#like I literally use the same and spatula every day to do this and just leave them on the counter until the next day and then I'll rinse

[milo-is-rambling]

Forgot to say that whatever night I drank that mtn dew I was a little tipsy and described in full detail the exact order of things I do while making a breakfast sandwich to my mother and she actually listened and wasn't judgey I was like " okah so I take the bread and put it in the toaster but don't put the toaster thing down and then I get the eggs out and start heating up the pan and I take a plate and put a paper towel and some of the microwave precooked bacon and put it on the paper towel and put it in the microwave for 35 seconds and I start it and then press down the bread in the toaster then I crack my eggs and add seasoning and let them cook as I take the bacon out of the microwave and I take the paper towel off and use it to hold the bacon so I can use the paper plate for the toast when it's done (check on the eggs) then I go to the fridge and get my shredded cheese and by then my toast is done so I put one slice of toast on the plate and put cheese on it then I flip my eggs and wait patiently (usually plotting what fruit I'm gonna eat with my breakfast sandwich) and then I put the eggs on the bread with the cheese, then the bacon on top (BUT WAIT) then I take my other piece of bread and while the pan is still hot but the stove top is off I put some of the shredded cheese onto the pan and once it's melted I put the piece of bread onto the cheese and then slide the slice off the pan and on top of the other half of the sandwich, press down slightly so the bacon goes into the melted cheese and doesn't fall out of the sandwich while you're eating it. Then I slice the tops off of some strawberries and pour some juice into a cup and refill my water and then I move my stuff to my chair and eat breakfast while watching tv and petting my dog " and she just listened and kinda smiled at me and it was nice I think she was only nice bc she could tell I was feeling actually happy and out of it and she didn't wanna make me feel like shit and I love that bc normally she's kind of a bitch if I go on a stupid speech about something completely normal but like I can't help it I wanna talk about how I have perfected sandwiches and my morning routine

[verysium]

need more of your sae for scientific reasons. very important

here you go lovely:

sae has zero taste in fashion unfortunately. if it covers his body and does not get in the way of football, then it works for him. that's also the reason why he accepts christmas sweaters with the most atrocious color combinations. he genuinely doesn't know that they're ugly (and also doesn't want to upset his mother and elderly aunties.) still has a pair of bright turquoise swim trunks from when he was a preteen with "i ♡ seagulls" printed all over them. he never threw them out and still wears them on summer trips. did not understand why half the beachgoers were side-eyeing him.

sae cannot comprehend internet slang. if you send him any acronym, he will read it out loud in the literal sense. would flick you on the forehead if you said he was becoming too millennial. he was born in the 2000s but cannot relate to anyone in the same generation.

sae would adopt a cat, but it would be a reverse adoption. the cat would choose him and not the other way around. he would not bother with it other than the required feeding and grooming. tried to play with it once, but it hissed and scratched at him. both of them just exist simultaneously in the same residence. sometimes the kitty jumps on his bed at midnight in order to cuddle. he would also name it something like "neko" or "el gato" or literally "the cat" because he is so unoriginal.

sae gives himself the whole patrick bateman monologue every morning when he does his skincare routine. he peels his face mask off in slow motion too. when you pointed out the similarities, he got mildly upset because he does not like being compared to anyone.

sae secretly hates the fact that rin is taller than him. he thinks about it a lot when he sees the family photos. sometimes wishes he grew just a little more during puberty. that way he would be taller than 180 cm.

sae cannot sing for the life of him. but if you are sick or having nightmares, he will hum you the lullaby his mother used to sing for him. gets shy when you compliment his voice, but his emotions do not manifest physically on his facial features. sometimes when he thinks you're finally asleep in his lap, he will brush your hair back and kiss your forehead.

sae sometimes feels a stirring in his chest whenever he spots a child in the park or an old couple on the benches near the boardwalk. he left for spain at a young age, so he inevitably gets the feeling that his childhood was stolen from him. if he ever matured to the point where he could see beyond his own ambitions, he would want to start a family.

sae loves it when he comes home from practice and sees you dancing around in the kitchen. he will watch silently as you prance around with a spatula and belt out the lyrics. sometimes he just wants to capture the moment and tuck it into his breast pocket and treasure it forever.

sae feels touched when you actually listen to what he says. because he is a man of few words, he usually has to be the one who listens, digests information, and offers sound advice. however, if you grant him the time of day to hear him out or gift him something that he once mentioned off-hand, he will feel strange tingles of the emotion he tries so desperately to deny.

sae is a skeptic. no scam, ploy, or false pretense will ever make it past him. he despises people-pleasers and does not understand why he has to conform to other people's standards. will not trust news outlets unless he personally was there as an eyewitness account or there is sufficient research backing up the claims.

sae is rather extreme when it comes to getting hurt. it is all or nothing with him. if he feels like you somehow penetrated through his walls and hurt him even in the slightest way, he will make the situation worse by hurting you back tenfold. usually he tries to justify pushing you away, and that just ends up driving him even further from you. tbh he really needs to work on his communication skills. rather than shutting down after an issue arises, he has to learn to put his own opinions aside and hear out the other party.

sae gets bored easily, but he is hesitant to try out new things in fear of not being immediately good at them. as the eldest child of his family and a hailed prodigy in his nation, there is the expectation that he must naturally excel at everything to set a good example. football is where he first found his talent and where he feels the most comfortable even if it isn't as inspiring and exciting as it once was. unfortunately, it leads to the onset of burnt-out-gifted-kid syndrome. that's also why he is seeking out a strong striker who can meet his demands and generate the impossible plays he is looking for. essentially sae needs someone to rekindle his original love for the sport.

sae gets defensive when he lets other people down, except this isn't immediately apparent. usually you would have to read between the lines with him. he bases his self-worth off both his own ambitions and the people close to him. if he disappoints someone important to him, he will be stuck in this sinkhole of internal turmoil. that's also why he lashes out at rin when rin reminds him of their shared dream he gave up on. he doesn't like his mistakes being pointed out, much less when his stoic image crumbles. he might also push you away and try to convince himself that you aren't worth that much to him in order to lessen his guilt.

sae needs someone highly intuitive and patient in his life. you need to be able to understand his emotions intrinsically because even he cannot grasp his own feelings. you also need to teach him how to connect himself with the outside world. because sae has primarily fended for himself ever since he was born, you have to convince him that it is okay to rely on others. his mentality is that if he reaches the top, no one will be able to touch him, much less hurt him. however, he sometimes fails to see how that simultaneously isolates himself from others.

sae is relatively straightforward when it comes to getting what he wants. if he somehow miraculously realizes and comes to terms with the fact that he loves you, he will confess it directly to your face. "date me or don't." it's not even a question. it's a factual statement.

sae is not as emotionally mature as the rest of the fandom makes him out to be. just because he does not show emotions in a traditional sense doesn't mean he necessarily has better control or understanding over them. for example, he gets jealous but would not know that the emotion he is feeling is actually called jealousy. rather than tease him about it, i think he would sincerely appreciate if you reassured him both verbally and physically through your actions. he is a man who relies on substance, so you need to prove that you'll be the one who stays with him through thick and thin.

sae oscillates between caring too little about others and caring too much. on one hand, he is more than willing to drop someone or something if his end goal has already been met. the ends always justify the means in his mind. however, he also feels doubt and uncertainty at times. like rin said, he hates losing. he objects to the blue lock program at first largely because he doesn't like the idea of a newcomer. he's already written off japan as a substandard country for football, so the idea of it being changed essentially challenges him directly. but again, this is a delicate line of balance. he is alright when it comes to being challenged mentally in football and seeking out a creative out-of-box solution. for instance, he is more than willing to accept rin's progress, shidou's unpredictability, and isagi's breakthrough talent. however, he is not okay with having his preconceptions destroyed as evidenced by his disillusionment in spain.

sae and ego would actually get along pretty well because they both have this one-track mind when it comes to football. players are reduced to numbers and metrics, and everything is evaluated as an advantage or disadvantage. ego is also ruthless when it comes to the elimination of the weak, and sae wouldn't disagree with that.

sae sometimes wakes up on the weekends and sees you in his bed, the sunlight raining down on your face. it is in this sort of domesticity that he wonders what life would be like if he wasn't a football prodigy. he craves normality not in the sense that he wants to be like everyone else but rather the idea that he needs to feel some sort of attachment or sense of belonging between you two. he could care less about the rest of the world but so long as you accept him, he would feel validated.

sae gives you free reign over his heart when he finally gives out and you're still there to pick him up. in his mind, he is worth nothing if he fails. if you're still there to reassure him and put him back together, he will first look at you like you're stupid for even wanting to stay with him. but once he realizes you stay only because you love him, you have his unconditional commitment. he would put a ring on your finger right then and there.

lmao that was long but that concludes my psychoanalysis on sae. hope that cures your insatiable need.

[gay4abby]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do some Robin x reader fluff. Like maybe one is cooking and the other just comes up behind and gives some back hugs and nuzzles. Maybe with a lot of compliments or a love confession 👀 idk my head is just filled with clingy Robin

Have a good day/night! :)

ෆ pairing. robin buckley x fem!reader (no y/n)

ෆ word count. TBA

ෆ warnings. talks abt low self esteem !! & just tooth rotting fluff ‹𝟥 ( made this modern day if u don’t mind ! i imagined reader n robin in a studio apartment somewhere in seattle sjsjsjs )

the sizzling of the pan echoed throughout the very tiny apartment of ____ and robin, an pleasant aura wafting through every crook and cranny of the shoe sized home. they made do with what they had and could not complain anymore about it. so long as they had a roof over their heads, they were perfect. content. robin was off in her corner, behind the room divider that separated both their beds from each other and the hall. the pair were not anything besides friends, but robin was harbouring feelings that made her feel embarrassed about anything she did around the woman she lived with.

robin had a crush on ____. if anything, though, that crush became something even more the longer they spent in the same vicinity. it took a lot for robin to admit it to herself, but she did. and when she came to the realisation she felt as guilty as ever. it felt like an invasion of her space, like she was intruding on her in a way that was only allowed for a best friend. everything they have done together was under the guise of being platonic, but now that robin feels a different way, it just feels wrong.

“hey, robin?” her voice fluttered through the home, gentle and knocking off the walls as it reached robin’s ears. every time ____ so much as uttered her name, she felt a whirlwind of butterflies in her stomach. a light hmm was said in return to ____’s call; robin did not waste any time in meeting her halfway, eyes solely on hers and nothing else. “i gotta use the restroom real quick, do you mind watching the stir fry?” her voice was soft, eyes gentle as it awaited an answer from the auburn girl.

robin nodded her head, a goofy smile appearing on her lips. “of course, i’ll try my best to keep it safe while you’re away.” ____ could not help but giggle, shaking her head and rushing off to the restroom in a scurry. the lovesick girl could not help but watch you run off in the direction of your shared loo, the smile on her lips never leaving as she finally turned her attention to the food you were making for the both of you. at the sight of it, she was actually confused on what to do.

if there is one thing robin does not know how to do, is cook. she has not cooked a day in her life. she practically felt useless about it some point when you both first moved in with each other, but ultimately had that feeling squashed as soon as you said it didn’t matter. and to balance out the work around the small apartment, the both of you decided you will do the cooking and grocery shopping, she will do the cleaning and organising. for a brain like hers, it just made sense. robin was a master of keeping her hands busy and the best way to do that was to put things in order.

the auburn girl had a knack for putting things in places that belonged together. she could not quite deal with the idea of house having things in them and those said items never having a place to go. everything had a place, you just had to figure out which category it meshed into. that is robin’s reasoning and you could not agree more. you both balanced each other in ways that seemed impossible. in ways robin thought she could never find. to be fair, every night she thanked whatever God was up there that she had you. but, this is something she’ll never admit to you.

she watched the stir fry as best as she could. and when i say watched, like she literally stared at it as she moved it around carefully with the spatula. hoping it would not stick to the pan and again hoping you would come back in time to do your thing. she was like a child waiting in line for their mother to come back and they were inching closer and closer to register. it frightened her because she did not know what to do. knowing robin, her heart rate began to pick up with each passing minute.

it felt like she stood there close to an hour, but it had only been three minutes before she felt a pair of lanky arms wrapped around her middle, her going stiff as her eyes stayed glued to the now finished stir fry. “you handled that pretty well.” your soft voice carried through her and she yearned for more as she leaned into your touch hoping it didn’t seem too weird that she melted as quickly as she realised it was you.

“told you i’d keep it safe,” she replied just as softly. “i even managed to give a little brown hue, you know the one that lets you know it’s all good? yeah. who said i couldn’t cook?”

“you, dingus.”

“hey? we stealing words now? that’s my line. no one ever uses dingus on me except for me.” a beat went by before she realised what she had said. in the moment of your quick banter she hadn’t realised she threw herself under the bus, a bright red hue appearing on her cheeks as you tried your very best to hold back a laugh that was trying to come out your throat. it was a pathetic attempt, one robin noticed quickly. “move over.” you squeezed her sides, gently placing her to the side and her yearning for your touch as you finished up the dinner for the night.

her mind was muddled with fondness. her eyes watched you carefully, whipping the spatula to get the food just right, hand on the handle of the pan and it clenching every so often when you wanted to lift it at a certain angle to move the food around to prevent sticking. you hadn’t even noticed there was a warmth settling over the apartment as you turned the stove off, placing the pan on the cooling tray and got ready for the plates. robin beat you to the punch, appearing next to you with two flowery plates, courtesy of your mother who had generously furnished and supplied you guys’ apartment when first moving in.

you placed the food on to the plates, robin immediately going to set up the table. “and when have you ever called yourself dingus? i thought you were too good for self deprecation,” you inquired. that stopped robin in her tracks for a moment, she realised she put up a persona around you when it came to her self confidence. in actuality, robin was the most low self esteemed person she’s known and it is insane that it just dawned on her that she was able to keep up a high confidence act around you. she wanted you to think she had a good head on her shoulders.

“uhh…you’re right. i was just staking my claim for the word. you know, how dogs piss to mark their territory.” that caused a loud snort to emit from you as you placed the food down on the table. robin stared at you with a dopey smile, she loved making you laugh it was a favourite pass time for her. if she could record the sound of your laugh and have it as her ringtone, she’d never change the damn thing.

“so that was you staking your claim?”

“solidifying it, if you will.”

“sit down and eat, buckley.” she saluted you. “yes, ma’am!” you could deal with her wittiness for as long as she’ll let you. there’s just one thing robin is very oblivious to, even if she thinks she has every thing down to a T. you like her just as much. if not more. two lovesick fools, living underneath one roof and acting as domesticated as two people can get who are just roommates. any outsider would think you both were very invested in each other, never leaving the others side unless it was to do something important like going to work (though, you both were home mostly due to remote work).

you both sat across from one another at the little table and dug into your dinner. the entire ambience was warm, calm. at least to you. you always felt that way when around robin, your heart flutters at the mere sight of her. never wanting that feeling to fade. “you’re not a dingus, by the way.” robin looked up from her food, dazed a bit by the overwhelming wave of flavour. if there’s one thing you really knew how to do well, was cook. she could never get enough do your cooking and baking. “what?”

“you’re not a dingus. i was just being silly with you. i don’t see you that way. i hope you know that.” your eyes carried a sincere expression as you looked at her. the food in mouth became dry, everything felt dry around her even with the warmth that the both of you radiated. “i knew that. i know when you’re joking with me, ____. i’ve learned to call the cues.”

your heart soared beyond the stratosphere. your face remained neutral. robin gulped inaudibly, she turned back to her food after giving you a soft smile. it wasn’t like robin to be so quiet, but in a moment like this she felt it better to be quiet and bask in the feeling of being in each other’s presence. you had caught her gulp, but didn’t speak anything of it.

you both subtly drew towards one another, you hadn’t realised your feet were playing a delicate game of footsie. your left foot over her left as the right made its way underneath both feet to intertwine with the other. it dawned on you both without realising it, and when you were finished eating you could not bring yourself to move your feet away. “that was delicious, ____,” she smacked her lips of the taste from the stir fry. you giggled at her childlike behaviour, both of you in sync on getting up. from any outsider’s point of view, it was as though the pair of you have been together longer than anyone knows. you both flowed with each other so naturally and there were opposing attitudes from you two.

robin had took it upon herself to collect both of your plates and began setting out to clean, already knowing her place. it was like clockwork with you two, one makes the food while. other deals with the mess that comes after it all. the pair of you had familiarised each other with all the quirks and habits that make you both who you are. robin was absolutely smitten the minute she found out you can do almost anything with a potato. and she’s a very picky eater, but somehow manages to scarf down anything that was placed in front of her that was made by you.

“i’ll clean up. you know the drill, go relax.” robin gently pushed you away from the kitchen getting back to the task at hand. you were going to be bored out of your mind waiting for robin so you decided that you’ll liven up the atmosphere a little by placing on a vinyl. the 1-800’s lovewave flowed through the speakers as robin was finishing up the last of the dishes, her eyes landing on you as twirled around the living area, swaying to the intro before it rushed into the verse. she couldn’t stop her heart from racing a mile a minute.

robin was so captivated by your carefreeness. if she could hold this scene in her memory forever, she’d play it a hundred times over any chance she got. “come dance with me,” you said, dragging out the word dance with a soft whine and the cutest pout robin has ever seen. she joined you, intertwining your hands together as soon as she got close to you. the music playing and the pair of you rhythmically dancing to the chorus, robin couldn’t keep her eyes off you.

“i-i have to tell you something.” moment of truth, robin thought. she said it so quietly, she had thought you didn’t hear her for a second. you looked at her with your big (e/c) eyes, expression becoming softer by the minute. you were anticipating what she was going to say and robin felt like a bucket of ice cold water was dropped over her head. she couldn’t lose you if it meant expressing her feelings would ruin the friendship. but she couldn’t stand the bubbling sensation she felt every time you looked at her or when you would talk about being involved with someone who wouldn’t treat you right like she would.

before she could continue, she walked over to the vinyl player and paused the music before turning around to face you. her expression was of a deer caught in headlights, robin didn’t know how to start this, but she knew she had to let it out. “we- we’ve always,” she paused, fiddling with her fingers. “you know i would never do anything to jeopardise what we have. and we have an agreement that if either of us get uncomfortable, we tell one another.”

that last sentence made your heart race. did you make her uncomfortable somehow? what did you do? you went back into your memory to see what exactly could have caused this to be sprung up, but you came up short. “did i do something wrong? i’m sorry, i didn’t mean t-”

robin was quick to shut down your overthinking. “no no, you didn’t! just — fuck okay, let me start that over.” she took hold of both your hands and led you to the small couch that occupied most of your living area. her hands tightly gripped yours and you waited patiently for the nervous girl to continue. “we always said we will communicate with one another when something is eating us alive. and it’s been bothering me for as long as i can remember.

“____, i really-” she didn’t get a chance to finish before you cut her off with your own confession. “i love you, robin.” those three little words short circuited her brain for a bit; eyes blinking profusely. she felt as though her ears weee deceiving her, “come again?”

“i always have and i couldn’t sit here and watch you choke up on yourself to admit it. we both know you have a hard time doing that,” you smiled warmly at the flustered girl, robin’s heart rate itself speeding up but not over anxiety, but of excitement and relief. she couldn’t believe the person she’s been pining after felt the same way about her. it was already hard enough to come to terms that she is lesbian, but to be in love with your best friend on top of that was even more frustrating. it was something she had to get used to.

robin’s eyes fluttered closed for a minute before she opened her eyes again to stare at the beautiful dream in front of her. “can i kiss you, pl-”

“yes. as many times as you like.” that was all she needed to hear before she dove right in and planted a soft kiss on your warm lips. that’s all she felt after that moment you two shared. and you made sure she always had enough of it to carry her on.

[totally-sick-blogger]

Disability representation in Bob's Burgers

This is going to be a long post so buckle up and perhaps grab a snack

I am neurodivergent and physically disabled and Bob's Burgers is one of my two special interests so I feel very qualified to talk about this so let's just dive right in

In ~ my opinion ~ Bob's Burgers is one of the best shows overall in terms of disability and LGBTQ+ representation. Still, Today we'll be focusing specifically on disability rep and I'll be breaking it down by character and we'll be discussing both canon and implied disabled characters.

Tina Belcher - Tina is headcanoned by many (including myself) as being Autistic, as many of us autistic people find her extremely relatable and a lot of her symptoms to be obvious. She has a very hard time making and maintaining friendships with people besides her siblings, she does not understand most social situations, all of her "friends" besides Zeke are mean to her but never realize that they're being mean to her unless Louise points it out. She also displays heavy and intense interest in horses, and romance, which many see as her special interests. She also frequently stims both physically and orally; this is especially prevalent when she's in situations that she finds stressful. She's also known not to understand jokes or sarcasm (there's literally an entire episode with this as a running side plot, see season 7 episode 15) she also frequently tries to act like someone she's not and pretend to take interest in things she doesn't actually like in an attempt to make friends (see season 13 episode 14). There's also an entire two-part episode where she's a robot who's pretending to be human which was meant to be an allegory for her masking and she and Bob have an entire song dedicated to them feeling like they're unlikable and not knowing how to be "normal" and I find it painfully relatable and it has me in tears every time I watch that episode (season 12 episodes 21 and 22). The common argument against Tina being autistic is that within the first 5 minutes of the very first episode, there's a joke about Tina being autistic and Bob says "You're not autistic Tina" but my argument against this is that the Belcher family canonically does not have much money and getting diagnosed is very expensive. (also the entire family is very neurodivergent so it wouldn't shock me if no one in the family noticed that she was autistic)

Bob - Bob displays a lot of the same behaviours as Tina but also tends to be portrayed as the classical undiagnosed adult autistic man. He also has a strong tendency to personify and give names to objects such as his spatula; this however can be a sign of autism or childhood trauma which we also know that he has as it's showed and explained on many occasions that his childhood wasn't super great since his mother died when he was a young boy and his dad was not great at parenting and was showed to care more about his restaurant than his son.

