond quickly, looking at Natasha with wide eyes. “Is he…?”

Natasha nods slowly. “I… heard him hit the ground.” She pauses, one of her hands coming up to stroke your cheek lovingly. “Are you okay?”

You can’t resist kissing her, and you love the way she smiles against your lips. 

“I’m always okay with you,” you answer.

“Please turn off the comm if you’re going full-homo.” Tony pipes in and both you and Natasha groan as he makes his landing. 

You set Natasha down gently, though you keep an arm around her waist as one of her own stays around your shoulders. 

“The others are on their way. All clear on our end,” Tony reveals his face, and he’s clearly had his fill of this fight. He’s sweating, a little out of breath. “So, is he dead?”

“Yeah,” Natasha confirms, her hand squeezing your shoulder lightly. “It’s finally over.”

“It’s never over,” you remind her, and she hums, leaning into you affectionately. 

“At least with him, it is.”

In the aftermath of the battle, amidst the ash and dust, all you can think of is Natasha. Natasha, the woman you never expected to love but now care for so intensely, so damn much, you literally jumped off of a roof for her.

“I love you,” you tell her, nuzzling into her hair as Tony and the others join you.

“I love you, too,” Natasha responds, pressing a lasting kiss to your cheek. “So much.”

You’ve fallen for her in a lot of ways, and you doubt that you’ll ever stop falling any time soon.

[ramblingguy54]

“Since when have you cared!?”

“Since I saw the consequences...”

     Sasha’s episode, Turning Point, was as great as I hoped it would be for the angst it managed to drive out in under its typical 11 minute time frame. Sasha’s desperation for maintaining control in the best friend trio power dynamic did a lot more, than just simply blow up in her face. This girl had to watch one of her dear friends get impaled, just like I speculated would happen in a storytelling aspect for Waybright’s redemption, considering it’s another perfect way to drive a severe gut punch home into opening Sasha’s eyes. 

     Her agonizing depressing emotional beats are so well earned because Sasha has been stubbornly refusing to face a most notable truth, fear of change. Power & control are two things defining Sasha’s existentialism, where she wanted to keep it all under her thumb by any means necessary. The sad thing is, once Sasha had succeeded in overthrowing Andrias’ reign temporarily in True Colors, she didn’t know what else to do next. In spite of everything, Sasha’s lingering conscience ate away at her more and more, as she continued to make morally questionable decisions.

     Sasha’s biggest inner conflict, most notably shown in Season 2, has always been trying to keep her compassionate side from clashing with her desires for unstoppable power and leadership. We’ve seen this in Barrel’s Warhammer when she tried to show consideration toward Percy& Braddock’s fear of potentially dying in attempting this deadly mission to obtain a bigger army for their invasion, but quickly undermined those concerns to achieve her own goals. Although this girl can be plenty capable of having a heart, it’s buried underneath a bunch of emotional baggage, like what happened at Toad Tower in Season 1′s finale, Reunion. She has a rough time putting others’ needs above herself when it really counts most. True Colors’ events were very much the apex of that inner turmoil arc, regarding Sasha’s struggle to maintain this image of “powerful leader”.

     By the time Sasha had realized her terrible mistake, it was already too late. Anne wasn’t gonna hear out anymore of what she had to say about Andrias’ true nature as a cold blooded tyrant after what transpired between them earlier. Sasha watched two best friends she knew, since those pre-school playground days, be thrown into grave danger, resulting in a brutal wake up call to have this tough as nails girl rephrase everything that defined herself as a person. What was once valued as strength and leadership, Sasha now saw it as a pitiful excuse to cover up her super insecure bitterness at Anne’s newfound independence from living with the Plantars.

“I want to be someone better! Someone that deserves you!”

     All this need for control and what did it get her? Anne becoming enraged enough to call Sasha an outright horrible person, inadvertently played a part in bringing about Andrias’ rise to bloodshed because of said selfish need for control, and got Marcy knocking on “death’s door”, unfortunately. A perfect example of earned dramatic pay off for an important main character’s arc, culminating in a painfully excellent scene doing a callback from Battle of the Bands near Season 2′s end. Really adds one Hell of a heartbreaking new context to Anne’s outburst at True Colors’ start when she calls off the friendship between her & Sasha. Anne had truly believed, despite all of the shit that went down before in their past unhealthy history, it could still be salvaged, regardless.

