#put the pen down and reevaluate your life

[too-cute-foryou]

this might be a take too hot for tumblr but I think that some people should just be banned from drawing trans men all together. doesn’t matter if you’re trans yourself, if you’re doing this I think you need to stop

[aberfaeth]

tagged by @laiqualaurelote to post the last lines of my WIPs (all of yours look fantastic by the way) so here we go :3 i picked the ones i’ve worked on most recently! bonus points to guess the two niche video game fandoms lol

1.

The priest standing over Fred’s coffin is saying something about the resurrection and the life—Nancy tries to listen but doesn’t quite manage to sort the words into coherent sentiments, noise washed out by the low buzz at the back of her head. Her fingers twitch for a pen, for her k-frame, something to hold. Another hand, maybe. She settles for her own, squeezing so tight her knuckles ache.

2.

Malorn didn’t seem offended, though. He chuckled lightly. “If you’re looking for a Death Professor, I guess I’m your guy,” he said. 

“Oh!” I blinked, reevaluating my assessment of his age. If he was old enough to be a professor— “Are you, like, a vampire?” 

You know, how you talk to hot people.

3.

Vickie’s sitting on the porch when the earthquake hits.

There’s no lead-up, no tremors, nothing in the forecast that would suggest the town of Hawkins is about to be ripped apart. No moment of watching the glassware shake on the shelves and wondering if they’d actually tip over, how fast she’d have to dive to catch them. The only warning she gets is the whisper of a breeze, colder than physics should allow this late in April, wind like a dozen tiny spider-legs across the back of her neck. And then the ground beneath them crumbles.

4.

Dustin turns to Will, looking for all the world like someone who’s just been told that they’ve stopped making Indiana Jones movies. “But what if they sell out?”

And there’s something about his crushed expression that makes Steve’s heart do all kinds of unsanctioned gymnastics. Suddenly, Steve’s thinking about the other times Dustin has worn that kind of sadness, had to bare his teeth, set his shoulders, and carry it. Not just the people they’ve lost, the things they’ve seen, but—mundane stuff. Missing out on days at the arcade to save the world. And when Steve thinks about that, it’s like this age old chasm of a wound opens in his chest, and he just wants to give Dustin and Will and the other kids every good thing he possibly can.

Which is probably what Dustin wanted to happen. The little shit. 

5.

I have spent too long alone, her voice echoes. And now loneliness is all I can look forward to, thanks to you. His research, his self-importance, his blindness, his fault. Fane grasps weakly at the cold, thin fabric of Aetera’s coat, and notes, with a sort of detached air, that his hands are trembling. Breath he doesn’t need shoots in through his mouth, disperses frigid and wet around the inside of his chest. He should have been better. He should have been smarter, he should have known, he should have let Aetera put him down for the horrors he put her through—

6.

There’s a noise that might be “come in” and might be a growl, which Markus takes as the okay to inch the door open and peek his head inside. Maggie is lying on her bed, one leg propped up against the wall. “Hi, Markus,” she says, without glancing away from her phone.

7.

Norman Takamori wakes into consciousness with the violent, thrashing gasp of someone breaking the surface of water after drowning for rigons. 

i tag @grasslandgirl @swissarmywife @boasamishipper @steveharrington @waveridden @strangetorpedos @cauldronoflove and anyone else who wants to !!!

[xteslaangel]

An Open Letter | Helmut Zemo

Author’s Notes: I would love to dedicate more time to writing on tumblr. I have some requests that I’m still interested in doing. I just have a lot on my plate at the moment. But I did write this one-shot piece for a roleplaying site that I’m on and I’m really proud of it. I hope you all enjoy it if you decide to read it! This is Post tfatws 

Word Count: 1.2k

With the sweet taste of freedom once again in his grasp, Baron Helmut Zemo made his way to one of the many safehouses that he had. With being a Baron, it granted him the use of many resources. Unfortunately, due to the fall of Sokovia and his family perishing, there wasn’t much that he had left in his name. At least he had Oeznik, his butler. Someone that he could trust. He was the only person that Zemo could trust. Betrayal was part of Zemo’s nature and before anyone had the chance to betray him, he did it first. It was his mistake if he were to get close to anyone because in the end, people left. They either died or betrayed him. Closing himself off was the best thing that he could do. The Baron felt like it was the only thing that he could do. After his second prison escape, he took a moment to reevaluate some things. It was the escape that almost brought him to his death.

 Zemo wasn’t afraid of dying. Actually, it was the one thing that he had wanted since his wife and child were forcefully taken away from him far too soon. Yet at every turn, there was something blocking him from succeeding with that death wish. When he escaped the raft, the sea almost took his life. And yet somehow, he was able to make it to land. Barely. Practically pulling himself out of the depths of Hell itself. Once again, he survived. Helmut Zemo was a survivor against all odds. Even though he would have been fine with being lost at sea. Life had different plans for him. But he was planning on laying low for the time being, only going to reveal himself when the time was right. He was sure that people would be out looking for him. After all, he was a wanted man for everything that he had done. He was a fugitive. Running from the law. James and Sam weren’t on his side. They never were. The reason why James helped him escape prison the last time was to use him. And once he was no longer useful, he was sent right back to prison. This time, in the raft.

 He had no plans of escaping, but when the opportunity came about, he took the chance. Oeznik greeted him at the shore and took him to a safehouse in Switzerland. It was overlooking one of the many mountains that were in the country. When Zemo arrived, he made his way into the safehouse and began to make himself a cup of tea. Any safehouse he had needed to be stocked with cherry blossom tea. Which was his favorite. And Turkish Delights. “I’m going to get some groceries, sir. Is there anything specific that you need?” He heard Oeznik ask and the Baron turned to look at him before shaking his head. “No, there isn’t. So get what you think we might need.” He said in response. “Or maybe you can get us some more tea. I haven’t been in this safehouse in quite some time so the stock may be running low.” Zemo said in response with a light laugh and Oeznik nodded. “Of course, sir. I will be back soon.” He said before leaving the safehouse. Once the door closed, Zemo was left alone with his thoughts while he made the tea.

 With the cup of tea resting on the table, Zemo had a pen in his left hand and he was staring at a piece of paper that was in front of him. Oeznik walked back into the house with a few bags and he set them down on the counter, turning to look at Zemo. “Writing a letter, sir?” He asked and Zemo turned to look at him, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “With no intention of sending it.” He said with a laugh. “I heard somewhere that if you write your thoughts down on a piece of paper, it will help clear your mind.” He said, picking up his cup of tea and taking a sip from the glass. “And is it working?” Oeznik asked as he began to put away the groceries. The Baron thought for a moment. “I think so.” He stated, turning his attention back to the piece of paper.

 “Do you miss them?” Zemo heard the question and he frowned slightly. “Not a day goes by when I don’t think about them. The things that I have done, I don’t regret. But it didn’t bring them back to me.” And he knew that it wouldn’t. “And now that you’re free? What do you plan on doing?” That was something that he didn’t think about. What he would do once he was out of prison. He expected to spend the rest of his life there. “I’m just taking everything one day at a time. I don’t doubt that one day, James and Sam will find me. I am sure they will. But right now I want to take a moment to breathe. To finally grieve in what I have lost.” Because it never felt like the right time. Maybe there wasn’t a right time. The year before he went to prison and after he lost his family, he spent that preparing. The night he found out that his family died, it broke him. But he never properly had a moment to bask in that loss. Healthily, at least.

 “Do you think that you’ll find comfort in something new?” Zemo couldn’t help but laugh at that question. It was bitter, holding no humor. “The last time I loved someone with my entire being, I created a civil war between the Avengers because I lost them. To put myself in that kind of position again, to become vulnerable, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He said with a shake of his head. “You can’t stay lonely forever, sir. It isn’t a good life to lead.” Oeznik responded and Zemo watched him carefully. “You know, if you weren’t a dear friend of mine, we would be having an entirely different conversation.” The Baron stated with a shake of his head. “I’m just saying, sir, don’t close yourself off completely.” Maybe he should have, but he didn’t want to entertain this conversation further. He felt like it had gone on long enough. “If I say that I won’t, will you drop this conversation?” He asked, a slight grin playing on his lips. When Oeznik nodded, Zemo breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.” He stated before signing his name at the bottom of the letter that he had written. “Thank you for the conversation.” He stated and Oeznik glanced over at the letter. “May I ask what it’s about?” Zemo tilted his head to the side. “You may ask, but I won’t say. It’s a secret.”

 After he finished his tea and he placed his letter inside of an envelope, he stood up from the table and walked to his room. He opened the door and stepped inside, walking towards the nightstand that was next to his bed. He opened the small drawer and placed the letter inside of it. It wasn’t intended for anyone to read it. It was something that held his deepest, emotional thoughts. Things that he wouldn’t dare share with anyone. Everything that he had felt over the last nine years, he finally wrote them down. And after so long, it felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Nothing would ever truly make him feel better from the amount of loss that he had experienced, but this was a start. Helmut Zemo was in the process of healing.

[lostcoves]

– parisian nights 

+ ft. tamaki amajiki

+ wc: 2.5k

+ format: one-shot

+ premise: tamaki amajiki, heir to amajiki enterprises, has it all. yet, all he wants is you. could a sudden trip to paris be enough to win your heart?

+ note: my piece for @bakugohoex​’s 3k collab! hope you all enjoy!

tamaki amajiki, in a literal sense, had it all and anything he wanted was at a snap of his well-manicured fingertips. every luxury sports car, every trip to the tropics, every gaming system was only one lip pout to his daddy and mommy. he was spoiled to say the least but what kind of rich kid wasn’t?

it wasn’t until tamaki stumbled upon you that he took a moment to reevaluate his life as a rich boy.

you had humble beginnings, coming from a family of average societal standing. your family didn’t have to worry about money but they were nowhere close to the standing of the amajiki family. humble and modest, tamaki thought you were the cutest thing in the whole wide world! 

and what tamaki liked, tamaki got.

he remembered flashing you a fat tip for your service at the coffee shop you worked as a barista at. tamaki struggled with social interaction at times but all of that went out the window the moment he locked eyes with you. he found that he didn’t have to work on his social skills, as long as he had the money to buy the friendships and interactions.

he thought you were the same as the others, easily swayed by money.

yet, you weren’t. 

you rejected the tip and told him to put it in the communal tip jar for all the baristas shared from. tamaki was stunned but did what you asked of him. anxiety bubbled in his stomach and his facade of suave rich guy nearly cracked.

but tamaki wouldn’t give up so easily.

─────────────────

“morning, amajiki-san,” you greeted him every morning with that same gentle smile of yours. barely any customers were in the coffee shop, which tamaki preferred. he utterly despised crowds of people.

“good morning, (l/n)-san,” he returned the greeting and the smile.

“the usual?” you already got a medium-sized cup out.

“yes please,” he hummed. tamaki actually hated coffee, it made his anxiety worse but he would risk an anxiety attack if it meant he could interact with you.

you nodded and got to work, preparing a medium iced coffee for tamaki. he watched you move around from behind the counter, his eyes fixated on your gorgeous form.

“one medium iced coffee for amajiki-san!” you handed the coffee to tamaki.

“thank you,” tamaki fished out an envelope from his pocket, “your tip.”

you furrowed your eyebrows at the envelope and took it cautiously, “what’s this, amajiki-san?”

“your tip,” tamaki repeated. 

carefully, you opened up the envelope and pulled out its contents. 

“amajiki-san..” you uttered his first name, “what the hell is this?”

“two tickets to paris,” tamaki leaned against the counter, “well, the tickets are more of a formality. we’ll be taking my private jet to the city.”

“amajiki-san..” you sighed. 

“pretty please, (l/n)-san?” tamaki flashed you his famous puppy eyes. 

“why should i go with a guy i barely know?”

ouch, that hurt. 

“well, we can use this as an opportunity to get to know one another.”

you frowned, “i’ll have to think about it.”

“come to this address in a week from now at two in the afternoon,” tamaki got out a pen from his pocket and wrote down an address on a piece of napkin, “if you’re interested in coming.”

you took the napkin and nodded, “very well then.”

tamaki could only hope that you would come.

─────────────────

tamaki paced around outside the private jet, frantically checking his watch every two minutes. it was nearly two o’clock and you still weren’t near yet. you weren’t coming, tamaki decided, much to his dismay. 

“amajiki-sama?” the pilot poked his head outside the jet, “ready to take off?”

“no, not yet!” tamaki hollered. the pilot flashed a thumbs up and returned inside the plane. tamaki let out a heavy sigh, where were you?

“am i late?”

tamaki perked up at the sound of your voice. he saw your figure approaching the jet, the wind ruffling your white sundress and sunhat. a lone suitcase rolled behind you. 

“you came,” tamaki stated in surprise.

“didn’t think i was gonna show?” you chuckled.

tamaki let out a soft laugh and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “yeah..”

“well, i’m here!” you smiled, “you’re gonna treat me to the trip of a lifetime, correct? why in the world would i miss out on that?”

tamaki’s heart fluttered at the sight of your smile, “well, what are we waiting for? let’s get this trip started.”

a flight attendant exited the jet and took your luggage. tamaki took your hand and guided you inside the jet. your lips formed a small ‘o’ in shock at the interior of the jet. it was much larger on the inside than it was on the outside with push-lined seats and entertainment systems galore. a person could live without worry in this jet.

“you own this?” you asked tamaki, as you took a seat in one of the comfortable looking seats. 

“my parents do,” he answered, “they use it for business trips.”

“i see,” you eyed at the approaching concession cart. the flight attendant before earlier was operating it and she offered you a wide selection of drinks and snacks. you ended up getting a plain green tea while tamaki got a bag of honey barbecue flavored chips. 

“so what made you decide to invite me on this trip?” you took a long drag of your green tea.

tamaki paused from munching on his chips. he cleared his throat, “i thought ‘why not?’ in all honesty,” that was a lie, tamaki wanted to impress you with a flashy trip to the city of love.

“do you take all the girls you’ve met on trips to paris?”

“only the girls i like.”

tamaki almost choked at his comment, his cheeks flushing a nice shade of pink. you raised your eyebrows at him in an act of bewilderment. tamaki attempted to change the conversation and informed you, “we should be there in thirteen hours, so it’s best to “get situated.”

you gave him a nod, “alrighty. well, i’ll be asleep so you have fun.”

tamaki opened his mouth to reply, only to given the cold shoulder as you reclined your seat and got noise canceling headphones on. he watched, as you situated yourself and promptly fell asleep. he chuckled, that was adorable.

a two day trip to paris, what could possibly go wrong?