Linda - Linda again is the classic undiagnosed adult auDHD woman. She's very hyper-active, and tries really hard to control situations but not in a malicious way. she needs everything to be perfect all of the time and takes extreme measures to make that happen which usually wind up making the situation worse (see season 1 episode 7)

Gene - Gene (in my opinon) clearly has ADHD. He's forgetful, can't get himself to do activities that aren't of his immediate interest, day dreams a lot and his very very extroverted. (Though not all ADHDers are extroverted). He also has a very hard time with rejection sensitivity which is common in people with ADHD.

Teddy - Teddy is the Belchers best customer and close family friend. He also displays symptoms of autism but on a more "severe" level than other characters mentioned. He eats the exact same thing for lunch every day at the exact same time, and literally has a breakdown if that changes without warning. He also has no social skills, is easily manipulated and has strong attachment issues particularily towards Bob and Linda. Also he's a hoarder but I'm not sure if that's relevant to this.

Gayle - I'm not really sure what's going on with Gayle or where to start with her but she definitely has some stuff going on in her brain.

Jimmy jr - Jimmy jr has a speed impediment and often displays his frustrations with his dad who wants him to go to speech therapy and get rid of his speech problems even though he'd rather spend his time pursuing his dreams of being a dancer.

Benji - Benji is a character who appears in a season 13 episode. He's a student in Louise's grade who uses a wheelchair and has a passion for puppetry and loves Jim Henson; though his mother would rather that he took wheelchair basketball lessons. (Also, fun fact: the voice actor for Benji also voices a disabled character on Sesame street, who's puppets were originally crafted by Jim Henson)

This post is already long enough so I'll stop here but I could go on for ages about this subject. I hope you all learned something and feel free to add to the conversation in the comments. Remember that some of these are just opinions and you're aloud to disagree.

Have a great eveing lovies and if you made it this far thank you for reading <3

[authoressofdarkness]

Are you doing the dialogue thing? I thought I saw you post about it earlier today, if not ignore this. If you are though, 35 starker please! Which is: “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

This is going to be my new nighttime activity oh my god

Yes I am doing it! Thanks for the prompt! 😊

Content things below, but if there’s something else I should trigger warn for, as always, feel free to tell me and I’ll add it!

Superior Iron Man/SIM Tony, verbal threats, (kinda?) dubious consent, bratty/sassy Peter, established relationship, nff at the end.

—

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He hears Stark’s voice before he sees him, giving him plenty of time to run — but he doesn’t.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.” He keeps his voice calm, but steely. He’s already prepared for the argument.

“Don’t you?”

“No. I don’t.”

A cold hand grips his shoulder and spins him around, pinning him against the counter. He doesn’t resist.

As always, coming face to face with the Superior is enough to make his Spidey sense go haywire, and a tingle rolls down his spine. The adrenaline and the thrill of the danger pulse through him.

Acute danger, tonight, it seems. Stark must have found out what he’d gotten up to today, and if the cold look in his eyes and the fact he’s still in the suit is anything to go by, he’s fucking pissed. Oops.

“Oh, but I think you do, Parker.” He takes Peter by the chin, holding him there and making him look me in the eye. “How could you possibly think you would get away with letting my prisoners go? Do tell, because I am this close to taking it out of your hide with or without an explanation.”

Peter stares back at him. “Don’t treat me like an idiot, Stark. I knew you would find out; you always do. And it was one person. Your empire will survive.” One innocent person — and one who might yet have value to them, at that. It was foolish to want him dead.

Those sharp blue eyes narrow. “But maybe you won’t.” His hand drops from his chin to his throat, fingers curling around it in the barest hint of a threat. “You’re only still here because you’re of value to me. Start being a pest, Parker, and I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” Peter snaps back. “If you were going to kill me, you’d have done it a long time ago. Quit your posturing. You like having me around.”

“I’m beginning to think like isn’t the right word to use.”

“Oh, admit it. You do like me. And it makes you soft.” Peter crosses his arms over his chest, lifting his chin as much as he can with the hand still on his throat.

Stark studies him, blue eyes still cold, but some of the fury in them beginning to dim. “You do make me soft,” he mutters, and then pushes off of him with a sigh. The suit melts away, and Peter lets out a little breath before turning back to the counter where he’d been making them dinner. “Is the food about done? I’m hungry after spending all afternoon cleaning up the mess you made — on top of my regular work.”

Peter rolls his eyes as he turns back around. “It would be if someone knew how to control their temper and didn’t interrupt me while I was cooking.”

“Well, maybe I’d be able to control my temper if you didn’t constantly insist on testing my patience,” Stark snarked back.

Peter turns back around, this time with a spatula in his hand. “I test your patience? Really?”

“Really.” Tony steps up to him again, tilting his chin up with his forefinger this time. “Your insolence tires me every day.”

“Drama queen.”

Stark just stares at him for a moment, then smirks. “Talk all you’d like. You’re still in trouble.”

“Oh really? What, you gonna make me suck your dick to make it up to you?”

Stark barks out a laugh. “Please. A little cockslut like you — that’s a treat, not a punishment.” He gives his cheek a little tap, then steps away again. “No, I have special ways of crushing the spirits of little spiders that rally against their masters. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it now.”

“Oh, I would never. Why worry when my master has it all under control?”

He gets a snort in return. “I’m going to shower while you finish the food. Put a toe out of line while I’m gone, and I’ll double your punishment.”

The words send another thrill down his spine. There’s some apprehension, sure, but his fear is long since gone. Fuck, some nights he hates being Stark’s pet, but some nights—

There’s certainly worse fates. He’s well paid, well fed, his family is safe, and he gets his brains fucked out on the regular by someone who can keep up with his super stamina. What’s there to resist?

Stark rules with an iron fist, and he makes a lot of threats, but they both know that Peter is invaluable to him in more ways than one. He may bitch about Peter going against his orders, but at the end of the day, he knows Peter always has a reason for it. He would never hear it while he was in the fit of his anger, but once they work that all out, he knows Stark will be grateful — though the superior man would never admit it.

And sure enough, after a snark filled dinner and an evening of both pleasure and just the right amount of pain — Peter’s specially modified restraints keeping him right where his superior wants him — they lay together in bed, barely touching but close enough to feel each other’s breath, and Stark asks him again what he was thinking — this time, much more introspectively, and without the spew of threats that followed the first time.

This time, Peter tells him. He’s rewarded with a low hum of agreement and some kisses along his neck and shoulder, a hand sliding along his stomach to find his cock again. It hasn’t been long since their last go round, but between Extremis and his already accelerated refractory period, he’s hard again in literally no time.

“Mm… I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” Stark purrs against his skin. Peter closes his eyes, a small smile creeping onto his face at the words and the feeling as Stark began to languidly stroke his cock again. “Perhaps I was a bit harsh in the severity of your punishment. Let me give you a treat to make up for it.”

It’s as close to an I’m sorry as he ever gets from Stark, and though it isn’t quite one, but it’s still satisfying. Not quite as satisfying as the hand job and mind-blowing fuck that follow, but hey — nice all the same.

Neither of them would have it any other way.

[skzfelixity]

Jealous Much? | So Mun [The Uncanny Counter]

So Mun x Counter!Reader

Summary: A customer flirts with you and So Mun doesn’t take it well.

Warnings: none

“So Mun, table 5!” Ms Chu called out the young boy, whose gaze was fixed on you and a random dude. Hana chuckled at his behaviour, she had to hear about his undying love for you almost every time they trained together. It annoyed her. She’ll have to confess for the both of you if no one doesn’t want to make the first move.

Mun was very shy when it came to love and everyone seemed to know. You were his first crush so he was going through emotions that hehad never experienced. For example, the butterflies in his stomach. He would get them just by looking at you, his stomach doing flips every time you smiled at him and hugged him.

So Mun’s eyes never left your figure as your conversation with that guy went on, his smirk pissing him off. Only if he had enough courage to storm there and drag you away. He sighed out loud, why was liking someone so hard? Although he couldn’t see your expressions as he was facing your back, he was still able to hear your soft giggles. Were you uncomfortable or enjoying whatever he was saying to you? Honestly he didn’t know but he secretly wished it was the first one.

“Jealous much?” Motak smiled teasingly at the boy, whose attention was now on the bowls in Motak’s hands, which he was supposed to deliver a while ago. Completely ignoring the question, he proceeded to grab the bowls but Motak pulled them farther away from him, “Go confess kiddo, serving can wait.”

His ears turned bright red, he wanted to disappear. Hana laughed along with Motak, both enjoyed teasing him about you. “Stop it!” he grabbed the bowls and left in embarrassment. It was not like he thought they would tell you about his feelings, he trusted them, but it was beyond embarrassing.

“We have to get them together,” Motak whispered, his eyes following Mun’s walk of shame. “Absolutely,” Hana nodded, determinded to make you two official by the end of the day.

You joined Hana and Motak shortly after, a sigh of relief coming out of your mouth. The conversation with the boy, whose name you didn’t remember, was exhausting. “What are you sighing for?” Ms Chu popped out of nowhere, a hint of concern in her voice.

“This guy’s pick up lines were awful. Like if you can’t flirt, don’t do it!” you said very much annoyed. If you wanted to hear pick up lines from the internet, you would search for them yourself. Ms Chu shook her head at how youngsters flirt these days and went back to the kitchen. Motak wheezed at what you said, getting weird looks from some customers.

Hana took the chance to sweep you away, bringing you out of the restaurant, “Whatever Motak and I tell you, you need to give a positive reaction or answer! Okay?” These two were always up to something so you were used to them acting this way, nonetheless you couldn’t help but be confused.

“Okay?” Hana shook your shoulders, she wasn’t playing here. “Yes ma’am!” you decided to trust them with whatever they were planning. You got a wave from from that guy while entering the restaurant, giving him an awkward one in return.

Mun was standing with Motak near the TV, both noticing your actions. Motak knew you didn’t like that guy from what you said earlier and how awkward you were now. However, So Mun didn’t have a clue and Motak was aware of that.

“Seems like this boy has stolen her heart!” Motak placed a hand on his heart, waiting for a reaction. “You think so too?” he narrowed his eyes, watching the boy observing you. He was acting like a creep, his eyes following your every movement. Well he did that too but he had no bad intentions.

Motak pulled him away by the hood and dragged him to where Hana and you were. At the sight of them approaching, Hana nodded at you. You weren’t sure what was that about so you just assumed you would have to do what she told you earlier. As they reached you, the plan got activated.

“Isn’t that guy cute?” Hana asked you referring to the certain customer. You didn’t want to agree but you knew she would smack you if you didn’t, “I think he is.” The uncertainty in your voice made her glare at you. Motak was trying not to laugh, patting So Mun’s shoulder.

So Mun’s heart started beating faster, so you found him cute. Wasn’t he cute too? For the first time in his life he wanted to be called cute too.

“I think you would make a great pair.” Hana told you and you tried not to cringe. You slowly nodded and Mun widened his eyes. If you thought you would be a good pair that meant you wanted to date him. Oh how much he wanted to punch that guy.

He stormed off to the training room, bumping into Ms Chu on his way there. She looked at Mun’s back, he usually apologises so she figured out there was something wrong with him. “What did you do to So Mun?” She pinched Motak’s ear, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m going to see what’s wrong with him, cover for me!” You stood up and left. Motak managed to escape Ms Chu’s grip, rubbing his ear. Hana smirked as she watched you leave, “We did it!”

Motak and Hana fist bumped each other, satisfied by their successful plan. “I’m asking you again, what did you do to our baby?” Ms Chu crossed her arms, tapping her right foot on the floor.

“We had a plan to make him confess and it worked!” Motak smiled proudly and Hana nodded. “Why won’t you leave the kids alone? They will admit their feelings when the right time comes.”

“They were taking forever and we decided to give them a little push.” Hana defended their plan, she wasn’t wrong and Ms Chu knew it too.

“Your plan hasn’t worked until they walk out that room hand in hand,” she pointed out. Well she wasn’t wrong either. All they had to do was wait for you two to come out and celebrate your 1st day as a couple. “Do you think So Mun will chicken out?”

“Probably,” Motak shrugged, “But he seemed mad so I don’t know.”

You entered the training room, finding So Mun giving multiple punches with bare hands to the punching bag. You immediately ran to him, holding his hands in your own, “You will get hurt if you keep this up.”

He looked away from you and snatched his hands away, “Don’t you have a boyfriend to care for?”

You didn’t instantly get what he meant but it hit you. He was referring to the guy that was flirting with you. In addition to that, you realised that Hana tried to make So Mun jealous but why? “I don’t like that guy.”

His head snapped to your direction, thinking he didn’t hear you right. “B-but noona said-”

You chuckled, cutting him off. You were quick to talk again because considering So Mun’s personality, he would assume that chuckle was basically to make fun of him. “She did it to make you jealous I guess,” you shrugged, “But I don’t know why.”

So Mun gulped at your assumption, ears getting red. So Hana and Motak tried to make him confess? Those sneaky-

“Do you perhaps...” you hesitated to ask, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable but you wanted to know. Why would they try to make him jealous if he didn’t like you?

“Like me?”

He looked at his feet, unsure of how to respond. He didn’t know if you felt the same but he didn’t want to lie to you, he still had a chance after all. He nodded while still looking down. He could feel his cheeks heating up as you didn’t say anything, too afraid to face rejection.

It was far from rejection actually, your crush liking you back felt like a dream. You hugged him with a big smile on your face, “I’m glad we both feel the same!”

His eyes widened, you felt the same? Poor boy thought he didn’t hear right again. He couldn’t believe that you liked him back either, he was stressing too much over it to be real. “That means we can date?”

You nodded as you pulled away from the hug, your arms still around him. He smiled so brightly, anyone would go blind. “It took us some time, huh?” You asked, remembering all the times the others told you to confess to him. “That’s right!”

You exited the training room, holding hands. “OH WHAT ARE MY EYES SEEING?” Motak literally jumped at the sight of your intertwined hands. “We did it!” Hana smiled proudly, throwing a wink at you both.

“That plan was really something else,” you shook your head and So Mun giggled. “I guess we owe them for getting us together.”

“Damn right you do, I want ice cream!” Hana exclaimed.

“Let’s go get ice cream then!” Motak ran to the door, being stopped by Ms Chu holding a spatula. “Where do you think you’re going? Our shift isn’t done!”

Well you would definitely get robbed without her, just saying. “Oh right...” Motak sulked and Hana patted his back, “We will get it later.”

“Ms Chu, why are you holding a spatula? We make noodles.” You pointed out, making curious the others as well.

“In case I needed to smack Motak,” she held the spatula in a threatening way, making Motak hide behind Hana. You three laughed, finding the relationship between Ms Chu and Motak adorable, sibling energy.

“Congratulations on your wedding- I mean dating!” Ms Chu turned her gaze at you two, “Now back to work!”

You laughed at her mistake, Motak adding a loud soon and running off to not get hit.

You went to clean up the table of the guy who flirted with you, noticing his number written on a napkin. You picked it up to throw it away later but it got snatched by So Mun. “You don’t need that,” he teared it to pieces and dropped it on the floor.

“So Mun pick that up now!” Ms Chu yelled from the kitchen, how in the world did she notice that.

You helped Mun clean up, he did that because of you so you thought you should help. “Next time I’ll punch anyone who flirts with you!”

“You’ll get a warning idiot!”

You definitely got ice cream later.

[thesquidkid]

Together we can quiet all the noises

3k of malex fluff post 3x09 (Read on ao3)

Alex woke up slowly, feeling his face buried into something warm. As he came to his senses, he realised his entire body was wrapped against a human size pillow, making him hum in comfort. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times to get used to the light coming through the curtains. Once his eyes were used to it, he met Michael’s soft eyes and warm smile, who was playing with his hair.

Alex had both his arms around Michael’s right leg, his head on his lap, while Michael was sitting against the headboard, one hand in Alex’s hair and the other holding a book, smiling down on Alex.

“Morning,” Michael said softly, not to disturb Alex, “how are you feeling?”

Alex took a few seconds to think about his answer, enjoying the warmth and the comfort of Michael’s alien body and the blanket. The events of the last few days came back to him, still a bit hazy, but clear enough that he remembered nearly everything. He remembered working on the Lockhart machine longer than he should’ve, missing his and Michael’s first public date, hallucinating Nora, their conversation, standing on the ledge, nearly dying.

But he also remembered Michael coming to save him, them working on the machine together and cutting out his father’s piece from it, Michael driving him back home and Alex falling asleep, Michael holding him close.

“Better,” he answered eventually, deciding that he wasn’t good yet, but wanted to work on it. Michael smiled and continued to play with his hair. Alex sighed, making Michael chuckle, but not stop.

He had a pensive look on his face, having put his book down on the bedside table, clearly playing words in his head, finding the best way to say what he wanted. And so Alex waited, neither of them were in a hurry.

After some time, Michael spoke up again, his voice barely more than a whisper, “You could’ve died, Alex.” He took a shaky breath, his eyes never leaving Alex’s, “I only just got you back, losing you - I can’t -” he went off, looking up and blinking the tears away.

Alex, feeling much better physically after a good night's sleep, sat up to face Michael. He raised a hand to his cheek rubbing the tears away with his thumb. “I’m sorry,” he said, matching Michael’s whisper.

“I know,” he replied, “but next time, call me?”

And Alex thought about that. Michael wasn’t asking him to call so he could stop him from whatever brave or stupid plan he had. Michael wasn’t asking Alex to call him to blame or criticise or whatever it is that both of them would’ve done in the past.

No, this time, Michael wanted Alex to call him so he could help. So he could be present by Alex’s side, just like he was when they worked on the machine together. And Alex knew that it worked both ways now. That Michael understood why Alex had worked on the machine for so long, why he had to.

More unspoken words, Alex thought. Except this time, they also spoke words. This time, they asked each other for help when they needed it.

“I will,” Alex replied, a promise.

Their faces were only a few inches away, and even though they had both grown, had started to communicate more with each other, there was still a language they were fluent in.

Whereas in the past it was usually in a hurry, a stopwatch over their heads, counting down the days, the hours, the minutes until they had to separate, now they had all the time in the world.

It was slow, yet still desperate. Desperate for love, fear still running in their veins. But there was hope too. Hope for a future together. Their lips met, moving as one rhythm, hands coming to their hair, a dance they knew by heart, but was still as exhilarating as the first time.

Until a loud rumble came from between them, making them separate, Michael barely hiding his laugh and Alex blushing. He never cursed his stomach as much as in that moment. He leaned into Michael once more, hoping to continue the dance that was just interrupted, but Michael leaned away, putting his hands on Alex’s shoulder and pushing him away.

Alex wanted to be mad, but looking at the love on Michael’s face, he realised that they had time to do all they wanted. And now, he also realised he wanted food.

His stomach seemed to agree once more, making itself heard. This time, Michael didn’t even bother, and giggled loudly, his shoulder moving up and down, and soon Alex was joining him.

When they both caught their breaths again, Michael pushed Alex down, carefully, against the mattress, straddling his hips, before kissing his nose and getting off the bed. Alex’s hand, who had landed against Michael’s naked hip, followed the other man, then fell on the bed, dramatically. Michael simply rolled his eyes at the scene in front of him, smiling at Alex’s pout.

“I’ll get the bath ready for you then I’ll make you some lunch, how about that?” he asked, in answer to Alex’s stomach.

Alex hummed at the mention of a bath, his water bill would be higher this month, this being the second bath he took since Michael took him home from Deep Sky.

“Wait lunch? How long did I sleep?” he asked in amazement, he had gone to bed at merely 6 pm, so this would possibly be the longest sleep he had since - well since forever now that he thought about it, his father having applied the military clock in the house.

“About 17-18 hours? I woke up around 9,” Michael replied with a shrug. According to him, Alex still needed much more sleep, and maybe to never leave the bed where the two could cuddle all day.

Alex turned around, looking at the clock on the bedside table for the first time since he woke up. It showed 11:36 am. So he had indeed sleeped for the longest in his entire life. Maybe he should do that again, if it got him such amazing sleep…

He realised he had said that at loud, when Michael nearly shouted No! with a scandalised face, before turning around to start on lunch.

“Wait!” Alex called out after him, making Michael turn around so fast his neck nearly snapping, “can, uh, can I help you? With lunch,” he added at Michael’s confused look, making him smile.

“I didn’t know you cooked, private,” Michael replied with a smug smile, which quickly faltered at Alex’s expression.

“I don’t, I usually order take out or eat prepared food,” he said, with sadness and a hint of disappointment in his voice. His dad never thought teaching his kids cooking was necessary, and his mom left before he could even have solid memories of her.

Seeing Alex feeling down, and deciding that he could curse Jesse Manes and his shitty parenting all he wanted, right now his focus was Alex. “I always dreamt of giving a soldier orders,” Michael said instead, trying to get a smile out of Alex.

And it worked, “Fuck you,” the other man laughed out. “Oh and, I don’t have much food in my kitchen…” he continued, feeling slightly ashamed of his cooking skills, or the lack thereof.

“Alex,” Michael said, stopping the spiraling and gaining Alex’s attention, “I literally learned to cook in a junkyard, I - we - will be able to cook something delicious,” he replied with confidence, catching himself up. If Alex wanted to help, how much of a catastrophe could it end up being?

