#the ducks aren’t even my number one team and I can appreciate him. get it together ducks fans

[matthewkniesys]

California Makes Me Exhausted- Jamie Drysdale

Summary: Jamie was born in Toronto so he's no stranger to big, busy cities and while Toronto is big, LA is bigger. He's drowning in all of it and most of all he just misses you.

Pairing: Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

Warnings: sad Jamie and a few swears 

A/n: Alright so I finally wrote a new fic! This fic is my baby so I hope everyone likes it! Feedback and comments are very welcome!

The game of hockey is hard. Just playing hockey is difficult but then you add the fans and the media and the expectations and sometimes it can become to much. At least that's how it feels to Jamie.

Being picked sixth overall isn't something to take lightly. Being picked in the top ten puts insane expectations on you, some of which aren't even attainable. Everyone expect you to be perfect when in truth that's impossible.

Then there is Trevor. The one he is always being compared to. Its not fair when they are two completely different players in two completely different positions. Trevor's a centreman and Jamie's a dman. He'd being lying to you of he told you it wasn't hard constantly being in his shadow. For the most part Jamie didn't mind all the attention being on Trevor, but once in awhile it's nice for them to be purely focusing on you. Even on the night he scored his first goal, Trevor did too.

But perhaps the hardest thing for Jamie when he is in LA is that he doesn't get to see his girlfriend, y/n.

So when the season ends, Jamie can't say he's exactly happy that it's over but he's definitely ready for a break. A break where he completely falls off the face of the earth for a few months.

Packing up the locker room is always a somber event. Saying goodbye to all your friends, some of whom you may never play with again, knowing you won't be back until next season and the overall knowledge that you didn't win the cup. Even for a team like the ducks, who never came into this season with the expectations of winning, it still stings.

Jamie goes through media, almost half consciously. He's there giving half hearted comments, but his mind is elsewhere. The flight he has booked back to Toronto, all the friends he's gonna see when he gets back, and you, are all floating through his mind, more important than whatever stupid questions the reporters are asking.

When media finally finished Jamie said his goodbyes and got ready to leave. Troy stopped him in his path.

“James where are you off to in such a hurry?’

“I’ve got a flight back home to catch in a few hours.” He responds.

“Eager to get back home?”

“Yeah, haven’t seen my girl since Christmas when she came out to see a few games.”

“Well have fun but listen, take care of yourself this offseason, eh? I've seen how tired you've looked these last few months Jame, and while its not effecting you on ice, your mental health is is just as important. I don't know what's up, but I'm here if you need me. Take it easy, bud.”

“Thanks dude. You take care of yourself as well.”

“You’ve got my number right? Call if you ever need anything.” Jamie nods his head, even though he knows he won’t call Troy. He’s to stubborn to ever admit needing help. 

Jamie rushes to get away. Even though he appreciates Troy's concern he doesn't want to be held up in anymore of those conversations. The truth is he had been feeling drained for a long time now. It was a new feeling for Jamie. He was used to being able to make it through the season without feeling to tired but it seemed that this season no matter how much he slept he couldn't feel rested.

He gets in his car and puts the keys in. He drives to the airport probably faster that he should be but Jamie is ready to leave California behind. He understands big cities but California is different. Everything moves so fast. It's easy to get left behind. California is definitely not a hockey state but Jamie still feels like he's drowning in it just because it's California. 

He gets to the airport and rushes through security as fast as possible. He collapses on one of the hard, cold, plastic chairs and takes a deep breath.

Some time later, he hears a women’s voice come on over the PR system.

“Flight number 62 to Toronto, Ontario has been delayed at least 2 hours.” Jamie groans. All he wants to do is get home, see his family and his girlfriend. He wants to ask you about your day in person, he wants to hug you and kiss you and cuddle you, he wants to do everything he misses out on while he’s in California playing hockey.

Jamie closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep. He eventually does though its the same kind of sleep he’s been having since the last time he saw you. Since December, when you came out to Anaheim, He truly hasn’t had a good night sleep since then. 

He wakes for the 3rd time in 20 minutes to hear his phone going off. He sees 2 missed calls and a voicemail from y/n waiting for him. He knows that today you had a big finals exam but you 2 hadn’t talked in a few days. Shit, Jamie thinks realizing he forgot to text you good luck this morning.

He opens the voicemail,

“Hey babe, um I just wanted to let you know that I’m done taking my exam and I think it went pretty well! I hope you’re having a good day. Can’t wait to see you tonight! Love you.” Jamie listened to the voicemail 2 more times. He misses you so, so much. You were his everything. His best friend since he was a little kid, his now girlfriend for the last 3 and a half years. You meant the world to him and he would do anything for you. 

Jamie sits there, on that cold, hard, plastic chair with tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. He misses you, he just wants to be around you. He picks up his phone and selects your number at the top of his contacts.

He lets it ring, desperately hoping you’ll pick up. When you dont pick up he feels more alone than ever. Next to him someone shifts towards him in their seat. He looks over and sees a lady, maybe 10 years older than his mom looking at him.

She speaks softly “ Are you doing okay, honey?”

Jamie doesn't speak, just shakes his head. No, he’s not okay and for some reason its easy for him to tell this to a stranger. Jamie bits his lip willing the tears not to come. 

"Do you wanna tell me what's wrong?" She asks.

"I um, well I play hockey and I haven't seen my girlfriend in a long time and I'm just realising how I've kinda been a bad boyfriend cause I've just been so caught up in myself and I just don't know what to do." Jamie rants to this lady he doesn't know. He's not worried about her recognizing him cause, C'mon it's California, almost no ones ever come up to him here.

"Oh honey, that's such a tough position. We're you trying to call her just now?"

"Uh yeah. She just took a finals exam and she left me a message telling me how it went and well I realised I forgot to even wish her good luck. I um, I'm gonna go to the bathroom really quick." Jamie apologizes to the lady for leaving and she seems to understand.

Once he gets to the bathroom he locks himself in a stall and really let's the tears fall, sobbing so hard that he can barely breath. Once he gets a grip on himself, he splashes cold water on his face and leaves the bathroom.