     This pivotal moment in Sasha’s journey of bettering herself was everything I wanted it to be. Sasha has lost everything at this point, only to be reminded of why she wanted to be strong in the first place, her close friends. It was never originally about maintaining a figurative pyramid or keeping up this shallow appearance of what Sasha considered true strength. From the very first moment Sasha met Anne & Marcy years ago, all she cared about was standing up for those less fortunate than herself and wouldn’t give up on this resolve. However, somewhere along the way in life, Sasha seriously lost sight of this mindset, transforming into a more manipulative and abusive person. You can just feel the weight of Sasha’s actions crashing down upon her here and I absolutely love every second of it. This is my kind of dramatic writing.

     Whether Sasha turned into who she is now because of family issues, school social structure popularity stereotypes, or possibly a combination of both, one thing is for sure. Sasha isn’t gonna allow past mistakes to repeat themselves anymore, which is a huge step in the right direction for her, of course. I’ve been highly looking forward to seeing what they’d pull off for Sasha’s redemption and this first episode focusing on it didn’t disappoint. It was a simply great heartfelt start to what is going to become one God damn endearing reformed protagonist. Can’t wait to see where this story and character goes next.

[starkerforlife6969]

My brand of poison

TW: drug use, cheating (not starker)

It’s a little too hot,and a little too loud. A little too much of everything, but that’s the way it always is at Wanda’s parties. It’s too dark, and sticky and Peter squints past the strobe lighting, tries to pierce the throbbing mass of dancing bodies to find-

“Let me save you the trouble: I’m right here.”

Peter sighs.

He turns, only to be brought up a little short, because Tony’s closer than he thought he’d be- all tall, dark lines and darker eyes, and mussed hair, that stupid, cocky-ass smirk on his face. Peter doesn’t like being this close to Tony, it’s dangerous.

He takes a precautionary, safety step back. “Have you seen Beck?”

“Sure haven’t,” Tony grins, eyes stuck firm on Peter’s abs and Peter- he should feel self-conscious, but it’s not like he’s exactly surprised. He sans-shirt on purpose. It’s a body-glitter party, after all. Like he said- Wanda’s a little much. “That boyfriend of yours sure is slippery. I know where I’d be if I’d come here tonight with you.”

Peter pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to breathe deeply. Tony laughs.

“You’re wound up, sweetheart,” Tony croons, arm around Peter’s shoulders, steering him smoothly away from the crowd. “Beck’ll show up, he always does, after all.”

Peter doesn’t know where they are- someone’s bedroom, but it’s dark, and quiet, and he’s against the wall and Tony is dangerously close to him, towering over him, one arm braced against the wall above him and Peter-

“Already monogamous at nineteen,” Tony tuts, nosing at Peter’s neck, “it’s a waste. You’re too pretty to pass up, Parker.”

It’s hard to get his wits about him with Tony’s cologne smelling as good as it does (of course it does, the jerk) but he manages it. “I’m sorry we can’t all sleep with half the student body.”

“No apology necessary. I know how you can make it up to me.”

And then Tony’s very close. Danger. Danger. Warning. The alarm bells are ringing, and Peter can see those pink lips, that smirk- feel the warmth of Tony’s body against his own and who knows where Beck even is? And Tony smells good, and they’ve always had this- this thing between them, this heat, this wanting-

And then he sees the little white pill Tony’s offering on the tip of his tongue.

Peter scoffs in disgust, and pushes away. His cheeks feel flushed, he feels flushed- god, he would’ve- “No thank you. I have to find Beck.”

“Thought about it, huh, gorgeous?” Tony asks, swallowing the pill himself, waggling his eyebrows. “Too much too fast, I get that. I’m happy with just a make out session. I know, I’m too generous.”

Peter refuses to let his knees wobble as he heads for the door. “Monogamous, remember?” He says sweetly over his shoulder.

“Ugh, I remember every time I see that ass walking away from me, Pete. It’s torture.”

He should leave, but he looks back at Tony, meets his eyes in the darkness and can’t help but admit: “You are dangerous, Tony Stark.”

Tony leans off the wall a little, eyebrows raised, intrigued. “Dangerous?” He repeats, looking like he’d eat Peter up here and now.

“You’re my brand of poison.” Peter admits, heart pounding, “you’d be bad for me.”

Tony’s face breaks into the most delighted, wicked grin, He opens his mouth to say something, god knows what- when the door opens, and the moment is gone.

***

Peter does find Beck that night. Pants around his ankles, someone kneeling before him.

It says a lot, Peter thinks, that he just sighs when he sees it. He doesn’t stay to hear the excuses, he just heads outside into the crisp night air, smiles politely at the weed-smokers and relishes the quiet.

God, what a day.

The gravel crunches behind him, and there’s a pause.

“I swear I’m not stalking you.”