In the end, they decided that the bath could wait until after Alex had eaten something, so they got dressed and made their way to the kitchen, where Alex sat on the counter watching Michael open all his cabinets.

He had often dreamt of that moment, when he would wake up next to Michael in bed, and could see him cook something. He had heard a lot from Maria about Guerin’s cooking skills, and wanted to test them for himself.

Michael, after having a look through all the cabinets, stood up and faced Alex. “Okay so,” he said, standing in between Alex’s legs, “I think I overestimated the food you have.”

All while he talked, he rubbed his hands up and down Alex’s body, making him hum and smile, “But, lucky for you, I am an expert in throwing weird stuff together and hoping for them best.”

“Sure, but we will need to go grocery shopping together soon,” Alex chuckled, putting his arms around Michael’s neck and playing with the curls.

“Oh thank god!” he exhaled, leaning his head into Alex’s shoulder, “I didn’t want to offend you, but babe, this is bad.”

Alex felt more than heard Michael’s laugh against his neck, and couldn’t help but join, somehow not ashamed of his cabinets. Michael had reacted in such a way that Alex was at ease, every cell in his body content to just stay in this embrace, to have Michael against him and to play with his hair. However, his stomach once more decided to separate them.

Michael detached himself from Alex and kissed his pout away, before reaching for a saucepan and giving him instruction.

They cooked in a light atmosphere, music coming out of Alex’s phone, Michael occasionally reaching to him to make sure he didn’t overcook anything. They moved around each other with an ease neither knew was there. Michael still didn’t quite know where everything was and would open three cabinets before finding what he was looking for, Alex claiming that he didn’t know enough about cooking to help. More than once they bumped into each other, both reaching for the same spatula, or both heading to check the pasta.

Once everything was prepared, they separated the food into two plates and sat at the table to eat, sitting in front of each other. Lunch turned out delicious - not that Alex had any doubt. They had made Tagliatelle with white sauce and tins of corn and carrots. It was simple, but to Alex? It was the best meal he had ever eaten.

“It’s because you haven’t eaten properly in two days,” Michael had said with a slight blush after Alex had complimented his cooking.

They ate, talking about nothing yet everything. Sharing little stories they knew the other didn’t know. Little facts that didn’t matter over the course of the last decade. But that mattered now that they were both ready for a steady relationship.

Afterwards, Alex went to take a bath while Michael did the dishes. He knocked on the door and opened it once Alex had agreed. He was met with the sight of Alex laying under a slim cover of soap, barely hiding anything, his eyes merely opened, an arm on the edge of the bath.

“I, uh, finished the dishes,” Michael said, trying to print this image in his head forever. Alex, relaxed, happy.

“Wanna join?” Alex asked, with a tilt of his head. This was new territory for the both of them. They had seen each other naked, obviously, but it was always with the rush of sex, and never with something as domestic as a bath.

Michael nodded with a smile and started to take off his clothes, feeling suddenly very self-conscious about his body. Any doubts he had however, flew out the window when he saw the look in Alex’s eyes. It wasn’t a look of pure lust. Of course the want and lust was there, how could it not be between them, but it was also accompanied by something deeper, something that Michael had never dared to imagine. Love. Admiration. Those were words both dropped after their teenage years. After they realised the hurt and pain the world could cause. After they realised that that hurt and pain came from their love.

But there wasn’t any pain in their love anymore. The scars they wore, both physical and mental, didn’t only bring pain and heartbreak anymore. They were also symbols of the battles they fought to get to this exact moment, naked in front of each other, in more ways than one.

And so Michael joined it, and after the awkward shifts, they leaned into each other, Michael in between Alex’s legs, his head bent in an awkward angle so it could lean on Alex’s shoulder while also looking at him.

They got cleaned, but it was less needed as the bath and shower they took the day before, so they simply relaxed and enjoyed the moment.

After getting dried and dressed, they questioned what to do for the rest of the day. Where before they would have jumped on the occasion to head to bed and have quick, intense, sex, this time they were conscious about it. Alex’s leg was still sore from having worn the prosthetic for so long without a break, and he could also feel each of his muscles tense when he moved. So sex was out of the equation for now. And neither felt bad about it. They just needed to figure out what a couple did on a lazy afternoon.

They couldn’t go to the movies, Alex’s brain and eyes wouldn’t be very happy with it all. And Alex mentioned that technically the only date he had ever been on was at a paintball place, so really he shouldn’t be taken into account when making decisions.

And this is how Michael got his idea (not that he would ever thank Forrest for it).

He drove them into town, telling Alex that it was a surprise, and parked his truck on the main square. He opened the door to Alex, who answered with an eye roll and a blush, and led him towards the library.

They weren’t holding hands, knowing that Roswell was still not a very queer-friendly place, and not really in the mood for bigots, but they were walking close enough that their shoulders would occasionally bump. In their own little bubble, they opened the door to the library, and on instinct Michael made his way to the physics and space section, before remembering why he was there.

Today wasn’t about borrowing a book about space or relativity or agriculture. No, today was about giving him and Alex something that neither had growing up.

Ignoring Alex’s confused questions, he took them to the children’s section, passed all the books and opened the glass doors to the games section. He chuckled as he saw Alex start to understand what they were doing there.

“I didn’t even know there were so many games here,” he said in amazement.

“I know!” Michael replied, “I only found out about it cause some kid got lost in the engineering section.”

They separated to browse all the different games, agreeing to start with two games each and see where the rest of the afternoon would go.

The only inconvenience about the room they were in was that it was built for children and wasn’t the most comfortable for Alex. But Michael, having decided that this day was going to be perfect, went to talk to the librarians - who he was starting to know well, coming here to use their computers or borrow books as often as he could. He came back with a smile, indicating to Alex that they were going to make an exception for them, and allow them to take the games to a reading room by the side, where there were bigger tables and chairs.

And so they played. They played Clue (Alex won, but not by much), Milles Bornes (Michael won, Alex insisted he cheated), Timeline (Alex won, Michael blames the high school history lessons), made funny figures in Chrominos, and struggled to understand the rules of Backgammon, before ending with a Game of Trains.

One of the librarians - Christie - had to come tell them that the library was closing in 10 minutes, but she barely broke their bubble of comfort. They tidied all the games and put them back on the shelves, helping a little girl put back a game of Monopoly, and left.

Once in the truck, Michael didn't drive away straight off. Instead, he turned to Alex, sharing all his emotions in a single look. Unspoken words. Alex replied by putting his hand on his arm, “Next time, I will crush you at Milles Bornes,” he said with a smile. Next time. Because there will be a next time, they both knew it.

They didn’t drive back to Alex’s house, still buzzing with happiness and comfort. Instead, they drove to the Crashdown and sat at a booth, enjoying burgers and fries and milkshakes. And they made plans for the next day. They would go shopping together, Michael deciding whatever he wanted to buy. Afterwards they would enjoy each other and the comfort of Alex’s bed. And once they were well rested, they would go to the Pony. Together.

That word rang differently too. They have been seen together across town, and in the Pony before. But back then, they weren’t together together.

Alex paid for their dinner, insisting that Michael had cooked lunch and had the idea for the library, and had taken care of him for the last 24 hours.

As they left the diner, saying goodbye to Arturo, their fingers found themselves entwined, and they walked to Michael’s truck, hand in hand, without a care for the world.

That day, even though it followed a very traumatising event, was one of the best days they ever had. They learned a new dance, and they couldn’t wait to get home to continue it. After all, they had time ahead of them.

[forzalando]

goodbye kiss | s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader word count: 1.2k warnings: mentions of anxiety (briefly), mentions of a head injury (briefly), cursing, mentions of food/eating a/n: this is a fluffy steve fic i've had finished for literally forever and i just never posted it bc i thought no one would read my marvel stuff hahahaha here it is. maybe there will be a part 2 to this....if anyone wants it :)

summary: Steve and Y/N are so clearly infatuated with one another, but oblivious as can be. One morning, Steve's shocking behavior may shift their relationship.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Steve and Bucky called out in sync as they barreled through the doorway of your shared home.

Every morning was practically the same; wake up at 5:00am because Bucky couldn’t be quiet if his life depended on it, start breakfast at 7:00am right as Steve and Bucky get back from their run (and pretend like you just woke up), shower at 7:40am, and start heading to the compound at 8:30am.

The consistency helped with Bucky’s anxiety, as well as your memory issues from a head injury you had sustained a while back on a mission.

Steve was just Steve, and he ran a ship tighter than his ass and his workout shirts that you knew for a fact ripped after their third or fourth wear.

The three of you worked and lived together, mostly in tandem, but occasionally something would happen that derailed the balanced home life you all strived for. It was usually minor; ‘accidentally’ eating someone’s leftovers, leaving dirty dishes in the sink, playing music too loud at night, etc.

But sometimes…sometimes it was the way Steve looked at you across the dinner table that made you nervous around him for days. Sometimes it was the way your fingers found their way into his sandy blonde hair after a stressful week. Once, about a month ago, it was because he walked into the bathroom not knowing you were taking a bath. And most recently, it was the casual comment made by Bucky about how he was sick and tired of you and Steve dancing around your feelings for one another like “the fuckers in the Russian Ballet”.

Eventually, the awkward period would fade away and things would return to their normal, harmonious ways, with Bucky grumbling all the while about your cowardice.

“What do you have for us today, doll?” Bucky called out as he exited his bedroom.

“I think I have a cold so you and Steve are getting scrambled eggs and toast because it requires minimal effort. Also, we’re now out of eggs. And bread.”

“I just bought three cartons and a loaf two days ago,” Bucky groaned as he slumped against the counter.

“You and your buddy Steven consume a carton each so either eat less or shop more. Take your pick, Barnes.”

He walked behind you and snatched the spatula from your hand, scooping some eggs into his mouth with a cheeky grin.

“I choose to shop more.”

You quickly grabbed the spatula back and shooed him away before he turned your pristine kitchen into a crumb filled nightmare.

“Steve,” you shouted indignantly, “breakfast is ready and I do not have time for your slow ass today.”

Bucky grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, and immediately after, a loud crash echoed from across the house. Bucky shrugged his shoulders in response, pretending to be unaware of whatever could have caused Steve to wreak accidental havoc so early in the morning. It certainly was not his whispered comment, loud enough for only a super soldier’s ears, about how you surely had time for anything to do with Steve’s ass.

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve huffed as he shuffled out of his room.

“What the hell happened in there?”

“I, uh, mis-stepped and tripped over my bed frame, no big deal.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and graciously stepped away from the stove, accepting Steve’s good morning hug and forehead kiss with a dopey smile.

A strangled gag interrupted your precious moment, and you shot daggers at Bucky while he shoveled his breakfast into his mouth like he was starved.

“Sorry, egg must have went down the wrong pipe. Continue your love fest.”

“It’s not a love fest, Buck,” Steve mumbled as a heated blush crept up his neck.

“Then how come I don’t get tender hugs and forehead kisses every morning?”

“Because you don’t cook me breakfast and Y/N is much more kissable.”

Steve froze while Bucky, the cheeky bastard, chuckled into his perfectly buttered toast. You quickly composed yourself and patted Steve reassuringly on the back, laughing along with Bucky.

“I wouldn’t want to kiss Bucky’s ugly mug either, Rogers.”

The rest of breakfast was silent; the sounds of clinking forks and satisfied sighs seemed like exploding C4 and gusts of wind in the cozy kitchen. After finishing your breakfast of hot tea with lemon and honey, you wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed. Before, you felt that it was just a little cold, but the longer you were upright and moving around, the more sick you felt.

“We don’t have anything important planned today, do we?” You asked while hobbling towards the couch.

“Not that I know of, are you alright, doll?” Steve inquired, concern evident in his eyes.

“It’s probably just a head cold but will you tell Stark I’m calling in sick today? I don’t even have the energy to send him a text right now. Plus, I don’t want to deal with him telling me this wouldn’t happen if I took his prototype horse pill, super food vitamins.”

“I’ll let him know,” Steve mumbled affectionately as he draped a blanket over your shivering frame.

In a matter of minutes, he and Bucky were headed out the door; Steve with his briefcase and Bucky with his reusable grocery bag he deemed secure enough for sensitive documents.

When the door shut, you closed your eyes, relishing in the quiet, empty space you would have to yourself for the next 9 hours, until a sharp ringtone pierced your eardrums and ignited a monstrous headache.

Steve’s phone buzzed upon the kitchen table and you groaned; his forgetfulness never ceased to amaze you. You dashed across the room, hoping and praying that he and Bucky hadn’t already driven away. After flinging open the door to your house, you crashed directly into what you knew to be Steve Rogers’s insanely muscular chest.

“I forgot my….” He trailed off, noticing that you had it in your hand while simultaneously taking note of the annoyed expression on your face.

“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your shoulders, Steven. I feel incredibly overworked and under appreciated looking after you.”

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound momentarily easing the pounding headache behind your eyes.

“You’re definitely not under appreciated doll,” Steve murmured as he took his phone from your outstretched hand. “Don’t forget to take some cold medicine, it’s in the hall bathroom cabinet behind Bucky’s aftershave. I’ll bring home some soup and a movie.”

Before you could thank him, he dipped his head and captured your lips in a delicate kiss. However, all too soon, he backed away with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“Did you just…” you gasped.

“I’ll see you tonight, bye!” He shouted before taking off in a sprint and bounding down the front porch steps.

You watched him from the window as he awkwardly ran back to his car. Just before he opened the door, he turned around and locked eyes with you. You blew him a kiss, as dramatically as you could, and smiled as he laughed and ducked into the driver’s seat.

The sensation of vibrating pulled your attention away from Steve and you reached into your pocket for your phone, swiping across the new text message.

From: Bucky Barnes

I. Saw. Everything.

taglist: @gredmforge @vogueweasley @gcdricreads @nuttytani @kaye-lantern @barnesjamcs @thisuserlovesyouandyouandyou @fallingforyou123 @phoenixes-and-wizards @gloryekaterina @hannahmeyer1999 @beautyschoo1dropout @loonylovegood13 @saara-sanders @le-weasley-simp @peachypotter @omghufflepuff @weelittleweasley (if your url has a strikethrough, I was unable to tag you! please let me know if you would like to be added to my marvel taglist and thank you for reading!!)

[boxesandrings]

I it’s me again I love your stuff. A idea I had inspired a fanart Shane reacting to F!farmer telling him she’s pregnant

( I’m just curious where that would go )

(Hi I promise this is much happier than what the description sounds like!! I think considering Shane’s mental health history life changing news like this isn’t something he’d brush past with no second thought, having a kid is kinda scary to everyone! Promise it’s mostly fluff but wanted to tag anything that could be triggering for others xoxo)

Title: A Father!

Rating: T (mostly for language, but Shane's earlier heart events are mentioned briefly)

Summary: The Farmer shares some exciting news with Shane! He's immediately over the moon, but quickly becomes overwhelmed.

CW: Mentions of pregnancy, Shane's early heart-events, a panic attack(?)

Characters: Shane, F!Farmer, Marnie, Evelyn, Pierre (pretty much all are mentioned)

Words: 3816

Shane took off his boots before entering the cabin, grimacing as he bent to do so. Marnie had needed help repairing some things at the ranch today, and he had spent most of it in a crouch. His thighs were punishing him for it now, sore with every step. Maybe he’d take a bath tonight, let his muscles soak in the warm water and try to relax a bit. Maybe his wife would take one with him.

He waddled into the house, his legs tight and called out. “I’m home! You in?”

The Farmer was often out late, working in the fields or with the animals, or sometimes off mining or fishing at the lake by Robin’s. It had been lonely at first, an empty house was something he’d never experienced, but he had found ways to preoccupy himself. After a month, he and his then girlfriend had a chat, the Farmer promising to be home by 7 every night, or calling and letting him know if something had unexpectedly come up otherwise holding her late.

“In the kitchen!” Shane smiled, making his way toward the room. It was barely 5, a sign for a good night. The sound of music grew louder and the smell of bacon wafted toward him. In the kitchen, he found his wife flipping pancakes but minding another pan on the back burner. She turned when she heard him get closer, waving her spatula before focusing back on the food. Shane walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her, kissed her cheek and rested his head on her shoulder.

“I thought it was my night to cook?” The pair switched who cooked every night, and Shane was certain it was his night. Or had he missed yesterday?

“Hello to you too.” The Farmer twisted her head around the best she could and puckered her lips, which Shane quickly kissed. “It was, but I just wanted to cook tonight. Go sit! I just finished up.” Shane squeezed his wife once more, but made his way over to the table. He groaned as he lowered himself into the chair.

The Farmer tilted her head as she carried a stack of pancakes for the table, watching as Shane rubbed his legs.

“Long day?” Shane nodded.

“Marnie called this morning and said that some pipes in the barn needed repairing, but neglected to mention that it was literally almost every single pipe in the barns, all the ones that carry water to the dispensers.” The Farmer set down the plate of bacon on the table, then slid into Shane’s lap, her arms around his neck.

“Oh, that’s rough.” Shane nodded, tilting his head forward into hers.

“They’re all so low to the ground, I essentially was in a squat all day. My thighs are killing me.” The Farmer nodded, her head moving his. She kissed his temple and stood up.

“I think I have some of that muscle cream lotion stuff that helps with the soreness. I’ll find it after dinner.” She made her way to her own chair, sitting down. “Not all bad though, squats are pretty good for the booty.” She smiled as she picked up a piece of bacon and winked.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Shane shook his head, but smiled as he used his fork to slide a pancake onto his own plate. Yoba, was he hungry. “How was your day?”

The Farmer bit her lip, smiling. “Oh, you know. Same old.” Shane looked up, cautiously eyeing his wife. She was biting her lip, trying to hide an obvious smile and kept looking up at Shane as she made her plate. Shane squinted.

“I feel like you really want me to ask what else happened.” His wife nodded, slightly shimmying in her chair.

“I heard some real good gossip.” Shane couldn’t help but laugh after she said it. His wife looked so pleased with herself, like she could barely handle keeping her excitement inside. She grinned incredibly wide, biting her tongue. Shane picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite.

“Oh, what is it?” He raised his eyebrows a few times, making his wife laugh. After she had calmed herself for a second, she leaned forward, as if the knowledge itself were moving her.

“Someone we know is pregnant.” Shane dropped his fork and coughed. Now that was some good gossip. In a town as small as Pelican Town, secrets among residents were incredibly hard to keep, and something as big as that would have spread easily within a day to the entire population. How had he not heard yet?

“Who?” The Farmer leaned back in her chair, biting her thumbnail.

“Guess.” Shane ran his teeth over his tongue as he mentally went through each of the town’s residents.

“Jodie and Kent? I feel like they could have another, the gap would be the same from Sam to Vincent to this one.” The Farmer watched Shane, her face giving away nothing. Finally, she shook her head, the same shit-eating grin on her face. Shane thought hard.

“It can’t be Demetrius and Robin, he practically yelled from the mountain top when he had his vasectomy. I don’t think Pierre and Caroline even like each other anymore…” He watched his wife’s face.

“Keep guessing.” Shane threw his hands up, but continued to smile.

“You’re gonna make me keep guessing?”

“Come on! You’re getting closer.” Shane sighed.

“Let's see… Maru and Penny are together, so I don’t think they could… Sam is, and no offence to the guy, but the biggest virgin I’ve ever met…Harvey… no.” He looked down at the table, scratching his chin. “Sebastian and Abby could be… Alex and Haley, but I’m not sure if they’re broken up right now.”

He looked up toward his wife, but her face gave away no hints. “I mean, Elliot sleeps with practically every tourist, so statistically speaking…” Shane shook his head, his eyes wide, and his wife snorted. “I don’t know? Emily isn’t with anyone, Leah isn’t, but I might not know.”

Eyes wide, he looked back up at his wife. “It couldn’t physically… Marnie couldn’t…” The Farmer’s face finally broke, a similar look of horror on her own face.

“Oh Yoba no, don’t even—” She made a face, shaking her head. “She’s too old, and not to be mean but I think if your aunt was having a baby with Mayor Lewis?” She shook her head again, faster. “You’d find me in here retching.”

Shane leaned back in his chair and dragged his hand over the bottom half of his face, thinking. The devilish smile slowly creeped it’s way back onto his wife’s face as she watched him. Finally, he sighed.

“Who is it?” The Farmer suddenly stood up and ran to one of the cabinets, pulling out a sandwich bag. She sat back in her seat, and slid the bag across the table to Shane. He picked up the bag and realized there were three white, long sticks in the bag, each one with two pink lines on one end. He dropped the bag.

“Oh, gross, where were these?” He looked up at his wife, expecting the same grin, but was confused to see that it had fallen, a look almost like annoyance on her face.

“Good god, Shane, did you— do you think I’m going around picking up random pregnancy tests?” He paused, his mouth dropping.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. She didn’t find them, she took them. That’s why he hadn’t heard the gossip already, she was the only one that knew.

He jumped to his feet, forgetting the soreness in his legs. His hands covered his mouth, open in shock as he looked at his wife. She nodded at him, the smile returned to her face, hints of tears glistening in her eyes. He turned from the pregnancy tests on the table, pointing at them, to covering his mouth again and looking back at his wife.

She continued to nod, crying definitively now but still smiling. The pair had been married for almost two years, and while they hadn’t made a point of deciding to actively try for a baby, they certainly had been playing it fast and loose. Four months into the marriage they decided that what would happen would happen and stopped using any birth control, the Farmer throwing out any pills she had left. Lately, the couple had stopped even pretending they worried about the possibility of getting pregnant, and Shane had felt that a ‘we should start actively trying’ conversation was weeks away, rather than months or years.