Once he's returned to his seat the lady has left. Not knowing what to do he picks up his phone and tries your number again. This time you pick up on the first ring.

"Y/n" Jamie says frantically when you pick up the phone " I love you so fucking much."

"I love you to Jame."

"I'm sorry for being such a shitty boyfriend and I feel horrible.  I just can't believe I forgot to tell you good luck this morning. I hope your exam went well. I miss you." Jamie rants on and on not knowing what to say and wanting to say everything at once.

"Babe, listen to me." You say when Jamie stops spitting out his random nonsense. " I love you so so much. And yeah, you've kinda been a shitty boyfriend as of late but I get it. I can't imagine how hard it must be for you being a hockey player out in California away from your family. I noticed how you changed throughout the season. At the beginning you were so full of energy it was like you were high on adrenaline but eventually you just started to look Burnt-out and sad. I didn't know what to do or how to help you. I want to tell you know what I wish I had said when I first realised you weren't doing so good."

You take a deep breath before continuing. "I'm here for you and I always will be. I want you talk to me when things aren't going so well. When you need it I want you to lean on my shoulder for support. I just want you to tell me when you need me."

Bye the time you are done your speech Jamie has begun crying again. He can't help it, you're more than he could ever wish for, you're more than he deserves, more than anyone deserves. 

"Babe, dont cry." You say. It hurts you when he cries. All you want for him is to be happy.

"I- I just I don't know what I would do with out." Jamie's crying and he sounds so genuine it makes you tear up a little.

After a few moments of silence you speak. "Alright well I have to hang out with some friends but I love you and can't wait to see you tonight."

"Babe, I love you more than I could ever express." You both hang up and Jamie collapses, heaving out a shuddering breath.

Jamie was gonna see you again tonight. Everything was gonna be okay. You and him were gonna be okay. To him that's all that will ever matter.

Thank you guys so much for reading!! I'd love to know what yall think <33

Taglist: @1-800-iluvhockey​ @studsccsnackavoybambi​ @markyestapa​ @marcoskasper​ @power2myheart​ @brenbrissonsgf​ @pierrelucduboiis​ @blanksbae​ @hockeyboysarehot​ @ancient-remnants-of-love​ @blankenlove​ @kenzie3165​ @2manytabsopen​ @hockey-lover86​ @umichestapa​ @willystylesss​

[bqstqnbruin]

Priceless

Ok so here I am somehow with a second fic in a matter of, what, two ish days? Anyway, this is one that I wrote and posted last year but I reread it and it sucked so I took it down and rewrote it. Hope you like it!

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: none? swearing? Typos for sure.

_______________

You loved him with your whole heart; there was nothing that you wouldn’t do for him, and you knew that he felt the same about you. At least, that’s what you used to believe.

Ever the one for dramatics, a three am alarm was what made you question not only your whole relationship but your whole existence. The witching hour was an ungodly time to be waking up and getting ready, no matter what the reason was. Even when it involved flying off to Europe for a destination wedding that involved Jake’s entire team.

“Babe?” you call to him, the shower just turning off. He pokes his head out, hair wet, droplets of water rolling down his face as he waited for you to answer, “We’re going to have time to stop at a Dunkin’, right?” you whine, doing everything in your power to not pass out then and there instead of finishing your packing.

“Maybe?” he says, ducking back into the bathroom before coming out with just a towel on, hanging on his waist. If you weren’t so exhausted, the things you could be doing right now, your mind wanders as he continues talking, “We have to get through TSA and I don’t think they would allow you to bring that through security, would they?”

“Fucking hell,” you mutter to yourself, throwing the last of what you needed into your suitcase, trying to find anything of Jake’s lying around that you knew he would forget. “What if I finish it in the car before we go through security?” you beg, hoping he’ll cave.

“Y/N,” he sings, “then you’re going to have to use the bathroom a million times and it’s going to be my fault.”

“Do I have to be pleasant before I get coffee in me?”

You hear him laugh from the bathroom as you lean back on the bed and close your eyes. “You wouldn’t be you if you were pleasant before your coffee, babe.” You do everything in your power to try to stay awake while he gets ready, him saying random things as he runs around getting dressed, you murmuring weak responses in return. “Hey, come on, sleepyhead,” he says, pulling you off the bed, “We’ve gotta get to Logan.”

You drive there in silence, praying for the moment you get coffee in you as you still struggle to stay awake while Jake keeps talking. The car stops, Jake pulling down the window when you finally open your eyes, seeing that you were sitting in the drive-thru line at Dunkin. “God, I love you,” you say, leaning over and kissing his cheek, a smile covering his face.

“Who’s paying, you or me?” he asks, not letting you answer due to the voice of the cashier inside coming through the speaker to take your order. Two small coffees, enough to hold you over for the drive to the airport before you get more coffee once you’re through the gate. He looks at you as you stare down at your phone, having to check your bank account to see if you even had the money to begin with. “I’ll pay for both,” he says, a calm tone covering her voice.

Money for you was tight. You had never really struggled to pay your bills and your share of the utilities, but you definitely didn’t have the amount of extra cash that Jake did because of the seemingly never-ending student loan payments you were making. “I’m sorry,” you say, taking the coffee from him so he can get to driving again. You hated having the money conversation; no matter who you talked to, they always seemed to bring up the fact that your NHL player boyfriend made more money in a single season than you had seen in your entire life. It always left things awkward, as the implication of you being a gold digger hung in the air between you and the person you were having a conversation with. “I can probably transfer some money from my savings for extra stuff, but I had really only planned on buying a few meals and a few other trinkets for my family,” you admit, staring at the low number that showed in your checking account.

“Hey,” he says, resting his hand on your thigh, not taking his eyes off the road, “It’s fine. Anything you want, I’ll pay for it.” You smile at him, hoping he couldn’t tell from the corner of his eye that it wasn’t sincere. That was another thing you hated: other people covering for you. You grew up being taught that if you didn’t have money for it, you either didn’t pay for it until you had the money yourself, or you forewent it entirely. Having to worry about paying someone back was unnecessary stress in your life. Or, if they were like Jake, then they would insist it was their treat, not taking the money you owed them no matter how much it was.