Peter huffs a laugh, and then Tony is behind him, and they’re both craning their necks back to look up at the sky.

“You find Beck?” Tony asks up at the stars.

“Unfortunately.”

They both look at each other from the corners of their eyes. They grin.

“I was thinking about what you said.” Tony hums, sidling up closer beside him, “about poison.”

There’s a cold breeze, it fans over Peter’s bare chest, and he leans into Tony a little. Just for warmth. “Oh?”

“The way I see it is to build up an immunity, right? Little bit of me everyday, till you’re able to take it all.”

“Very clever, Tony.”

“Oh, compliment me more.”

Peter snorts, shoves Tony gently. But he sobers, and his touch lingers, and he shakes his head as he thinks about it. “I’m too vanilla for you, Tony.”

“Well, we can change that-”

“I don’t want to change that. I like it. I like you. But I’m not going to take drugs, or have threesomes with you. You be bubblegum and sprinkles, it’s delicious, but I’m vanilla.”

Tony cups Peter’s jaw in his hand, surprisingly tender, “You think I don’t like vanilla?”

“I think you probably like every flavour, Tony. But vanilla won’t keep you around for very long.”

At the prospect of something long term, Peter can feel Tony stiffen a little, feel his shutters go up, (but to his credit) just a bit. “Listen, gorgeous, you are exactly my type, but….monogamy.” He winces, “It’s really not my vibe.”

Peter takes a small step back. “The idea of just having a part of you, Tony, it’s…” he shakes his head, “it’s not enough.”

“You’re a possessive little thing, huh?”

Peter thinks of how Beck would go days at a time without so much as a text and how little it bothered him. “Only when it comes to you, I think.” He says thoughtfully.

The taller boy softens. “Well, I like being an exception. And I’d like to make you one too, to my whole anti-relationship schtick. So, I can’t promise I’ll be any good as a boyfriend, can’t promise anything really, Peter, but I’d treat you right. And I won’t cheat, I’d do you the courtesy of dumping you first.”

Peter laughs, a little shocked and plenty delighted, “as a thank you, I promise I won’t even yell when you dump me.” He makes another promise to himself: to treasure each day with Tony Stark as his, because it won’t last forever.

Tony pulls him in for a kiss, and then the rest of their life comes- but Tony never dumps him, never even wavers, not even once, and Peter keeps his own promise, and treasures every single day.

[pillage-and-lute]

An Ever Fixed Mark (arranged marriage Au)

Part 1 is here, finally! Title a reference to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Read it on Ao3 HERE

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Vesemir’s slap hit Geralt firmly on the back of the head. Two seconds previously Geralt had been complaining about his upcoming, politically motivated marriage to some nobleman’s son. 

“It’s a good thing, lad. Other witcher schools would kill for something like this,” he said. Geralt knew it was right, legal punishment for those who shortchanged or attacked witchers. It set a precedent, and apparently the earl was very influential. It could change things.

“And there isn’t a fidelity clause,” Eskel said. “It doesn’t have to be more than a sort of partnership.”

“No consummation requirement either,” sniggered Lambert from the other side of the campfire. “You don’t even have to fuck the bugger if he’s ugly.” This earned him a sharp elbow from Eskel. 

“What I don’t understand is what they get out of this,” Geralt said. It had been bugging him. 

“Ah,” Vesemir said, looking uneasy. “It seems that the payment is...taking the viscount off of the Earl’s hands, officially. It seems he’s something of an embarrassment.”

The unease in Vesemir’s voice was subtle, but after so many decades with their teacher, the wolves of Kaer Morhen knew the slight variations of tone and expression. His discomfort was twofold, first, the obvious implication that the Earl was sending his son to live a dangerous life alongside a witcher in order to...deal with him. A death sentence, from father to son. The second was that Geralt, already saddled with a political marriage, was also to be saddled with a nuisance of a husband. 

“But why me?” Geralt knew he was whining like a child, but he couldn’t help it. It was three days to Lettenhove, and then they’d be there at least a week for the wedding and he’d have to act courtly. 

He wasn’t good at courtly.

When he thought about it none of them were. 

“It couldn’t have been me,” Eskel said, a little shyly. He was right. Eskel believed his scars were horrible, made him unlovable and undesirable. Geralt didn’t buy it, but nobles could get a bit stroppy about appearances. And if they humiliated Eskel because of his scarring...no, Geralt wouldn’t let that happen.

“Couldn’t have been me,” Lambert said, mouth full and rather cheerfully. No. It couldn’t have been him either, no manners and no filter, they’d be at war with the entirety of Lettenhove within a day.