Finally, Shane spoke. “Are… you’re…” The Farmer nodded, sniffling and smiling.

“Yeah, yeah!” Her voice was breathy, joyfully crying through the words.” Shane covered his mouth again and felt his own tears beginning to pop up in the corner of his eyes.

“I— I need you to say it.” The Farmer laughed.

“I’m pregnant.” Shane ran at his wife, scooping her up in his arms, pressing his lips firmly onto hers. She laughed as she kissed him back, her arms wrapped tightly around them as they stood in the kitchen, her tears against his face, or maybe they were his own?

They stood, holding each other, smiling and laughing and kissing, until Shane quite literally swept his wife off her feet, fireman carrying her into the bedroom while she laughed in his arms. He set her down on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, practically attaching himself to her as he kissed her face as she pretended to struggle beneath him, giggling the whole time.

He laid on his stomach next to her, his face turned towards her on the pillow. She watched him back, still laying flat on the bed.

“You’re pregnant.” The Farmer smiled and nodded.

“I’m pregnant.” Shane smiled, scanning his wife’s face.

“We’re having a baby.” She scooched her face closer, kissing the tip of his nose.

“We’re having a baby.” The two gazed at each other, minds racing with nothing and everything at once. Shane lifted himself up and moved closer to his wife, his face only inches away from hers, sliding one arm under her head and placing the other hand on her stomach. Shane bit his lip.

“When do we want to tell my family?” The Farmer sighed and looked up toward the ceiling.

“I don’t know. I want to tell them, but so much can happen in the first few months…” She trailed off, running her tongue over her top teeth. “Maybe in a month or two? Once the pregnancy is past that first little hurdle.” Shane kissed her cheek.

“I get it. Marnie tells Lewis, Lewis tells everyone.” He sighed now. “I mean, you’re only 30, I don’t think you’re high risk or anything.” His wife shook her head and smiled at him.

“No, it’ll be perfect.” She slid a hand over the one he had on top of her stomach. “I know it. Just in the small chance, I don’t want everyone knowing.” She looked back toward the ceiling. “Also, I don’t want all the attention right away. It’s such a small, small town. Something like this will rock the pelican town people to their cores.” She laughed, Shane joining in beside her. “But I promise, when we do tell people, Marnie will be the first to know.” Shane nodded.

“We’ll let her tell everyone else. Makes it easy.” The Farmer snorted.

“Yeah.” She drew circles on his hand with her thumb. “I mean, I guess we have to tell Harvey, for obvious reasons, but I don’t think he can legally tell others.” Shane laughed again, and pulled his hand out from under his wife’s, moving it up from her stomach to her chin. He pulled her face toward his, kissing her softly.

“We’re having a baby,” he whispered, his nose touching hers. The Farmer smiled, and kissed him again.

“We’re having a baby.”

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

Shane couldn’t sleep, far too excited by the day’s news. No matter how long he kept his eyes closed, or tried to count deep breaths, Shane was restless. His wife had fallen asleep over an hour ago and was curled into a little ball by his side, her head on top of one of his arms.

They were having a baby. Yes, it had been something he and his wife had talked about for a while, one day wanting children, but now it was actually happening. He turned his head to look at the Farmer, drooling on his arm, and smiled. They weren’t kids anymore, Shane well into his thirties, and his wife just into them, but it still felt so strange and new and exciting for them to be parents now.

Shane bolted upright, his stomach immediately twisting. The Farmer groaned on the bed next to him, violently awoken by the sudden removal of his arm. She rubbed her eyes with one hand and propped herself up, squinting in the dark.

“Did I sleep through the alarm again?” She yawned. Shane hopped out of the bed, bee-lining to the bathroom. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna be sick.” Shane slammed the door behind him, ignoring his wife’s further questions. He barely had made it to the toilet when he felt it deep within him, the nausea making its way out into the bowl. He didn’t hear his wife come into the room, only felt her hand on his back as he continued to retch. Finally, he laid his head against the bowl, breathing heavily.

“Shane?” He could hear his wife behind him start to speak but pause, unsure of what to say or ask, her mouth just kind of opening and shutting. She laid her head against his back and sighed. “Do you want some water?”

“I’m going to be a dad.” The Farmer chuckled behind him.

“Yeah. I think we covered that a bit earlier.” She lifted her head and resumed rubbing his back. “I’m excited too.” Shane sighed.

“I’m gonna fuck this kid up.” His voice cracked, and he watched as a tear fell from his face. The Farmer paused.

“What?” Shane pulled his arms up onto the bowl, wrapping them around his head.

“I’m a massive fuck-up, and I’m going to fuck up this baby too.” His shoulders shook, an attempt to hold back his tears. “I could barely take care of myself, how am I—” Shane’s voice broke. The Farmer let out a tense breath behind him, and began to rub his back again.

“Shane, no! Don’t say that.” He lifted his head up, and turned to look at his wife.

“I am. I mean, I was worthless. All I did was drink, I hated myself, and for fucks sake, I tried—” Shane paused as he noticed his wife’s lower lip start to tremble and sighed. “I could barely hold myself together until you got here, what, five years ago?” He bit his lip, the tears coming out faster now. “I’m doing good now, but what happens if it all falls apart again?” His voice cracked again, and Shane didn’t bother to hold back a sob.

The Farmer tried her best to pull Shane into her, them both sitting on the floor, but Shane just sat there numb. He wanted to have this life with his wife, a family together, but how could he be a dad? Why did she even want him?

“Shane, please.” He looked over to the Farmer, who was crying, her arms around him. He’d made her cry, husband of the year material! “I think you’re just… you did this when the dog died, too. It’s a lot of information coming in at once, big information. But it’s okay!” Her hands slid down his shoulder, taking his hands in her own. “We’re doing this together.”

Shane let out an indignant snort. “I can’t even handle the announcement, what happens when the baby comes?” His head was spinning. She deserved better. He loved her.

“Shane! You’re okay, it’s okay. We’re in it together, we have each other.” She squeezed his hands, scooting closer to him. “You’re going to be great, okay? You’re not a fuck-up. We all have rough patches, you just didn’t have the support system you needed. Please.” She kissed his temple, but Shane stared straight ahead, toward the wall. He wished he could shrink into a tiny ball.

“I can’t… I can’t mess this up too.” The Farmer pulled his head down to her shoulder, her hands carefully working their way through his hair.

“You’re not going to mess this up, babe. I think you’re just panicking.” She held him close, continuing to quietly stroke his head. “I’m nervous too, but I know I have you.” He loved her, but when she shifted away beneath him, the panic filled his chest again. “I’m going to go grab your anxiety meds. I don’t think you took them at dinner, they might help.” She fully slid out away from him, Shane’s heart beginning to race. The Farmer stood up and stretched out her back. “Now that I think of it, I don’t think either of us even ate.”

Shane felt sick to his stomach, and barely made his way back to the toilet bowl before throwing up again. The Farmer crouched next to him, her hand on his back. Shane could practically feel the concerned look burning into the back of his head.

“Even if I don’t mess up, I’m just passing a damn cocktail of mental illness along.” He sat back on the floor, and used his hand to try and rub away the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. The Farmer above him sighed and sat back down, and wrapped an arm back around his shoulder.

“Babe, don’t—” Shane choked and leaned forward, wrapping his arms over his head.

“It doesn’t even stand a chance, I’ve just fucked it up from the beginning!” He could feel himself hyperventilating, what did his therapist tell him to do? “It’s gonna hate me, I’ve already ruined everything—”

“Shane!” The Farmer’s face in front of his snapped him out of the almost trance he was in, the distraction what his body needed to get in at least one deep breath. She had tears on her cheeks, but her voice gave away no sadness. “Stop it! Calm down!”

Shane leaned forward into her, practically up on his knees now to wrap his arms around her, holding her tight as he cried. She rocked her body, quietly shooshing as she held him, pressing kisses into the top of his head as she did.

“You’re not going to fuck this up,” she said after Shane’s breathing became more regular. “I mean, we’re going to make mistakes. Both of us! A lot. But we’re going to be new parents, it happens.” He nodded, squeezing his eyes tight. “You’re not going to spiral— I mean, now, yes— but it’s not going to get bad like it was ever again, okay? You have me, your therapist, Marnie, we’re all here for you.”

“I love you.” His words were muffled, his face still pressed into her chest. He felt a rumble, a small chuckle above him.

“I love you too. Also, you’re not the only one afraid of passing on bad shit. I mean, my mom is medicated for depression, and I have ADHD.” Shane raised his head, his face even with hers.

“Yeah, I guess.” The Farmer smiled, and reached on her hands up to cup Shane’s face, wiping away a tear with her thumb.

“Yeah, dummy.” Shane smiled and kissed his wife, before pulling back and biting his lip.

“I’m— I’m so excited, I really am.” His eyes met hers briefly, before he looked away again. “I want this with you, truly, I—” The Farmer leaned forward and kissed her husband again.

“I know, Shane. I get it.” They held each other on the floor, their foreheads pressed together. Shane tried to calm himself, breathing in time with his wife. “We’re in it together, alright? We’ve got it.” Shane nodded.

“I know, I’m sorry.” The Farmer smiled.

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be a big change.” She chuckled to herself. “We’ve got nine months, I’m sure this won’t be the last freak out. That either of us have.” The Farmer stood up, and offered a hand to Shane, smiling. “Good luck to you when I have to start buying maternity clothes.” Shane grinned and took her hand.

“What? You’re cooking up a baby in there, you’re gonna grow.” He kissed his wife on the cheek and wrapped his arm around her.

“Oh, I know that now,” the Farmer said, leading the two of them back into their bedroom. “But I’m sure hormone-y me will have to reckon with that later.”

Shane snorted as the Farmer sat down on the bed, and pulled Shane down into her. He kissed her forehead and climbed over, pulling the covers up on his side of the bed. She snuggled back into him, her head resting on his shoulder, but Shane could feel her squirming.

“You feeling better?” Her voice was quiet. Shane nodded, and wrapped his arm around her head.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Her arm snaked its way over his chest, reaching up to hold the side of his head. “You’re gonna be great.”

Shane smiled, and moved his head to kiss the palm against his cheek. “You too.”

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

It took Marnie two weeks to figure it out. Something about the way the Farmer was moving, she had told Shane, was different, and trapped him in her kitchen until he confessed. Marnie was over the moon, and promised not to tell anyone, but Shane ran home and told the Farmer straight away. His wife had bit her lip but shook her head, smiling. “If anyone was going to piece it together, it’d be her.”

In Marnie’s defense, it was almost a week before Evelyn congratulated the pair at the general store. Shane watched as Pierre blushed and ducked behind a shelf, but the Farmer thanked her and moved past, reaching for a bag of flour on the top shelf.

“You know, that was a pretty good run, all things considered.” Shane nodded, agreeing with his wife.

“I mean, that has to be a record! What, five? Six days?” The Farmer laughed, and hoisted the last grocery bag up into the truck. She caught Shane’s gaze, and tilted her head.

“What?” Shane realized he had been staring at her, a dopey look on his face. He smiled, face turning pink.

“Oh, nothing!” He hopped up into the truck, his wife following suit beside him. He looked at her again. “I’m gonna be a dad.” She smiled now, rolling her eyes.

“You’re gonna be a dad!” Shane laughed, and started the truck. The two chatted excitedly the whole way back, discussing the future addition to both their home and family.

[midgardianweasley]

Teach me

Teach me. 

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: After multiple failures at making breakfast, Natasha decides to teach her girlfriend one of the basics.

Word Count: 1.3k

Have a 3am fic that’s not been proofread at all<3

Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 

beep! beep! beep! 

The fire alarm sounded. Again. 

This was the third morning in a row that the irritating high pitched alarm went off, alerting everyone in the compound, and most likely the next town over, that yet again, you were cooking breakfast.

Well, ‘cooking’ was a generous term. It was probably more accurate to say that you were simply attempting to heat food without burning down the entire building where it stands. That said, you quickly grabbed the metal lid abandoned on the side of the counter and threw it onto the pan, containing the flames that were rapidly getting out of hand. 

You were only trying to cook some bacon. 

“Y/L/NNNN!” You cringed at the all too familiar voice of a certain Stark making his way down the hall. 

“I swear to God if you’ve broken my toaster again!” He appeared in the doorway within seconds, still in his pyjamas and his hair tousled. He raised his eyebrows, pointing at the pan you were so innocently standing in front of, expecting an explanation for why he was being woken up yet again by your antics. 

“Your toaster is perfectly fine!” 

“Well then what have you broken?” 

“I haven’t broken anything! It was just a little fire.” 

His eyes visibly widened, if his face moved an inch, they would’ve popped out. “A fire?!” 

“Well, yeah, but look! it’s fine! I covered it!” 

More footsteps jogged up behind a stressed Tony, revealing themselves to be Steve and Natasha, your girlfriend, who knew fine well the reason behind yet another heated discussion. Literally.

“What’s going on?” The supersoldier kitted out in his gym gear asked, completely unknowing of the scene unfolding in front of him.

“What happened, Cap, is that someone is disturbing my beauty sleep.” He glared at you, only partly serious.

“Now c’mon Tony, we all know you’re a beautiful man.” the redhead piped up, giving him a famous Romanoff smirk while giving you a subtle side-eyed wink. 

Tony rolled his eyes, looking between you, the pan, Steve and Natasha, and back to you again. You tried to give him the most guilt-free smile you could muster, eyes pleading for him to not throw you into next week.

Your prayers must’ve been answered, a defeated sigh left his lips, turning towards the door to walk out. “Natasha.” 

“Yes?” 

“Please help your girlfriend and make sure she doesn’t blow herself up.” 

She looked amused, clearly using every ounce of her strength to not laugh at the situation at hand as a grown man slumped away back down the hall like an exhausted toddler. 

Steve placed a steady hand on Nats shoulder. “I’m going to try and get some more training in before my run with Sam, you got this?” 

“I’m sure I can handle this” she turned to see you looking at all the different buttons and dials on the oven, turning and pressing them with a furrowed brow. “I hope.” 

Steve chuckled lightly before returning to his gym session, leaving the pair of you alone in the now slightly clouded kitchen. 

Natasha walked towards you, you were still completely oblivious to her as you were messing with the oven. You jumped a little as her hands fell to your waist, surprised at the sudden yet firm grip on your body. 

Resting her head in the crook of your neck and tugging your body back into hers, moulding perfectly together, she placed small, delicate kisses to your sensitive skin, causing you to quietly giggle at her actions. 

“Hi baby” She whispered in between her pecks, a sly smile plastered on her face. 

“Hi ‘Tasha” 

“Would you care to explain why my darling girl is setting fire to-“ she moved to pull the lid off of the pan, only being met with some form of charred..something. “Uhm, help me out, what is this?” 

“It was bacon” You mumbled, embarrassed a little at your failed attempt at breakfast.

Trying to hide her laughter, her head fell back into your neck. She thought she was being clever, but you could feel her body vibrating with suppressed snorts and chuckles, the reaction being contagious as you started to laugh too, your head falling to the side to rest on hers. 

After calming down a little, she tapped your waist and pulled back, a frown appearing on your face instantly from the lack of body heat from your girlfriend. Turning to face her, you were ready to protest about how you wanted more hugs, but instead a green fabric was shoved into your hands. 

“That’s an apron, darling.” 

“I know! but why are you handing me it?” She tied the knot behind her back with ease, hands landing straight on her hips afterwards.

“because the day has finally come.”

“Oh no.” 

“Yep. We’re making eggs, i’m teaching you. Apron up.” 

_____________________

It had 30 minutes, and you were still attempting to get one omelette served onto the very empty plate beside you. Timing it was one thing, but flipping it was another. To be completely honest, you were surprised you even managed to get to this stage considering the amount of eggs you had to crack to have enough to form an omelette. Or something resembling one. 

“Right, just a few more seconds and then we’re going to flip this, okay?” 

“Can’t you do it? I’m hopeless.” You huffed, getting frustrated with the repetitiveness of cracking eggs, whisking them, frying them, flipping them and you’d say serving them, but you had no experience of that yet. 

“You’re not hopeless, Y/N. You’ve got this, It’s just a flick of the wrist, not a twist of the arm, like this” Natasha stood behind you once more, her fingertips tracing your bare arms lightly before stilling over yours, her back pressed against you and her arms pressed tightly on either side of you. 

“I feel like you’re teaching me golf.” 

“I mean, yeah, same teaching technique, but don’t swing the spatula.” She gave you a knowing look, warning you to not get any eggs stuck on the ceiling, leaving there no chance in hell to get it back down. 

She guided you to move the utensil under the half cooked omelette, shuffling it slightly so there was no part of it stuck to the pan. 

“You ready?” 

“Nope.”

“Great” 

And with one movement, she lifted both of your hands, and nudged them to turn over, ultimately flipping the egg so that you could see how instead of it being black and crumbly, it was a nice toasted brown with some patches of yellow still. 

“See? you did it! Not a burnt egg in sight!” She threw her hands up in celebration, the gesture would’ve made you feel silly if you weren’t focusing on her upturned lips and the pride sparkling in her eyes. 

“Well, the night is still young.” 

“it’s morning my love” 

“..You know what I meant.” You slapped her arm teasingly, both of you unable to keep the smiles off of your faces. Within a minute, Natasha had pulled your face to hers, lips dancing against yours in a loving kiss that eventually turned into a makeout when she slipped her tongue past your lips and tangling with yours. 

Neither of you had any idea how long you both stood there for, completely entranced by one another, lost in your own little world. Fortunately, you had a lovely indication of how long you’d been kissing for. 

beep! beep! beep! 

“Y/L/N! ROMANOFF!” 

You both hung your heads, foreheads not breaking apart as you did so, bracing yourselves for the famous Tony Stark lecture storming your way.

“You’re taking the fall for this one, Romanoff.” 

“If I go down, you’re coming with me.” 

“Yeah, right”

She wasn’t lying. 

taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @wandaromanova @eilarch @natashaswifey @lostandsearching @pottahishotasf @d14n4ol​ @xxromanoffxx​ @007giu​ 

[going-dead]

Phasmophobia

Danny was very sick of tourists coming to explore Amity park. Like very sick of them, especially the ‘ghost hunter’ ones. In the end they just caused more problems than the actual ghosts, getting in the way of the fights causing Danny more stress and injuries than normal. Not to mention they sucked at their so called jobs. He was pretty sure even a single elementary schooler of Amity was a better ghost fighter than all of the tourists combined.

But at the moment it was the dead of winter and probably one of the coldest weeks of the year. So only the stupidest of self proclaimed ghost hunters would venture out to hunt ghosts in weather like this. While it was nice not having to worry about danger prone tourists Danny still was miserable, he could deal with the cold just fine in fact he preferred the cold. The problem was that It was the holiday season, the worst time of the year. At least the ghost attacks were less frequent as they all prepared for the Christmas truce party.

Still he supposed it could be worse. His parents weren’t fighting as much this year, though that was probably due to the fact they were still treating him like he was made of glass half of the time after he told them about the whole half dead thing. Danny figured that was due to the fact they blamed themselves for the portal incident, causing them to coddle him to an almost tortuous degree. It was as if they expected him to disappear if he was so much as bumped in the wrong way. It had gotten a bit better at this point at least, if things continued as it did at the beginning Danny was pretty sure he’d rather have them still be shooting at him. Now they only tensed up when he left the house instead of not so subtly stalking him all day.

At the moment Danny was sitting on the counter in the kitchen with his mom while she was cooking dinner. “Danny dear get off the counter that’s where the food goes not you.” Maddie said shooing him off the counter with a spatula.

Danny floated off in a huff, “This is ghostphobic mom. The counter is a perfect seat.”

Maddie rolled her eyes, “The term would be phasmophobic, and no it’s not it’s; I don’t want your butt all over where I’m making our dinner-phobic.”

“Fine transphobic then.”

“How about asking you to set the table? What would that be?”

Danny mulled it over for a few seconds. “A reasonable request I suppose.” He phased his hands though the cabinets grabbing the plates. Honestly he could have just as easily grabbed them normally but he was still trying to get his parents used to him having powers. “Oh by the way Sam, Tucker, and I are hanging out tomorrow to celebrate winter break starting and school being out for two whole weeks.” “Alright sweetie, but be safe okay?”

“Of course I will be mom.”

“I mean it Danny, please.”

Danny sighed “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to text you regularly to let you know I’m safe. I’ll be fine and stay out of trouble, I promise” Maddie nodded seemingly plated at least for the time being.

The next day Danny was really regretting making that promise. The day started out so well too. Danny, Sam, and Tucker were walking along the park trail. Danny was walking a few steps in front of the other two, subtly making the path easier with his powers. The only people out insane enough to bear the cold were people who had to go to work and teens who were bored out of their minds.

“All I’m saying Danny is that if you want to choose that class you should choose a race other than human for once. Hellspawn would be the best option in your case.” Tucker argued.

“Says the dude playing the race for furries.” Danny shot back turning his head to look back at his friend.

“Hey! The beastmen race is a perfect fit for my class, they have an exp boost for trickery and magic skills  it’s the best for playing a character who mains in ambushing with traps.

“Boys boys stop arguing. Danny will be fine playing as a human he’s just gonna have to spend more time grinding. Also he’s right, beastmen are so the furry option.” Sam cut in.

“Whatever, I just don’t understand why he always plays the most boring race in every game he plays. I mean why would you want to play as a human when you could be a fantasy race like an elf or something.”