You look out the window, the empty, tree-lined highway lighting up as the sun rose over it, the sky turning from the dark purple night to a brilliant orange right in front of you. You had never been one to wake up for the sunrise, taking in the sight for what was probably the first time in your life. “It’s so beautiful,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this calm and quiet before.”

“I’ve seen one thing more beautiful than this,” he says, a huge smile on his face.

“What?” you ask, bracing him for the cheesy comment you knew he was going to make.

“You,” he says, proudly, trying to find your hand without looking away from the road, bringing it to his lips before connecting his back to the wheel.

“God,” you moan, both of you laughing, “That was so corny.”

“Well, they call me Chef JD, gotta have some corn sometimes,” he says, resulting in you screaming.

“I will in fact leave you if you say something like that again,” you tell him.

“Yeah? Where would you live, then?” he teases, immediately regretting his words, “Fuck, sorry.”

“I’d figure something out,” you tell him, trying to match his teasing tone so that he doesn’t think you took it the way you did. The rest of the ride to the airport is in silence, you both finishing your coffee as you pull up, seeing some of the guys getting their stuff out of their car at the same time. “Hey, aren’t international flights normally at night?” you ask Jake, Charlie, and Matt coming over to help you guys get your bags.

“Bergy booked the flight for all of us and we don’t question him,” Charlie says, pulling Jake away from you, the two of them wandering into the airport with Kylie trying to keep up with her own boyfriend

“It should be more concerning to all of you that he has to act like your father,” you say to Matt, walking with him to security. Besides Jake, you were closest to Matt. He adopted you as a pseudo younger sister, the one who knew just as much, if not more about you than your boyfriend.

Matt shrugs, watching Charlie and Jake mess around with each other in line in front of you, “It just kind of happened that way. None of us ever questioned it, like Chuck said.” The two of you watch the boys, bickering about something as they seemingly all forget their girls were standing right around them. You and Matt fall into a mundane conversation, watching Jake and Charlie together as they pass through security. The five of you gather your things, trying to find which way your gate was so you could meet the rest of the guys before boarding the flight.

Matt figured out that you were supposed to head to the left, so naturally, Jake and Charlie veered right, leaving you and Kylie with all their stuff to lug to the gate. “Where are they going?” you ask Kylie, dumbfounded as you struggle to carry Jake’s bag along with your own stuff.

“Charlie mentioned he was hungry on the way here, so I’m just hoping that’s where they’re going,” she mutters, “Dealing with all of them together is like herding cats,” clearly as cranky as you were earlier that morning as you try to stifle your laughter. Just like you, Kylie was not a person to interact with before she had caffeine in her, one of the reasons the two of you got along so well.

You get to the gate, Jake and Charlie nowhere to be seen even though you were suddenly surrounded by the rest of the Bruins roster. From the looks of the waiting area, the flight was mostly the guys and their families, and thankfully so: you would hate to be on a plane with the Bruins organization if you were outside the organization itself. You loved the boys, but god, they were loud and annoying sometimes. Everyone else on the plane would definitely hate the group, but they didn’t care. The city was fueled by the hate of everyone who wasn’t them.

Jake and Charlie finally reappear, more coffee and now food in hand. Jake hands you what he got you as you reposition yourself so you’re sitting cross-legged on the seat, slightly uncomfortable due to how scrunched up you were so you could face him. You lean over, kissing his cheek before you start eating

He turns his head to smile at you as you catch him off guard and kiss him again. “What’s this for?”

“I don’t tell you enough that I appreciate you,” you say to him, taking a bite of the breakfast sandwich he got you.

Jake smiles at you, turning himself so he faces you. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, gently pulling you towards him so he can kiss your forehead, mumbling something you can’t quite make out against your skin. Charlie starts chirping Jake over something, resulting in him leaving you to go argue with his teammates. You can’t help but smile as you watch Jake and his teammates. You knew he loved them, just like they loved him.

“You didn’t have coffee in you when I was talking to you before and you were actually pleasant?” Matt plops down next to you, taking your attention away from Jake.

You roll your eyes at him, even though you knew he was right, “Shut up, Gryz. Jake and I stopped for coffee on the way here. This is round two,” you say, raising the cup to him. The two of you watch some of the younger guys aggregate around Jake and Charlie, Jake telling them some story while they hang onto every word of his, laughing their heads off with every sentence. “God, he loves you guys.”

“Yeah, but you know he loves you more,” Matt says, nudging your shoulder.

“I think he loves Oreos more than he loves me sometimes,” you joke, knowing that it’s not true. Hoping that it’s not true, more like it.

“Trust me, JD loves three things in this order: you, hockey, then Oreos. He loves you more than he loves hockey. Nothing you can do will change that.”

You both laugh, the announcement for your flight to board interrupting the noise the rest of the guys were making. Jake rushes over to your side, picking up the bags both of you were planning on bringing onto the plan, practically pushing Matt out of the way. He kisses you on the cheek, a soft smile on his face.

“What?” you ask him, linking your arm in his.

“I love you,” he says, getting in line behind some of the guys.

“I love you, too,” you say, leaning your head against his arm.

“Ready for seven hours on a plane with these fools?” Jake asks, using his other arm to gesture to the rest of his teammates.

“I’m only ready because you’re with me,” you say to him in a sing-songy voice.

“Woah! So you can be corny, but I can’t?” he jokes, sending you two into a flirty bickering match as you board the plane with everyone. You get settled into your seats, resting your head on his shoulder to hopefully fall back to sleep despite the amount of caffeine coursing through your veins. You can hear the guys talking around you, probably annoying the rest of the passengers on the flight more than they intended.

You end up in that half awake-half asleep state while on his shoulder, the sounds of the rest of the guys fading in and out as you did. You could feel Jake occasionally kissing the top of your head, resting his on yours in an effort to go to sleep like you were. Both of you were woken up by the sound of the flight attendant coming through with food, the long flight warranting a hot meal, you and Jake being handed something different than the rest of the people around you.

“What is it?” you whisper to him once the flight attendant has passed by you.

“None of the free meals looked good so I got us something different,” he says, taking a bite of what looked like chicken covered in some sort of sauce.