“And I’m an old man,” Vesemir said. He didn’t actually wink, but he might as well have. Older though he was, he was still three times the warrior of any young human man walking about these days. But from what Geralt had heard, and it hadn’t been much, the Viscount was young, not quite twenty, and it wouldn’t be kind to marry him to someone so much older than himself. Geralt reflected grimly that he was nearly four times the youth’s age.

Three days of riding passed far too quickly for Geralt’s liking.

Chateau de Lettenhove loomed. It was a fairytale castle built by a man expecting a siege. There were high, rising towers with huge windows and artful buttresses, but to the trained eye of the witchers, it was a fortress. The towers had carved, decorative arrow slits, the windows all had iron grates over them, wrought like lace, and the buttresses could be easily used as defensive positions. All in all, it was a castle that growled, albeit genteelly.

They were greeted first by a footman, and then a line of servants increasing in rank, until a very snobby servant, likely the head housekeeper from the way all the maids scuttled away from her, brought them to an anteroom. At this point courtesy dictated that she bade them sit down on one of the lavish sofas. She did not. She chose instead to turn up her nose and sweep away.

The four witchers remained standing, not looking at one another. Geralt could feel Lambert stewing about the obvious slight beside him. He reached out, still staring straight ahead, and tweaked Lambert’s ear. 

This was about to result in much brotherly retribution and probably a brawl when the housekeeper returned, followed by another woman.

“His lordship the Earl of Lettenhove is attending to vital business,” the housekeeper said, tone of voice implying that the arrival of four witchers who were muddying her nice clean floor were certainly not vital. “I present, her ladyship, Countess Amaria Elizaveta de Lettenhove.” 

The countess curtsied, it was a polite little bob, and she smiled a little dazedly as the witchers all gave their best attempt at courtly bows. A small but significant part of Geralt’s brain was panicking, and it dealt with this new form of terror by imagining that the school of the wolf, seen from the outside plying their newly practiced bows, must look like a line of seagulls vying for a dropped crumb.

Vesemir stepped forward and, in a rather more suave gesture than Geralt had been expecting, took the Countess’ hand and bowed over it. Two bows seemed excessive to Geralt, but since it seemed to indicate that Vesemir would be taking over the speaking for now, he certainly wasn’t about to bring it up. 

“A pleasure to meet you, my lady,” Vesemir said, straightening and releasing her hand. “May I introduce the school of the wolf. Eskel is--”

The countess had waved a limp hand. “Plenty of time for that at the feast, deary,” she said, smiling dreamily. There was something in her eyes that was a little absent, possibly more than a little if her calling Vesemir ‘deary’ was anything to go by. Geralt looked the countess over. He had been given to understand through the brief letters from the Lettenhove estate, that this wasn’t the viscount-Julian, the letters said-’s mother, but rather his step mother. She was a petite lady with mousy hair and rather absent blue eyes. Her dress was obviously of very fine material, rose pink and probably silk, although Lambert would know better than him, but a simpler cut than Geralt had expected. 

His examination, done in a split second, decided that she wasn’t an immediate enemy, but probably not a terrible useful ally. 

“I’m to give you this courting gift,” here she proffered a small but beautifully carved wooden box. “And to show you to your quarters.” She smiled again, and it was warm, but still vapid.

“Custom usually dictates that the fiancé give the courting gift,” Vesemir said, cautiously taking the box.”

“My husband wanted someone else to present it,” she said. “But your grandson can give his gift in person when he meets Julian. Now what...” she trailed off, not even noticing Vesemir’s slight sputter at grandson. “Ah yes, your rooms, right this way please.”

She got lost on the way to their rooms and a shaking footman showed them up to a suite, then kindly took her by the hand and led her away.

They sat, silent, in the nice but not lavish quarters. Four beds in curtained alcoves off to the side, and in the middle a room with a table and chairs, and a sofa and more comfortable chairs in front of a fireplace. It was already blazing and the witchers stared into it for a minute.

“That was strange,” Eskel finally said, and the others just nodded.

“Should I have insisted on giving her our courting gift?” Geralt said after another pause. “I thought they were usually given in person.”

“I think you’re fine,” Vesemir said. “If they broke that tradition they can hardly fault you for doing the same.”

Lambert, sprawled across the sofa, said, “When’s dinner?”

“I think I’m supposed to meet Julian first,” Geralt said. “Someone will probably come get us. 

“When we meet Julian you mean,” Lambert said, sitting up. 

“No, I’ve been thinking about that and I want to meet him alone.”

Vesemir nodded, “Sensible, we don’t know how he will react to one witcher, let alone four.” Then he smirked, although not unkindly, at Lambert. “You will be introduced and have a chance to be nosy later. At dinner perhaps.”