─────────────────

“(l/n)-san.”

tamaki gently removed your noise cancelling headphones from your head.

“we’re here, in paris.”

you let out a groan, as your eyes slowly opened. how long were you out? a couple of hours?

“you slept the whole trip,” tamaki laughed quietly.

“oh.. i did? sorry,” you murmured, rubbing the guck out of your eyes.

tamaki brushed a loose hair out of your face, “it’s alright.”

you blushed slightly at his warm touch but masked with a cough, “so! uh! whatcha wanna do in paris?”

tamaki blinked, he hadn’t planned that far ahead.

“would you like to see the louvre?”

─────────────────

japan had nothing on the bustling streets of paris. the sidewalks were filled to the brim with people mulling about, some on their phones with shopping bags and others chatting amongst themselves. the louvre was only a block away, crowded with tourists eager to see the mona lisa.

“no need to worry about the crowds,” tamaki gave you a smile when you two approached the louvre, “i set aside us a private tour of the musuem.”

“oh really?” you crossed your arms with disdain.

tamaki pouted, “would.. would you rather do a normal tour?”

you smiled, “yes please.”

the two of you pushed your way through the crowds and entered the louvre, you staring in awe of the artworks. tamaki concealed a small smile at your wonderment, he found it to be absolutely cute to watch. 

you’re more than a work of art, (f/n). was what tamaki wanted to say but he didn’t have the courage nor the guts to say it. 

“wow, the mona lisa is so tiny!” you commented to tamaki when you two found the famed piece of art. you were right, the mona lisa was surprisingly small. you grabbed tamaki by the hand and pulled him closer to the painting, “look how beautiful it is, amajiki-san.”

tamaki grew flustered at your touch but gave your hand a light squeeze, “(l/n)-san.. you can call me tamaki, if you want.”

you gave him a look and tamaki cursed internally. was it too soon to be on a first name basis?

“okay, tamaki.”

tamaki let out a sigh of relief.

“where would you like to go next?” tamaki questioned to you after the two of you finished your tour of the louvre. 

you pondered on the question for a moment. 

“let’s go shopping.”

─────────────────

tamaki patiently waited outside a fitting room, as you tried on various articles of clothing. he offered to pay– his parents gave him an allowance for the trip– and to his surprise, you actually accepted his offer. 

“you alright in there..?” tamaki asked, not wanting to walk in on you half naked.

there was some rustling and you emerged from the dressing room, “how do i look?” you asked tamaki, twirling around in your new dress.

tamaki gulped at the sight of the dress. its neckline highlighted your collarbone quite nicely and hugged your curves just right. he pulled at his collar and adverted his gaze, “er.. you look.. uh.. very nice..”

“i do?” you hugged his arm and pressed yourself against tamaki. he was sweating bullets now, “yes! y- yes, you d- do!” his eyes widened, not his stutter coming back at the worst possible moment.

“you have a stutter?”

shit. shit. shit. shit. shit.

“so wh- what if i d- do..”

“it’s cute.”

tamaki’s eyes widened.

“y- you th- think so?”

you nodded rapidly, “of course i do! i’m not gonna poke fun at it.”

tamaki coughed, “th- thanks.”

“of course,” you released your hold on his arm, “the night is still young, what should we do next?”

tamaki peered outside, nightfall was upon the city.

“a trip to paris isn’t complete without a visit to the effiel tower now, isn’t it?”

─────────────────

being on top of the effiel tower made the world seem so small. 

tamaki took a moment to enjoy the cold breeze that passed through his indigo locks, closing his eyes and just enjoying the feeling of being on top of the world for a moment. you stood next to him, doing the same thing. you hated to admit it but this had been the most fun you have had in a while. all thanks to tamaki amajiki, of course. 

“hey tamaki?”

“yes, (f/n)?”

“can i tell you a secret?”

tamaki opened his eyes, “of course.”

you stared out onto the city of lights and leaned against the guardrail.

“i never left japan until yesterday.”

tamaki laughed, “that’s not much of a secret. it was a little obvious.”

you scrunched your nose up in annoyance, “meanie.”

tamaki acted wounded, “that hurt.”

you rolled your eyes, “i enjoyed today. i hope you can ensure the same for tomorrow.”

tamaki looked down at his shoes and sighed, “i hope i can.”

“hey tamaki?”

“yes?” he looked up.

“what’s the real reason you invited me on this trip?”

tamaki hung his head down low.

“tamaki, look at me.”

he looked back up.

“tell me the truth.”

tamaki couldn’t lie to you anymore.

“it’s because.. i like you, (f/n).”

now it was your turn to hang your head low.

“why me, tamaki?”

tamaki pressed his lips together, “what do you mean?”

taking his hands into yours, the two of you were forced to look one another in the eye. you took a deep breath and began to speak your piece.

“i want to know the real tamaki amajiki. not this fake version. i think the closer we got was what happened in the fitting room. i get it, you’re rich.. but you didn’t have to whisk me away to paris just to confess that you had a crush on me, tamaki.”

“wh- what should have i done instead..?” not the stutter!

you half-smiled, “take me out for coffee, silly.”

was it really that simple?

“maybe i- i do that next time.”

“next time?”

fuck, was there not going to be a next time?

“there won’t be a next time until you tell me about yourself,” you gave tamaki a playful punch in the shoulder. he winced a bit but played it off. tamaki looked back out onto the city, “what would you like to know?”

“what’s it like being an heir?” you leaned against the guardrail.

tamaki tilted his head back and let out a long breathe, “exhausting.”

you cocked your head to the left, “how so?”

“my parents have high expectations of me. forcing me to go to college to study business for the sole purpose of taking over the company. this might sound silly but i wanted to study food science and become a nutritional therapist,” tamaki clasped his hands together tightly, “there’s no true freedom. money has a price and that price is your freedom. the public hounds you, the elite is full of backstabbers, and i just want to settle down with a nice girl.”

“and that nice girl would be?” you smiled.

“you, of course.”

you blushed at tamaki’s response.

“i would give up all the money i have if it means i can be with you,” tamaki confessed with tears in his eyes, “i truly mean it. i fell in love with you the moment i saw you in that coffee shop, (f/n) (l/n).”

“re- really?” now you were stuttering. 

“truly,” tamaki cupped your cheeks and bore his eyes into yours, “i truly mean it. i only want you, (f/n). i would give you everything and anything you could have ever wanted. i want to be there for you.”

“b- but you barely know me!” you protested.

“then let me get to know you,” tamaki fired back.

you were rendered speechless. you adverted your gaze from tamaki and he removed his hands from your face. tamaki bowed his head in disgrace, “i- i’m sorry, (l/n)-san.”

“it’s okay, tamaki!” you exclaimed, “really it is. i admire your fire. i want to get you better, as well. truly, i do.”

tamaki relaxed his shoulders and placed a hand against his chest in an effort to calm his rapidly beating heart. you looked heavenly under the lights of the effiel tower with your new dress and your pearly white smile. he just wanted to kiss your damn face already. 

“tamaki.”

“yes, (f/n)?”

“here,” you pressed a kiss to his lips. tamaki’s eyes widened for a moment before he closed them, allowing himself to get lost in the kiss. your lips tasted like the croissant you had earlier that day. tamaki could kiss you forever. 

“let’s get to know one another better before a second date, okay?”

tamaki was more than fine with that. 

one day, he’ll be yours.

[collecting-stories]

Shane - ep. 12 - Georgia

Summary: Shane hassles you in the diner and you let slip to Daryl that you want to date him. 

A/N: Can’t believe we’re moving this far into it. 

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You almost audibly groaned when Shane walked into the diner on Monday night. Daryl has been gone all weekend and you were quickly realizing that driving yourself around just wasn’t the same. You weren’t too proud to admit that you missed him, more than someone should miss an ‘in between’ friend as Tara had called him.  

“You know, in between a friend and a boyfriend.” She had explained after coining the term.  

“I get it.”

You were sure your mom was happy, as happy as she could be with you, because you’d been essentially only at the diner and at home all weekend. You’d even been on time for church on Sunday morning, an occurrence that was lacking lately. It wasn’t only Daryl’s absence that had you falling back into that place so close to the daughter that your mother wanted. The one who was perfect enough to fix all the problems she had. Deanna had told your mom, just like Aiden said she would. She’d called her on Friday morning to tell her that she’d noticed you driving with Daryl in his truck.  

“When was this?” Your mother had asked, holding her hand up for you to stop as you were preparing to walk out the door for school.  

“I’m gonna be late.” You stressed.  

She put her hand over the receiver and looked you dead in the eye, “move out that door and I swear to god you will not go out again for a week. School be damned.”

You waited, stood there anxiously by the front door as she cast you glancing and nodded her head and ‘mmhmm’d’ at the appropriate places. Your dad was supposed to be coming home soon from the halfway house he was living in and you’d thought maybe she was talking to him but then she hung up and turned to face you.  

“You wanna tell me why Deanna just called me and told me she saw you with Daryl Dixon.”  

“Cause he was fixing my car. I told you that, remember?” You knew you said it in that way that suggested she was dumb for asking so you weren’t surprised when she smacked you across the face. It didn’t take the sting away though and you flinched away from her when she kept on.  

“You’ve done some truly stupid things before but this really tops it, you know that! Running around town like some whore!”  

And you could’ve said something else, at least that was the inner monologue you gave yourself afterward, when you were sitting in class with Maggie, swearing that you fell in the bathtub during your shower. You could’ve said something else, maybe, but you didn’t.  

“You would know! Why isn’t dad back yet? Cause he’s not better or cause you’re still fucking your boss!”  

Tara told you after school that she had wait the weekend, until she was back from her mom’s house, before you could stay. So you put yourself on best behaviour mode, faking it through a bruised jaw and other, worse injuries, that no one could see. You rolled in late to class with a slip that said you had tripped in the shower and you continued that lie until the last bell rang and you were driving to 7-11 to meet Tara, to stay far away from your mom.  

“Monday,” she promised. “I’m back from my mom’s Monday night, you can come over then.”  

“She told me ‘as long as you’re under my roof you won’t be anywhere near Daryl’. Good then, watch me get out from under your roof. She acts like it hasn’t happened before.” You replied, whispering as you stood in the back of the soda aisle, far away from Jacqui’s eavesdropping. The last thing you needed was her telling everyone what you said.  

“Does Daryl know?” Tara asked, playing dumb.  

“No.” You replied, “and I’m not gonna tell him. If he does like me he doesn’t need to think I’m messed up.”  

“You’re not messed up, your mom is a dick.”  

“Look, I can fake it for a weekend, church, no friends, work. It’ll be fine.” You promised, “and on Monday night, your house.”

“If you need it sooner, I could talk to my dad.” Tara offered. He’d let you stay plenty of times in the past.  

“No, Monday’s fine.”  

You survived the weekend the exact way you said you would. You faked the nice girl you had strived to be in middle school and for the first three years of high school. You didn’t talk back, you were quiet, nice, you went to work and to church and it was like some kind of wonderful transformation that your mother probably attributed to herself. She’d scared you straight out of your rebellious crush on Daryl and back to the girl she wanted you to be.

But Sunday came and you were counting down the hours. Just another day and you’d be at Tara’s. Hopefully a few more hours and Daryl would be back. Tonight, thankfully, your mom had left church, changed and gone to work, which left you at the diner, closing it out with Lori when Shane walked in.  

“I know you got a thing for that Dixon boy but I think you should reevaluate your eyes.” Lori commented, coming up next to you. “Shane Walsh is mighty fine.”  

“First, Daryl’s older than you,” you pointed out. He was 23, same as Rick, and Lori was 21, a little closer in age to you. “Second, you forget your pregnant?”  

“A girl can’t look?” She shrugged, walking away as you pretended to gag.  

Shane seemed oblivious to the interaction as he came up and sat at the counter. You hadn’t seen him since the party, though both Glenn and Maggie had and they claimed he had asked how you were. You weren’t surprised, Shane always did fashion himself as something of a ‘knight in shining armour’ you could only imagine the size of his ego knowing he had effectively ‘saved’ you from Aiden.  

“Hey Shane, what can I get you?” You asked, pad and pen ready, as if you thought he was actually going to order and he didn’t just come here with some ulterior motive like Aiden.  

“You, back?” Shane asked, grinning at you.  

You rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath and trying not to say anything too awful. The last thing you felt like dealing with today was Shane. “Hilarious. Order or move Shane.”

“I’m not joking.” He replied, leaning further across the counter.  

Over his shoulder Lori was shooting you a look that you were sure could translate into ‘jump on that offer’. You groaned, folding the notepad back up and slipping it into your apron. “Listen, Shane, I appreciate you standing up for me at the party and I’m sorry Aiden was a dick, I really didn’t want to be there with him-“

“Then why were you?”

“None of your business.” You snapped.  

“He trashed my house-“

“You both trashed your house! Don’t bitch at me because you got in a fight I didn’t ask you to get involved in.” You said, cutting him off.  

“So first it’s thanks so much and then it’s I don’t need you?”

“Yeah Shane,” you continued, “I was trying to be fucking nice to you but you’re being a dick. I’m sorry I don’t have feelings for you anymore but I can’t change that.”  

“You don’t mean that.” He said, keeping his voice low. He stood up and followed you down the counter as you tried to get back to work. As you lifted the gate on the counter he grabbed the other side, stopping you from going any further. “You got your head mixed up with that loser Dixon.”  

Your jaw tensed as you glared at him, “watch your mouth.” You let go of the gate, shoving passed him to get to your waiting tables.  

The resulting noise of the gate felt like it left an echo when Shane let go as well, turning and grabbing your arm. “Just talk to me, please!”

“I said no!” You snapped, pulling your arm away, “leave me alone Shane, I said no. I don’t want anything to do with you.”  

“Shane,” Otis’ voice caught both your attentions and you looked behind the counter to the window that offered a limited view of the kitchen. Otis was standing there, dish on the ledge, staring down Shane Walsh like he could fire bullets with his eyes. You’d known Otis your whole life and there wasn’t a person alive that ever had a bad word to say about him. He was a sweetheart, burly on the outside but teddy soft on the inside. He’d watched you hold your own with Shane in the past, and with Aiden. He watched you flirt with Daryl and told you more than a few times that you had that boy wrapped around your finger whether you thought so or not. And he watched Shane put his hand on you, “Think you should leave.”  