“We could have just done the free meal so you wouldn’t be paying for me again,” you mumble, a little annoyed that he didn’t even ask when paying for food made things awkward earlier that morning.

You sit there in silence, eating the food that Jake bought you. Honestly, it was airplane food, not something that you had even wanted in the first place but you couldn’t let it go to waste now.

“I think I’m gonna go sit with Charlie,” Jake says, getting up without saying another word once the food is gone, leaving you to sit there by yourself with the other people in the row.

You try to find something to watch on the screen in front of you, only to be interrupted by Matt appearing and Jake’s seat, startling you as you rip out the headphones you had on while the first movie available was starting to play. “Your boy just kicked me out of my seat by sitting on top of me.”

You can’t help but laugh, picturing the other passengers' reactions around then as the grown men that were Jake and his teammates acted like absolute children. “I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that he did that or that fact that I’m not shocked that he did that.” You watch him with Charlie, your smile fading as his grows.

“Hey, what’s up?” Matt asks, pulling your attention away from Jake.

“Same argument that we haven’t really fought over yet.” Matt was the only one on the team that knew about the seemingly never-ending awkwardness that surrounded you and Jake when it came to money. “It’s not getting worse, but it’s more frequent. I’m just worried we’re gonna end up blowing up at each other and losing each other in the process,” you tell him, fixating on the screen in front of you.

You hear him exhale, looking over to see a sad look on his face. A single lock of hair falls down in front of his forehead, moving along with the rest of his head, “Couples fight. I don’t want to tell you that you should have this argument this weekend, but you have to talk about it. And I mean really talk about it, not just the vague undertones you two constantly have dancing around the subject.”

You stare at him, slightly confused at how something like that came out of him, “I don’t like how you said that so eloquently,” you laugh, Matt throwing his head back to join you.

“But you know I’m right,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” you huff, waving him off.

Without another word, he hands you his other earbud, starting a movie on his screen that would hopefully last the rest of the flight. You rest your head on his shoulder to get a better view of the screen, picturing Jake in his place.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you must have at some point because the next thing you know, the movie is over, the plane is about to land, and Matt is trying to get you off his shoulder so he can get back to his seat. “Hey, Y/N,” he whispers, nudging his shoulder gently. “Jake’s coming back,” he says, acting as if he didn’t want to get caught with you asleep next to him.

“Hi,” you yawn, rubbing your eyes as he plops back down in his seat, him kissing your cheek as you now struggle to stay awake. “It’s like, the middle of the night now, isn’t it?” you ask him, having no idea the time difference between Boston and where you were.

“I think it’s like 10 pm. I didn’t realize I was dating an old woman,” he jokes, pulling a laugh from you.

“You wear me out, babe,” you say, everyone getting up from their seats, the boys making more noise than anyone on the plane as people anxiously waited to get off.

“And you keep me young,” he says, giving you a quick peck before handing you your bag.

You hear someone groan behind you, turning to see Matt standing there already waiting for the two of you to move out of his way. “I’m not going to hang out with you if you’re like this the entire trip” he teases.

You can’t help but scoff, playing into the teasing nature of his comment. “Sorry, bubs, you’re the only one who didn’t bring a date so that makes you our third wheel.”

“I could third wheel any of the guys here and you know that,” he tries to defend himself as Jake grabs your hand and starts to pull you off the plane.

“That’s a weird thing to brag about,” you tell him, the three of you walking in a line to go get your bags, you and Matt carrying a conversation while Jake stands off to the side, not paying attention to the movement of the unfamiliar airport around him.

Everyone waits outside for whatever transportation Patrice had arranged to the hotel, still unsure how he swung any of the details he did. The guys had way too much energy considering how many hours they spent cooped up on a plane. You were exhausted, the coffee practically gone from your system as you tried to convince Jake to just go back to the hotel room with you and spend the night in. “Please?” you beg him, draping yourself on his arm as he waited to get your room keys.

“But the guys want to explore the city,” he whines, jutting his lip out to you.

“I have no more coffee in me,” you whine back. He pouts at you, contemplating whether or not it’s worth it to try to convince you to stay in or go explore with the guys. “I will do anything you want.”

He raises his eyebrows, pulling you close to him, “Anything?” he asks, forgetting the guys surrounding you as he kisses you, his grip around your waist tightening as his teammates start teasing the two of you.

“Hey, JD! Save that for the bedroom!” Matt chirps, your face turning bright red at his words.

“Ah, fuck off and let me love her,” he says, his forehead against yours. “I think I like the sound of the bedroom.”

You ignore the chirps from the boys as he kisses you again, the heat in your cheeks not subsiding until the two of you get to your room. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out with the guys? Apparently, the nightlife is supposed to be awesome in the city,” Jake says, flopping down on the bed. You had been there all of two seconds, and he was already starfished on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.

You sigh, sitting down next to him. “I told you I don’t want to go out,” you repeat, a little more annoyed than you intended to sound. “I’m tired, and when we go out, we’re going to end up spending more money and-” you stop, cutting yourself off as Jake sits up.

“Hey,” he says, taking your hands in his, “I told you I would pay for you. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is, though. To me it is. I don’t need you to keep paying for me for everything. I don’t want you to.”

“What’s the big deal?”

Were you really about to have the fight you and Matt talked about on the plane in your hotel room? “Don’t you get it? You have so much money while I’m constantly struggling to make ends meet because of fucking loans. Do you know what it’s like to be a grown adult and live off someone else's money, the constant looks from people when I talk about you that say they think I’m just dating you for your money? That unless you’re home and go grocery shopping for us, I have to choose between food and gas until you get back? All I am is a fucking burden.”

“What, you think I don’t know about all of that? Why do you think I pay for you? So you don’t have to worry about food and gas,” he says, getting up.

“And I hate that you do that!” you snap, “That you feel like you have to. It’s like a slap in the face that I can never pay for anything and you have to pay for everything.”

“So what do you want me to do? Stand by and watch you struggle when I have the means to help you?” The volume of his voice matched yours, hearing doors in the hallway opening and closing, praying that it wasn’t other guests trying to figure out what room the screaming match was coming from.