They unpacked their belongings, potion bottles and swords looking out of place along the old but nicely carved furniture. After days of tension on the road as Geralt wound himself tighter and tighter with anxiety for his...wedding, yes his wedding, now this pause was jarring. Eskel tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a look.

Geralt turned around to give Eskel room to work.

On the Path, witchers are rarely, if ever touched. Certainly not in a friendly way if the other isn’t being compensated. It wasn’t therefore, unusual for the wolves of Kaer Morhen to be tactile with one another. Not hugging and cuddling sweetly, but rough housing and wrestling ending in exhausted dog piles. But Eskel had a gift, he had magic hands, literally and figuratively, and he carefully oiled his hands while Geralt took off his travel stained shirt. 

Geralt sunk into himself, half meditating as Eskel dragged the tension from his shoulders and beat the knots from his muscles. It wasn’t a relaxing massage, but it always left him feeling like liquid, if slightly bruised. When it was over and the liquid feeling had left him, or at least subsided enough that his knees could hold him, he stood, clapping Eskel on the shoulder in thanks.

Then came the hard bit.

Geralt needed to be courtly. He scrubbed the bits he could with water and a cloth from a little washstand, but he hoped he could have a hot bath later. Afterwards Vesemir advanced on him and battled the dirt from underneath his fingernails with a stiff brush before attacking his hair with a comb. Geralt sat on the ground like a child, his brothers looking on in amusement as Vesemir sat behind him on the couch and teased the tangles from his hair. He was making faces, he knew, but Vesemir wasn’t gentle, and he hadn’t detangled his hair in some time.

Scrubbed raw, with his hair floating around his shoulders like a silver cloud, Lambert presented him with a doublet. 

It was black, which was good.

That was the only good thing about it. It was most likely a very nice, extremely fashionable doublet. Lambert might take delight in embarrassing Geralt, but he didn’t mess about with clothing. The issue was that it was attention grabbing, it was subtle in a way that seemed to play itself down while actually drawing every eye. It was black, in the same way a raven’s wing was black, every shimmering shade shifting as the fabric moved.

And he would be wearing it. 

He did wear it. 

His hands shook as he buttoned it up. 

He was just examining himself in a slightly tarnished hand mirror when there was a sharp knock at the door. The footman let himself in right after and bowed swiftly. 

“I am to escort the witchers of Kaer Morhen to meet Lord Julian.”

“Just the one witcher,” Geralt said. Vesemir pressed his courting gift, and the little carved boxed nestled on top, into his arms.

The footman didn’t seem to care and simply turned away, leading Geralt through hallways that all looked the same and down two very winding staicases, the second of which was so narrow his shoulders actually brushed the walls. They stopped outside a plain wooden door. The footman bowed and smiled. It looked, Geralt couldn’t help but feel, rather cruel. Then he left. Geralt knocked softly on the door, feeling very large in the narrow, low ceilinged hallway.

Eskel had told him once of a myth he had read, about a beast, half man half bull, hidden away in a maze. Geralt felt like such a beast, too large and rough and probably going to barge in and do everything wrong.

“Come in.” 

It was soft, but not nervous, and Geralt pushed open the door. 

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Oooh I’m naughty for leaving it there, but it’s almost 2000 words already. @llamasdumpsterfire here it is at last, I hope it lives up to expectations.

[baka-monarch]

Dirt Crawlers

Look @darkeninganon , I beat you to writing the slug thing!!!! :)

(brain just randomly started thinking of story and I just decided to write it now before I lost motivation/inspiration)

Part 2->

TRIGGER WARNINGS: BUGS, FEAR, MENTION OF DEATH, FEELING SMALL, VERY GROSS DISCRETION

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Tommy watched Dream as he pushed the door to their hole in the ground open The younger Dirt Crawler was practically bouncing with excitement. Today was the day, finally Dream was taking him out on his first hunting trip. It was the perfect day for hunting as well, since it hadn't rained for weeks and was so bright and sunny out (as Tommy could tell from the blinding light coming through their burrow door) that there was no way it would rain; so there was no risk of them drowning in a puddle or getting dragged down to suffocate in mud. It was also the afternoon by now, judging by where the sun was, which meant almost no birds out hunting at all. Yeah, now would be the perfect time to get some food.

"You remember all the rules I told you, right?" Tommy was startled out of his thoughts by his older brother's voice.

"Yeah yeah yeah, I know I know!" The teen rolled his eyes. The rules had been drilled into him ever since he was a kid, ever since their parents were still around.