“We were just talking.” Shane replied, looking back at you like there was any chance in the world that you would defend him.  

“Yeah, and now you’re done.” Otis said.  

No further conversation was had. Shane nodded and left, Lori shooting him a sympathetic smile as he passed by her. You wanted to tell her to have at him, you could do without him hanging around. It was good Daryl was away for the weekend cause you were itching to go to his house as you stood outside the diner with Lori while she locked up.  

“You really over Shane?” She asked, as if she gave two shits about your life.

“Why?”

“Just wondering. He seems pretty passionate about you.”

“Passionate? Try aggressive.” You countered. He’d always been that way and you thought maybe there had been a time when you substituted who he was for who you wanted him to be but you liked to think you were a little smarter this time around.  

“What about Dixon?”

“Why are you asking me all these questions Lor?” You asked. You wanted nothing more than to get in your car and go home.  

“Just wondering, I get bored at the apartment, only one there to talk to is Rick and he’s on nights this week.” She replied. He was around whenever she had doctor’s appointments or if she needed something for the baby. She was more than positive that when the little Grimes was born he would be the best dad in King County but he seemingly less interested in being the best fiancé.  

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, answering her question finally, “Daryl and I aren’t dating though so it doesn’t matter.”  

“Think he’s waiting til you turn 18.” She asked.

“No, just don’t think he’s interested in dating me is all.”  

You’d given Daryl a lot of thought since you’d started spending time with him. There were times you thought maybe he liked you. Moments when it seemed plausible that there was something but it always felt like it was right before. This build up between the two of you with nothing to show for it in the end.  

“You have dated before right?”

“Obviously.” You replied, hand on the door of your car. If she would just get in and pull away , you could too.  

“Just checking.” She laughed, finally granting your wish and getting in the car.  

You peeled out after her, driving away from your street and pulling into the parking lot of the Shop’n’Bag. You parked as close as you could for a late night, your Jeep illuminated by the overhead light. The grocery store was practically dead at 10p as you grabbed a basket and walked around aimlessly. Hungry was not the way to shop but your mom was being a bitch and refusing to buy you groceries, going so far as to label the items in the refrigerator that she deemed hers.  

The freezer aisle, flickering from one of the ceiling lights, seemed to be your lucky spot. It wrapped the wall in the far left, two large cases running almost from wall to wall in the middle and a familiar frame leaning over one of them, cart full of other quick meals and beer beside him.  

“Hey stranger.” You greeted, stepping up next to him and leaning against the case.  

Daryl straightened, the faintest of smiles coming and going as he looked over at you, “ya ain’t stalking me are ya?”  

“No, I just finished at the diner, I’m starving.”  

“Ya know they make food there.” He replied, tossing a pack of steaks in the cart and moving along, you falling into step next to him.  

“I wasn’t hungry while I was there.” When he stopped again you pulled the three packs of stovetop mac and cheese out of your otherwise empty basket and dropped them in his cart before leaving your basket under the case.  

“I ain’t buying yer food.” He said, glancing over his shoulder at you. His eyes landed on the barely visible bruise that was still on your cheek, Tara’s words clear as day in his mind. “What happened?” He asked, hand brushing his own jaw in the same place.  

“Fell in the shower.”  

“Least it ain’t those cats this time.” He replied.  

“When did you get back?” You asked, following him down the aisle.  

“Like ten minutes ago, however long I been in here.” He said, pausing to throw something in his cart, “why?”

You shrugged, “it was boring this weekend, I missed you.”  

“Musta been real boring then.” He joked, turning his face away so you couldn’t see his cheeks going red. “Ya ain’t start any fights this weekend?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” you stressed. “Deanna called my mom though, told her she saw us driving in your truck.”  

“Told ya that ya shouldn’t be hanging around me.” Daryl replied, leaning against the handle of the cart. He watched you look through jars of red gravy until you found the one you wanted, sticking it in the cart. “I ain’t buying your food,” he repeated.

“I’ll pay for it,” you insisted, gripping the other end of the cart and smiling at him. “So, how was hunting?”

“A’ight. Got a deer in the bed a my truck.”  

You stuck your tongue out in disgust, “Glad my jeep’s fixed then.” You walked with Daryl through the rest of the store until he finally decided he was finished grocery shopping and turned his cart toward the check out, only one lane open this time of the night. When you tried to put the divider down between your order and his, Daryl put it back. “Thought you weren’t paying for me?”

“Ain’t a lot a stuff.” He shrugged, “bag it yerself though.”

“What a gentleman.” You laughed; scooting passed him so you could start bagging the groceries as the guy at the checkout put them through.  

Tara had told you enough times already that you should invite Daryl to your birthday, or just tell him that you like him and want to date him. You’d thought about both options plenty, positive that they were the only things on your mind these days. But actually, mentioning those things to him were a whole other story.  

“So, I turn 18 soon.” You mentioned as you walked out to your jeep with him. His truck was parked a few spaces down, blue tarp over the bed highlighted by a parking light. “Tara and Maggie are having a party for me.”  

“Ys sure that’s a good idea?” He joked, putting your groceries in the back for you.  

“Stop! No one’s ever gonna let me live that down.” You groaned.  

“Ya gonna invite me to yer party then?”  

You perked up a little, smiling, “well, yeah. And I was thinking too, you know, I’ll be 18.” You repeated at the end.  

“I heard ya.”

“I’ll be legal.” You clarified, as if he couldn’t catch on without you spelling it out for him.  

Daryl sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking at you a little more tired than before. “This ain’t a good idea, ya know,” he said, waving his hand between the two of you, “I ain’t got a lot going on right in my life. Ya shouldn’t be dragged into that.”  

“I’m not being dragged into anything,” you replied, “I really like you, I think I’ve been pretty obvious about it and if not then I’m telling you now. I like you and I’ll be 18 and I think-”

He stopped you by holding his hand up, “it ain’t gonna happen.”  

“Daryl-”

“I gotta get home,” he cut you off, stepping away from your car, “goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” You sighed, watching him walk away to his car.  

-

Taglist: @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @mainokutan  @solllaris @twdeadfanfic @legit-emily @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @oncemorewithfeelingg @thanossexual @yespleasejayhalstead @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @alwaysadreamingoptimist @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @guccicloudz @sapphire-angel @buzzybhee @alexbealee @elodieyung @its-evita-here 

[teaandatale]

Hello I’m late to the party but pls tell me more about SteggyDiplomatic???

Late Reply to WIP Game 

Hehehe, I thought you might be the one to ask me about this one. SO, it’s not quite what you were thinking I’m sure, BUT congrats, you picked the one SUPER SECRET STEGGY FIC IDEA that I put on that WIP list.

Why super secret? Idk, my brain decides some fic ideas need to stay super hush hush until they are fully realized. Also because in my head this one is a saga, where I have literally have it in mind that there will be 3 Parts to this long fic. As is the preview here.

Also this one kind of goes real dark, so read on at your discretion.

Basic Synopsis: Peggy & Steve are both children of Diplomatic parents. Steve’s father is a particularly powerful politician. That’s how they meet, as children in some Diplomatic Day Care while at some UN Conference or Summit, or similar. Steve gets picked on by some of the other kids (Gilmore Hodge in particular) and Peggy, who is already a mouthy wise-cracking 6 or 7 year old, has paid attention enough to her brother and parents using big words to use them to her advantage. Because their parents work closely, they end up crossing paths more and more as the years go on. They also start sending each other pen pals letters when they are separated, developing their own code. They’re each others first crushes, and in their teens, while the Carters are in NYC for UN meetings, the unsaid things between them becomes an understanding. They go on a museum date and Peggy gives Steve his first kiss in Central Park. By the time they graduate high school, they’re pretty serious, to the point where Peggy decides to move to New York to attend college. The fic would follow their lives into adulthood, and their growing relationship.

Because Steve’s dad has a military background along with his political work, Steve ends up following in the “Family Business” in a somewhat SHIELD like organization... But one that definitely is quietly overrun by Hydra. Peggy also follows into Diplomatic work, and creates her own ties to SHIELD. There they meet Howard Stark much as we know him in canon, as well as the Jarvises. Steve & Peggy start to think about the future, carving one out for each other -- starting a family away from the Diplomatic life, away from NYC.

But then a series of tragic and mysterious events occur. Bucky’s unit gets targeted and he’s KIA. The organization’s Steve’s father runs, dark side begins to come to light. Then Steve’s mother contracts a mysterious illness and passes away. While Steve is grieving, Peggy starts to put together some pieces of intel, especially from her side of SHIELD. She knows something isn’t right about Steve’s father. And once she’s onto him, Steve’s father starts to sow seeds of doubt and poison Peggy’s image in his son’s eyes. Peggy fights it. Until she finds out she’s pregnant. But she never gets a chance to tell Steve. Whatever his father’s toxic influence strength, it’s taken hold in Steve, to the point of him saying he could never love her. Peggy, at her wit’s end, needing to regroup and figure out how to move forward with becoming a mother, leaves him a letter with the sonogram. Steve never opens it.

Flash forward to Part 2.

The Rogers men have done their part to isolate Peggy, Steve having been successfully radicalized by his father, taking his place as second in control, engaging in the heinous side of SHIELD. Months and months go by... And Steve eventually, away from the influence of his father, happens upon Peggy’s letter. He reads it, and whatever hate his father created melts away. She was pregnant. That’s what she had been trying to tell him that last time they met. Steve reevaluates everything Peggy had been trying to tell him about Steve, about his father. He confronts his father, carefully avoiding mention of the baby.

“You think I don’t know you knocked her up? If my efforts to make sure that bastard child isn’t miscarried didn’t work, she’ll still be stuck with the bastard of a bastard. Unmarried and a stain on her family. You will never see them. Never,” his father says. “Besides, do you really think she would want anything else to do with you? Not once she hears all the horrible acts that Steven G. Rogers took credit for. Oh yes son, I planned for all contingencies.”

It’s the first time Steve fights him directly, physically leaving scars on his father’s face and has the flee, branded a fugitive from justice now that his father has falsified Steve’s involvement and blasted it through all media.

Steve doesn’t care. He’s done with the family operation. Done with the toxic family that turned him against the love of his life. That was pregnant with his child. If he still had a child... He hopes so. He’s lost too many people already.

With Natasha & Sam’s help, after shaving his face and head and overall changing his appearance, he leaves for the UK, in hopes of tracking Peggy Carter down. Only there’s no trace of her. Or a child. Anywhere. She’s become a ghost.

In the middle of nowhere England, alone, tracking any lead he can find, he clutches Peggy’s letter to his chest, and hopes he can rectify this one day, to make amends for betraying the one person who always saw him for who he was. He keeps a low profile in shitholes in London, trying to find the Carter family, while avoiding his father’s radar. He starts to realize even Peggy had secrets he didn’t know about.

Years go by without a trace... Until there’s a scent on the trail...

Peggy’s kept this particular fake public safe house for years. And though she doesn’t really live in it, even in the dark, one night she knows something is not right. She fakes taking off her coat, setting down her purse until she’s got her weapon loaded. She can’t deny that her heart is in her throat. There, in the dark of the kitchen, a split second after she flips the light on, is Steve sitting at her table, hunched in the chair, jaw tight, and eyes of a wild animal. He’s grizzled, and looks dangerous. Even if she’s expected this to come, fearing this the second word got out that he went missing, she’s terrified. His mouth turns into a grimace letting out a single sound.

“Wh-”

Peggy aims her hidden weapon and shoots. His eyes go wide and he’s crying out in pain. She remains standing, tall and steady, gun at the ready. His fingers come up to feel the dart embedded in his neck.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Peggy,” she hears, each subsequent word more slurred than the one before. What shocks her most is his tone, hardly mad that she shot him, more annoyed than anything. It was the tone of Steve, her Steve, not the monster. He slumps over the top of the kitchen table. She blinks, watching him for a moment, hesitating until finally, a minute later, she calls Stark for reinforcements. She doesn’t cry, does not move an inch, not until the vehicle pulls up in the drive.

And... I’ll leave you there ;)

[nasaty]

Forget me not

Aizawa-Sensei x Y/n-Sensei fic

TW: (eventually) violence, discussion of past death, just some bad feelings all around.

Part 5/??

You continued teaching Shinso privately for a few weeks, going between working on his quirk specifically, and some light training with the staff. One morning, you made your way over to the patch in the woods that you usually work at, but saw both Shinso and Aizawa there already.

“Umm, did I get the day wrong or something?” You asked.

“Oh shoot I forgot! I’m sorry. I had to move my time with Aizawa-Sensei because of a test and forgot when we usually work.”

“It’s okay. You continue with Aizawa and we can just reschedule.”

A deep gravelly voice spoke, “Y/n-Sensei, you can stay here I’ll just reschedule with Shinso.” ‘Is that what Aizawa sounds like in the morning?’ You thought.

“…couldn’t you guys both teach me…?”

“I guess, yeah.” You answered.

“We could…try and combine it?” Aizawa suggested.

“Like combine the staff and the cloth? That could be interesting….” You were intrigued. This could be a really good way of combating, and it’s so new that it would be hard for anyone, including villains, to evade. “Yeah let’s try it out.”

You gave Shinso his staff and he unwrapped his binding cloth. All three of you hypothesized different ways for it to be used. You could use the end of the staff to push the thick side of the cloth around with centripetal force or loop it around the end to toss it.

“Maybe we should improve on the staff…” you add. “We could put some sort of hook or edge on one side, and maybe a small rubber end for grip? I can talk to support about it if you guys are interested.” You walked closer to Aizawa and pointed out the places you could enhance.

“That’s….genius.” Aizawa was looking at you, mouth slightly open and smirking. He put his hands next to yours and you looked up at him shyly until you both realized why you were there.

You jumped at his hands grazing yours, “Uhm… yeah so I’ll go talk to support.”

“..ahh. Sounds good and I think we’re done for the day.” Aizawa said, much more lively than earlier that morning. He waited for you to make you way to the building so he didn’t have to awkwardly walk beside you.

—————-

A few weeks later and A day or so before you’re supposed to meet for lunch again, Aizawa emailed you.

“Y/n-Sensei,

I regretfully have to postpone our lunch for this week as I have a meeting that I am being forced to attend against my will, (god dammit, Hizashi)”

You chuckled. It’s ridiculous how much more respectable you’ve both been to each other lately. Toshinori was right. You texted Toshi that you’ve got to buy him a coffee later, and continued reading Aizawa’s email.