“I don’t mind if you help out once in a while when I really need it but it’s stuff like the second round of Dunkin’ when I could barely get the first, the meal on the airplane when they give out free ones, or when you keep asking to go out, knowing that we’re going to spend money after I told you no.” Jake rolls his eyes, pushing past you and out the door. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going out with the guys. You want something, you can get it yourself, see if I care,” he hisses, leaving you standing there with the door propped open by your foot, watching him walk away. Matt gets off the elevator when he tries to get on, saying something you can’t make out when the elevator door closes.

“What the hell happened?” Matt asks, looking between you and the elevator.

You shake your head, trying to hold back the tears that were forming, knowing that there were other people in the hallway that had just witnessed the end of whatever that was. “Remember the fight you said we would have? We just had it,” you tell him, flopping down on your bed with your hands over your face. You let out a long groan, feeling the weight of Matt’s body sink the corner of the mattress down. You knew he was giving you that sympathetic look that was going to make you more upset, feeding into your already upset nature just that much more.

“What happened?” Matt repeats.

“We just finally snapped. God, of all places to have a stupid fight like this, we have at the night before your teammate is supposed to get married. I mean, fuck, we’re in Barcelona, for god's sake and you and I are here watching me mope instead of exploring like we should be.”

“Well, who says we can’t?”

“My bank account.”

Matt pries your hands off your face, forcing you to sit up despite you clearly not wanting to. “There’s so much to do in Barcelona at night that doesn’t involve spending money. We can find the guys no problem, probably doing something free.”

“And how do you expect we do that?” you ask him as he tries to drag you off the bed, grabbing the room key on the way out the door.

Matt waves his phone in the air, a smug look on his face. “I have the location of everyone on the team, past and present, on Find My Friends.”

You hesitate for a minute, your wallet and bag sitting right there by the door for you to grab to go join your boyfriend and his teammates and try to enjoy the night despite the fight you just had. “Matt,” you try to protest, your eyes darting back and forth between him and your bag. You didn’t want to worry about Jake on the night out, but you knew you couldn’t be spending a lot of money. You had been out with the guys too many times before when Jake promised they wouldn’t be big spenders, only to go home and have to worry about how you were going to survive to the next paycheck.

“If you want anything then I’ll pay for it and you pay me back with food or something. Y/N, Jake is wandering Barcelona with Charlie right now, probably just as upset as you are,” he tries to reason with you. “There’s no point in sitting here alone in your hotel room when you’re in a city that you’ve been talking about visiting for as long as I’ve known you.”

You let out a groan, knowing that he was right. “I can’t stand you,” you mumble, grabbing your bag and heading out the door with him.

Matt had his phone pulled out, trying to navigate the city based on a little dot that showed your boyfriend’s location. You had no idea where you were going, and, to be honest, you weren’t sure that Matt had any idea either. You had never been in a situation where the two of you had to wander through unfamiliar territory before, but something told you it was going to be a while before he figured out how to get to the rest of the guys.

“Matt, this is useless. We’ve been walking around for over an hour already,” you tell him, sitting down on the bench that was just off the path you had been taking.

“It hasn’t been an hour, you’re being dramatic.”

Matt sits down next to you as you pull out your phone. “We left the room at 10 pm. It’s 11. That’s an hour,” you snap at him, clearly hating that you can’t find them. “I just want to see Jake,” you mutter.

“Have either of you calmed down enough to have an actual conversation with each other? You know, not a screaming match?” Matt asks you, watching the small dots that represented his teammates move around his phone screen. “If you want to try to figure out your way around here, when neither of us speaks the language to ask for directions, we can. If not, we go back to the hotel.”

You stare at his phone, seeing JD, CM, TF, two JS’s, and a DP altogether, somewhere off the road where neither of you were able to figure out how to get to them. You shake your head, thinking about Matt’s words: you weren’t sure you were cooled off enough to talk to Jake rationally, and you had a feeling he was still the same. “Let’s just find our way back to the hotel,” you tell him, getting up off the bench.

You look at Matt, the look of sympathy covering his face as he follows you back the way you came. You probably could have easily found Jake and the rest of the guys, working out whatever the hell you needed to before the wedding tomorrow. If you couldn’t work it out, what did that mean for your future, though? If you didn’t live with Jake, you would be struggling way more than you were now, probably living paycheck to paycheck without the luxury of everything Jake did for you.

Were you wrong to be mad that he was trying to help?

The two of you get back to the hotel, the empty lobby eerily echoing with your footsteps on the marble floor. You hadn’t even noticed it before, the hotel you were staying at was probably the nicest one you had ever set foot in. You were tempted to sit on one of the chairs in the lobby, wait there for Jake and the rest of the guys to come back despite the fact that they would probably be drunk off their asses when you saw them.

Matt puts his hand on your arm, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Do you want to stay down here and wait?” he asks you, reading your mind, “Or, do you want to go back to either your room or mine?”

“I don’t want to impose,” you try to protest.

“So, you’d rather go back to an empty room and wallow alone instead of sitting on my bed, eating ice cream, and watching a movie,” he tempts you, raising his eyebrows with his offer.

“I don’t want ice cream.”

Matt scrunches his nose, letting out a laugh. “I never said the ice cream was for you. It’s summer, I can cheat on the nutrition plans a little more right now.”

He manages to pull a laugh from you, the two of you heading up to his room. You plopped yourself on his bed, your hands behind your head while you couldn’t take your mind off Jake. You really didn’t want him to be as miserable as you felt, but part of you also did want that. Was that bad?

You knew you had to set boundaries. You knew you couldn’t live without him, both financially and in life in general.

“You know,” Matt says, pulling you out of your thoughts yet again, “The guys are back here at the hotel. If you wanted to go back to your room, I’m sure you could talk to him now.”

You roll over, your back facing Matt. “I don’t think he would want to talk to me.”

Matt sighs, lying down next to you and staring up at the ceiling. “Like I told you in Boston, Jake loves you more than anything. If I know anything about him, he’s just as miserable as you are, probably back in your room panicking about where you are.”

You turn to him, narrowing your eyes. “This is your way of trying to get me out of here before the ice cream comes and you feel like you have to share with me, isn’t it?”