"Okay, so remember that we're only hunting aphids- no attacking ants, ladybugs, termites-"

"Mantises,"-He cut off Dream's words-"slugs- yeah yeah, I know boss man! We don't fight anything that isn't an aphid!!" Tommy climbed out of the burrow with that in mind. He already knows what happens if a Dirt Crawler tries to fight anything other than an aphid, he's been told the horror stories thousands of times. Ants will swarm you if you hurt one, ladybugs can headbutt trample and eat you, termites can take a limb off with one bite, and mantises- of Prime Tommy really does NOT want to think about fucking mantises.

"I'm just making sure-" Dream added as he climbed out to stand next to Tommy, kicking their burrow door closed behind himself. "I know how adventurous you can get at times and I don't want to risk anything." The elder puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder and looks into his baby brother's eyes seriously. The world is a dangerous place for someone only half an inch tall, and he wants to make sure his baby brother is safe.

"Stop worrying so much- I'm not gonna leave your side big man." Tommy smirks into their serious gaze and gives his brother a comforting pay on the shoulder, making them sigh with relief.

"Good- because I don't know what I'd do without your annoying voice." Dream jokes with a slightly forced chuckle and ruffles the teen's curly blond hair. Tommy only groans in annoyance and pushes his hand away, which only makes Dream let out another fond chuckle. "C'mon, we don't have all afternoon!" The elder doesn't give Tommy any time to fix their hair as he grabs their hand and pulls them off into the towering grass blades.

It's a few hours later when the two brothers find themselves watching from being blades of grass as several aphids hop around on the dirt, having called off of the grass after the two tiny people had shaken their plant homes with the help of a light breeze. Dream pulls out a small sword and turns to Tommy to make sure he's holding his own sword correctly. Once the eldest is sure the time is perfect, he gives a signal with his hand and both split- Dream running in from the right and Tommy from the left, both catching the tiny bugs off guard and using that to their advantage to slice off the heads of several before they can jump out of reach.

"You did it!" Dream smiles up at Tommy who himself is smiling proudly. They were running low on food, and now with Tommy's help, they're both sure to have more than enough aphids to last them for a week or more at least. "This should be good- you, did good Toms." The green clad Dirt Crawler walks over to his brother and ruffles their hair, and this time Tommy does not complain. "Now help me bag them up-"

"Yes sir!" Tommy gives a small thumbs up and starts to fill his sprig woven bag with the dead aphids as Dream does the same. It's all fine until one of the aphid bodies gets up and starts to limp away- Tommy missed it's head. "I'll get it!" He calls over to his brother, who gives a nod of acknowledgement before Tommy chases after the aphid, knowing he can easily catch and kill it since it can't jump.

Tommy doesn't notice anything suspicious as he approaches the injured aphid. He doesn't look around at his surroundings as he gets out his sword. He doesn't look up as he stabs the bug and finally kills it. He does however scream after looking up to see where the droplet of slime had come from on his sword after landing the killing blow.

Dream snaps his head up to attention, his eyes wide with fear for his Tommy as he looks to where they'd run off to- and he almost screams as well. "IT'S A SLUG!!!!" He's quick to run over and grab Tommy's arm and start to drag the petrified teen away before they can be eaten.

Tommy doesn't hesitate to follow Dream once he snaps out of his state of fear. As they run Tommy tries not to think about the humongous slimey being of pure squishy muscle, with four eyes that stared at him with nothing but hunger, and a large gaping mouth that was opening and closing, ready to eat it's lunch with the rows upon rows of tiny razor sharp teeth that could allow the disgusting giant to swallow him whole. Tommy shivers, yeah that's going to be haunting his nightmares- oh well at least slugs are slow, so he and Dream have plenty of time to run away…. Or so he thought, before suddenly his running is slowed significantly by something making him stick to the ground. The teen looks down, and sees he's stepped into a trail of familiar slime that has him now stuck where he stands.

"Dre- Dream!?" He yells to his older brother, who also finds himself slowed by the slime trail. Dream looks at his brother sadly, and grabs their arms before desperately trying to pull Tommy free as the slug approaches at a slow orgilating crawl towards them.

"Tommy- Tommy, look at me!" Dream said, keeping his voice firm, trying to give his baby brother something to focus on. "Don't look back- don't- d- don't look behind you. Just focus on me, we're going to get out of this." At least Tommy is close enough for Dream to pull them into a hug. He lets Tommy bury their face into his chest, letting them cry as he glares up at the omnivore that had successfully hunted them down on Tommy's first aphid gathering…

"I- I'm scared…" Tommy admits quietly, something they usually would never do, but Dream can understand in this situation: getting stuck while running from a slug is certain death for any and all Dirt Crawlers.