“I was hoping to offer you dinner in place of our usual visit. Please consider accompanying me on our regular lunch date of this coming Wednesday, at 7:00pm.

A.S.”

‘Good fucking god what is that supposed to be? Is he asking me out on a date?!’ You thought. Absolutely freaking out, you decided to find Toshinori and ask him what he thought about it. Maybe having a mans perspective would help? And it’s not like you could as Hizashi, he would blurt it to the whole school.

You walked to the teachers lounge in an attempt to find Toshinori as he usually spent most of his free time there rather than in his office. He probably liked having the company. You heard your heels click on the ground while you walk and you felt powerful, until you opened the lounge door and saw Aizawa sitting on the couch grading papers. You thought maybe he didn’t see you and you could sneak away, but he saw you. He hummed a bit signifying you being welcome to enter but you froze.

“Everything alright y/n?” Toshinori popped his head out of the book he was reading. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Ahh…umm..I’m uhh…” you stammered.

Aizawa looked at you with furrowed brows and a small smile on his face. It looked like he was trying to decipher whatever was happening with you.

“I’m alright!” You blurted and turned to walk out of the lounge. Toshinori looked back and forth between the door and Aizawa a few times.

“What was that about, do you think..?” He asked Aizawa.

Aizawa shrugged and went back to grading. Toshinori decided to follow you and ask what the trouble was. Aizawa was lucky you both left because he was desperately trying to not turn bright red. He was tapping his foot and chewing on his pen until Toshi left the room. Once he left, Aizawa sighed longingly and let himself blush.

Toshinori caught up to you in the hallway as you were walking back to your office.

“Y/n are you sure you’re alright?”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. “IgotanemailfromAizawaandIthinkheaskdmeoutonadateandIhavenoideawhattothinksoIwenttofindyouandhewasinthereandI’mfreakingout!”

“Y/n you’re going to have to slow down.”

You shoved your phone with the email still up in his face.

“Oh wow…. This is…formal…” Toshinori breathed.

You buried your face in your hands as you turned bright red.

“This situation has changed a lot since the last time I spoke to you about him….” Toshi observed.

“Do you think it’s a date? Or do you think this is just him moving our appointment? We’ve been getting lunch every week to discuss Shinso’s progress.”

“Um….if this isn’t a date I need to reevaluate my life.” Toshi clapped his hand over his wide smile. “A.S.?” He laughed so hard he coughed up blood.

“Oh my god stop it Toshi.” You playfully smack his arm as he’s laughing. “You have to keep this a secret!”

Someone steps up to both of you, “Hmm?”

Aizawa stood there intimidatingly drinking the last of his coffee with an unamused face. You froze and Toshi leaned down to you to hand your phone back slowly.

“Well I’d better get going, nice to see you y/n. Aizawa.” Toshi ditched as fast as humanly possible leaving you holding your phone with Aizawa’s email up on it like the email itself would kill you. He slowly moved in toward you to take your phone and you shuddered. At the last second you tossed your phone to your other hand and straight armed his chest to keep him from taking it. His intimidating facade disappeared as he smirked with a spark in his eye. You laughed and tried to hold him back but he got through your defenses.

He reached out for your phone and you spun and ran down the hallway to your office. As soon as he realized where you were going he followed you, almost wiping out turning the corner. You stood in the middle of your office and attempted a stance to hold him back. Once he reached your office he slowed down dramatically, he moved in with a devilish smirk on his face and you started biting your lip.

He faked you out so he could get past you without hurting you and you ended up being pressed chest to chest with your arm out as far as possible, still clutching your phone. He looked down at you hungrily and your eyes widened. Instead of reaching for your phone, he raised his hands to hold your face in between them, pulled you close to him and kissed you hard. You gasped and melted into the kiss and put your hands on his chest.

Suddenly he pulled away grabbed your phone and jumped to the other side of the room. You were in a daze. He opened your phone to see his email to you on the screen.

“So this is your secret with Yagi? Me asking you on a date?” He asked.

“So it is a date!” You exclaimed and pointed at him. He lightly took your finger in his hand and held it.

“Of course it is, moron, what the hell else?” He rolled his eyes, still smiling.

“…I mean we were doing this to help Shinso.”

“Originally yeah, but we haven’t hardly talked about Shinso in weeks.” He explained.

You racked your brain to remember past conversations involving Shinso at lunch. You couldn’t remember the last time. Before you could speak again. He took your hand, which was still holding your pointer finger out, turned it and gave you a soft kiss on the top of your knuckles.

His sensual expression faded. “If you don’t want it to be a date it doesn’t have to be. We can go back to what we were like before…”

“I..uh….I..” you said totally dumb founded.

He placed your hand at your side, handed you your phone and said “consider it.” He walked out of your office with his hands in his pockets looking at the ground.

————————

You paced in your office for a while thinking of what to do. Did UA have a fraternizing policy? Was this all a joke? There’s no way he actually like you…right? How could he. He was incredible. One of the youngest to ever become a UA faculty member, he made accomplishment after accomplishment and you never measured up. Is there any way this could be real?

Despite this, you decided to email him back.

“Aizawa-Sensei,

I accept your invitation to postpone our upcoming meeting until that evening. I would like to accompany you to dinner, if you’ll still have me.”

You didn’t know what else to say do you sent it, and got almost an immediate reply.

“Y/n-Sensei,

Of course I’ll still have you. Always will.

A.S.

PS: I heard from support course and they have finished prototypes of the staffs you were working on. They’d like us to try them out tomorrow, if you’re available.”

Your heart stopped for a second. How was he this sweet? You knew the formality of everything was just him being a dork and flirting, but it still was really cute. And how adorable was he when he was trying to grab your phone, his lips pouted trying to reach past you…

You returned to reality. Maybe this is just a fling, a one time thing. Just something two adults do when they’re bored and nothing else. ‘There’s no way he would want to date you’ you thought. That would be irrational.

[chocoluckchipz]

The Other You - 5

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

< Previous

Marinette set her phone back on her desk, suppressing a long sigh.

Deep down, she knew it was unfair of her, but part of her was somewhat glad that Alya was worried about her whereabouts. For the past few days, she had been receiving a constant string of texts, first asking if she was okay, then wondering if she was safe. In the end, Alya began to beg her best friend to at least give her a sign, confirming that she was, at the very least, alive.

But Marinette couldn’t.

The wound was too fresh, the hurt still too vivid.

She didn’t want to go back to their apartment, a home where questions never ceased, where she couldn’t focus on her already withering career without being guilt-tripped. Marinette snuck in only once after leaving, at a time she knew neither Alya nor Nino would be home. And only because, as the Guardian, she couldn’t leave the Miracle Box at a place she no longer lived.

Her daily phone calls with her parents went by quickly, telling them she was staying with a friend, looking at different options and reevaluating her life. Aside from that, she ostensively ignored a thousand calls from Alya and a few hundred from Nino.

But no matter how much her friends were worried about her, no matter how her parents thought she was making all the wrong life choices, Marinette knew that pursuing her lifelong dream was worth it in the end. Reaching the goal would make it all worth it.

She had to pull through, had to continue even if it killed her in the end. She had to carry Gabriel Agreste’s work beyond the grave and prevent his up-to-no-good son from wrecking years of sacrifice, late hours of work, and lonely holidays. Gabriel’s first women’s line was almost ready to launch, and she had sworn to herself that everything would go smoothly even if there were a few sacrifices to be made along the way.

And now that the goal was so close, almost in her hands, she couldn’t imagine giving up on it. So, she ignored the stubbornly chiming little device on her desk and got back to work, trying yet again to figure out what her former boss had intended to do with a particular design.

A few hours later, she dropped her pen on her desk, holding her head in her hands. It was no use. The fire in her veins was drowned out; the inspiration was gone. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t envision what Gabriel had been trying to convey, what his intention with that final design had been.

She grabbed her sewing shears and started cutting through some fabric she had laying around, trying to empty her mind from the constant nagging, the constant wondering about whether or not her late boss had intended Design A to be flirty or Design B to be sassy. She lost herself in the cutting of the best quality cloth, her fingers running over the fibres with reverence as she lay them against the dress she was currently working on. Maybe seeing the samples on the dress itself would help her understand?

“Long time no see, Princess.”

Marinette almost jumped out of her skin upon hearing those words, her shears falling to the floor with a clatter. She spun around, ready to fend off the intruder with her very life should the need arise.

The sudden motion after what little food she had eaten in the last few days made her dizzy. The room wobbled around her, and her limbs felt unbearably heavy. A familiar face came into view, one that looked oddly out of place in her office, one that she only ever saw on random rooftops these days.

Despite being happy to see him, she opened her mouth to ask him to leave, to put her partner back into the ‘superhero life’ where he belonged, where he couldn’t witness firsthand the mess her life had become. But her lips refused to obey. Her legs gave out underneath her, and everything went black.

The next thing she was aware of was strong arms holding her upright in her office chair and something wet pressing against her lips. Marinette suppressed a surprised cough as cold water filled her mouth, bringing her back to her senses. Warm fingers covered in leather gently stroked her cheek as a familiar voice spoke to her.

“Marinette? Look at me. Are you okay?”

She choked out half mumbled words, her head still spinning. Her eyes managed to focus on a vivid patch of green—Chat Noir’s eyes.

“Ch… Cha… W—”

Marinette tried to get up, but he was quicker than her, forcibly holding her shoulders down. “Easy there, Tiger. That was a pretty bad fainting spell.”

She looked at him through her hazy vision, focusing on his soothing voice. “How… How long was I out?”

“About five minutes or so. Come on, I’m taking you home. You need a real meal and a few hours of sleep in a bed.”

She gave a disheartened laugh. “Good luck with that, Chat Noir. You can’t take me home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the hero argued stubbornly. “You can’t weigh more than a few feathers; you’re barely skin and bones. When was the last time you had a proper meal?”

She didn’t answer, instead averting her gaze away from him. His proximity was beginning to mess with her head. Her entire being craved his comforting touch, the familiar safety of his arms. Chat Noir wasn’t done with her though, as he gently nudged her chin up, worry written all over his handsome face.

“You’ve lost an awful lot of weight, Marinette. Please, please tell me you’re not starving yourself to look like those unhealthy models placed all over Paris. You’re a very beautiful woman. You don’t need to go to such lengths to feel attractive.”

His tone was earnest, gentle, and any other day, Marinette would’ve thought Chat Noir’s concern was nothing short of adorable. That night, though, she was way beyond exhausted and had apparently just wasted a good amount of precious time she could’ve spent working.

With a frustrated groan, she eyed the mess on her desk. “Don’t worry about me, Chat Noir. I’m fine. I have a housing issue to solve, but right now I’m just running short on time. Those mockups have to leave first thing in the morning, and I can’t afford to miss the deadline.”

He looked almost shocked. “Are you saying you have nowhere to go?”

“I’m fine, Chat—”

“You are far from fine, Marinette. Where’s the bubbly and adorable teenager who shared her cookies with me on her balcony a few years back?”

“You don’t understand, Chat. I have to make this work. Failure is not an option.”

He grabbed her hand. “Why are you putting yourself through this insanity? I’ve seen what you’re capable of, Marinette. Any fashion empire in France would be happy to have you. This entire company is going down in flames, and everyone’s already abandoning the sinking ship. Why are you staying?”

“Because without Gabriel Agreste behind me, I’m no one in the industry,” she cried. “I don’t have anything worthy to put on my CV. How do you expect me to find a job like this?”

“But… You went to ESMOD, didn’t you?”

“I never graduated. Gabriel found me and offered me a paid apprenticeship instead of wasting my time on school benches. It seemed like the perfect solution back then. I would get an early start in the industry without racking up student debt,” she sighed, her head hanging low. “But now, without a degree to show for myself and with Gabriel gone…”

She trailed off, but Chat Noir seemed to understand what her entire problem was, because he breathed softly, “Your only chance to prove your worth in the industry is to make sure his last collection is a hit and gives you the recognition you deserve.”

“In a nutshell, yes.” Marinette looked to the side, tensing. “And as if that wasn’t enough, his nut-job of a son is back in my life.”

“Not a fan of the younger Agreste, I take it?”

Marinette snorted inelegantly, shaking her head dejectedly. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

Chat Noir flinched, but now that the gates were open, Marinette couldn’t for the life of her figure out how to close them. He was still kneeling in front of her, looking at her with those big, kind eyes that always made her weak in the knees, and for a fleeting moment, she forgot about everything else.

Like she had done countless times before, she raised her hand to cup his cheek tenderly, losing herself in his intense gaze. She didn’t hear Chat Noir’s surprised hiccup, nor did she realize it was the very first time her bare fingers were touching his skin.

“You know what the worst part in all this is, Chat?” she said, unaware of the sharp intake of breath from the man before her because she shouldn’t be that comfortable, that familiar with him. “I used to be friends with Adrien. I would’ve done anything for him, would’ve gone to the moon and back just to put a smile on his face. But he betrayed me the first chance he got, tried to sabotage my dream for no good reason. He…”

Her voice broke, and she choked back a sob, tears rolling unbidden down her cheeks. Chat Noir surged forward, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace to try and appease the pain she failed to contain. What he didn’t account for, though, was Marinette’s current state of mind. She needed her partner more than anything at that moment. Her entire being was yearning painfully for his comforting touch as a wave of affection for him washed over her heart.

Without thinking, the absence of the red spandex suit long forgotten, Marinette tilted her head, her eyes fluttering closed. Her lips found his easily in the semi-darkness of the room, and she found solace in the familiar scent of his cologne, the comforting feeling of his muscular arms holding her close to his broad chest. His lips were a little chapped, and he tasted of coffee and the salt of her tears, and Marinette had never felt more at home than in that moment.

For a brief and blissful moment, his lips moved in harmony with hers, making her heart soar high. Then, Chat's entire body went rigid beneath her hands and just as fast as it had begun, it was over. His hands wrapped around her wrists and pried her hands from him as he jerked back with a startled gasp, staring at her with a shocked expression. His lips moved a few times without any sound coming out of them, before he managed to hoarsely choke out, “Ah—shit. I’m sorry, Marinette. I shouldn’t have—”

Hearing her own name roll from his lips in such an unfamiliar way brought her back to her senses, and the weight of what she had just done crashed on her all at once. Her heart felt like it was bursting at the seams, unable to contain the contradictory emotions fighting within it. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, her cheeks still wet from her earlier tears. “You love her, don’t you? Ladybug?”