You both laugh, sitting up to get ready to go. “Oh, of course.”

You head out, opening the door, caught off guard by who was standing there. “Jake?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet. “I thought you would be here.” You nod, both of you standing there in an awkward silence as you held the door to Matt’s room open. You didn’t know if you should speak first or wait for Jake to do it, and apparently, he felt the same.

“As much as I love just staring at you two,” Matt breaks the silence. “Would you be able to do this with my door closed? You can be in here, but,” his voice trails off. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear whatever it was you were about to talk about even though he already knew.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” you tell him, letting his room door close behind you as Jake took your hand in his, leading you down the hall to your room.

You don’t say anything until you get into your room, both of you sitting at the foot of the bed.

“I’m sorry I got mad,” he says, his hand still in yours but unable to look at you.

“I’m sorry I got mad,” you repeat, for lack of better words to say. “We need boundaries. I get that you want to pay for things, but I need you to ask me before you do, especially if it’s something we don’t necessarily need.”

“Ok,” he draws out, trying to figure out how to frame his words. “Would you be ok with asking me for help when you need it? You know I can help you, and it kills me seeing you struggle when I have the means to make this stop.”

“I just want you to ask.”

He smiles at you, raising his hand to cup your face. “I will,” he says, his lips finding yours for a soft, sweet kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You spend the rest of the night together, trying to figure out boundaries of what and when Jake can lend you money, what should be paid back, what he doesn’t want back, everything. It was the conversation you should have had years ago, yet never did.

The next morning, you get ready for his teammate's wedding, slipping on the dress, your back towards Jake while he put on his suit. “Can you zip me up?” you ask him while he adjusted his sleeves.

He comes up behind you, his fingers holding the small zipper and slowly pulling it up your back. Jake wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in front of the mirror hung on the wall of the room, his head nestled on your shoulder. “I can’t wait until we get married.”

You laugh, craning your neck to kiss the side of his head. “That’ll be an expensive day, won’t it,” you joke.

“Yeah, maybe. But spending the rest of my life with the girl I love? That’s priceless.”

[spiltscribbles]

Worth It

~Notes: Oof, I know I have so many prompts in my inbox and I appreciate them so much! But I wanted to write something after dinner in dedication and a gift to the lovely Remus-John-Lupin!!!!!!!<3<3<3 I love you RJ and I appreciate you and your friendship so fucking much, so this is just a strange little gift from me to you in thanks for how kind you’ve always been to me since I joined this crazy fandom, ILY and you’re my favorite slag!!!!

.-

Sirius silently reminds himself that he in fact likes Lily, he thinks she’s a total knock out and is happy that his brother is finally getting to date the girl of his dreams. He likes her damn it,! And one does not commit battery to folks that they like.

Assured that his pure irritation won’t bleed through his words, Sirius tries again in his most charming of inflections. “All I want is his number.”

“No,” she repeats, casually steadfast while poking at her salad— Not even bothering to flick her gaze up at an increasingly irate Sirius.

“Why are you being so fucking difficult!”

“Why are you still bitching about this,” she counters, finally giving him her undivided attention, even if it’s her glaring at him like she’d like to skewer Sirius on a stick.

“Hey guys, let’s chill.” James tries to mediate, laughing awkwardly between the pair of them, hand raised in concession and glasses going a bit skewed.

They promptly ignore him.

“I like him. What is so difficult to understand Evans? Aren’t you like supposed to be some brainiac or some shit?”

“It’s been like two months Black,” she says pointedly, grip on her fork tightening while her mouth curls unpleasantly. “That’s way past your ordinary infatuations, so why the hell do you still even care.”

Sirius bares his teeth, pinning her with a glower that once made an old school yard bully of Regulus’s actually piss his pants. So of course Lily doesn’t even flinch. “He’s cute.”

“You’re a dog.”

“You’re being a total ass.”

“And you’re a bastard.”

“But you love me though.”

“Just barely.”

“So you’ll give me Remus’s number?”

“Dream on.” she says with a lofty sniff and haughty flip of the hair, discarding her barely eaten lunch before swaggering over to where a group of her friends from the STEM club are sat, including Alice Flores and Dorcas Meadowes. 

“Guess you’re back to square one Pads.” James says, unhelpful as fuck, so Sirius only flips him off before snatching back his calculus homework from a pitiful looking Peter.

“Fuck this.”

.-

Sirius thinks of himself as a reasonable sort of guy.

He isn’t one for holding grudges or obsessing over perceived slights. He’s brilliant whether he’s playing linebacker on the field or taking a exam in class.

For fuck’s sake, Sirius  can be plumped down in any and all social situations without warning, and can have the room eating out the palm of his hand within the first five minutes.

In layman’s terms, he’s decent and driven and downright charismatic. Mix this all together, and well Sirius thinks he’s a pretty fantastic fucking package— if he does say so himself. He can have his pick of the lot, truly. Especially when walking down the halls flocked by his best friend turned second brother on one end and little Petey, who’s a great hype man, on the other. So its only poetic justice that the one person who’s been able to swallow up all his attention is the one person who doesn’t even give him a second glance most days.

And that’s fucking ridiculous.

This is ridiculous! He is fucking ridiculous! No, record scratch. Remus fucking Lupin is the most ridiculous part of this all!

Remus lupin with his delightfully disheveled hair the color of gold and his crooked grin that’s everything darling in the world, and his big doe eyes that sometimes flare with green specs when he’s especially passionate in class or when he’s chatting with Lily in the halls. Remus lupin who’s only just moved here to Murray Hill from a small town in southern Illinois and who toppled Sirius’s world upside-down while he was at it. 

The first time they met was completely on accident.

It was the week before classes began, and Sirius had only just come back from his family trip to their villa in Rome, and he was only meant to meet James at the coffee shop that Lily was working at now. They were suppose to head to the city and go out drinking to celebrate the start of their senior year.  Sirius was suppose to find a nice, college aged girl to fuck because he’s given up on the boring lot that infests Hogwarts these days. It was suppose to be easy and fun and he was suppose to stay stringless and unattached as ever.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, Sirius walked into the Howling Moon  and was met by the sight of the most lovely, most gorgeous boy he’s ever met. Hand to God, it felt like one of those slow motion moments in a Romantic Comedy when the disgruntled, wayward lead first sets their eyes on that love interest— the one to out shine all others, the one  who turns everything inside out and makes it all glitter gold.