"I know… I know, but it's going to be okay, I promise…." Dream whispers softly and weaves his fingers into Tommy's soft golden curls, something that's always calmed them down, no matter how old. He hugs his small brother close, closing his eyes so he can savor one last moment with them…

BOOM-SQUELCH!!!

The sound is loud and disturbing to hear for the absolutely miniscule brothers, and they both open their eyes wide in surprise and fear of what happened. All that can run through Dream's head is that the slug must've been crushed by something, but what? A deer? A wolf maybe? Possibly even a skunk even if they aren't in this area? The only way to find out is to look up- and up- and up and up and up and-

"Fuck." Dream doesn't cuss often, but for this occasion it feels necessary.

"Wh- wha-" Tommy begins to ask but cuts off his own words as he feels all his breath leave him in fear, as he looks up too.

A giant. An actual giant. A person, thousands of times their size was standing right on top of where the slug had been only seconds before- and it seemed like they didn't even notice they'd crushed anything.

"Human…" Dream mutters quietly, remembering the word from a story their mom told him once before Tommy was born. Giants- humans- weren't supposed to be here. Dirt Crawlers almost never had to deal with humans… yet here one stood, having unintentionally saved the two brothers lives, and Dream realized in a moment how close they both were to that death dealing foot, and if the human hadn't seen the slug, then if they took another unfortunate step- "R- run- we need to run! Run!!" Dream shouts and starts to pull Tommy, and his brother quickly gets the message as they both pull themselves out of the slime to start running.

Dream doesn't let go of Tommy's hand the whole time as they both run as fast as they can, but it doesn't feel fast enough as every time Dream looks back the human looks just as close as they were before and- oh gods they were looking down at them. Dream pushes forward, trying to pull Tommy even faster with a feigned hope that maybe, just maybe they can at least get to the burrow in time and be safe until the human leaves-

Dream bounces back off of something hard and smooth, he can't see it but he can feel it. Tommy rushes forward to stand beside him and starts to bang on the invisible wall; it's a fruitless effort however as both know that anything used by humans is guaranteed to be too strong for either to break through. Only a few seconds later they feel gravity change and they're sliding down the wall, Dream grabs Tommy and hugs him, wanting to make sure that wherever they land his brother is safe more than anything. They eventually hit a bottom, made of another invisible wall- and as Dream looks up he meets two massive eyes, twice as big as himself, staring directly at him and his brother.

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Mcyt g/t list:

@trashpumped @lorie-the-little-ghost @encaos @i-am-a-weeb @wyforyu-gaming @5unfl0writ3r @colorfulsiren @moonmwah @iwasgoingtohellanyways @echoslime @wilbur-simp @trouble-off-grid @lilsyxx @smogs-0 @hello-world-im-snow

[anonymousfiction211]

Handcuffed together 12: Meeting

A/N: I’m going to change the posting day to Friday. Because I’m free on Friday and actually have time to write, edit and post that day! Thanks for understanding.

The meeting The meeting to discuss the plan to help Loki did not go well. At first Tony made a whole scene, because he still was not convinced Loki had told the truth. After a heated argument between the two and Natasha, Tony left. Clint went after him to calm him down. You didn’t see the two of them for the rest of the day.

‘Alright, we need a plan’ Steve began.

‘So, Thanos wants you to collect the mind stone first and then the Tesseract, right?’ Natasha asked.

Loki nodded.

‘How much time do you have for the first one?’ she continued.

‘One week, and then I’m supposed to go to Asgard and have one week to collect the other’ Loki answered.

‘Can’t we just pretend that Thor is guarding the Tesseract and you can’t defeat him?’ Steve asked. ‘I mean, he beats you in strength..’ he carefully continued.

Loki gritted his teeth ‘Strength only, yes. But with magic, manipulation and mind control not’

‘Can’t we just kill Thanos?’ Natasha asked.

‘I don’t know if we’re powerful enough’ Loki answered.

‘We would be, with two infinity stones in our hands’ Natasha said.

‘I don’t think we should use infinity stones. Those things have caused enough damage as it is’ Steve reacted.

‘Maybe we could ask Thor to take the mind stone to Asgard? Keep it in your father’s vault?’ Steve asked.

‘That would make my ‘job’ a lot harder as far as Thanos is concerned’ Loki said thinking about it. ‘But it would make Asgard more of a target and I don’t think that is an option’ he added.

‘Can’t we just ask Asgard for help?’ you asked.

‘We can, but that would end with me in chains and I very much like the little freedom I have left’ Loki said.