Oddly enough, when Chat Noir nodded with a fiery blush spread on his cheeks, Marinette felt her heart torn to pieces in her chest.

“I have to go, but I really want to help you here, okay? I owe you for all those cookies on your balcony years ago. I’ll… ah… I’ll figure out something and come back as soon as I can, okay? I’m sorry—try to grab a bite to eat while you wait for me. You’re as white as a ghost.”

“Chat…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he took a step back, his hand clenched tightly around his staff. Had he seen her expression change? Was he suddenly unable to bear the sight of her? Before she could say anything, he was gone without another word, an open window being the only proof that he had ever been there.

Breathless, her heart pounding almost painfully in her chest, Marinette plopped back into her chair, unaware of the tears running freely down her face. In the oppressive silence of her office, she whispered to herself, “Shit… I broke my kitty, didn’t I?” before letting out a loud sob.

The only thread tethering her to sanity was now threatening to break.

Next >

[kajsa-writes-sometimes]

Chp. II: Miss Amanda Pailey

The door closes behind her. A dejected sigh left her lips as she pulled the cloak closer around her shoulders. Apparently not a single soul in the entire city hadn't read about her recent fiasco. Mrs. Milligan had caught her up just as she was about to leave the house and told her that she shouldn't fear losing her job. They had always been very fond of her and what the critics wrote about her book wouldn't sway their opinion of her, but - here Mrs. Milligan made a point out of giving her hand a tight squeeze - Mr. Milligan didn't want his children to get any ideas so if she could avoid bringing her personal views into the tutoring of the siblings, they would appreciate it.

Angelina shook her head and brushed an imaginary dust pellet off her dress. She had promised not to bring up the content of her writings while under the Milligan's roof, and then Mrs. Milligan had sent her off with a big smile and a small purse containing her fee.

The Milligan siblings had been under her tutoring since the previous summer, and she had had the pleasure of teaching the little scoundrels the basics of the written language, algebra, and sewing (although the latter of the three was restricted to the sister).

The Milligans moved to the city less than a generation ago, and both the parents still bore a gruff air about them. Mr. Milligan's hands were still large and ruff from numerous hours of hard labor, and Mrs. Milligan lacked the refinement of someone who had been born into old money. For Angelina (and probably the rest of the world too) it was painfully clear that the Milligans were nothing but a good impersonation of a well-off family.

For Angelina it made little difference. In actuality, she had little opinion of her employer as long as they paid her fee on time, and didn't fire her out of fear for what being associated with her name might mean for the family's good name.

As she turned down a narrow street, the clocks struck six o'clock and she could have cursed herself had she had the breath to do so. When the first chime sounded, she spread up in the hopes that she might beat the nature of time. The fifth stroke resonated between the yellow brick houses as she turned into the stairway of her friend's pensionate.

"I'm terribly sorry I'm late," she gasped as soon as the door opened. "Mrs. Milligan insisted we talk just as I was about to leave!"

"Don't fret about it, Angie. If I didn't know you by now, I think we should reevaluate our friendship. We have, after all, known each other for eight years."

Miss Amanda Pailey pulled her into the tiny, but cozy rooms and helped her friend get out of the cape.

"I know, I know- you are right as always, my dear," Angelina said as she straightened her back.

As Amanda ordered her friend to take a seat on a light red shasilong, she pulled together a tray of sandwiches and hot pies she had bought just that afternoon. It had been almost half a month since the friends had seen eachother last and much had happened for them both.

As the two young ladies nibbled away on their dinner, they both took the opportunity to look over the other. Angelina thought her friend looked as if she was glowing: her hair looked healthier and there was only the shadow of sleeplessness in her face. Amanda on the other hand couldn't help but notice how her friend's dress seemed almost half a size too big for her frame, and how her cheekbones stood out even clearer than they should.

"Please tell me you are eating probably," Amanda said as she lifted another pie onto her friend's plate.

"Always so worried about me. I'm eating all I can."

"Don't forget I know you well, and eating all you can is definitely not the same as eating enough."

Angelina avoided her friend's gaze as she took another bite of the pie. A sweet taste filled her mouth, and a soft moan escaped her against her will.

"Is it honey glazed pork with mashed potatoes?" she asked her friend.

"Well, at that price I wouldn't trust it being pork, but yes. I got an extra in the bag, and you are taking it home."

"I couldn't possibly-" Angelina started, but she was cut off.

"And I won't take no for an answer. I'm getting married in three months and I wouldn't want my bridesmaid to look like a walking corpse now, would I?"

Happy for the easy escape, Angelina grabbed the mention of her friend's wedding to guide the attention away from herself.

"So how is it going with your Mr. Harrington?"

"We've found a church with a kind, young priest who is willing to wed us. It's just down Almond Street. You must have seen it when you go round that way. I admit it looks rather dull from the outside, but the vicar has set a date and promised that the organist will play what we ask of him as long as it's nothing unseemly."

"Have you thought about where you are going to live after the ceremony? I doubt Mr. Harrington would be welcome here," Angelina asked.

"We haven't yet, but Pete is looking for pensinates that we can afford that will let us live together." Amanda sent her friend a small smile laden with all the sadness that her friend newingered just beneath the surface.

"You'll find something, I promise," she said, but both women were well aware that she was in no position to uphold her promise.

"Now we are on the topic of the future, how is your novel coming along?"

Amanda rose from her place and took the tray out. Angelina turned her head and rested an arm on the back of the chaiselong so she could watch her friend prepare a pot of tea.

They were a few years apart, but in the eight years their friendship had lasted, it had never been a problem. In all honesty there really wasn't that much of a difference between being twenty one and twenty three years old.

The greatest difference was the fact that Amanda had been engaged to Mr. Pete Harrington for the last three and a half year, and that Angelina had only ever had the irregular fling and known the fleeting butterflies of a summer's love. Angelina knew that if Amanda had had any say in the matter, they would have been happily married a long time ago, but her aunt had insisted the young man who had claimed the heart of her niece prove that he would be able to provide for his wife before they entered wedlock.

Three years later Mr. Pete Harrington had a job that had in prestige what it lacked in excitement. After having worked at an office in town for half a year and a half, Mr. Harrington had been hired by the University. A year later he had gotten a permanent position as the head secretary of the University Enrollment Office, and although Hemwick University wasn't as well known as Oxford, it attracted students from all across Europe. With the job secured Amanda and Mr. Harrington had once more approached Amanda's aunt and she had finally given the young couple her blessing. Now it was a matter of months before the wedding, and Amanda would be known as Mrs. Harrington by the age of twenty three.

"Well, you've got nothing to say? That doesn't seem like you," Amanda said as she returned to her seat.

"I'm terribly sorry, but my mind seems to be all over the place these days," Angelina shrugged as she thought about the Duke's letter that still lay on the table next to her typewriter. "It appears that there is no one who hasn't heard about my recent flob, and half the world seems keen to remind me that I have chosen a path not suited for young women."

"I'm truly sorry to hear so, but we both know that is not what is bothering you," Amanda said and fixed a curl that had escaped her intricate hairdo.

Angelina rose to her feet and started walking in circles on the floor. Writhing her hands in front of her, she considered if she should tell her friend about her correspondence with the Duke. None of them lived under the assumption that they told each other everything, but the length of their relationship meant that they shared most things.

Maybe a light version of the truth would do? She stopped in the middle of the floor and met her friend's warm, brown eyes.

"I received a letter, you see, from a reader who wanted to tell me how much he enjoyed my work."

Amanda lifted the cup to her lips wondering where this story would lead. She couldn't see what her friend found so upsetting about a from an admirer of her work.

"And I'm somewhat afraid that I might have offended him with my reply to his letter."

"Would it be so bad if you have offended this man?"

"I fear so. He has a good reputation and if he decided to smear my book, it could end my career faster than you would need to make a cup of tea!"

Angelina made something that resembled but wasn't quite a pirouette on the spot.

"Oh, wouldn't the critics love it if I should put down my pen and return to the quiet life of an upstanding woman!"

"They probably would, but I doubt you have anything to fear. I am sure you fret for nothing, and that he will be so awestruck by the reply you send him that he'll have no time to be offended." Amanda rose and placed a hand on her friend's upper arm. "Now let's sit down and I'll tell you how the wedding planning is going. That is sure to take your mind off things."

And so the two young women once more took a seat, and for an evening some of the tension left Angelina's shoulders. As she walked home later that night, she almost succeeded at convincing herself that she would soon return to her daily life with no more interruptions in the form of handwritten letters on cream coloured paper.

The entire story can be found on Wattpad as I slowly update or by following the links in this master post

[purplesurveys]

1079

survey by ashley-mae-cook

Would you want to have twins? Pass. I want kids, but if I am to have them I’d prefer to have one at a time. Twins don’t run on either side of the family anyway, so I think I’m safe from this ever happening.

How old was your mom and dad when they had you? They were both to turn 27 that year, but my mom was 26.

What would the worst year of school ever would have to be? I barely remember any details from Grade 6 and freshman year of high school as both were terrible and were spent without friends. At least my mind did a decent job permanently blocking any memories from either year. As for college, I hated my freshman year because I had a hard time adjusting then, and I also spent that year mostly alone.

What did/would you do for your 18th birthday? A week before my 18th birthday I went on a cruise, care of my dad; I traveled to China, Japan, and South Korea for around a week. Once I got back, I treated my friends to an overnight stay at a hotel so that I got to celebrate with them. On my actual birthday, my friends forgot it was my birthday lmao and they planned an advanced birthday surprise for another friend in our group (whose actual birthday wasn’t until three days later), so Gabie arranged a very last-minute plan to take me out and made sure I still enjoyed my real 18th birthday. That was also the same birthday I started to reevaluate if I should keep the same set of friends around me.

Have you ever flushed or put a live goldfish down the sink? I haven’t, but I’m not sure if my parents or grandparents have done this to the goldfish I used to have.

What’s your favorite Disney movie? Toy Story and Tangled.

Are you hypoglycemic? I’m not hypo- or hyper- of anything, fortunately.

How do you like your doughnuts? Anything but filled; I find those nasty. I’d like to try out more quirky, artisanal doughnuts, with uncommon flavors - all of which are hard to come by here (if there are even any) considering we’re dominated by the two big doughnut chains and the market for doughnuts is nothing but a tiny dot where I live. I’m still dyinggg to try Voodoo Donuts in Portland because I’ve heard so much about it.

How long can you hold your breath? I dunno. Maybe 30-45 seconds? At least my previous record was somewhere in that range.

Do you have allergies? As far as I know, no; but maybe the annoying, itchy reaction I get on my legs when I’ve been outdoors for too long is some sort of allergy? I just never have had any idea what it is that’s causing the irritation.

Who taught you how to swim? I think I just taught myself, lol. The moment I gained ~consciousness, I knew I liked to swim. I don’t remember ever having trouble being in the water.

What's your favorite kind of tree? I don’t have one. I’m not much of a plant/tree person at all, and I always end up killing or abandoning the plants I own.

Could you handle working on a farm? Probably. But I would miss the city life too much and I don’t know if I’d be happy for long.

Do you hate having to repeat yourself? In some ways, yeah. I don’t like when it happens in my personal life, i.e. when I expect people to act better (or when they make the promise themselves) and yet they keep disappointing. Repeating myself got a hell of a lot tiring with Gabie because she refused to change, even when it meant that who she was was already hurting me.

What's your favorite thing to see at the zoo? Probably the exit sign? Lmao. I don’t want to go to zoos as much as possible.

Have you ever been attacked by an animal? Just this big bird that felt threatened by me. It just slowly walked towards me and started pecking my foot, though.

Have you ever had to put an animal to sleep? No.

Do you enjoy laying in the sun? The only time you’ll see me doing that is if I’m at the beach. < Yep. Otherwise, hate the sun.

What makes your heart melt? I like heartwarming stories of stray dogs getting adopted by kind people, or fundraisers for abused/stray dogs going well. I’m also a sucker for emotional advertisements lmao, and clips of grandparents being sweet with their grandkids.

Do you know anyone who is in prison? I think so. One of my aunts (not related, though) was jailed last month for reasons I’d rather not get into. Super unfortunate.

Do you have a distant pen pal? Nope.

Do you like going to barbecues? No, that’s not a thing here.

Ever fall asleep with your contacts still in? Nope. I avoid contacts because I get very wince-y with eye stuff, and also because I’m the kind of person who would for sure forget to take off her contacts before sleeping or while cooking.

Do you like the social scene? I’ll join it as much as possible; but obviously I haven’t had the chance to because of the pandemic and most bars and other public areas that allow for socializing have remained closed.

What’s the hottest piercing on the opposite sex? I don’t look for piercings anymore but back when I was a teenager I liked lip rings.

Do you have a favorite type of firework? The big ones? Hahahaha idk what their names are. I’m not much of a fan of those fireworks that come out as dots and only let out a pop. For me, the bigger, the grander it feels, and thus the better.

Where do you/did you, on your body get your first tattoo? Probably my wrist or thigh.

Are your teeth perfect? The two front ones aren’t.

[fountainpenguin]

FOP Scenes That Always Make Me Lose My Mind

No matter how many times I watch them.

Vicky staring as a hospital bed transforms into a robot and remarking, “Wow, that’s one cool bed.”

Mark describing the scars Vicky has given him as “love markings” and listing where and why he got each one.

Wanda hiding under the table while she checks Da Rules to see if it’s illegal for her to murder Timmy’s parents after they tormented her and Cosmo at dinner (and sighing when it is).

Timmy’s parents waiting for C and W to come out from under said table, deciding they’re dead, and scrambling off to “establish an alibi.”

“Well, if your math is as good as Dad’s spelling, I may have turned 21 for all you know!” // “You can make fun of my math skills until it’s 13:00, but you do NOT act like a smarty pants!”

A.J. tackling Chester away from a laser, explaining his parents set it up, and Chester saying “But your parents love me” followed by dead silence.

“Slow down, Hunchback-of-Never-Dated-a-Dame!”

Cosmo comes flitting by with Poof in a basket and Wanda just flies up to him and says, “Cosmo, where have you been? I got arrested!”

Gary and Betty solving the problem of a crying child by putting him in a soundproof dome and walking away.

Wanda waving at Cosmo from the other side of the street while flying and promptly crashing into a pole.

Cosmo showing up at his mom’s house after eloping 10,000 years ago and all she says is, “Did you get the milk, Cosmo?”