“Hey there,” Remus had grinned like the fucking sun, slipping the pen from his ear and hand poised over the cups lining the counter. “What can I get ya?”

“Oh, erm— Yeah. Just a caramel macchiato, iced.”Sirius’s ordinarily smooth baritone almost fucking cracked while ordering, and Remus’s beautiful eyes had glittered.

“Would’ve taken you for a dark roast sort of guy.” He said, and Sirius swears that it was playful and flirtatious and a little mischievous too. 

Sirius was in love.

“I’ve been known to partake in sweets, you know, if they catch my eye,” he replied, eyes lingering meaningfully up and down Remus’s slighter frame.

“What a come on,” Remus had laughed, head thrown back to show off his long neck and Sirius was so fucking gobsmacked at how it quite literally sounded like all the most splendid instruments woven together.

He had ducked his head, so unordinary bashful but so beyond pleased. “What can I say beautiful, you bring it out of me.”

“”Cute.” Remus had chuckled, cheeks going a fetching red and scribbling down the order. “Definitely one of the more interesting one liners I’ve gotten today.”

Sirius ignored the flare of jealousy over that, considering that he hasn’t gotten to even kiss him yet, and he should probably take this slow if he doesn’t want to screw it up. “Has anyone of those bastards mentioned how your eyes put the brownies on sale to shame?”

“No one as hot as you if I’m being honest,” Remus retorted, ringing him up and sinking his teeth into his plump bottom lip. And fuck, Sirius knew he was in trouble from then on.

They had talked for over half an hour about nothing at all in that tiny bistro while Remus was busy exchanging the coffee pots for a fresh batch and rearranging the baked goods, and it was amazing.

 Sirius has always been someone who couldn’t sit still, who had to be fluttering all over the place to feel like he was actually headed somewhere, like he was getting something finished. But for the first time in too long, just sitting there, still and silent and besotted while Remus chatted about his hometown and moving half way across the country and his eccentric mother— Well Sirius felt completely balanced, completely calm. He felt like just as long as Remus was their chatting with him and smiling in that beguiling way of his, that Sirius could actually breathe without pressure. Like he knew what it meant to have a center.

So of course, right when he decided that he was going to snatch him up— to ask him out on a date before anyone else from their shitty class filled with degenerates and dick heads could— Lily of all people  had swaggered in, and gave him a caustic sort of glower that plainly said, keep the fuck away.

Ordinarily Sirius would’ve completely ignored her warning, would’ve unashamedly and excitedly chased after the cutest fucking boy he’s ever laid his eyes on with an absurd sort of zeal. But he under estimated just how much sway Lily was able to cater with Remus in the few weeks they worked with one another before he had met him. So instead of starting off the year with a brand new, insanely pretty boyfriend wrapped around one arm, Sirius has just spent the past nine weeks pining like a fucking love sick loser. Like he was starring in some cheesy John Hughes movie from the damn 80s!

And this will not do, this is not all right, not okay at all.

Sirius needs to figure out a way to get close to Remus, and outside of Lily’s overbearing claws. Something that only Remus likes, that Sirius can partake in to prove himself worthy.

As he promenades down the hall towards his free period, Sirius creates a mental check list of the things he knows Remus enjoys.

Remus enjoys poetry, and Sirius knows that he’s part of the school’s award winning Forensics team. But they meet during the football practices so Sirius couldn’t even try to impress him in that arena until the spring. He also knows that Remus likes history, that he’s going to end up majoring in classics in University, but Sirius really doubts his ability to memorize the Iliad in the matter of a few hours— He’s good, but not that good.

“Jesus fuck is this hard,” he mutters nastily to himself, tugging at the ends of his dark hair before ramming straight into a display outside the southern wing of their preparatory school’s building.

He winces, not so much for the throbbing in his toes, but because of Marlene’s snappish attitude when he makes it so that the table shakes.

“Keep your head out your ass Black,” she scolds before going back to filing her nails. And Sirius is about to snipe right back at her— That is until he catches on the bright poster adorned with small rainbows and the words, GSA FOOD DRIVE spelt out in large lettering.

And oh!

“Eureka!”

“Pardon?” Marlene asks, nose wrinkled indelicately as she eyes him like he’s about to puke on her brand new Doc Martens again like last weekend. Holy shit, she should really get over it by now.

But Sirius is smart enough and tactful enough not to mention his thoughts on the matter, only smiles down at her with pure elation. “Marls, what if I said I had a brilliant idea to help our lovely GSA.”

“I’d accuse you to only doing it to try and get in Lupin’s pants since he’s our new VP.”

Sirius grapples for his chest, feigning indignant. “You pain me my old friend.”

Marlene snorts. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s neither here nor there.”

“So are your chances with Lupin.”

“You’re a sick fuck McKinnon.”

“What do you want from me you gnat.”

“Let me help with the fundraiser.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll tell Lily to get Meadowes to notice you?”

Marlene glares at him now. “We’ve been fucking for like a month you prick.”

“Oh— Erm, then for some of that good old Bi unity?”

Marlene suddenly looks so very shrewd and Sirius hates how every fucking woman in his life could eat him whole for breakfast. “Absolutely not.”

“Fine, what the fuck do you want.”

“You cover Fabian’s costs for the goods  when we go to that rave for 2KBABY in January.”

“Eh, didn’t you guys use to fuck?”

“Yes. But I don’t see the connection?”

“He won’t even give you a discount on the good shit?”

“Oh he does,” she leers, blue eyes glinting wickedly in the hallway light. “But I’d rather see you pay full price for’m.”

Sirius glares down at her, and repeats himself.  “You. Are. A. Sick. Fuck.”

Marlene just lies back in her seat and returns to manicuring her nails. “Well if cheekbones isn’t worth the bother?”

“Fine,” Sirius all but growls out. “But we do this my way.”