Everybody was silent for a while. Everybody was thinking of some plan. Then Natasha broke the silence. ‘What if you die?’ she said.

‘What?’ you asked in shock.

‘I mean, what if you ‘try and take the mind stone’ but are killed. Thanos has to think of a new plan. We have time to think of a plan to kill Thanos and you are free’ she said.

‘That could work, but after my so-called death I have to leave earth’ Loki said.

‘No, you can’t’ you intervened.

‘Unless you have a better idea, I think this is the best one’ Loki reacted.

‘No, it isn’t. Like anyone of us could kill you? I think they would have at the invasion’ you said.

Loki just smirked ‘None of you can, but there is someone who can’ he said while looking at Bruce.

‘No, no, no no.. nope. That is not going to end well’ Bruce said, getting nervous.

‘That’s kind of the point’ Natasha said.

‘Are you guys forgetting that I can’t control the Hulk? If he wants to kill him, he is going to for real’ Bruce argued.

‘Good, then it will look real. I know how to fake my death, it isn’t going to be the first time’ Loki said.

‘I think that could work. But only if Bruce is okay with it’ Steve added.

‘I- I need time to think’ Bruce said while getting up from his chair. Natasha followed him and you knew that by the time they would come back, he would be on board.

‘I’m going to get some air too’ Steve said, excusing himself to leave the two of you alone.

‘How can you just leave me?’ you half-yelled at Loki.

‘It’s temporary. I will come back’ he said.

‘For how long?’ you asked.

‘Depends on how much time it would take to kill Thanos’ he said.

‘And where will you go all this time?’ you asked.

Loki just shrugged ‘I will hop around, trying not to attract much attention’ he said.

‘I can come with you’ you said.

Loki just shook his head ‘You can’t. It would be too dangerous’ he said.

‘All the more reason not to do this alone’ you said.

‘I’m NOT putting you in danger. I feel like we had this argument before, it’s not happening’ he said sternly.

‘Either you come up with a new plan or I’m coming with you’ you snapped back.

‘And what if something happens to you? What if Thanos finds out I’m still alive?’ he yelled.

‘What if you die somewhere out there? What if we kill Thanos but I will never see you again, because you died on some planet and nobody knows?’ you yelled back.

‘You really not going to budge are you?’ Loki said while visibly holding back his anger.

‘Not this time. Not again’ you said.

‘Fine’ he growled. ‘Once I fake my death, I’ll let Thor take my body back to Asgard. You can come with. Once we’re at Asgard we will take some provisions and leave. I’ll expect you do as I say from that point on when I say it. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into’ he said.

‘I will listen to you regarding the places we stay’ you said.

Loki sighed heavily ‘fine’.

‘So, I can come?’ you asked.

‘Yes’ he said gritting his teeth.

‘Promise? No lies?’ you asked.

‘I promise’ Loki said.

After that conversation things between you and Loki were a bit cold. He clearly didn’t like the idea of putting you in danger, but you weren’t going to leave him. He would come around, you thought. After the discussion Natasha and Bruce came back. Bruce had agreed to go Hulk and kill Loki. Loki would make sure to not actually die. The rest of the afternoon everybody worked out the details.

Loki dropped that you were coming with him. He thought it was a terrible idea, and so did everybody else. But as stubborn as you are, you didn’t listen to the arguments. After a while everybody accepted that you weren’t going to change your mind. And you promised to stay in touch whenever you could. And that once the two of you knew that Thanos was dead, that you would come back. Steve ended the meeting by saying that he would bring Tony and Clint up to speed. And keep everybody posted about their involvement in this plan. Thor would be back soon and Steve would also inform him of everything.

When Steve ended the meeting, Loki shot up and left the room. You wanted to go after him, but decided against it. He was angry with you, and he needed some space. You didn’t care, it was all worth it. The rest of the day you spend training with Natasha.

*3rd point of view* Loki searched the whole tower for Tony. He finally found him at the roof. Luckily, Clint was already gone so he could talk to Tony alone. Loki knew that (Y/N) was training with Natasha, leaving him plenty of time. When Tony noticed Loki’s presence he got up and Loki knew he wanted a fight.

‘Before you start, I need a favour’ Loki said.

‘Like I would ever do you a favour!’ Tony growled.

‘The team came up with a plan’ Loki said.

‘I heard all about the plan. You think I didn’t listen from up here?! Like you would help us after you fake your death and leave. No, we solve YOUR problem and you leave us to clean up after you. And I can’t believe you’re taking her with you!’ Tony snapped back.

‘I had actually something else in mind’ Loki said.

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