Timmy still having heat vision four seasons later because he never unwished it.

You can’t kill cockroaches with magic.

Mama Cosma kidnapped a crime boss and he was kind of into it

“You sunk the city of Atlantis NINE TIMES??? Where was I when this happened?”

Anti-Cosmo and the Head Pixie baking pizza for Timmy because sometimes they don’t have evil plans and just want attention.

The Head Pixie’s hat is also a pen and the only time we see him use it is when he absolutely had to write down a pun before he forgot.

H.P. unhesitatingly gambling away a magical world because some punk 10-year-old human bragged he could beat him in mini-golf.

Sanderson stripping to his underwear on international Fairy TV.

“Fairies aren’t good with naming things. For crying out loud, we named our kid Poof!”

The Grim Reaper runs the Anti-Fairy World pet store because “Death doesn’t pay the bills and I’ve got student loans.”

ED FREAKING LEADLY ANY TIME HE DOES ANYTHING

Cosmo moving the doorknob to the other side of a door and re-opening it because it didn’t show him what he was looking for the first time.

Cosmo saying “There’s your car,” and straight-up dropping Chet Ubetcha into a volcano because Chet said something mean about him.

Cosmo putting his hands on his hips when he’s mad, then noticing Wanda has her arms crossed and copying her pose instead.

Cosmo’s face when Timmy crawls under his bed and wishes for a toaster and you can just tell he’s questioning if he heard that right.

Cosmo showing Juandissimo to the “room” he can use while staying over before promptly hurling him in the freezer and slamming the door.

Foop legitimately looking confused and hurt when Poof didn’t want to hug him during their playdate (and Poof’s furious face when Foop drags him around by the hand).

Wanda trying to get Poof hyped about Cosmo making a nice family dinner and the dinner is just chicken nuggets.

Crocker’s heart breaking when he accidentally catches Poof in his fairy trap and he lets him go because he is only baby.

Vicky insisting the kids she’s babysitting should tell her she’s pretty and Sammy sobbing because “My mommy told me never to lie!”

Sammy: “This may not sound very sweet, but... Break Vicky like a 2x4!”

Literally every Schnozmo moment

Kevin Crocker: “Your idea is so much better. It’s no biggie. I just kind of wish I was never born.”

“His name is Foop! ... Spelled backwards! <333”

Timmy’s Mom having an entire conversation with him while holding his fish. Not his fishbowl literally just Cosmo in goldfish form.

Cosmo tying Timmy’s Mom up like a marionette, smearing on lipstick, screaming “I’M GORGEOUS!” and promptly dragging her across the floor.

“Pumpkin taxi. Orange on the outside, seedy on the inside.”

Cosmo designing a board game that requires you to get the car you play with registered at the DMV.

Chloe helping Timmy nail Crocker’s bed to the ceiling.

The massive size difference between Kevin’s and Chloe’s hands when she helps him off the floor.

Chloe getting cut off before she can swear.

Timmy standing up for Chloe in front of her parents when she starts having an anxiety attack.

Chloe as a parent upsetting her kids to the point they were assigned fairy godparents and she has to reevaluate her happy-go-lucky life.

The whole concept behind “Timmy’s Secret Wish.”

The implication that Chloe spent fifty years of the frozen timestream raising herself on “Fair Bears” cartoons.

Timmy’s Dad, who has never liked Mr. Crocker, calling him progressively worse names like “Mr. Crayons” and “Mr. Crawlspace.”

“What are you going to do without a house?” // “That’s easy. I wish I had another house.”

Foop’s alternate personality inviting Foop to lunch.

Cosmo pointing out that making someone disappear is sort of illegal and Timmy’s Dad just points out he can’t get arrested if he wishes for the police to disappear and Cosmo just :\

Juandissimo melting Iceland and then glancing awkwardly at the witnesses.

“Scientists are mystified as to why this is happening! In unrelated news, a giant purple baby is blocking the sun.”

Mrs. Crocker hitting on Dr. Rip Studwell and he responds by writing her a prescription for “Get real, lady” and Poof was there for all of this.

Foop designing a play with the plan of tormenting Poof but Poof fakes sick and Foop, his understudy, is forced to endure the horrors of the play while Poof eats popcorn and mocks him the whole time.

"You picked the right square blue baby for the job! I’m super irritating.” “You certainly are.” “You’re the worst.” “Everyone hates you.”

Anti-Cosmo sneaking Foop a file so he can escape prison but Foop doesn’t know what it’s for and just uses it to file his nails.

Wanda breaking into a stranger’s house to do his dishes.

Dark Laser betraying Foop and Crocker when it dawns on him that they were the reckless hooligans who nearly ran over Flipsie.

Timmy’s Dad asking him if he wants to “Come for a ride to get a ham.”

Crocker explaining that his mother’s bird was named “Pile of Goo” even before he accidentally flung it into the sun.

Chloe deadpanning “Oops, I have tripped on my cape” before deliberately shoving Mr. Crocker over.

“Everything is so green here. Even the stoplights!” //Massive crash noises //Cheerful scene change

Timmy literally bulldozing Dinkleberg’s living room and Dinkleberg just “Oh hi, Timmy! No need to explain yourself; I don’t want to pry.”

“I’ll tell you what’s a great comedy word: AUGHAWAGAUGH! Watch me use it in context.” //Poofs up a beehive

“Did you know there are over 250 species of owls in the world? My goal is to see ALL OF THEM! Not just the species, but every. single. owl.”

“I still don’t know where you found six kids with eye patches.”

Foop nervously agreeing with the Anti-Fairy Council, “Yes, that’s what I am, a genius. Not the guy who spent six hours toilet papering a house when in fact he has a magic bottle that could have done it instantly.”

[roseamongroses]

W.A.L: “My Little Traitor Heart” (14)

Summary: Eden was the lowest of the low, a monster, hardly human, and was set to be executed. Roman was on trial, perpetually stuck in time until it was time to atone for his families sins.

Neither cared much for staying trapped.

So when a Stranger offered freedom, offered peace, offered power, it was hard to say no.

Even if it put them on the wrong side of history.

Vibes/ Tags:time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

Warnings: Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries,  Mentions of past Death, minor character death/suicide,  repression, cursing, implied to mild sexual content

Characters: Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani

Ship: Roceit

1) (2)   (3)  (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

(12) (13)

---

All Elliot could see was rows of pointed teeth and a flickering tongue.

Deceit-- Eden-- whatever name he was going by, shadowed over them, mouth moving enough that Elliot knew they weren’t planning on eating them anytime soon. The words weren’t muffled, they might have even been articulate, but Elliot wouldn’t be able to tell.

Elliot glanced at the door behind Deceit, their wings twitching.

Deceit was trying to say something again, cocking his head as his eyes slit. Elliot tapped the area on their head where you’d normally find ears before shaking their head.

Deceit's eyes widened a bit, but he nodded and pulled back. Which Elliot was grateful for, their heart was pounding against their chest, and the information stung in the back of their throat.

They needed to get out of here before Dr. Picani got back. So they squashed their lingering anxiety, pointing to the door, before clasping their hands together.

Deceit raised an eyebrow, shaking his head and if Elliot had the nerve they would've bolted and hoped the Goddess was on their side for once in their life. But Elliot knew how strong Deceit was, they knew how deceptively sharp they were, already placing themselves between Elliot and the door, somehow making a bored expression look conniving.

It was scary, almost as scary as the thought of Dr. Picani finding them here. Dr. Picani could come back at any moment and find Elliot and then kick them out and then it's all over and everything's falling apart and then--

Elliot flinched, feeling the sudden vibrations of the chair as Deceit knocked on it, drawing their attention again. He was--signing?

Deceit pointed at Elliot, making the sign for ‘Misrae’.

Elliot nodded, attention stuck between the door and the predator making nice in front of them. Deceit nodded as if that explained everything, tapping his head and without hesitation signing Elliot his consent.

‘Oh thank the Goddess,’ Elliot’s mind echoed between the two.

‘Don’t thank her just yet,' ’ Deceit replied, rather loud, but that was normal for first-timers, ‘Care to explain to me why you're nosing around in Dr. Picani’s office?’'

Elliot fidgeted, ‘Please don’t say anything, I was-I was just,’ They could feel their tiny form struggling, their body was exhausted, the magic burning through their veins flowing slower with each second--any second--any second.

‘And what will I get out of it?’

Elliot faltered, Deceit was looking quite comfortable as if he knew exactly what he was doing. As if he didn’t care at all if he was caught and Elliot might have believed it, but there was a deliberate nature to everything.

Even if they’d just stumbled upon Elliot, it was as if Elliot could feel their mental cogs rearrange, reevaluate, there was a weight to their stare. There was a sadness to its intensity that seemed to pulse at the thin mental barriers hanging between the two.

‘So?’

Elliot's face scrunched and they let their body revert to full size, which wasn’t exactly remarkable, but it was enough that Elliot could tell Deceit had never met a Misrae in real life. Elliot restacked the papers, still evaluating how stupid the idea was, but….

Elliot had not known Deceit for long.

But they knew enough.

Deceit would burn the whole house down to light a match.

So...Elliot reluctantly signed, ‘I can get you information. I'll drop the file tonight, but you'll need to be done with it before morning."

---

The Stranger wiped his mouth, flashing a smile, “I’m so glad we’ve had this incredibly professional conversation,” he said, not quite addressing the hot pang of regret that followed his bliss, “It was… enlightening.”

“We’re not talking about this,” Emile kept his face straight, snapping to clean up the mess, “We still need to finish the interview.” he said, buttoning his shirt up, “And you’ll need to get a medical and psych examination before you stand trial.”

“Fun, fun, fun, ” The Stranger drawled, slumped against the back of the chair, idly flipping his skirt down. Emile shot him a dirty look, “What? I wasn’t talking about it, see,” He zipped his lips, flicking away the invisible key, “Nothing, I’m your dirty little secret like always.”

Emile readjusted and smoothed his pants, “You know it isn’t like that.” he said, un-pocketing his glasses and picking up his discarded clipboard, “It’s never personal, it’s just--”

“Protocol?” The Stranger finished for him, hissing out the word darkly as he pushed his frames up, “Have you ever considered that maybe I’d prefer it to be personal for once.” He crossed his legs, glowering, “Y’know...a hi, how are you before you shove your tongue down my throat and send me off to death.”

“This again?” Emile sighed, clicking his pen, “You kissed me,”

The Stranger rolled his eyes, making a crude gesture, “You stuck your dick in me.”

“Don’t be childish.”

“Don’t be childish,” The Stranger mocked, “Speaking of children, how’s the babysitting been going”

“Deceit has been doing fine, he’s a surprisingly hard worker despite your frequent attempts to send him to an early grave," Emile answered, not looking up, “Roman is… stable.”

The Stranger raised an eyebrow, “A little birdie told me you separated the set,” he said, cocking his head, “And you didn’t lose a finger… interesting.”

“Deceit misses him, but he isn’t unreasonable,” Emile explained, impatient.

The Stranger wasn’t talking about Deceit, in fact, he half expected Roman to bring that entire mountain down just to protect his little crush. But he was surprised that Deceit was attached, which was admittedly something he should've saw coming. It was inevitable in every sense of the word, regardless of Deceit's trauma, like a long lost moth to a hungry flame.

It was…

Fate.

[i-heart-danchou]

Hi ❤️ I have a prompt for you, just in case you feel like writting some EruRi about it ^o^ Maybe you already wrote something about this topic? It's grazing / touching. What I have in mind are those light, accidental touches you share with the person you're starting to fall in love with. Those casual grazes that create sparks, and as time passes, they become less and less involuntary. You're both seeking each other's skin although neither of both would admit it (yet). Did that make sense? :)

(art from http://pixiv.me/hoden)  Sorry this is delayed!

Devotion

It astonishes Levi the way he slips seamlessly into Erwin’s life.  This man he despised, this man he vowed to kill, this man who’s shaken him to his core and made him reevaluate how he sees the entire world– he follows, and follows, and every day he’s enthralled.

Erwin is many things.  He’s brilliant, he’s ruthless, he’s stunning… but little by little, the more time they spend together, Levi is seeing parts of Erwin he suspects few other people do.  He’s gentle, he’s thoughtful, he’s a bit weird and dorky and it’s enchanting.  Levi finds himself staring at him more often than he means to. His eyelashes, for one, are unusually long and pretty.  He also has excellent posture, a trait which Levi had never really thought about before.  

He lounges on the couch in Erwin’s office late one evening, watching him write, watching his eyebrows furrow in deep consideration.  He’s gorgeous, and Levi wonders if he knows it. 

He tears his eyes away and starts preparing some tea, thinking Erwin must be getting tired, getting chilly.  He wonders if Erwin glances up as he moves, if Erwin stares at him the way he stares at Erwin. Levi’s caught him looking a few times, and their eyes meet and neither of them break contact.  Erwin is strong, he’s unapologetic.  Levi admires that about him.    

The sound of a spoon gently chiming against porcelain has always calmed Levi, and he shuts his eyes as he stirs a little twist of lemon into Erwin’s tea.  It smells beautiful, the aroma warm and soothing, and he presents the cup to the squad leader without explanation.

Erwin smiles, perhaps a little surprised, and as he takes the tea their hands brush together just slightly, just slightly.  Levi’s heart races, and his eyes widen for a moment as Erwin subconsciously licks his lips. 

“Thank you, Levi,” he says, “this is just what I needed.”  

**

Levi finds Erwin to be an oddly tactile man for someone so outwardly cold.  He’s taken to letting Levi sleep in his office for privacy, and each night as he passes by he squeezes Levi’s shoulder and offers him a smile.

“Sweet dreams, Levi.  I’ll see you in the morning.” 

His hands are warm and rough, there’s a strength in his grip which gives Levi goosebumps.  Each night Levi imagines grasping that hand and kissing those fingertips.  He wonders how those hands would feel on his waist, how that tongue would feel in his mouth, just what exactly the squad leader is packing away in those trousers.

He’s always awake before Erwin comes into the office, and usually he finds himself cleaning up the place a bit.  Erwin smiles when he sees him in cleaning mode, says nothing, and they work together in comfortable silence. 

**

After a while, Levi starts to wonder if Erwin’s doing this on purpose.  They graze against each other in the hallway sometimes, and Levi ignores the way his heart jumps into his throat.  It’s more than that though, whenever they’re seated together Erwin will brush his hand as he reaches over to take a pen, will put a hand on the small of his back when he’s coming up behind him, will let their shoulders touch when they share a carriage ride together.