“Well that’s easy for you and Sam to say you both are still hum-,” Danny was cut off mid sentence by his ghost sense and a glowing red circle surrounding the group. He hardly had a chance to go ghost before being fully enveloped by the light.

When Danny was finally oriented enough to open his eyes he vowed to never complain about getting motion sick while his dad was driving again if it meant he would never have to go through that awful experience again. It felt like getting sucked into the Fenton Thermos if it was the size of a straw and being spun in a blender all at the same time. He looked around seeing if his friends were brought along with him. And just his luck, of course they got pulled through whatever the hell that was too.

“Ugh, you guys okay?” He closed his eyes again and focused on stabilizing his core and getting the last of the nausea to leave.

“Bleh I think I’m gonna hurl.” Sam groaned from beside him.

Danny heard Tucker shift beside him. “Yeah I’m good, I guess all that time staying up late playing VR games kinda helped against motion sickness. Landed on my arm though so definitely going to bruise later. Where are we anyway?”

That actually was a good question, Danny lifted himself off the ground literally, using legs to stand was lame anyway. The sight he was met with was both confusing and surprising. Looking down he saw that the three of them were in some sort of red magic circle or something, with candles lit around it. Looking past that was the part that was surprising. He was expecting this to be the work of a ghost but standing in a circle around the three of them were six  humans in different colored robes. He couldn’t recognize any of them though, they must have been from out of town or just total shut ins. He was pretty sure he recognized where they were though, it was the basement of an abandoned building next to the mall, Sam was super into urban exploring the year before and it was one of the first places she dragged the two boys to.

“Haha uhh hey didn’t know there was a costume party going on, I would have dressed up, looks like you got all the colored robe thing going on though. Would my hazmat suit work instead of a robe?” Danny looked at the group around him and cracked an uneasy smile. Maybe it was some sort of accidental ghost summoning or something, it wouldn’t be the first time. Though the fact it brought his friends along pointed to it either being on purpose or something much more powerful, or both.

The man in the black robe turned to a woman in a white one. “Why did the spell bring two kids along with it .”

Danny tried to ignore being called an ‘it’ not like his parents didn’t do it before they knew about his identity. “I’m not the murder clown and I do have a name you know.” But his words seemed to fall onto deaf ears.

“I did the calculations right if that’s what you’re trying to imply, as you can see the subject did appear in the circle as planned. We probably just underestimated how much power the sacrifice would provide with the addition of the solstice.” White robe snapped. Great, this was totally just what Danny needed at the start of his winter break. Not only did they seem like ghost hunters they were the crazy obsessed culty ones.

“Either way the goal was achieved in the end, we have the ghost boy.” Black robe pointed to two men, one in yellow and one in blue robes. “Take care of the two bystanders, but don’t kill them. After all we shouldn’t kill our soon to be followers.” Yeah that wasn’t concerning at all Danny thought.

The one in the yellow grabbed Sam and the one in the blue grabbed Tucker at the black robed man's command. Danny assumed that probably meant the black robed one was the one in charge here. “Hey! Get your hands off me you freaks!” Sam yelled, struggling against the man’s grip.

But Danny’s friends didn’t have a chance against people twice their size. Before either of them could struggle more the two men slammed their heads to the ground in almost unison, knocking them out almost instantly. It happened so fast all Danny would do is watch on in horror. He felt like he watched their now limp bodies for ages, their chests shallowly rising at least giving him the relief of knowing they were still alive. But the sight of small puddles of blood forming around their heads snapped him out of his horror and into a rage.

Danny placed his feet to the ground turning to look at the two in the black and white robes. “Why?” He seethed, “You said they were accidentally brought along when you were trying to get me here. Technically in a way this falls onto me. So tell me, why?”

The man in the black robe seemed taken aback from being confronted so suddenly. The woman in white didn’t seem to have the same problem, maybe they both were in charge? Honestly though Danny didn’t care at this point. “We will take over the little town you haunt. After we do that we will find out where all the ghosts are originating from and then make them into our soldiers so we can take over the country and then the world. To do that we obviously needed you out of the way since you seem to be the only one capable of combating the other ghosts that come into this world. Or you would just defeat our pawns before they could take true action. So we found a way to summon and trap ghosts, then brought you here so we could get you out of our way.”

Honestly Danny was disappointed hearing that more than anything, his rage almost completely disappeared after hearing the plan. “Hold up that is the stupidest plan I have ever heard.” And that was saying something seeing as he dealt with Vlad's plans on a weekly basis. “First off you do realize it would be very hard to get or even force ghosts into your service if you don’t offer them, anything in return. Not to mention how some ghosts have almost godlike powers and you expect to overpower them? Also I am not even close to the only one who can fight ghosts. Everyone in Amity Park has at least some know how when it comes to ghost fighting. They sell basic ghost protection equipment at the supermarket. I just happen to be better suited than everyone else because I y’know can like fly and go intangible when chasing them. Using ghosts to take over the world is so stupid do you even know how to properly catch a ghost? Seriously this is like next level dumb, not to mention how did you even know the summoning would work if it didn't you’d just all be standing in a darkly lit room looking dumber than you already do.”

That seemed to anger the white one a lot. Apparently she didn’t like her intelligence questioned. “Why you little-.” She stomped her foot. “This plan was thought through down to the smallest detail. You want to know how it worked huh? How about asking your friend over there. I wonder what happens when the dead are killed? You will find out soon enough.”

Danny looked over to where we gestured and his refound taunting attitude vanished. Laying over in the corner inside a smaller less complex looking circle was a ghost or the ectoplasmic remains of one at least, the core was completely destroyed. Judging by the fact that the ectoplasm was red it probably had a fire core before it was destroyed. From the lingering ecto signature Danny doubted the ghost was even sapient. It was most likely the remains of something like a blob ghost or the ghost of an animal or even a weaker ectopus. Still all he could do was stare at the remains in horror.

“Of course summoning you was harder so we used that thing for its ghost energy to help power the circle. Instead of chalk we used it’s ectoplasm to ensure the strength and longevity of the seal to hold you in the circle.” The woman smiled as if she achieved something great. Achieve something she did indeed, but it certainly was not what she intended.

The rage Danny felt before came back in full force. Before with his friends he at least knew they would recover, all three of them got injured fighting ghosts more often than they should. But to injure a ghost to the point where not even their core remained was something so taboo that only the most despicable ghosts would do. Even Skulker kept the cores of his prey stable enough not to fade away completely. A ghost's form could be completely destroyed but as long as their core remained they would reform back where they first formed in the Ghost Zone. The only ghosts Danny could think of who would go out of their way to destroy a core were some of the ancients like Pariah Dark or Nocturne.

Danny finally managed to tear his eyes away from the ghost's remains to lock eyes with the woman. She and the black robed man took a step back out of instinct. Looking into his eyes they felt the feeling every animal of prey felt when it knew it was being watched, being hunted. The temperature in the room dropped and frost started to crawl across the walls. Danny took a step towards the two leaders before pausing to reconsider and turning and starting towards the two men standing above his friends.

Then men in yellow and blue robes looked to the man in black for guidance, unsure of what action to take. He looked uncertain as well but shook his head. “There’s no way it can pass through the seal, we tested it.”

Danny's eyes flicked over to the man then back to the two who hurt his friends and gave them a predatory grin, his teeth now looking slightly sharper than usual. He made no sound as he stepped over the circle with ease closer and closer to the two men. They both reached for their weapons, small bats, apparently they were the muscle of the group, and swung at the approaching ghost. Danny simply went intangible causing the two to overswing and hit each other instead, knocking the wind out of them both and causing them to drop their bats. While they were catching their breath Danny grabbed them by their hair and knocked their heads together. Their bodies crumbled to the floor just a few inches from the teens they did the same to just minutes before.

The one who had yet to say or do anything, dressed in red, made her way towards Danny while his back was towards her. Just as she got within arms reach of him she slipped and fell. The temperature had dropped even more at this point causing the ground surrounding Danny to ice over. Danny hardly acknowledged the large thud behind him simply trapping the fallen woman up to her neck in ice as he walked past and headed towards his final two targets.

When first summoned by the group Danny could, within reason, probably be passed off as a weirdish looking human excluding the glow around him. But now as he stalked towards his prey that was no longer the case. His chest no longer moved like it was breathing. His feet made no sound as they made contact with the ground. His eyes, non-blinking, no longer had pupils or even whites to them just a void of endless ectoplasmic green. His ears were pointed almost bat like. The tips of which, along with his lips, were tinted blue. His hair, normally white like snow, now was just the white that came from complete absence of any color. The hair was defying gravity almost as if it was underwater while smoke like wisps trailed off from his hair as he moved. His mouth was twisted into an emotionless smile splitting through his cheeks showing needle like teeth all the way back to where his molars would have been, there was no tongue or throat behind them, just another endless green void. The skin of his neck that was showing past the hazmat suit was marked with lightning like scars. The glow around him seemed to absorb all the light in the room.

The man in the black robe looked between the approaching horror and his partner before running towards the exit. Danny moved so fast it was almost as if he materialized right in front of the man. The man stumbled back falling down in shock but still tried to scramble away from him crossing his chest as he did so. Just as Danny started to raise his arm towards the man he paused and lurched back.

He looked down at his chest where an ornate knife was now lodged. Holding onto the hilt was the woman, she gave the knife a final twist before letting go and herding her partner into the corner farthest away from Danny. Danny showed no pain as he grabbed the knife and pulled it out, the blade was dripping with ectoplasm, and dropped it on the ground. The wound in his chest already healing, filling with more ectoplasm to replace what was lost.

The smile that was marring Danny’s face was replaced with a scowl as he made his way towards the corner where the two were cowering. Placing a hand on their necks he lifted them both up against the wall and started slowly burning their skin with an ectoblast. He let them go, letting them fall to the ground only when their screams of pain turned silent as crushed vocal cords and burnt throat muscles took their toll. Both cult leaders looked up at him in horror faces pale. "What's wrong?" Danny smiled, "It looks like you've seen a ghost."

The woman looked at him in fear as she grasped at the raw skin of her throat, which now was covered in blisters and charred in some of the worst places. “Wha-, what, what are you?” She managed to rasp out before coughing up some blood.

Danny let out a dark chuckle, his voice echoed over itself. “I-,” he snarled, “am a Phantom .”

After Danny sent an anonymous tip to the police about the cult, he brought his friends back to his house. Of course his mom freaked out after he stopped responding to her texts and even more when he phased into the living room with an unconscious Sam and Tucker. He was pretty sure she was about to break out the BOOmerang if she didn’t hear from him for much longer. She was more than willing to take the two of them to the hospital to get them checked out.

Danny made a quick stop into the ghost zone to tell Clockwork to spread the word to other ghosts to be on alert and that there were humans that were trying to summon and capture ghosts. After telling Clockwork what happened, in much more detail than the briefest summary he gave his mom, including how he probably went a bit overboard with dealing with the cultists. He also admitted he didn't regret it even if he did go overboard. They hurt his friends and caused a ghost to completely fade, and in Danny’s opinion they deserve whatever came to them. The whole story caused Clockwork to also start fretting over him making sure to let Danny know that his reaction was a completely normal response to someone threatening something that falls within his obsession especially since it happened in his haunt of all places. Danny swore that his ghostly mentor could be worse than his own parents sometimes especially when it came to reassuring him about his more ghostly tendencies.  

Luckily after being released from the hospital it turned out the worst Sam and Tucker suffered were concussions that would heal in a decently short amount of time. That didn’t mean they weren’t complaining about it though.

“Stop laughing about my suffering Danny! I won’t be able to start playing Fantasy War Online VII until my two week tech restriction is lifted by my doctor. It was bad enough I had to go to a hospital but to be taken away from my lovely devices as well is just too much.” Tucker lamented.  

“Quit complaining and suck it up. I’m on the restriction too Tucker.” Sam pointed out.

Tucker huffed. “Yeah well you’ll probably manage to catch up to all the people who are getting it on release day easily, since you’re scarily good at MMO’s.” He flopped back onto Danny’s bed. “Hey at least this gives us more time to convince Danny to play something other than a human for once in his life. Like I said before the hellspawn is the perfect race for the build you’re going for.”

Danny just rolled his eyes. “And like I said before, I like being a human.” “Whatever dude just don’t complain when I utterly beat you if we end up fighting because you wanted to be the lamest most boring race ever.”

Danny shrugged. “Somehow I’ll cope, I just think it’s nice to be seen as normal and not scary.”

Sam laughed. “Danny you are the least scary person like to ever exist. The only things scary about you are your grades and your wacky parents. I doubt you could be scary if you tried.”

Danny looked out the window watching the stars as they started to appear in the sky. “...Yeah I guess you’re right.”

[junowritings]

how about before being isekai'ed to NRC mc was a vigilante? like a mix of daredevil and batman or like deadpool and red hood? imagining mc using martial arts or macgyvering unassuming everyday objects into weapons to defeat overblots instead of magic seem cool, the funniest scenario, mc using a wooden spoon, a slipper or even if you watched icarly a butter sock to hit and defeat an opponent would be hilarious

Honestly I love the idea of this scenario! Part of me always kind of wished with the overblots is that the MC would get involved somehow - I know it’d be dangerous, but who doesn’t love going a lil feral at some overblot monsters lmao ------

It’s like something straight out of a comic book. Sure, the same thing could be said about your situation - a self-made vigilante fighting to protect those close to you from idiots who think they’re smart enough to cause anything other than trouble - but getting straight up isekai’ed into another universe full of magic and fairy tale rewrites really takes the cake of weird situations you’ve gotten roped into. Guys in masks? You’ve seen them in abundance back home, so while the ‘extravagant’ nature of the headmaster is weird, it doesn’t really phase you. Being surrounded by a bunch of confused boys with vividly bright hair (and do some of those guys have razor teeth? You really don’t wanna find out if they do) and having a talking cat ranting your ear off about becoming the greatest wizard of all time...that’s around the time you figure out this isn’t just some elaborate kidnapping plot.

Being shacked up in this new world isn’t as bad a deal as you thought it would be, though going from physical fights every other week to just having to worry about classes was...an experience, to say the least, and takes a bit of getting used to in terms of putting your guard down. It isn’t long during your stay at Night Raven college that you start garnering attention too, and not just because of the circumstances surrounding your enrollment. Your way of dealing with things is a lot more physical than many of them used to; when Ace had first come to Ramshackle after being collared by Riddle, instead of asking what it was or what he’d done, you’d instead just sat him down and spent the better part of half an hour picking the lock. Granted, it wasn’t enough to crack Riddle’s magic, but Ace is pretty sure he heard something click open while you fiddled with the keyhole - and that was just a speck of some of your skills. 

The physical prowess and litheness that comes from your ‘profession’ were valuable assets back in your homeworld, and while you’re not there anymore you’re still able to make use of them in this world, or you try to, at least. It makes for a hell of an entertaining sight during Ashton’s classes - you’ve just about knocked everyone in your class on their ass at least once (both intentionally and unintentionally). It’s been useful getting to lessons too, though you’ve spooked more than a few of your fellow classmates when they’ve caught you scaling the side of the building to skip the stairs and make it to class on time. You’ll never forget the shriek Ace let out when you dove through the window, skidded across the floor, and slid seamlessly into your seat right before the professor came through the door. Things like that have earned you more than a few skeptical looks, but it’s also led to more than a few people coming up to you to ask how you do it.

Just because you’re in a school setting doesn’t mean you slack off on your training. If anything, it means you have to train all the more to make sure you’re not growing rusty - you’re not about to get left in the dust just because all of these guys have wands and this ‘unique magic’ business at their disposal. That being said the lack of a fighting partner makes things difficult; when you first get settled into Ramshackle you find plenty of furniture beyond repair that you’ve been able to use, and with everything being such a cluttered mess it makes for the perfect obstacle course as you fight to clean it all up. But you’re missing your training buddies, and as much as Grim gets on your case about you being his subordinate, you’re not about to get expelled for fighting your magical feline housemate...not just yet, anyway. You do look around for some sparring partners though, and you find some pretty damn good ones in the process. Deuce is one of the first, being quite the fighter in the past, but given that it’s a skill he hasn’t actively trained it doesn’t take long for you to - quite literally - sweep his feet out from under him. Jack’s fairy competent too thanks to all of the muscle, so sparring with those two at once has given you something to bond over after school. As you got to know more students, you found a pretty good training buddy in Rook - you guess being a hunter has its perks, and isn’t that far off from being a vigilante, but it gives you one hell of a lesson to avoid getting on his bad side.

They’ve seen you make impromptu weapons out of things before - you just about took Floyd’s head off with a spatula when he’d rushed through the door unannounced, and Grim keeps finding the ends of the kitchen’s wooden utensils sharpened to a point when he sneaks down for late night snacks. You’re guessing old habits die hard, and it's tricky business completely stopping some of your more bizarre daily tasks. 

Looks like those same skills come in handy when the overblots happen however! It’s not as though anyone gives you a crash course on magic overuse and overblotting, so when you see Riddle transform and watch that huge, tank of a thing start forming up behind him you have what you’d like to call, a reasonable reaction. The boys are preparing to fight their overblotted friend when a tea cake stand comes sailing overhead and nails the being behind Riddle directly in the face - or pot, you guess. 

The thing is at least physical, which means you can hit it, and your friends are too preoccupied with Riddle to stop you from barging into the fray with just about every impromptu weapon you can get your hands on. Plates, cups, shoes, amongst other things shower the air as you close the distance, and at one point you end up hoisting up one of the garden chairs and swinging it up at the jar head until you have enough momentum to let go. The sound of shattering glass has you letting out a triumphant holler as you backtrack to avoid the spew of ink that spatters across the floor, cracks fanning out across the inkpot‘s surface as its hands fly up to its broken ‘face’ and it howls as though appalled by your audacity.

Whether that actually has a hand in finishing the fight or not, it isn’t long after that the overblot incident passes and Riddle collapses; however, that’s not before you get a couple more hits in, just about bringing the overblot to its knees by the time it finally dissipates for good. Once the Heartslabyul dorm leader is back on his feet and led away to rest and recover somewhere less demolished, that’s when the attention is focused back on you. 

There’s more than a few comments about you getting involved in the fight when you have no magic - some comments are admonishing, telling you to be more careful and to not be so reckless; others however are more than a little intrigued by the turnout. Ace just about knocks you over when he claps his hands onto your shoulders and demands to know how the hell you learned to move like that, and Grim is more than a little puffed up bragging about how of course his lackey would be so useful. It catches you off guard - you’re so used to just doing this in your day-to-day life that having someone admonish or praise you is...nice, in a way. It reminds you of when you first took up the vigilante mantle, and you find yourself brimming with excitement at the thought. If they think what you did then was neat, just wait till you tell them about all of your escapades in your home world! You’ve got enough to keep em hooked for days.

[collectivefandomstuff]

Title: A Hindering Hand Type: Fanfic, crossposted to AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270097) Status: Complete. Chapter: 1/1. Fandom: DC/Batman Rating: T Warnings: Language. Beta: No beta we die like Jason Todd and also Damian Pairings: None. Word Count: 4k+ Genre: Humour/Comedy Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne. Summary: When Dick is refused the opportunity to coddle Damian, he decides to lavish his other siblings with his questionably helpful assistance. They are palpably ungrateful.

Excerpt: Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed him. 

”You have got to be kidding me.”

Jason stared at what used to be his perfectly clean kitchen; now a hollowed out shell of its former self. Cabinet doors were thrown open, his carefully organised supplies haphazardly shuffled around. Every single counter and parts of the floor was covered in flour, cocoa, and something wet and heretofore unidentified. He didn’t even want to look closer at the stove or the sink, both filled with sticky, clearly misused, pots and pans. There was a smell hanging in the air, the same one that had set his inner alarm bells off when he entered the apartment: burnt sugar and something that smelled suspiciously like rotten fruit. Jason took a deep breath to stop himself from just whipping out his guns and shooting at the mess. It would be cathartic, but ultimately unhelpful. Instead, he fished his phone out of his front pocket and thumbed through his contacts.

He got through two rings before the line opened.

“He got you too?” Tim said on the other end. His tone reminded Jason of Bruce, which was usually a clear indication that Tim was fucking done.

“How can he be this useless?” Jason ground out.

“He was raised by Alfred.”

“So was I. And you.” “Fine. He was spoiled by Bruce.” “uh-huh,” Jason agreed, daring to move into his living room. Thankfully, the carnage hadn’t spread there, though there was an oven pan, placed strategically in the middle of his coffee table. The contains looked like what Jason imagined “dubious food” in Zelda looked like in real life. “I have to stop hanging out with you,” he told Tim. “Why?” “I just made a video game reference in my head.” “Which game?” “Not the point.” “I mean-” Tim began, but before he got any further into arguing why the specific game was “of import” to the discussion -fucking dweeb -Jason cut him off: “I’m going to kill him.” Tim was quiet for a moment. “What did he do exactly?” “Hi Little Wing,” Jason recited from the note that had been stuck underneath his brand new fucking oven pan Dick you bastard that was expensive. “I made you some brownies!” Jason stopped to look closer at the brown sludge that he was pretty sure was stuck to the bottom of his new pan. Martha herself recommended it, Dick goddammit. “I hope they turned out all right! Don’t work too much! D.” There was a pause. “Did they turn out all right?” asked Tim. “No,” Jason gritted his teeth, “No, they did not.” “He’s really on a spree this week.” “Yeah?” Jason muttered absently, poking at the sludge with his gloved finger. It jiggled. Somehow, that made everything so much worse. “Mm,” Tim said, and Jason could hear the tapping of computer keys in the background which meant that he had about 30% of Tim’s attention. “He hit Cass and Steph a few days ago. I guess since Cass is staying there when she’s in town he thought it was two for one. Tried to do their laundry.” “Why haven’t they killed him?” “They’re working on big drug bust. So, no time.” “Well I have time.” Jason groused, already trying to reorganize his plans for the evening. He would need at least three hours to repair the damage Dick had done to his kitchen. “Good,” Tim said, his voice cold, “because so do I.” Jason stopped trying to figure out how many new appliances he would need to buy to focus for a moment. “What did he do to you?” Tim was silent for a long while, then: “He tried to clean my apartment.” Jason shuddered. On one hand, he understood the compulsion. His replacement’s usual idea “clean” was “nothing hazardous is currently growing somewhere”. Still, the only thing worse than Dick trying to clean was Bruce trying to clean. Or cook. Or do laundry. Or vacuum. The Batman he may be, but Jason had never met a more incompetent homemaker in his life. Once, Bruce had tried to dust a little and they had to call the fire department. “And?” He prompted. “He moved everything,” Tim said, deceptively calm, “and threw out at least thirty-four irreplaceable things.” Oh shit. There was a reason why Jason stomped down the urge to clean Tim’s apartment. He once moved an old magazine when the younger boy wasn’t even there and the next day he got received three upset calls and a computer virus for his trouble. “He re-organised my desk. My cases. My clues.” Tim continued to rattle off. “And he didn’t even manage to clean properly. I’m pretty sure he tried to scrub my TV with vinegar.” Jason bit his lip to keep from laughing. Looks like Tim got it worse. “Shut up,” said Tim grouchily. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were laughing at me.” How- Jason’s hand clenched around the phone. “I told you to stop putting cameras in my apartment.” Tim snorted. “So find them and take them down. Think of it as practice,” he said, lilting the word “practice” in the same way Bruce usually did. “You’re such a creeper.” “Says the murderous crime lord.” “At least I’m not a stalker.” “Have you checked your bottom cabinets yet?” Jason stilled at the sudden change of subject. “Why?” “Looks like the re-organising urge lived on.” Oh, he had better fucking not. Jason stepped back into his kitchen and, with the care of someone opening a bomb case, edged open the door to his pots- and pans cabinet. He came face to face with his toaster, nestled between a pasta drainer and three boxes of cereal that he had not owned this morning. It was the sugary shit too. “Son of a-” “I think he put your spatulas in the fridge,” Tim said cheerily. Jason was going to wring his little neck. Right after he had stomped on Dick until the unbridled rage in his chest went away. “This is why I don’t want any contact with this family for-” “You know why he’s doing this right?” Tim queried lightly. Jason frowned. “I don’t keep track of the family gossip, pretender. I have better things to do with my time.” Tim made an offended noise at being called “pretender”. “Fine. Then why don’t you try to make him stop and call me when he’s tried to clean your guns?” Jason rolled his eyes. The dramatics, honestly. Bruce 2.0. “Why is he doing this, Tim?” He asked reluctantly. Tim sniffed. “Damian told Dick that he wasn’t needed at the moment, which was the little brat’s way of trying to get Dick to take some time to de-stress, but obviously Dick took this to mean that Damian has cast him aside and considers him a bad parental figure.” Jason spent a good few seconds rethinking the whole “moving back to Gotham” idea. He could just… leave and never talk to this insane family ever again. It was entirely doable. Just, one little call to Roy and hasta la vista you absolute nutjobs. He sighed. “So we have to talk to the demon child?” He asked tiredly. “Yeah pretty much.” “I still think my first plan was better.” “If you kill Dick, the family will never leave you alone.” That was a surprisingly good point. Dammit. “Can I punch him a little?” “I’d encourage it.” “Hey,” said Jason suspiciously, “just what are you planning to do him exactly?” “Honestly?” Tim replied. “I’m going to send a false tip to the department of Agriculture, fabricate evidence, and make them recall his favourite cereal.” Jesus fucking Christ this family was a pizza bagel of crazy with a sociopath topping.

-

It took them a while to track down Robin during patrol, and when they managed to find him they were met with immediate resistance. Which, taking into consideration who they were, wasn’t all that surprising. “Calm down.” Red Hood said placatingly while he jumped out of range from Robin’s swords. “We just wanted to talk to you about N-” He dodged a batarang that was clearly aimed at his throat. Add psychopath topping to that pizza bagel. “Would you knock it off,” Red Robin snarled, spinning out of the way when Robin spun to aim a kick at his stomach. Hood seized the opportunity and darted in to restrain the tiny beast that, let’s be real, was absolute proof that Bruce should not be allowed to procreate. Robin thrashed in his hold for a good three minutes before he finally settled down, glaring murderously at Red. “What do you want?” Robin spat. Even when Hood could feel him literally vibrating with supressed rage, he still kept perfect syntax. No abbreviations here. Little freak. “We need you to call N,” Red said. He looked a little ruffled and more than a little miffed. “I will do no such thing,” Robin sniffed. “Think again,” Hood said in his ear, letting his voice drop into a menacing tone. “Look,” Red Robin said. His hair was sticking up at the back after the struggle and he looked real fed up with this. Hood could relate. “N is running himself ragged trying to prove he’s a good parent or something and you need to make him quit before he injures himself.” Robin stilled. “What would Grayson be doing that would cause him such stress?” “He’s cooking,” Hood drawled. “And cleaning,” Red added. Robin’s whole body tensed. “I will take care of it.” He declared imperiously. Hood looked at Red, who shrugged. Yeah, good enough, I guess.

-

It was not good enough, he guessed, Jason realised as he took in what used to be his living room, but was now a cut out of a living room no one would ever willingly ”live” in from Garishly Tasteless Designs Magazine. He had his phone up and dialling before his eyes had even swept up the full length of the dirt-yellow curtains. It took a while to get the full effect of them, because he kept getting distracted by the frills and the suspiciously Nightwing-esque pattern. “Yeah?” Tim answered on the other end of the line. His voice said he was knee deep in something and wasn’t really paying attention. Probably his revenge plan, which Jason was seeing in a whole new light right now. “He redecorated.” Jason’s voice was so low it was almost a growl. There was a pause. “It didn’t stop?” Tim sounded much more alert and aware this time. “No it did I just went out and bought this lime green couch myself from Blind, Bath and Beyond,” Jason snapped. He heard Tim groan into the receiver. “But we even talked to Damian,” his replacement whined. Like he had anything to complain about. His living room didn’t have- was that a fucking Billy the Bass? Jason was going to shove his guns so far- “I’m calling the brat,” Jason ground out before hanging up and redialling. Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed grimly. “He- you must be mistaken.” “Look, kid, there aren’t a lot of things I know, what with my not completing my formal education and all, but if there is one thing I will never unlearn it’s how to spot Dick Grayson’s fucking taste in fabrics.” “I see.” No, you little shit. You don’t see. Jason was the one who was cursed with seeing this absolute monstrosity of a- was that crystal?! “You said you were handling it,” Jason reminded him, firmly putting his back to the living room. Looking at it was bad for his blood pressure. “I do not understand.” Damian said seriously. “I specifically told Grayson to stop bothering you and go back to Blüdhaven where he could be of use.” Oh. Oh Damian. Jason resisted the urge to smack the phone into his face. Sometimes Damian’s age and social inexperience really shone through. Jason took a deep breath to keep from screaming. “Listen, Damian.” Jason said carefully. “Dick is feeling a little neglected right now, and what he needs, what we asked you to do, was to start hanging out with him again.” “-tt-” Damian was probably rolling his eyes. Jason could have Tim check later, he was sure the little creep had cameras in every building in the city. “That is preposterous!” “No,” Jason said dangerously, “it’s not. So now would you just call him and tell him you need help with your homework or something?” It was truly a testament to Jason’s level of desperation that he was willing to be this nice and patient. “Grayson needs to rest-” “Just FUCKING CALL HIM!!” Ok, so there was a limit to that patience. Oh well, he was only human. Damian, however, apparently thought that this was one indignity too far because the call disconnected. Jason glanced behind him and immediately regretted it. Porcelain figurines. Oh, how he missed the days when he was a big-name villain, and the only thing Dick did was fight him. In the corner, a cuckoo clock struck seven and a tiny robin popped out and chirped at him. Jason’s vision blurred with sickly green for a moment. Yeah, he was staying in a safe house tonight.

-

It took for days of no progress and Tim having his entire coffee-stash replaced with decaf (“cheap decaf, Jason. Low-level, buy in bulk decaf.”) before they threw in the towel and went to the manor. The estate looked as menacing to him now as it had when Jason first saw it as a little kid from Crime Alley. It probably always would, no matter how many times he was back. If Tim was feeling apprehensive, it didn’t show. He just looked grumpy, like a particularly displeased cat. His replacement rapped his knuckles on the door and stepped back to cross his arms, frowning. He looked very intimidating. Like a squirrel with an anger management problem. The door swung open to reveal Steph, dressed in a t-shirt that Jason was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to be a splotchy pale blue. Her jeans looked new. “He’s not here,” Steph told them in a biting tone. “Who?” Tim asked. “Dick. Though for the record we have to come up with a new name for him because ‘Dick’ is going to be real ironic soon.” And whoa, Steph did know how to look properly intimidating. “What’d he do?” Jason asked her. Stephanie stepped back to let them inside. “There was an incident with a waffle iron,” she said icily. “He tried to cook?” Tim guessed, taking off his shoes. “He tried to laminate.” Steph corrected. Tim grimaced. “Is Damian here?” Steph snorted. “Damian is useless. We need to strike back.” She lowered her voice, her eyes cold. “And strike hard.” Damn, if this continued, Dick wouldn’t even be allowed back into Gotham. Actually, yeah he would. Only Batman could bar people from entering Gotham, apparently. Because Bruce was only one with any rights around here, that fucking- He was getting off subject. Also, not paying attention. “-alking to Dick,” Tim was saying, “trying to talk to him is a good way to make this worse.” “I wasn’t suggesting we talk to him.” Steph said, cracking her knuckles. Tim looked unimpressed, which frankly impressed Jason a little. Stephanie was scary. Not Batman scary but- Hang on. “Hang on,” Jason said, holding his hand up for emphasis, “Batman is the only one who can bar someone from coming to Gotham.” “What the hell is your point, zombie boy?” Steph asked, crossing her arms. “We don’t need to redirect Dickies attention back to Damian. We just need to redirect it. To someone.” Jason grinned at them and it probably only looked about 30% insane. “Someone with the power to stop him.” Understanding dawned on Stephanie and Tim’s faces. “Someone who deserves to have his clothes ruined,” Steph whispered reverently. “Someone who has time to redecorate because he doesn’t have a job,” Tim added gleefully, “someone who flounces into board meetings too late and does nothing.” “Exactly.”

-

Tracking down Nightwing turned out to be the easiest thing they’d had to do so far. He didn’t even try to avoid them. “Hey guys!” N smiled cheerily at them as if he hadn’t spent the last two weeks putting them through some kind of Donna Reed inspired psychological torture. “Nightwing.” Red Robin greeted coldly and, yeah, in costume the replacement could totally pull off intimidating. “Whoa, what’s with the murder faces?” Nightwing said, stepping off the ledge he’d been standing on and walking closer. Hood crossed his arms. “You’ve been busy lately,” he commented and even the helmet couldn’t filter away the unvoiced insult at the end. “I guess?” N replied. “Did you like the brownies?” Hood tried to remember that they weren’t here to beat him senseless. Based on Spoiler’s clenched fists it seemed like he wasn’t the only one struggling with that. “N,” Red Robin said with the calm voice he usually reserved for interrogating suspects, “we appreciate you trying to… help us.” On “help us” Red’s voice broke through the calm and straight into “I’m going to kill you and bury you in store-brand decaf coffee” territory. “But we really are doing fine on our own.” Nightwing pursed his lips. “You are all working so hard-” he started, but Red cut him off. “Yes, and that’s why we appreciate it. But we’re actually worried about someone else, who needs your help a lot more than we do.” Nightwing paused and Hood could almost see the gears in his head whirring. “Who? Damian?” “Not Damian,” Red said, because they all knew it wouldn’t work to say it was Damian, “B.” Nightwing crossed his arms. “You think B needs help?” And here was the fragile part of their plan. Hood cleared his throat. “B,” he said, trying to keep his tone civil, “works himself to the bone and he doesn’t accept help from any of us.” “He has Alfie though,” N argued. “Alfie is busy taking care of Damian, since you’re not helping him as much anymore.” Spoiler rebutted. And damn, blondie, good answer. “We struggle too,” Red said, “but we help each other, right guys?” “Uh-huh,” Spoiler agreed. “Right.” Hood lied, thankful that the helmet veiled his eyeroll. “You guys help each other out,” Nightwing said with obvious disbelief. “You.” “Red is always helping me with cases,” Spoiler said, “and studies and stuff too. And I help him with staying alive and acting like a human.” Red nodded. “And Red and I work together on cases,” Hood said truthfully. “And sometimes Hood makes sure I eat and stuff,” Red added, “and I help him with security.” “They also hang out and play video games and watch nerdy movies,” Spoiler revealed. The little snitch. “Really?” Nightwing said, looking between the three of them. “That’s great!” He shuffled around a little. “So, you guys don’t need me either, huh?” Oh god. Oh dear god it was the voice. The patented Richard Grayson sad-and-feeling-neglected voice. The voice that could inspire shame and guilt in the most hard boiled criminal. At least he was wearing the mask so he couldn’t give them the accompanying puppy eyes. “Well,” Spoiler said and Hood could see her wavering. She didn’t have the years of experience needed to withstand Dick’s manipulation. “But B does!” Tim exclaimed, dragging Spoiler to stand behind him. Good move. “And the little brat too, even though he doesn’t admit it.” Hood added. Nightwing bit his lip. “Look,” Red’s voice was genuine now, “we all really do appreciate it, but B and Dami need your help more. And frankly, the last time I saw B he looked dead on his feet. We’re all good. But he isn’t. He sleeps less than I do.” Maybe that was even true. Huh. Were they doing B a solid here? Wait, no. No they weren’t. It was recommended by Martha, Dick you absolute menace. “Ok, I hear you.” N said solemnly. “I just wanted to help out.” Martha. Think about Martha. “We know,” Red said, patting N on the back. It was really awkward. “Did I tell you B has started eating power bars for dinner?” “Wait, seriously?” Nightwing looked disturbed. “That’s so bad for you.” “Yeah,” Hood said as if he hadn’t watched Red do that at least three dozen times, “he’s really setting a bad example for li’l D, isn’t he?” He thought Red might have done the wave if he could have. Hood certainly wanted to give himself the wave for that stroke of genius. “Okay, I know you guys are manipulating me,” Nightwing told them drily. Shit. “But you have a point.” Oh thank Jesus. N stretched. “Well,” he said, “I’m going to make sure B doesn’t kill himself. And yes, I’ll stop helping you guys.” He shook his head. “You three should really open up more, you know?” They nodded, because at this point they would do anything to make him stop “helping out”. Red cleared his throat. “So, good luck, uhm...” Nightwing grinned. “I’ll stop, but you all have to give me a hug before I leave.” Fuck. N pounced on Red like a jaguar on a gazelle, completely ignoring the scandalised (and very undignified) “meep” Red let out. Hood turned around, ready to make a run for it. “If you leave before a hug I’ll make you dinner next time!” Nightwing called cheerfully, still holding onto Red Robin like he was a life vest. Triple fuck. Hood sighed. The things you do to not have your living room secretly re-decorated.

-

As awful as it was to get cuddled by Nightwing, it was all worth it about a week later, when Tim climbed in through his living room window for their bi-weekly movie night. This week: when the great go bad- The Godfather 3, X-Men: The Last Stand, and Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions. “I see you got rid of the ruffles,” Tim remarked. “You didn’t see that on your stalker cam?” “I’ve been busy watching Bruce lately.” “Oh?” Jason prompted, putting the pizza boxes on the coffee-table. “He tried to call me five times today,” Tim said. He walked over and got two beers out of the fridge. Jason sniggered. “It’s that bad?” “He’s only got one target now. B is about to break.” “Tell me more, tell me more,��� Jason said, making himself comfortable on his new -fucking stylish thank you very much -couch. “Like, did he do something to his car?” “I can’t believe you just made a Grease reference, you absolute nerd,” Tim commented flatly. “Musicals are cool,” Jason told him. Because it was true and he would fight anyone who said otherwise. “Was Olivia Newton John your childhood crush or something?” “Who’s to say it wasn’t Travolta?” Tim gave him a deadpan stare. “Because,” he said drily, “unlike Dick, you actually have taste.” Jason mulled that over. “Touché." He shrugged. "Now tell me about B.” Tim looked up from where he was connecting his computer to the TV and grinned sharply. “You want to experience what the Germans call ‘Schadenfreude’?” “Hell yeah I do.” Tim hit a key on his laptop and the Cave flickered into view on Jason’s TV. At least, he thought it was the cave. “Is that?” “He re-decorated the cave.” Tim laughed. It was not a nice laugh. Jason approved. On the screen, Bruce had just entered through the door to the storage area and was making his way to the computer. Trailing after him with a plate of questionable looking sandwiches was Dick. Jason nabbed a beer from the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. “Oh we are so watching this tonight. Sofia can wait.” “I made a compilation of the past week,” Tim said smugly, picking up the other beer and folding himself into Jason’s new armchair. It was beige and, most importantly, neither pea-green nor suede. On screen Bruce collapsed into his new, avant-garde office chair and put his head in his hands while Dick chatted pleasantly in his ear. “You know,” Tim said thoughtfully while Dick re-arranged Bruce’s files, “sometimes I think he’s being purposefully bad at this.” “Why?” “Oh just,” Tim reached for the pizza and Jason handed him the box, “whenever he starts doing this, we all have to interact with each other to make him stop. Like how you and I only started hanging out to begin with because he kept breaking into our safe houses to make ‘breakfast’. Well, that and that time he gave you a haircut in you sleep.” Jason stilled with his beer halfway to his mouth. “He…” Oh god. “That’s totally what he’s doing isn’t it?” Tim looked at him over his slice of pepperoni. “Yeah, probably.” Jason slammed his bear down on the table. “THAT SNEAKY FUCKING BASTARD!” Jason glared at Tim, the proof of Dick's successful manipulation. He didn't even like the replacement. Why the hell was he hanging out with him? Stupid, meddling big brothers who ruin your life. "It's okay," Tim reached over and patted his hand, "I just confirmed that they're taking his cereal off the shelves this week." And yeah, that made it a little better, actually. "I still don't like you." He told Tim. "I know. Wanna watch Bruce find out that Dick redid his wardrobe?" "Yeah ok," Jason grumbled. Maybe, he admitted to himself only, the replacement wasn't all bad. The screen zoomed in on Bruce's expression as he came face to face with a sequined suit. Yeah, Jason thought, taking another sip of beer, not all bad.

[booksforevermore13]

I know now

Summary: Harry heaved in a breath, and looked at her, this time seeing her for herself, and not the little girl he had gotten used to in his mind.

"I know now," he said.

And Lily smiled.

Read it on AO3 if you prefer.

...

"I learnt about fishes today." Harry heard Lily's voice and turned to look at her.

A smile tugged at his lips as he saw the small, though hazy figure of his daughter by the edge of the bed, red hair bundled on her head in an angry halo as she tugged her dress further down her knees.

One hand reached out beside him to find his glasses, flailing around when he felt a pair being gently put over his eyes. Harry kissed Lily's hands, brushing his beard against her palm and smiling as she giggled.

"Now, about the fishes," he started as Lily climbed up on the bed and crawled onto his stomach, Harry holding her by her side to keep her steady.

"I saw a movie today," she said, "about Dory. And Nemo. But I liked Dory the best," and Harry nodded, though he hadn't the slightest idea what she was saying. "Dory is blue in colour and she has yellow fins, like the yellow of the sun and she can breathe in water and make whale sounds, like this." She oohed and Harry laughed as she oohed until she lost her breath.

"Dory sounds good," he said seriously, lips set in a half-smile.

"I think she's really pretty. Even prettier than Mummy."

"Then I bet she's good."

"Mummy said so too. She said I was right."

Lily smiled triumphantly, and Harry smiled back, gently stroking her hair out of her bun. Lily hated her hair like that, but at three, it had grown past her shoulders, and Ginny had resorted to tying it every morning before school.

Lily didn't like that either.

"Daddy," she called now and Harry's eyes left her hair and settled on her.

"Hmm?"

"Can you make me Dory?"

"Make you - wait, what?"

Lily looked expectantly at him and he stared blankly back at her as he fumbled with what she said.

"Dory's a fish, Lils," he said after a while. "I don't think anyone can be Dory."

"But you can do anything," she protested. "And Mummy always says anyone can be anything they want."

And that was what Lily asked. Never an extra side of ice-cream or a piece of fudge in the middle of the night. A few months back, she'd asked him to turn her into a tiger. The month after, she'd wanted to be a princess. He'd agreed gladly to that, before she'd proposed he turn into a frog so that she could kiss him and he'd turn into a prince.

Now, it was Dory, the blue fish.

It seemed as if she took Ginny's advice most literally.

He was tempted to turn her down, at least the logical part of him did, but then he looked at her and saw the way she was staring at him, with that hopeful glint in her eyes and almost immediately knew she'd won.

She always did.

It wasn't a surprise when an hour later, when they looked into the mirror, they met with a disgruntled orange dad carrying his elated blue daughter, yet, both of them happy.