He’s warm, and he’s solid, and he’s so damn beautiful that it sometimes makes Levi angry. But he loves the way Erwin feels, he loves to watch him, he loves to be close with him. 

They have a meeting in Sina and Erwin’s been preparing for it for weeks.  Shadis is letting him spearhead a fundraising initiative, and Levi’s done his best to support Erwin through the thankless slog.  More than once he’s found Erwin asleep at his desk, and more than once Levi has put a blanket over his shoulders, tucked him in, and watched the way his hair billows out when breathes. 

At the meeting Erwin is charismatic, he’s prepared, but it doesn’t matter because the Survey Corps are a joke to these people.

They scoff at his suggestions, ask him why he’s wasting his time begging for money so that more people can needlessly feed themselves to titans.  Erwin never falters, and his dedication and devotion make Levi’s heart sing. They walk away with nothing, and Levi’s blood is boiling.“They’re idiots.”  He hisses.  “They don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about, trapped in these fucking walls like fucking sheep.  They don’t know how hard you work, they don’t know how much you risk, they don’t know you.  They’re fools, they’re fools, and one day when you save humanity from the fucking titans they’ll bow down and kiss your goddamned boots.”

Erwin smiles, and puts his hand on Levi’s shoulder.  “Levi… thank you.” 

Levi stops walking, their eyes meet, and he puts his hand on top of Erwin’s.  There’s a moment of silence and Levi’s mouth is dry.  “We should go.”  He says, and he shakes himself free of the contact. 

The carriage ride back to Maria is long and boring, and Erwin tries his best to stay awake.  He’s pulled a few all nighters up til now, he’s worked so damn hard, that Levi doesn’t blame him when he finally falls asleep.  His head rests against Levi, his weight warm and steady on Levi’s frame.  He leans against Erwin and shuts his eyes, loving everything about this moment.  He feels calm, he feels safe, he feels loved… the heat from Erwin’s body is palpable through his clothes, he smells clean and fresh, he’s perfect. 

‘I’ll always stand with this man.’  Levi thinks to himself.  ‘I’ll always support and protect him.’ 

The carriage rolls on steadily, and sleep somehow finds him.  

[angsty-nerd]

Fictober #29

#29. “I’m doing this all for you.”

Roswell, NM fanfic

Echo, set between 1x08 and 1x09.

It was about a week after they put Isobel in the pod that Max stopped by the hospital to check out Liz's progress working on the cure. It felt awkward to be there, as he walked through the hallways towards the research wing. He hadn't seen her at all that week, not since she told him that they weren't meant to be together.

Since that night, it felt like his heart was constantly aching.

Yes, it broke his heart that Liz didn't believe in the possibility of them ever having a relationship. But it wasn’t a surprise. Liz just reinforced everything he always believed...that he could never have what he wanted. That he could never be good enough for her.

So instead he tried to focus on his other heartbreak. That one was harder to ignore because he could feel the emptiness inside of him every second of every minute of every day that Isobel was in the pod. He missed his sister. His entire world felt out of sync with her in stasis.

He was disappointed when he popped his head into her lab to find it empty. The lights were still on, as if she had been working but had recently stepped out to a meeting or lunch or something. Max sighed. It was probably better this way anyway. No distractions for Liz, nor any chance of his heart breaking any further.

He found a piece of scrap paper and a pen on her desk, and sat down to write her a short thank you note.

Liz,

Stopped by to say hello. I'm sorry to miss you.

Just wanted to say thank you for everything. I don't know why you're helping us like this. I know we don't deserve it and I know saving Isobel after everything she's done is the last thing you want to do.

I guess I just wanted you to know that I see how hard you're working, and I am amazed by you.

See you soon.

Love,

Max

Satisfied with his short note, Max folded it in half, wrote Liz's name on the back, and left it on her desk. Then he headed back to his Jeep. He had a stack of books and a second blanket in the back seat. The nights were getting colder, but he wasn't quite ready to leave Isobel alone yet.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was late that evening, long after the sun had set, that Liz sat in her car with Max’s note in her hand. She kept unfolding it, rereading it, and folding it back up again, as she argued with herself over how to respond.

One part of her wanted to ignore it. Go home to spend time with Papi, or go to the Wild Pony, and have a drink with Maria. She wanted to talk to either of them, or both of them, about Max and Isobel and this whole mess...but she couldn’t. Not without revealing too much about their secrets. The only person she could talk to about this stuff was Kyle. She unfolded the note and read it again, sighing. But the note...she couldn’t talk about the note with Kyle. Talking about Max and feelings with Kyle just felt too weird. She couldn’t do it.

The other part of her wanted to go check on Max. He must have had a reason for coming by the lab. It couldn't have just been to say thank you. Maybe she should drop by his house, check on him, make sure he was doing okay. After all, from everything Michael had told her about Max and Isobel and their alien connection, he must be really hurting right now.

A painful ache squeezed through her gut at the thought of Max and the pain that she had inadvertently caused him. Making up her mind, she set the note down on the passenger seat, turned on the engine, and drove out to Max's house on the edge of town.

She was still easily a quarter mile down the dirt road from the house when it became clear that he wasn't there. The house was dark, not a single light, candle, or fire lit inside. Max's jeep was gone too.

She glanced at the clock. It was late. Much too late for her to just be leaving work, and too late for him to not be home. She wondered where he was...he hadn't been cleared to go back to work yet since getting shot by Wyatt Long.

Getting shot for her…

More guilt filled Liz's heart as she reminded herself why Max couldn’t work right now. Max had saved her life multiple times, so what did she do in return? She created a substance that was currently killing his sister. What a hero.

She glanced down at his note on the passenger seat, and decided that the least she could do was respond. So she popped her trunk and got out of the car to access the bag she had stashed back there. There was a notebook and pen in it that she kept on hand for lab notes, or to jot down ideas. She snagged them and returned to her driver's seat since it was too cold to sit outside. She took a deep breath and started writing.

Max,

I'm sorry I missed you today - twice now! Both at the lab earlier, and now here at home. I was hoping to check on you. I've been worried.

Your note made me smile today. But it also gave me a lot to think about. I'm not sure you fully understand my perspective on this whole situation, Max. Yes, I feel obligated to help Isobel since it is my creation that's killing her, but that's not what motivates me when I'm in the lab until 9pm on a Wednesday night.

I’m doing this for you, Max.

I'm doing this for the 17 year old kid who wanted to tell me the truth about my sister so badly that his family intervened and influenced me into leaving town.

I'm doing this because the idea that you might be walking around feeling empty inside without your connection to Isobel because of something I did is so heartbreaking that it makes me physically nauseous. Yes, in my immediate rage after learning the truth, I wanted to have a weapon to protect myself if an alien ever tried to kill me, but I never imagined that the alien I'd hurt would be you.

You've saved my life, Max. More than once. In a number of different ways, some of which I don't think I'm even capable of putting into words. So please, don't try to tell me that you don't deserve this. You deserve so much better than this.

Please take care of yourself, Max.

Love,

Liz

Liz ripped the page out of her notebook and folded the letter in half. Stepping out into the cold night, she jogged up to his front porch, and just slid the paper so that it was partially under his front mat. Convinced that it was visible enough that he would see it, she nodded, pleased with her work. She jogged back to her car, got in, and drove back into town. Maybe it was a good night to stop for a drink with Maria after all.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Max didn't try to visit her again at the hospital. He spent most of his time at the cave with Isobel. Occasionally Michael would stop by with the latest update from Liz, and that was sufficient. At least that was what Max tried to tell himself.

Two weeks after their letter exchange, Max was called into the station and reevaluated for his return to service. This time, he kept his cool, and the investigator had no reason to question whether or not he was fit for the job.

Suddenly, the combination of regular shifts and keeping an eye on Isobel was all consuming. Another couple of weeks passed, and before he even realized it, it had been six weeks since Isobel injected herself with Liz's serum.

When he decided to lure Michael into driving him to Texas for an impromptu alien investigation, the last thing he expected was to see Liz there. They stood there in the parking area, about 15 feet apart, just soaking in the sight of each other. There was something different that Max couldn't quite put his finger on. He suddenly felt shy around her, like he did back in high school. She seemed to have forgotten how to talk to him. The tension was like electricity in the air.

So maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise to him when she kissed him the next morning.

Maybe. But it was.

[flowerfan2]

A Different Kind of Fireworks

Out of all my fics, this one is the most happy new year of them all - enjoy, and happy 2019!

Stucky, 2600 words, A03, post-CA-TWS (ignore IW)

The holidays don’t dispel Steve’s loneliness… but a New Year’s day surprise does the trick.

---

“Come on, one more round,” Clint says, doing some silly thing with his eyebrows that makes Natasha grin.  Natasha and Bruce agree, and Steve sighs softly to himself as Clint deals the cards. Bruce had received a special superhero expansion deck for Cards Against Humanity for Christmas, and the group has been hanging out in the tower common room playing it whenever their more civilized presence wasn’t required.

This year’s holiday calendar has been much like the year before – a fancy fundraising party a few days before Christmas to show off the team, a sumptuous dinner just for the Avengers and their colleagues to encourage bonding, and then various PR events to take advantage of the good will of the holiday season.  Steve doesn’t mind it too much.  His favorite assignment this year was visiting kids at a children’s hospital ward.  Steve knows what it’s like to be too sick to enjoy Christmas.  He sometimes feels like he still is.

Because for all the jollity of the Avenger’s end of the year schedule, it rings false too often for Steve. He knows all about “found family,” and he’s grateful for the friendships he has formed over the past few years. Sam, in particular, has gone above and beyond, quietly supporting him as he spent months on a fruitless search for a ghost.  But there’s still something missing for Steve, and the festive chaos of the holidays does nothing to fill that space.  No amount of champagne served at black tie galas can make up for what Steve has lost.

Steve shakes his head, trying to get a grip.  He has his health, a job that means something, people who care about him.  He thinks back to the little girl he met at the hospital, who seemed to want nothing more than to pelt him with questions about Iron Man (who was notably absent), able to ignore for at least a few minutes the fact that she probably won’t live to see the end of this new year. In comparison Steve’s life is no tragedy, and he wishes he could appreciate that fact.

Pepper joins them, laughing for a few minutes at whatever ridiculousness Clint is peddling, and then hands them each a stack of shiny eight by tens to sign, thank you’s for donors who emptied their pockets at the New Year’s Eve charity dinner last night. “Sorry to disrupt your game,” Pepper says, not looking sorry at all.  “The holidays are over.  Time to get back to work.”

 Steve knows that signing glossy photos of himself holding his shield is objectively better than having to actually go out and throw his shield at bad guys, and yet after a week of enforced down time, he’s wishing for just a tiny bit of trouble.  Anything to get out of his own head.   It might help to go to the gym and work out some of his negativity.  Either that or schedule a one on one “coffee” with Sam to talk about why Steve is apparently incapable of enjoying the happiest time of the year.

 “Hey, do you happen to know when Tony’s coming back?”  Natasha asks, waving her silver marker at Pepper.  “I need him to invent a better pen.”

 “What, not pointy enough for you?”  Clint asks, holding his marker up and making stabby motions.  “Better be careful what you ask for.  Although,” Clint looks thoughtfully at his marker, “exploding pens would make this more interesting.”

 “He’s supposed to be home today,” Pepper responds, with a quick look at Steve.  He’s not sure what he’s got to do with Tony’s absence, or his reappearance, but he shrugs it off and goes back to signing photos.  Tony hasn’t filled Steve in on his current side mission, and it hadn’t occurred to Steve to be concerned.  Everyone is entitled to their own business.  Tony may be the worst at remembering that, but he deserves privacy just the same.

 Several hours later, after a low key New Year’s day dinner refreshingly free of cranberries or mulled cider or anything decorated in red and green, Tony makes his entrance.  He looks exhausted, still in the black long sleeved shirt and leggings he wears under his suit.

 Most of the group waves lazily from the table, shouting out greetings.  Tony nods and “happy new year’s” back at them, but he doesn’t sit down. Instead, he meets Steve’s eyes and motions him over.

 “Stark,” Steve says, joining Tony by the door.  “Everything okay?”

 Tony meets his eyes. “I think it will be.  You should go up to your floor.”

 Steve feels a shiver run through him at Tony’s guarded expression, and doesn’t bother to argue.  It takes no time at all to jog up the five flights of stairs to his quarters, and then Steve is standing outside his own door. Probably Tony has just got him some new toy, a coffee maker that doubles as a kiln, or some other modern day nonsense. No reason to get excited.

 But Steve can’t help the fact that his heart is beating hard in his chest.  When he opens the door and steps inside, he gasps for breath, as if the serum never entered his blood.

 There’s a man standing by the window, looking out over the city.  It’s dark in the room, lit only by the lights on the tree, but there’s no question in Steve’s mind who it is.

 “Bucky,” he breathes out, and the man turns.  He’s broader in the shoulders than the boy Steve knew, and his hair is still long, like the last time Steve saw him.  Steve strides forward, then stops himself when the man tenses.

 “Sorry, sorry-”  Steve puts his hands up, then clasps them together, almost in prayer, to keep himself from reaching out.  “Bucky.  Are – are you – you?  Do you remember…?”

 “More or less,” the man says, and Steve is so relieved that Bucky is responding to his name, with none of that heartbreaking “who the hell is Bucky” crap, that he can almost breathe again.

 “Oh my god, Bucky,” Steve says, “thank god.  Thank god.”

 “Not sure he had much to do with it,” Bucky replies.  

 Steve would laugh at the wry humor in Bucky’s voice, if his throat wasn’t tight enough to sob.  “No?”

 “Not unless he’s come back as Stark.”

 Suddenly it all makes sense – the sneaking around, the side mission, the look from Pepper.  Steve may need to seriously reevaluate how he feels about Tony.   “Tony found you?”  

 Bucky grunts, as if insulted by the idea.  “I let him arrange a meet.  He had information I needed.  Some offshoot HYDRA assholes were ramping up to frame me, use me for some awful plan.”

 Suddenly Steve’s stomach sinks.  Bucky isn’t here for him.  He’s not actually coming home, coming back to Steve.  He’s just avoiding capture.  Outsmarting HYDRA.

 “Okay,” Steve says, trying to find something to say that doesn’t reveal his disappointment. “That’s um, that’s good.  That Tony helped, I mean, he can definitely be helpful sometimes.  And that you, um, got away.  From HYDRA. Or, whoever.”