Dory and Nemo indeed.

...

"Think you can catch up, old man?" Lily said as she took off after the Snitch, her hair flying behind her, like her mother's had, years before. Harry watched with a smile as she flipped her broom in the air, hands steady as she shot off again in typical Weasley fashion. He had to warn her about that, but part of him — the part that defended his children from his wife after a poorly executed prank — knew she had it handled.

It was only after James had hollered at him to get moving, did he realize that he had to catch the Snitch too. "Sorry," he yelled as he took off behind Lily, searching for that familiar golden glint of light he'd gotten used to over the years before realising there wasn't any to follow.

He slowed down. A Wronski Feint, she'd been attempting and almost succeeded in pulling off.

She'd almost got him.

Almost.

"Why are you slowing down?" James yelled from his Keeper post as he dashed to block a Quaffle. Instead of kicking it away from him, he caught it, turned around and put it through the hoop.

Cheating it was, him playing Keeper and Chaser at the same time, but there were only four players, and his children were set on making it as realistic as possible.

Harry only smiled knowingly at James, the Dad-smile, the one that his children hated, before he heard Lily yell and took a sharp turn to face her.

She was holding something, something small and grinning widely and as Harry squinted, he saw a golden object in her fist, wings folded as it struggled against her grasp, a futile attempt to get out, as every Seeker knew.

"Wha—"

"Yes, Lily!" Albus yelled, before he even had a second to register his disbelief. He whooped and stuck out his tongue at James. "Take that, you oaf!"

"Oh, shut up," James muttered as his glare turned to Harry. "I swear Dad, if you took it easy on her—"

"I didn't!" Harry defended. "There - I thought - there wasn't any Snitch when I followed her!"

"What's she holding now, a trumpet?"

"Yeah I transfigured it into a Snitch," Lily said sarcastically from behind Harry and he could hear the distinct flutter of a Snitch caught. "Look around, you'll probably see the real one behind your shoulder.

Albus was laughing hysterically on his broom while they fought and Harry had a distinct feeling that there was something else going on between them three. He watched them for a few seconds, before turning to Lily.

"How did you do that?" he asked her, glancing yet again at the Snitch in her hand.

Lily shrugged, an arrogant smirk plastered on her face as her eyes gleamed with what he knew was glee. A smile made his way on his face as he took in her stance, one he'd seen many times before.

James yelled behind him, breaking through his reverie and Harry turned around, just barely catching him pass over a coin to his brother.

"You had bets?" he asked incredulously and Albus slipped the coin in his pocket with a sheepish grin.

"I thought that was obvious," Lily said flippantly from behind him and Harry frowned.

"What were you betting on?"

"Which of you'd catch the snitch first," James said, "thanks Dad. Really appreciate it."

"Your welcome," Lily piped in again and James glared at her. "What?" she defended, "everyone here knows I'm the only one here who can beat him."

"Bollocks."

"Yeah?" Lily mocked and Harry chuckled as he watched James rise up to the challenge, not long before they were yelling at each other, mostly led by James and Lily with the occasional comment from Albus that fuelled their entire brawl.

It'd take their mother to make them stop.

He laughed out loud when he saw Ginny walk outside with a chocolate covered spatula and brandish it at the three of them as she yelled something he couldn't hear.

He had been right.

Harry flew towards the ground, landing on his feet a few metres away from his wife. He smiled as he saw her turn to face him.

"Lily caught it," he announced, entirely unaware of himself and watched as Ginny smiled in amusement and turned away from him.

"Didn't expect that, did you?"

"Absolutely not."

They walked into the house, Ginny heading towards the kitchen and Harry following her. He watched her for a while as she bustled about, taking out the eggs from the fridge and flour from the cabinet, attempting to open the sugar with one hand before Harry did it for her.

"Where are they?" he asked after a second, noting the absence of his children hovering around the kitchen.

"The boys are upstairs," Ginny stated, "Lils said she'll be at Luna's. Said she had some work."

"Work?"

"Yes, well, we both know what work she actually has."

Ginny looked up at him, grinning. First year off at Hogwarts and Lily had stepped out the train with her three newly indicted friends, two of them being her cousins. The Marauders, they called themselves. The two years that had followed, they'd only grown closer, choosing to spend all their time together, Luna's house being their place.

Mostly because she never interfered.

Harry had only grown to notice the striking similarity they had to the original four.

"It's an acquired name, but I don't think they'll mind," Ginny said softly and Harry laughed, recognizing the words Lily had said the day she'd come back from Hogwarts.

"They won't," he agreed. "They'd be proud, actually."

He dipped one finger in the batter, laughing as Ginny swatted it off.

"Are you upset?" she teased as she continued mixing the batter with her spatula.

"About what?"

"Third time this week you couldn't catch the snitch" she pointed out and Harry laughed.

Five years ago, he'd been the one teaching Lily how to catch a snitch. How the roles had reversed.

"She's clever, I'll give you that," Harry said. "Though I can't fathom how she managed to hide the Snitch from me."

"She didn't," Ginny said with a smile. "I thought you of all people wouldn't fall for that."

"What do you mean?"

Harry waited for her answer but then frowned as he saw her smile fall.

"Nothing," she replied finally and sighed. "One day you'll realise she's more like you than you'll ever know."

He didn't know what Ginny was hinting at. It had become obvious over the months that he was struggling, reaching out to Lily. At fourteen, it seemed whatever he said, it wasn't enough to understand her. His own daughter was a mystery to him, and sometimes he envied Ron for the easy understanding he had with Rose.

"I don't get it," Harry muttered as he slipped her hands around Ginny's waist, bringing her back closer to his chest. He bent forward, pressing his lips below her ear and Ginny smiled sadly.

"I hope you don't mind getting flour on that shirt."

Harry didn't answer, and Ginny arched her neck to look at him. "You're going to tell me what you're thinking?" she asked, and he smiled down at her as he saw her eyes shrouded with concern. Even after all these years, she knew exactly what he was feeling, every time.

He shook his head and Ginny turned around, Harry's arms still around her.

"I don't know her anymore," he admitted. "Not like-not like I did back then." He sighed. "I don't think I even know what her favourite colour is now," he said, looking down at his wife.

"It's still green, I can tell you. Green like the forest—"

"After the rain," Harry finished and laughed.

He remembered when Lily had said that for the first time. She was three, her biggest fascination then, being his eyes. He remembered how she had begged him one day to change her brown eyes to his green, and he'd wondered why. Her eyes were the most exquisite ones he'd seen, exactly like her mother's, but apparently, the three year old thought differently. He'd taken her to the forest the next day and told her to choose a leaf, any leaf so that he could transfigure it to something she'd be able to keep with her always. He'd not expected her to choose the entire forest, and Harry had simply smiled then at the innocence with which she'd looked at him.

"She's going to be seventeen soon," he said finally. "She's not… my little girl anymore."

"Yet she still looks at you like she's three."

"And I hope that never changes."

...

Ginny was outside. He knew she could listen to each and every word he said. He looked across him at Lily, and then back at the ground again.

This was not for Lily.

She was not made for the Ministry. She was not supposed to be an Auror.

How was Ginny not seeing this?

How had she accepted it so easily?

Twenty-five years ago, when he'd walked into the Ministry, he'd vowed that things would change. They had to at that time.

Fifteen years later, he'd found himself vowing he'd not let his children suffer the same fate he had had. That he'd not let them become a pawn of the Ministry.

To his credit, he'd succeeded.

Three years ago, when James decided to become a Curse Breaker, he'd felt the relief that one felt after a hard job well done. One year later, when Albus claimed his dreams of becoming a Healer, he'd been satisfied. He had been so sure he'd saved them from a miserable future.

Harry had never expected his youngest to say those words.

"Dad," Lily urged now. "Dad."

Harry looked up from the floor, and met with his daughter's eyes, carrying a look he'd seen many times before. It was the look she had before she caught the Snitch, the one she'd had when she'd asked him to turn her into Dory so many years ago.

It was when she was unstoppable.

"How'd it come to this, Lils?" Harry asked. "Why an Auror? I always thought you wanted to play Quidditch. Like your mum."

What had gone wrong?

"That was when I was eleven, Dad," Lily said, and he had that unworldly feeling that he had let her down. "I'm seventeen now. I know what I want to do."

"No you don't, Lils," he said. "The Ministry isn't what it was before. It isn't—"

"You don't think I know that?" Lily said quietly, and he could see the anger flashing in her eyes.

She knew that. She'd known that for years now.

She'd been on the receiving side of it.

Four years back, when she'd needed help, the Ministry hadn't given it.

Four years back, when she'd been cornered by Dementors in broad daylight, the Ministry hadn't come to her rescue.

He remembered the muffled cries he'd heard from her room that night, cries she'd tried hard to suppress, but hadn't been able to. She'd been the witness to the work of a Dementor. An innocent Muggle being a victim. He knew she blamed herself. For not being able to produce a Patronus. For not being able to save a person who'd only ever tried to help.

He'd failed in protecting her.

And she'd paid the price.

Eleven years back and it had happened again.

She had a friend. Julian. He remembered him. When they were seven, they liked to play in the pond at the back of their house, pretending to be frogs turned into princes. He remembered how the cookies vanished when they were together, how the swing he'd tied to the poplar tree in their garden was reserved only for them.

That day Ginny had had to go out, so Lily had gone over to play with him.

Harry had always known his work would one day catch up with him.

Just never like this.

When he'd got that message from Ginny, her horse prancing around the room in a panicked gallop, he knew it had happened. When he Apparated into their house, Julian's parents were the first thing he saw. Lying on the floor, victims of the killing curse.

But nothing could have prepared him from what he saw upstairs.

Julian's body. His eyes gazing into the ceiling, his hands which had never stayed still before, lying limp on the ground. It was very much unlike the sandy-haired boy he'd grown accustomed to see during the weekends, sitting opposite to him in the kitchen as he helped himself to Ginny's pancakes.

Beside him, Lily lay on her mother's lap, sobbing into her shirt, but refusing to leave Julian's side. He could hear her incoherent cries, her mumbles as she repeated a phrase over and over again.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

And his heart broke, because his little girl had seen something no child should ever have to see.

Because she'd watched her friend die.

Because he'd failed again.

And she'd paid the price.

Lily knew the Ministry — better than even he did — how they chose whom to save, how they chose whom they forgot, their cases never to be heard of again. How the Ministry had slowly lost sight of what they were fighting for. How it was just a crumbling shell in the place of what it had once been.

And even though it was the most daunting thing he'd ever admitted to himself, deep down, he knew that Lily was wired to this. Just like he'd been at her age, this was what she knew she wanted to do.

But unlike him, he knew she'd succeed in what he failed.

And even though he didn't understand, he knew he didn't have a choice.

"I always thought you wanted to be a Quidditch player," he said, and Lily smiled, her eyes tired. As if she was tired of fighting for herself.

But he knew she still had fight left.

"I think you lost me there on the way," she replied finally and Harry smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah, I probably did."

"One day you'll realise she's more like you than you'll ever know."

He'd never understand, but he'd try.

He'd vowed he'd never let his children do the same mistakes he had, but perhaps, that vow had been more for him than it was for them. And in the end, he knew that him being an Auror had only fueled the fire he'd begun to see in his daughter.

Perhaps, him being an Auror hadn't been a mistake at all.

If that's what she wanted to be.

"You know, Dad," Lily said, and Harry, for a second there, saw a hint of fear in her eyes but didn't know what it was for. "I don't exactly need your permission."

"I know you don't."

"I'd just really like you to know."

Harry nodded, his green eyes glinting with unshed tears. Green like the forest a rainy day, she'd said. Green like his.

Because if there was one thing he'd always known about his daughter, it was that she knew him. That even when he'd lacked in being a father to her at times, she'd never lost sight of him.

Even when he hadn't listened to her present.

But he'd listen to her now. He'd do for her what he should have done years back.

Listen.

So he smiled because he'd lost her there, but never completely. Because she was his daughter. Because she was his to protect and let go.

Because she was more like him than he'd ever know.

Harry heaved in a breath, and looked at her, this time seeing her for herself, and not the little girl he had gotten used to in his mind.

"I know now," he said.

And Lily smiled.

...

Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

Huge, huge thanks to my teammates for beta-ing!!

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (2)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Oh man. My dudes. I received so much love and support and excited feedback on the first chapter that I thought my heart was going to explode. Y’all are so wonderful. Keep it up. <3

*****

Luckily, Matty lets them take the Phoenix jet to Houston. Flying commercial would make today even more tortuous than it already promises to be, albeit for a different reason. 

No matter how hard he tries to distract himself, Mac cannot stop staring at the diamond ring on Riley’s finger. The princess cut gem is stunning and ridiculously large, but it suits her cover as a lucrative arms dealer. A white gold wedding band sits below it. Riley left her usual assortment of rings at home, and Mac can’t help but think her long, delicate fingers look bare without them. 

He tears his eyes away from the rings again and again, both on the plane and while driving to the safe house. Riley drives with just her left hand, her right elbow resting on the center console. Mac likes driving, but there’s something relaxing about riding shotgun while Riley drives instead. He’s never been able to put a finger on it, but the sense of ease washes over him all the same. Admiring the way sunlight illuminates her engagement ring is simply a bonus. 

He doesn’t let himself imagine what he might give her, in an alternate future where she reciprocates his feelings and one day wants to marry him. 

Harley obediently lays in the backseat, staring out the windshield. She's been on her best behavior the entire twenty four hours Mac's known her, ever the professional. 

Which puts her completely at odds with Mac and Riley's shenanigans—cracking jokes, dancing on the plane and in the car, doing purposefully bad impersonations of Russ. These are the best parts of going on ops alone with Riley. They can let loose in a way they just couldn’t when anyone else other than Bozer was around. Everyone else is professional all the time; Mac and Riley are only professional when they have to be. 

Riley taps the steering wheel in time to the classic rock song on the radio. “What do you want for dinner?” 

“Dinner? We haven’t even had lunch yet!” 

“True.” Riley chuckles. “Can you tell I’m hungry?” 

Mac gives her a sly look. “Not at all.” 

They settle on Texas barbecue for lunch on their way to the safe house, because that’s what Jack would choose if he was here. If only the old man could see them now, all grown up and getting sent to take down terrorists unsupervised. 

Seated in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, Mac raises his brisket sandwich in a toast to Jack, in whatever afterlife he found himself in. Hopefully it’s the one with an endless supply of good barbecue. 

“Oh man, Jack would’ve loved this,” Riley says through a mouthful of food. She sneaks Harley a piece of brisket. 

Mac smiles. “Yeah, he would’ve.” 

It’s easier, now, to talk about him. At first, Mac hadn’t been sure he could ever get to a point where talking about Jack didn’t make him want to hit something or just curl up and sob. 

But here he is, on the other side. Him and Riley both. 

Their safe house is another twenty minutes away from the restaurant, in a nice neighborhood full of trees and children playing on the sidewalks. It’s so much greener than a California neighborhood could ever dream of being. There’s even a park across the street from their apartment complex. It’s exactly the sort of place a young, affluent couple would want to live. 

Riley parks in their designated space, and the pair ascend the stairs to apartment number 202. Outside of the car, they don’t dare use each other’s real names until they’re sure the apartment is free of bugs. The place was furnished earlier that week by other Phoenix agents, but Mac and Riley do a thorough sweep of every room just in case. 

It’s a nice apartment. Wood flooring, granite countertops, matching cabinets throughout. There are pictures on the walls, but Mac doesn’t bother to stop and check what they are. 

Riley clears the space from back to front, so Mac does the opposite. He clears the kitchen first, frowning at the absence of any sort of food, before moving on to the living room. 

Mac stops dead in his tracks when he enters the bedroom. The singular bedroom. With a singular, queen-sized bed. 

Oh no. This is not happening. 

Mac shakes his head and rubs his eyes, hoping his mind is just playing tricks on him and that there’s actually two beds. Or a whole other room he missed before. 

The one and only bed seems to mock him. 

He walks back out, finding Riley already sitting at the kitchen table, turning on her laptop. “Uhh, Riles? There’s only—”

“One bed,” she finishes, not bothering to look up. “I know.” 

Oh god. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not with his dignity still intact. Mac stammers, “I’ll, uhh, sleep on the couch. You can have it.”

That gets Riley’s attention. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going to be here for weeks. You’ll hurt your back sleeping on the couch that long. Just sleep with me.” Riley’s eyes widen as she realizes what she just said. “In the bed,” she quickly adds. 

Mac ducks his head to hide his blush. 

“What are you working on?” he asks in a feeble attempt to distract himself from their sleeping situation. Because it will definitely be a situation if Mac’s not careful. 

“Connecting to the Wi-Fi,” Riley says in a slow, “What else would I be doing?” sort of way. 

“Right.” Mac silently curses himself. Of course that’s what she’s doing. “Anyway, I’m assuming you already know this, since you probably opened the fridge too, but we have no food.” 

“I saw.” She’s multitasking again, manicured fingers flying faster across her keyboard than Mac can keep track of. “Why don’t you unload our bags while I finish this, and then we can go.” 

Unable to help feeling like he’s been dismissed, Mac complies without protest. 

Soon they’re back in the car, headed to the grocery store, and the whole thing feels ridiculously domestic. Mac’s never been a fan of grocery shopping, but Riley makes it almost...fun. For starters, she’s not methodical about it the way Bozer and Desi are. But more than that, getting to spend time with her doing mundane, non-work stuff is a nice reminder that their relationship is more than just the job. They’re friends too. 

Mac wishes there is a way to tell her all that without it sounding weird. 

They come home, unload the groceries, and take Harley for a long walk, and that feels easy too. It feels normal, even though literally nothing about this situation is normal, and Mac already knows he’ll miss this when the op is over. 

But normalcy ends when Riley beckons Mac to sit beside her at the kitchen table, and together they write an advertisement for their arms dealing business. Once they’re satisfied with it, Riley sends it off into the dark web, and there’s nothing to do but wait, like a spider after spinning her web. 

The waiting is the worst part. 

Mac is contemplating taking Harley for a second walk when Riley asks, “Want to help me make dinner?” He takes one look at her hands on her hips and the “you don’t actually have a choice” look on her face and knows he’ll be left to fend for himself if he doesn’t help now. Mac learned that the hard way back when he and Riley lived together. 

“Sure.” 

They work in comfortable silence. Mac chops vegetables and grates cheese for their quesadillas while Riley does the actual cooking part. Even though they are doing separate tasks, Mac is acutely aware of every move Riley makes, no matter how insignificant. Flexing her long, thin fingers around a knife. Itching the back of her calf with her foot. Dancing in place, spatula in hand, while she waits to flip the quesadillas sizzling in the pan. 

Mac smiles softly. Her random little dances are cute. He’s noticed them more and more since realizing he has feelings for her, but if Mac is being honest, he’s always thought the dances are cute. 

Riley hisses as she peeks under the tortilla, checking to see if it’s browned yet. 

“You good?” Mac asks, frowning. 

“Yeah, I touched the pan by accident.” Riley runs her thumb under cold water. 

Her laptop dings while they eat. Wide-eyed, Mac glances at Riley. That was fast. She grimaces before sliding the laptop closer and checking the notification. 

“Is it them?” he asks tentatively. That’s the hard part about this; in order for their business to look more legit, they had to just put an ad out and hope for a response, rather than target the terrorist organization directly. 

Riley exhales. “No, it’s not them. It’s someone else.” 

Swallowing another bite of quesadilla, Mac says, “I don’t know whether I’m relieved or if that’s worse.” 

“Same.” 

There are no more responses that night.

*****

Mac wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in—on his side, facing outward, with as much space between him and Riley as possible. When they crawled into bed the night before, Riley did the same. 

Harley spent the night on the couch. 

She’s a very guarded dog, Mac is slowly realizing. Tolerating, but not trusting. Mac supposes he would be like that too if he was a dog and he got stuck with a bunch of strangers after his human suddenly disappeared one day. 

He makes coffee, feeds Harley breakfast, and takes a shower, all before Riley loses her battle with the snooze button and finally gets out of bed. While she showers, Mac takes Harley for a walk in hopes that the cool, spring air will ease the anxiety that took root the moment Riley released their ad into the void. 

It doesn’t. 

Dark, puffy clouds loom on the horizon, and the few birds Mac hears shriek at each other in warning. It looks like a storm is coming. 

When Mac returns, he’s met with a grim expression, one he understands without Riley uttering a single word. “They answered,” she confirms. 

“What did they say?” Unclipping Harley’s leash, Mac moves to stand behind Riley, resting his hands on the back of her chair. The scent of her shampoo tickles his nose, and he forces himself to ignore it and focus on what Riley’s saying. 

“They want to meet. Today.” 

“Time or place?” 

Riley points at a small box on her screen. “Just an address.” 

“What’s there?” 

“A warehouse,” Riley says. “Owned by the same shell corporation other Phoenix techs already tied to the organization.” 

“Not very clandestine, are they?” 

“No, they’re not.” Riley looks up at him, her head bumping his sternum, and butterflies ricochet inside Mac’s rib cage. There’s something soft in Riley’s expression that makes Mac want to kiss her. “Are you ready for this?” 

Mac sighs. “As ready as I ever am. Are you?” 

“Yeah,” she says, but her confidence falters. Without thinking, Mac squeezes her shoulders in reassurance before walking away to change.

*****

The warehouse is located on the edge of the city, in an industrial area that has certainly seen better days. Even from a distance, Mac can see cobwebs decorating the warehouse windows and rust creeping up the roller doors. Aside from Riley, there’s not another soul in sight. 