 Bucky doesn’t seem to be listening to him anymore, which isn’t surprising given the dreck that’s coming out of his mouth.  He’s looking around the room, with nothing on his face giving away any shred of emotion, until his eyes land on the Christmas tree.

 “Kind of narcissistic, isn’t it?  Ornaments of yourself?”

 Steve feels his face flush. “Tony got them for all of us.” The tree is decorated with little mini-Avengers in holiday colors, as well as sparkly little shields for Steve, sharp arrows for Clint, horrifying spiders for Nat, and so on.

 “You’re friends, then,” Bucky says.  “With these people.”

 “They’re my team.”  

 Bucky doesn’t comment further, and doesn’t move, just stays there, eyes looking somewhere just past Steve’s shoulder.  At attention, Steve thinks.  The literal opposite of at ease.  Get your head out of your ass and help him, Steve thinks, and swiftly readjusts his attitude.

 “Bucky, please, sit down. Make yourself comfortable.”  He waves at the couch, and Bucky comes a little closer and takes a seat in the corner.  He’s wearing a leather jacket and a dark red shirt that strains across his chest, worn jeans and black work boots.  “Can I get you something to eat?”

 Bucky’s eyes flash up at him, wary, and Steve tries to make his body relax.  There’s no danger here, he tries to project.  Not from me.  Not ever from me.

 Steve moves into his little kitchen, still visible from the living area, and opens the refrigerator. “How about roast beef?”

 “Sure.”

 Steve occupies himself for a few minutes, cutting thick slices of the rye bread Tony has delivered from his favorite deli, piling it high with roast beef and sharp cheddar cheese.   “Do you want some root beer?  I’ve got that, or orange juice, or water...”

 Bucky doesn’t respond, so Steve opens a bottle of root beer and brings it over, setting it down with the sandwich on the coffee table.

 Bucky frowns at the single plate.  “You’re not going to eat?”  Steve wonders if he’s remembering all the times they struggled to put food on the table. He thinks he is, when Bucky takes half his sandwich and holds it out to Steve.

 It doesn’t matter that Steve’s been living in the lap of luxury since he joined the Avengers, it’s the best sandwich he’s had in years.

 They eat in silence, Steve joining Bucky on the couch.  He leaves plenty of space between them, until he reaches over to steal a long sip of Bucky’s soda.  Again, Bucky tenses, but Steve thinks he lets it go a little faster this time.  In any case, Bucky gives him a little almost grin and swipes the bottle back from Steve without missing a beat.

 “So, where’ve you been?” Steve finally asks.  He hopes this is a fairly safe topic of conversation, and forgive him, but he’s damn curious.

 “All around,” Bucky replies. “I’ve got a few different spots in Europe that I mostly move between.  I was in Bucharest, the last few weeks.  Got a little too comfortable.”

 Steve tilts his head inquiringly and Bucky goes on.

 “I went to the Christmas market.  You know, stalls with candles and funnel cakes, live music playing.  I think I was spotted.”

 Steve doesn’t like to think about the life Bucky’s been living, where just trying to enjoy himself for an evening risks his life.  Hopefully whatever Stark came up with is more than a short-term solution.  Knowing Stark, it probably is – the man doesn’t do anything halfway.

 Steve notices Bucky glance down at his empty plate, and his manners kick back in.  “Want another sandwich?”

 Bucky quickly shakes his head.  “No, I’m good.”

 “Cookie?  Glass of milk?”

 Bucky smiles.  “Stark calls you an old man, you know.  He doesn’t realize you’ve been like this your whole life.  See your guy for the first time in years, and offer him cookies and milk.  Smooth.”

 Steve feels almost faint with it, the realization that this really is Bucky, the only person in the world that knows the real Steve Rogers.  And he doesn’t miss “your guy,” dropped into the sentence as if it meant nothing. He wants to throw his arms around Bucky and never let him go.  “God damn it, Bucky, I am so incredibly happy to see you.”

 Bucky bites his lip, his expression almost shy.  “Are you?”

 “Bucky.”  Steve draws in a deep breath, and slides a little closer to Bucky on the couch.  “I couldn’t be happier.  Nothing, nothing could make me happier.”

 “I wasn’t sure,” Bucky says, looking down at his knees.  “Stark said, but…”

 Steve tries to calm the butterflies in his stomach, but he can’t hold back the question.  “Buck, did you come here to avoid being framed, or to see me?”

 Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve.  “Come on, pal.  D’ya think this is the only place in the world I could hide from HYDRA’s crook of the month?”

 “But – I searched for you. Me and Sam – for months.”

 “Yeah,” Bucky says, returning his gaze to his lap.  “And then you stopped.”

 It hits Steve like a blow, although he knows that it was the right thing to do at the time.  He was needed, and Bucky knew where to find him. Still, knowing that Bucky wondered even a little, that Steve hurt him by his decision, is painful.

 “And I get it,” Bucky says, setting his jaw.  “You got everything you could ever want.”  He gestures at the room.  

 Steve thinks that now isn’t the time to get into precisely why Bucky is full of shit, and he guesses that Bucky wouldn’t really hear it, anyway.  He probably doesn’t even believe it, if he remembers Steve the way he seems to. “Sam said if you wanted us to find you, we would have,” Steve says softly.  “I think he was right.  You clearly didn’t want us to find you.  Not then.”

 Bucky takes this in. He seems to be considering his next words far too carefully, and Steve wants to beg Bucky to tell him the truth. To confide in Steve.  To trust him.

 “What if…” Bucky trails off, unable or unwilling to go on.

 “What if what?”  Steve slides closer again.  He lets his knee nudge against Bucky’s, and Bucky doesn’t pull back.

 When Steve turns to him, Bucky looks as nervous as Steve has ever seen him, but Bucky takes a breath and forges on.  “What if I want it now?  To be found?” Bucky gazes at him, his gray eyes wide.

 Steve raises his hand, slowly, and pushes Bucky’s hair away from his face.  “Is that what you want?”

 Bucky nods, and presses his cheek into Steve’s palm.  “Yeah. I do.”  

 “So”- Steve breaks off, afraid to ask, but more afraid not to – “you’re here to stay?”

 “If you’ll have me.”  Bucky closes his eyes, maybe as scared as Steve.

 “Of course,” Steve answers quickly.  “Yes, yes, of course.”  Then he leans in, not giving himself any more time to think about it, and lets his lips meet Bucky’s.  It’s just a brush, barely a kiss, but Bucky presses back, and it sends fireworks down Steve’s spine.

 “Stevie,” Bucky breathes out, his hands coming up to frame Steve’s face as Steve reaches to draw Bucky closer.  Bucky’s reticence is gone, and he’s melting into Steve.  Bucky’s warm and safe and here, right here, curling up against Steve’s chest.  It’s everything Steve ever wanted.

 “Gonna have to update my new year’s resolution,” Steve says, tugging at Bucky’s waist until he shifts and swings a leg over Steve’s thighs.  Steve lets out a long breath, hardly able to focus as pleasure and disbelief surge through him in equal measure.

 “Why’s that?”  Bucky asks.  He tilts his head, adorably coy, and Steve quickly accepts the invitation, dotting kisses down his neck until Bucky lets out a low moan.

 Belatedly, Steve realizes he didn’t answer Bucky’s question, and he pulls back to find Bucky’s eyes. He can feel the grin stretching his cheeks, and he beams even wider when he sees an answering smile on Bucky’s face. “’Find Bucky’ doesn’t make much sense anymore.  Now it’ll have to be ‘make him obnoxiously happy.’”

 Bucky blushes, and guides Steve towards him for another tender kiss.  He’s smiling again when they break apart.  “Pretty sure you can check that one off your list, too,” Bucky says.

 Steve’s heart soars, and he tucks Bucky in close against him.  They kiss and murmur soft words, Steve still hardly believing that he has Bucky in his arms. He gives a delighted laugh, and Bucky starts, a slightly worried cast to his brow.

 “What’s so funny?”

 Steve sighs, nestling his head into Bucky’s neck and breathing him in.  “When I woke up this morning, I was just trying to get through the day. Now-” he looks up, running his thumb along Bucky’s swollen bottom lip, and gazing into his eyes, “now I’m actually going to have a happy new year.”

[maryjanewannabee]

Born To Be Yours || Part 3

Summary: It’s your first date night with an old family friend who just so happens to be one of the top actors in Hollywood. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: Yall are so nice! Thank you for loving this story and my new hobby of video editing! I hope yall love this chapter as much as yall did the others!

Part 1 Part 2

I didn’t want to dress up for a stay-in type date. I opted for a simple t-shirt and shorts combo all from Old Navy, and threw my sandals on before I headed back to Chris’s farm. When I approached, I noticed the motorcycle wasn’t in it’s usual spot. I went to the door and knocked, with no answer. Moment later, Chris pulled up on the motorcycle, boxes of pizza tied down behind him.

“Hey!” He said, taking is helmet off and grabbing the pizzas. “Sorry I’m late, I was grabbing the main entree.” He said with a grin as he walked towards me.

“Well that’s good, because I grabbed the dessert.” I said, holding up my bag of ice cream. He smiled, opening the door and letting me in.

“Is that Blue Bell?” He asked, gesturing to the ice cream. I nodded, grinning.

“All the ice cream out here is shit, so my parents send me some Blue Bell from home every month.” I explained. He whistled low.

“I need to get in on that deal.” He put the pizzas on the island, and took the ice cream bag from me, putting the cartons in his freezer. He wore a simple t-shirt that clung to his figure, making me tense but almost in a good way. He grabbed two plates and handed one to me. “I got a couple different choices because I didn’t know what you liked.” I opened up the first which was a simple cheese. The second donned pineapple and ham and I grinned as I thought about all the arguments I had had about whether or not pineapple belonged on pizza. The third had small shrimp spread out on an alfredo pizza.

“Oh this is my favorite!” I said. He looked over at me, suprised.

“Hey, that’s Jack’s favorite too!” He said, grinning. “I kinda just got it outta habit but now I’m glad I did.” He looked at me, making eye contact. I looked away quickly, grabbing two pieces of pizza and sitting down at his table. “You want some wine?” He asked, bringing a bottle over.

“Oh, I’m good thank you.” I replied.

“Aw come on, you’re not on the job.” Chris countered.

“No, I, uh, I don’t drink.” I explained. He looked at me, clearly confused. “My mom was an alcoholic. She was never abusive or anything but I saw how it affected her life and the people around me, so as a general rule I stay away from alcohol.” Chris looked at me for a moment before turning around and putting the bottle up.

“Water it is.” He said with a smile.

“Oh, no, I don’t drink, but I don’t begrudge anyone who does. Please, don’t let me stop you.” I said, feeling my face heat up. He grinned, shaking his head and sitting down.

“Y/N, you can drop the formalities.” He said softly. I dropped my gaze to my pizza and nodded. Chris blessed the food and I finished my interview quickly throughout dinner. After he answered the last question, I turned my new recorder off, feeling his eyes on me.

“Those were good questions.” He said. I blushed.

“You had some good answers.” I stood up, taking my paper plate to the trash. Chris followed. I bent down and threw it away and stood and turned, running right into Chris. “Oh sorry.” I said quietly, but instead of moving, he wrapped an arm around my waist, throwing his plate away in the can behind me. Trying to avoid eye contact, I looked down at his vast chest. I could feel his eyes boring into me and I blushed scarlet.

“Why are you being so distant?” He asked, his gruff voice barely above a whisper. It sent chills down my spine.

“I’m not.” I said, matching his volume.

“Then am I allowed to kiss you?” He asked. I looked up then, into his deep green eyes. I swallowed, and felt myself nod. The hand that wasn’t wrapped around my soft waist cupped my cheek, bringing my face closer to his. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to give him an ounce of control. I felt his soft lips meet mine, kissing me tenderly, with no rush and no hint at something more. I kissed him back, my whole body melting under his touch. His strong arm wrapped around me brought me closer, our bodies close and warm. He never kissed me with the intention of taking me to his bedroom or getting into my pants. And just when I thought I would never move from that spot, the kiss broke.

“Wow.” He said softly. I grinned.

“Wow.” I whispered.

“Come with me.” He said, turning around and grabbing my hand. He lead me through his living room and into a side yard that I hadn’t seen before. He lead the way through the yard and out a back gate, into a wooden area.  He moved some branches out of our way as we walked took a dirty path through the trees. Soon, we came to a clearing and I gasped at the sight. In a large pasture hidden by trees, was paddocks and pens filled with hundreds of sheep, some pigs and a couple horses. The sheep bleated in unison but not in an annoying way but rather peacefully. The animals seemed to sense their feeders presence and all pressed against the closest fence panels to greet him. He chuckled under his breath and lead me to the sheep paddock.

“These are the other ladies in my life.” He said, petting one. “If they’re going to be a problem, well, we might just have to reevaluate a few things.” He looked at me, grinning. I laughed. I threaded my arm through his and he wrapped his free arm around me. “By golly you sure did grow up.” I bit my lip, looking down.

“Is this a thing, Chris?” I asked bluntly. He looked at me confused. “I mean, are we pursuing this?”

“I mean, I would love to, but you sound like you have doubts?” His grip on me loosened slightly as he leaned back, trying to see my face.

“Well, you’re not exactly a small scale actor and well-” I paused, and he looked at me, waiting for me to go on. “Well there’s twenty years of experience between us!” I hadn’t ignored the age gap that hung between us. I had just turned 21 and he was twenty years my senior, though looking much younger. Chris nodded, understanding.

“I was wondering when that would come up.” He said quietly.

“Will I just be some sort of trophy hanging on your arm, or are you wanting to pursue this for justifiable reasons?” I was a journalist. Being blunt was a must. He shook his head, quickly.

“Y/N,” The way he said my name was more powerful than the kiss we had just shared and a breath caught in my throat. “I want this. I know there’s an age difference, but hell, you’re mature for your age and I act like a child most of the time.” He chuckled. “If that scares you, we can part ways as friends, but damn I want to jump into this and see where it goes.”

His arms were still wrapped around my waist, and they tightened as his reasonings ended. I nodded, letting myself loosen up. I sighed heavily.

“I want this too. I really want this.” I said. He grinned and kissed my forehead, and then my cheek, and then paused before kissing my nose lightly.

“Good, because I was gonna be so pissed if you broke up with me because I was old.” He said, chuckling.

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