As per the directions the organization sent after Riley confirmed the meeting, Mac parks on the south side of the building, near the only functional-looking door. He doesn’t look at Riley as they get out of the car, instead desperately trying not to cringe at the cold, heavy weight of the gun holstered at his side, hidden beneath his jacket. 

High-end arms dealers couldn’t walk around unarmed, unfortunately. 

Although her hands are occupied with holding Harley’s leash, there’s a gun hidden beneath Riley’s suit jacket as well. Mac’s stomach churns. The second Riley emerged from their bedroom earlier wearing that jet black suit, she was a different person. She was wholly Genevieve Turner, and no matter how hard Mac tried, he couldn’t find even a single trace of his best friend beneath the icy exterior. 

Locking their SUV, Mac smooths the lapels of his own black suit and slips into character as well. 

The dark clouds Mac noticed earlier are directly overhead now. Mac has never believed in omens the way Jack did, but he can’t help hearing Jack’s voice in his head, warning him that black clouds are a sign of certain doom. Or something like that. 

There’s no one inside the warehouse, at least as far as Mac can see. “Hello?” he calls, the word echoing slightly in the open space. Aside from a few random wooden crates, the room is empty. 

A door slams, and then an older man comes into view. He’s probably in his late fifties, with graying hair and a beer belly his shirt doesn’t quite cover. The man swaggers like he owns the place, although Mac doubts the leader of a terrorist cell would deign to play tour guide. 

No doubt there’s a quip on the edge of Riley’s tongue about entitled white men, but she doesn’t share it. 

The man extends a hand to Mac in introduction. “Conrad.” His sneer doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Mac frowns, keeping his hands at his sides. “Last name?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

What he’s about to say might screw everything up before it even starts, but Mac says it anyway. In his gut, he knows it’s the right call. “If it doesn’t matter, then we’re done here. My wife and I have no interest in entering a business relationship with someone too inexperienced to understand that trust is integral to any transaction.” Mac spins on his heel and strides toward the door, Riley falling into step beside him. 

“Wait!” the man calls. They pause, turning around slowly. “Deacon. Conrad Deacon.” The man seems to know he’s already lost. Good. “Welcome to the cause.” He gestures for Mac and Riley to follow him. 

Mac stands his ground. In his peripheral, Riley stands utterly still, the perfect mask of cool, collected neutrality. Almost bored, even. It’s scary how easily she becomes her cover. 

“Come on now,” Conrad says, taking a single step forward. “We have much to discuss.” 

That’s enough of the power play, Mac thinks, but just as he’s about to give in and follow Conrad, Riley utters a single, sharp command that rings through the room. “Sit.” 

Harley obeys. 

Riley’s lips curve in a cruel, taunting smile. “Then enlighten us.” Mac suppresses a shiver; he’s seen this side of Riley plenty of times before, watched her hone it over the years, but it’s still unnerving. Admittedly, it’s also kind of hot. 

Conrad ignores her entirely. He croons, “Why don’t we start with your names?” It’s phrased like a question. It sounds like a question, but Mac sees the demand for what it really is. 

Mac gestures to Riley. “This is my wife, Genevieve Turner. And my name is James.” His father’s name tastes like ash on Mac’s tongue. 

“And the dog?” 

“Killer,” Riley sneers. Mac isn’t sure if she’s kidding or not. 

Again, Conrad doesn’t acknowledge her. “James, why don’t I give you the tour and explain what we do here.” 

“We’ll go on the tour, but we are not here to join your cause.” It takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower to maintain his neutral tone. “All we care about is what you’d like us to provide and how much you’ll pay for it.” 

Conrad doesn’t hide his displeasure. “Fine. Follow me.” 

Mac and Riley are led through the open warehouse. The layout is straightforward and nearly impossible to get lost in. But after Conrad shows them a room full of rifles—countless hung on the walls, floor to ceiling, the rest in half-open crates—Mac finds himself counting the number of wooden shipping crates scattered around the building. 

He doesn’t like his final number. 

Arming terrorists doesn’t sit well with Mac, even if it serves a purpose. It makes him sick, knowing he will likely be indirectly responsible for their next attack. 

Especially because those crates are no doubt full of the kind of rifles designed to kill people most effectively. The ones hanging on the wall are military grade, probably cutting-edge. Desi would know exactly what they are and how they work. 

Trusting Riley is paying close attention, Mac only half listens to Conrad babble about the cause. But then the older man says something that stops Mac in his tracks. “Our country is being run into the ground by whiny do-nothings,” Conrad asserts, “who waste our money and spew garbage that some people matter more than others. Well, you know what? Hardworking, everyday Americans matter. But no,” he scoffs, “those damn liberals don’t like it when we remind them of the truth. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off.” 

The ground sways under Mac’s feet. He knows these people believe this, read it in Matty’s extensive briefing notes. But it’s another thing entirely to hear someone say it to his face. 

He can only imagine what Riley must be thinking. 

Clearing his throat, Mac tries to redirect the conversation. “Like I said, we don’t care about your cause. Just tell us what you’re looking for, and we’ll be on our way.” 

Conrad eyes him suspiciously, but complies. “We’re looking for something a little more than what you can get at the store, you know?” 

Mac doesn’t, not exactly. He’ll have to ask Desi later. “I do,” he lies. 

“Good. Here’s what we’re willing to pay for it.” He hands Mac a folded piece of paper, and Mac does a double take when he reads the number. There are a lot of zeroes. “And as a show of good faith, we’d like it delivered tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” Riley splutters. Mac feels it then, the broiling rage slipping through a crack in her persona. He needs to get her out of there. Now. Not just to preserve the op, but for Riley’s wellbeing. Some audacity Matty has making Riley play nice with men like this. 

Mac slides his hands into his pockets, using the movement as a cover to brush his knuckles against Riley’s fist. I know. I’m here. I’m sorry. 

For the first time, Conrad addresses Riley directly. “Yes. Tomorrow. Unless that’s something you can’t do?” 

“We can do that,” she replies calmly, and the difference between her reactions is like night and day. As quickly as that crack appeared, it was gone. 

“Excellent.” Conrad takes another step toward Riley, offering to shake hands, but Harley’s low, menacing growl keeps him at bay. Rewarding the dog with a quick scratch on the head, Riley closes the gap and shakes Conrad’s still-outstretched hand. 

“It’s a deal,” she says. Following suit, Mac shakes Conrad’s hand as well and follows Riley out the door, neither of them uttering another word. 

Mac drives. One look at Riley’s trembling fist decides for him. 

By the time the warehouse disappears from the rearview mirror, he can’t take the silence anymore. “Hey,” Mac starts, but Riley cuts him off with a hand. 

“Not until we’re inside.” 

They hit every single red light between the warehouse and the apartment, and Mac anxiously taps the steering wheel. Raindrops land on the windshield. They’re small at first, but soon the drops are large and numerous enough to refract the streetlights, and Mac struggles to see where he’s going. He adjusts the windshield wipers over and over, never landing on the right speed. 

Too slow. Too fast. Too slow. Too fast. 

Mac settles on a setting that’s slightly too fast, and the squeak of rubber on glass nearly matches his heart thudding in his chest. 

Riley stares straight ahead, unmoving, unblinking. Mac wants to reach out, to let a gentle touch say what he verbally can’t, but the road is slick enough to make him keep two hands on the wheel. We’re almost there, he reassures himself. 

By the time he parks, it’s pouring hard enough that the ten second walk from the car to the door soaks them to the bone. Riley’s hands shake as she unlocks the apartment door. 

Once they’re inside and Mac unclips Harley’s leash, Riley turns to him with pained, pleading eyes. His heart breaking all over again, Mac draws her in for a long, tight hug. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. 

Mac just cradles the back of her head and sways gently, wishing he could fix the world for her. 

Neither pulls away, even when Riley suddenly says, “If Conrad was smart, he would’ve had someone bug our car while he paraded us around the warehouse. I don’t think he’s actually smart enough to do that, but we should check first, just in case.” 

Mac curses himself for not thinking of that. “Good call.” He rubs Riley’s back, hoping the gesture is soothing. “I hate the way he treated you,” he snarls. “Like you weren’t even worth acknowledging.” 

“Welcome to being a woman.” 

It was more than that. They both know it. But neither say it.

*****

“You need what?” Matty shrieks over the phone. 

Mac winces. “Sorry.” He’d called Desi first, to ask what kind of guns Conrad meant with his innuendo, and received a verbal lashing for not asking any follow-up questions. But she made her best guess anyway. Now on the phone with Matty, it doesn’t take even a single brain cell to know that her reaction will be much, much worse. 

“He wants us to prove ourselves,” Riley adds. “As a show of good faith.” The words come out dripping in venom, but their boss doesn’t comment. Mac takes a second to study her; Riley changed into leggings and an oversized flannel shirt, and there are still remnants of dark makeup smudges under her eyes. Now, she’s sitting on the kitchen counter with her knees tucked into her chest. It’s weird to see her take up so little space. 

Matty sighs, deeply and loudly in a way conveys her annoyance more than words ever could. “Fine. A few weeks ago, Border Control confiscated a huge shipment of smuggled guns near El Paso, so I’ll see if we can borrow those. But next time, Blondie, don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He doesn’t correct Matty in that it was Riley who made the deal. That would only add fuel to the fire. 

“Thank you,” he says, and Matty hangs up. Mac runs a hand through his damp hair. “That went well.” Riley’s lips twitch, but it’s not the amused reaction he hopes for. He’s at a complete loss regarding what to say to her, so Mac gently asks, “What can I do?” 

Riley slides off the counter, and Mac reaches for her automatically, although he doesn’t actually touch her; his hand hovers just beside Riley’s elbow. She doesn’t shrink away, but she makes no move to touch him either. 

“Help me put him and everyone like him in a deep, dark hole where they can’t hurt anybody. And then just…” she trails off, taking a deep breath. “Keep being you.” 

With that, she walks away, leaving Mac alone in the kitchen, racking his brain to figure out what that last part means.

*****

Later that night, Mac tosses and turns, replaying Conrad’s words. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off. They seem off-kilter, like what the man said and what he really meant are misaligned. Mac sighs, rubbing his face. 

Another bolt of lightning illuminates the bedroom, and Mac automatically counts the seconds until he hears thunder rumbling in the distance. The storm is moving closer. 

Beside him, Riley lies on her back with her eyes closed, although her breathing is too light for her to be asleep. Mac wonders if her mind is just as loud and chaotic as his. 

For Riley’s sake, he hopes it’s not.

*****

Sleep never finds Mac. 

The storm rages all through the night, but by the time dawn arrives, the thunder and wind dissipate, leaving just the steady downpour. The clouds are dark enough that Mac can hardly tell the sun even bothered to rise this morning. 

When Riley’s alarm goes off, it’s like the shrill tone is mocking Mac for being awake. Riley groans as she shuts it off. 

“Morning,” he mumbles. His throat hurts. He needs water. “Did you sleep well?”

Another groan. “No.” 

“At least you slept,” Mac mutters.

Riley rolls onto her side, drawing one of the extra pillows into her chest. “Do you always toss and turn that much?”

It was his fault, he realizes, that she didn’t sleep. Mac suddenly feels guilty. “Sorry. And no.” 

He expects Riley to be upset at being kept awake, but she isn’t. With a look that just might be understanding, she softly asks, “What were you thinking about?” 

Mac can’t say that his thoughts whip around his mind like raindrops in last night’s storm. Not without sounding crazy, at least. So instead he says, “I don’t even know. I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Me too,” Riley admits. “It feels off.” Her eyes are heavy, and Mac’s had enough early mornings with Riley to know it’s not just the lack of sleep weighing her down. 

“Go back to sleep. I can handle the delivery.” 

Riley rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you do that by yourself.” 

He doesn’t argue. “Okay.” 

A moment passes between them. It’s been happening more and more lately—holding eye contact a little too long, sharing smirks when no one else is looking, stealing moments where it’s just the two of them and nothing else matters. Each one gives him hope that there’s not a wall between them, but instead, a door. Someone just has to be brave enough to open it. 

Sitting up, Riley quipps, “Just don’t make me regret letting you sleep in the bed with me.” Mac snorts. 

“No promises.”

.

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[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 131

Two things about this chapter:

One: I am a sucker for these domestic chapters. I love showing people being people, and weaving world-building and plot development into those scenes.

Two: I am currently doing better from a work-exhaustion perspective, thank you everyone who was concerned!  I actually took the day off the day before I wrote this and just slept as much as I could that day, because the last day I worked, I was literally swaying on my feet if I stood still.

As always, thanks to @the-raven-fae, @baelpenrose, @anotherusrname, and @charlylimph-blog for keeping me going, along with every. Single. Person. Who has found this story somehow and just binged it as fast as you could. I love when my inbox gets detonated by someone new, please never stop!

Glimmering Feathers Podcast is currently doing The Miys from the very beginning! Please listen and support!

“Have the shelter locations for non-combatants been shortlisted?” I panted as Tyche and I sat on the floor of the gym after an intense cardio and sparring session.

She shook her head as she took a gulp of water. “Not that I know of, but Xio hasn’t really told me anything yet.”

“You would think we would be told pretty quick,” I complained. “After all, we’re supposed to be putting together the rosters of who goes where.”

“We put together the lists of combatants and non-combatants.” She stood and held out a hand to help pull me off the ground. “Our part is done for right now, and we’re pretty far ahead of schedule, honestly.”

“This isn’t exactly the kind of thing we want to leave to the last minute.”

Tyche groaned. “Right about now, I wish you were planning the Festival still. You get crabby when you’re stressed and don’t have anything to work on.”

I scowled and made pincer-like gestures with my hands.  She just laughed and shook her head before I asked, “Are you and Antoine coming over for dinner tonight?”

“Only if you let me shower first. We both stink.”

There was no way I could argue with that, especially as I went to put my glasses on and caught a whiff of myself. “Showers, then dinner at twenty-oneish?”  As we exited the gym, I paused to let my eyes adjust to the far-dimmer lighting. Chills ran down my back every time I recognized the similarity to the nightmares Else had given me while trying to communicate, and I always had to spend a few minutes forcing myself not to step over debris that wasn’t actually there.

“Can we do vegetarian tonight?”

“You have to talk Conor into it.”

 A couple hours later, we were standing in my kitchen area.  Tyche was aggressively mashing chickpeas while staring down a nearly-flinching Conor.

I leaned over from where I was mincing herbs. “That isn’t what I meant and you know it,” I whispered.

“Don’t worry. I’m making him lamb, he just doesn’t know it,” she whispered back from the corner of her mouth. 

To avoid smiling and giving it away, I called out instead. “Hey, Antoine, can you come start the tzatziki? You’re better at it than I am.”

“If you would give in to the existence of salt, Sophia, you would be a much happier woman,” he teased with a serious face.

“I use salt!” I objected.

“At the end,” my sister pointed out. “He salts the cucumbers before mixing everything together.” She glanced back at Conor before arching an eyebrow at him.

Distraction time. “Love, how are the plans for the housing fabrications coming?”

“Your mate Arthur apparently convinced Huynh - somehow, it’s not like they talk - that we don’t need fortifications,” he groaned. “I keep trying to explain that we aren’t putting up fortifications, it’s for agriculture.”

“Wait, what? What does that have to do with housing…?”

He tilted his head side to side as he considered. I could almost see him rewinding. “We have several different blueprints drafted for housing, dependent on what we learn when we drop into ‘real space’. Lots of them include plans for those espell-things to grow on the side, but Huynh is pushing back. It’s holding up the approvals.”

“What does Charly think?”

“Anything that helps us grow more plants with less impact on the environment is a win for her, so I’m trying to take the long view. He can decide whatever he wants now, but she’ll go with the plants every time.”

Antoine appeared next to me, wiping his hands. “How would your plan work if there is a cavern system, as suspected, rather than a surface settlement?”

He conceded the point. “Still working on a sustainable grow-light system for that one. But if it works, we would have year-round crops, so it would solve for the problem of storage in the winter.”

The door to our quarters opened just then, and a very tired-looking Maverick paused to take off his boots. “What would solve for the winter storage issue?” he asked.

“Sustainable grow-lights,” Tyche tossed over my shoulder from where she was hiding the lamb.

He made it as far as the table before dropping into a chair and leaning heavily on Conor, who wrinkled his nose. “Mav, you stink.”

“Turns out grav-mechs are greasy, even in space,” he mumbled, nuzzling into the other man’s shoulder instead of taking the hint. “I hate calibrating them.”

“No dirty hands at the table!” I reminded him. He didn’t move his head, just held up two meticulously scrubbed hands. “Fine…” I surrendered.

“Why are we talking about grow-lights?” he asked.

“Huynh is fighting with me ‘bout the housing solutions,” Conor explained, stroking his hair.

“Ah… the plants?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t you just make the plants where they can grow with less light? I thought you were already working on that.”

“They turned black, tasted horrible, and we ended up with a sentient plague,” I pointed out. “No more dinking around with plant genomes please?”

Tyche turned around, hands on her hips. “We are already trying to manage a food festival and a potential invasion by space-pirates. No more plagues. Knowing her luck - “ she jerked a thumb in my direction “- this one won’t be the apologetic and cute kind.” Apparently the words that just came out of her mouth registered, because she rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air before turning back to her top-secret dinner plan.

I finally finished turning the pale green paste into patties and shoved them in the oven, removing the griddle that had been warming in there. Hefting it onto the heating elements that served as a stove, I started putting together dough for pitas. “So, grow-lights. What kind of light do we need for them to work?”

“Blue, ideally,” Conor responded without even having to think. “Four-fortyish nanometers. Weirdly red light, six-fiftyish nanometers works, too.”

“So explain the issue, because I feel like I’m missing something. Charly designed lights in both those colors.”

“Wrong wavelengths,” he explained, scratching the back of his neck. “And it’s apparently really hard to finetune the wavelengths of organic lighting. She’s managed to get it right, but only for about twenty four hours before it shifts too far one way or another.  We don’t want to depend on completely inorganic light, if Von is as metal-poor as we think it will be.”

“Can’t replace them,” I half-asked. He winked and shot me a finger-gun to confirm my suspicion. “Yeah, that’s a huge problem.”

“The star emits just the right kind of light, barely, so if we stick with surface settlement, we should be okay.”

“And that’s where the storage issue came up,” Maverick mumbled sleepily, bringing us back to the original question he asked.

Conor jostled him gently, and I heard something about a shower to wake up before Maverick padded off in the direction of the bathroom.  Right at the same time, Tyche reached around me to flip a pita before blowing her fingers and cursing softly.  Apparently, her secret was done, so I handed her the spatula and started rolling out more dough.

By the time Maverick came back with wet hair and a too-big shirt that had to be Conor’s, most of the food was on the table and we were ready to eat.  Conor started grumbling about no meat and how could us weirdos eat a meal with no meat when he was interrupted by Tyche clearing her throat. His head snapped up and his jaw dropped.

“You! You are the sneakiest, most beautiful sister in law I could ever ask for,” he extolled dramatically as he saw the platter of lamb skewers in her hands.

She moved the platter out of his prodigious reach as she approached the table. “There’s a catch. You have to at least try the falafel. By itself, no lamb. Then you can have the meat.”

Maverick, more awake now and with half a sandwich already in his mouth nodded. After chewing and swallowing, he nodded again. “It’s really good, I swear.”

I pretended not to notice that he grabbed a skewer off the stack.  Then again, Maverick also wasn’t a grown man who still had to be bribed to eat vegetables. Usually, he had to be bribed to eat meat actually.

Conor, on the other hand, took the falafel pita that Tyche made for him and eyed it skeptically. “I feel like I need to point out that this isn’t a sandwich, this is what you put on a sandwich.” His hesitancy lasted about as long as it took for Antoine to stand and pick up the platter before he took a huge bite out of fear that the lamb would be taken away. He chewed frantically until Antoine put the platter back down, before he actually registered the taste.

I wanted to laugh at the confusion that flooded his face as he stared down at the sandwich in his hand. Finally, he swallowed, but the confusion didn’t stop.

“That’s…. Actually not bad. I thought vegetarian food was supposed to be bad?” He flinched when dual glares were thrown his way by me and my sister. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant - you know what, I’m going to shut up and eat before you two ladies decide I’m for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Very wise course of action,” Antoine confirmed solemnly as he carefully spooned tzatziki on his own, onion-loaded sandwich.

Still shaking my head, I started making my own food when I realized something. “I thought we made a lot more falafel than this?”

Tyche smirked but didn’t say anything. Neither did Antoine, focused on his own meal. Maverick however, was suspiciously quiet. I glanced over at him, only to see him staring really hard at his plate, which now had three empty skewers on it.  As my mind caught up, I actually found the sight kind of adorable.

I must have stared too long though, because Maverick muttered pathetically. “I was hungrier than I thought.”

Kissing the top of his head, I put another pita on his plate. “Baby, we made more than enough. Eat all you want. I just don’t want you to choke, that’s all.”

A long-fingered hand with slightly ginger hair on the back put a skewer on his plate. “Love, we can’t eat all this, you’re fine.”

“I always make enough food for ten people when you two are eating,” Tyche confirmed, not even looking up. “Teenage nephews in the Before. Lots of practice.”

He slowly looked up at us, and realizing that no one was angry, just surprised, he looked less afraid and sat up straight. Conor patted the top of his hand before deploying one of his weaponized, thousand-watt smiles. “C’mon, I’ll show you to make one with the lamb. You’re gonna need a lot of onions for this…”

I groaned, setting off a round of laughter. I wasn’t against onions on a sandwich, but they didn’t have to sleep between two men with onion breath.

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