“Scout’s honor handsome,” she absolutely beams, and Sirius reminds himself that this is all for Remus and that’s worth it at the end of the day.

.-

It’s a week later, right before Thanksgiving break hits, and Sirius is sat in front of the cafeteria, smirking at the line of mostly pink faced girls and a few others amongst their midst, who have all queued up in front of him. A dollar in each of their hands, though he does see that a few have fives and even tens or more, and he doesn’t know how to subtly tell them that all he’s promising is a quick peck of his lips, and absolutely no other groping— including of his legendary ass or admittedly perfect abs.

“You’re just really enjoying yourself, aren’t you.” James hisses besides him after the latest girl— a blonde sophomore who’s decked out in Lulu Lemon for their only non uniform day of the week— scurries off. “Just a ego trip.”

“Jealous Jamie darling?” Sirius boasts, tipping back on his chair while Marlene collects the cash from the next five in line so that they can clammer closer towards him.

“I can’t believe all of them want to kiss you,” Peter marvels, round eyes completely in aw. 

“I can’t believe you think this is how to get Remus’s attention,” Lily interjects huffily, lips set in a moody pout while perched on James’s lap to Sirius’s left.

“I bet you would’ve been in line if you weren’t dating Jamie here.” Sirius counters, smug as all get out, and laughing when all Lily deigns as a adequate response is her middle finger.

Sirius is on cloud nine. He can’t believe he didn’t think of this sooner! Remus loves all this shit, from the club to the charity. This is perfect! This basically guarantees that he’ll finally get a good smooch on him. And once their lips finally  touch, Remus will surely feel the swarm of butterflies in his gut just like in those Harleyquin romance novels his cousin Narcissa would always read with a dreamy look on her face during their various Family vacations.

“You’re not gonna get him this way.”

“He’s not gonna know what hit’m Evans,” Sirius retorts, completely self assured.

.-

One should never bet against Lily Marie Evans.

Sirius knows this now. But he still hates it with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

By the end of the lunch hour, Sirius’s earned over sixty bucks to the GSA’s fundraiser fund, and absolutely zero potential boyfriends who look like golden angels and make Sirius’s knees weak.

“I told you,” Lily says in that sing-song sort of voice that is so not appreciated right now. “Remus is not the type to kiss you in front of a huge crowd and after like a bunch of others. That’s not his style.”

Sirius is moody as all get out, and he’s irritated that he’s just wasted five dozen perfectly fine kisses on folks who aren’t Remus, so he doesn’t bother to hide his irritation when he gripes back at her, “Then tell me what the fuck is his style.”

Miraculously, that actually proved enough to get Lily to slow down her stroll, and cock her head curiously at him. “You actually care.”

“What the fuck have I been trying to tell you Evans!” He nearly shouts.

“I just thought— You know. That it was a game.”

Sirius’s face goes stoney, and he juts his chin away from her. “It’s not always a fucking game, all right. It’s not a game with him— I like him. I like Remus.”

“Oh,” Lily says very quietly, her face pulled in a thousand different directions before settling on something akin to solemn. “You should go to the music room for your free period today.”

Sirius quirks a brow at her, frowning while he asks, “Why?”

“Just trust me S,” she says, reaching over her hand to squeeze his forearm.

Sirius watches her walk off, hand in hand with James, and he feels a strange twisting to his heart when he imagines a very similar image— only with him and Remus and punctuated by plenty of kisses to the cheek, and jawline and lips too.

.-

The music room is towards the back of the school, in a separate building along with the theatre and main auditorium.

The early autumnal chill lashes against Sirius’s face while he makes the track to the room, continuously chanting to himself that he actually trusts Lily and this is gonna be worth it if there’s a merciful God up there.

Once Sirius clammers in doors, he rubs his cold hands together, and shakes out his hair. 

The first thing he hears is the soft strumming of a guitar, and finds himself in front of the music room after following its melodic toon. 

Through the window he can spot the form of Remus bent over the instrument, his thick curls getting in his eyes and his steady hands plucking a few chords as he sits cross legged atop the piano.

Sirius feels his heart lodging in his throat at the sight of him, so beautiful and perfect and warm looking in that scarlet sweater. And he knows in his bones that this is some sort of unspoken blessing that Lily’s given him, so with a deep breath, Sirius opens the door and strolls in.

Remus starts slightly, going flushed once his eyes catch on Sirius’s own.

“Oh Sirius,” he greets, the corners of his mouth tipping into a smile that doesn’t ring true. “You pulled away from the haram?”

“That’s a bit much? Calling them a haram,” Sirius says cooly, hitching up besides him and swinging his long legs. “I just did it to help you.”

“Oh— Yeah,” Remus nods. “The GSA appreciates all the help we can get.”  His words are quiet, and he’s rinsing a hand through his curls, so Sirius can tell that he’s a bit nervous. And it’s impossibly cute, but also not on. He doubts that he’ll ever get his kiss if Remus won’t even look at him in the eyes.

Gingerly, Sirius sets the pad of his pointer finger beneath Remus’s chin, lifting his gaze upwards. “Not the GSA— Though I appreciate the club’s work and your part in that.”

“Oh,” Remus says again, lips pursed and his throat pulsing when he swallows down. “Then—“

“I did it for you Remus,” Sirius repeats heatedly. “I did it because I’ve been mad for you since ever meeting you in August, and I can’t get your fucking face or name or lips or ass out of my head. And I thought that if maybe I pulled a dumb stunt like that, you would actually kiss me along with the lot of those idiots who can’t even hold a candle to you.”

“M—My ass?” Remus questions, voice going pitchy and face bright with emotion. 

Sirius laughs, booming and bombastic. “You have the best ass I’ve ever seen Remus Lupin and it’s really obscene.”

Remus shoulder checks him, looking down and then back up through his lashes at Sirius and it’s a sight Sirius wish he can keep with him for the rest of his days.

“So you thought I’d want our first kiss to happen after you’ve just made out with half the school?” 

Sirius grimaces, bending down so that their lips are only inches apart. “Listen, I can be a complete dumb ass on occasion.”

“Don’t forget arrogant.”

“Okay, fair.”

“And brash too.”

“Right.”

“Also you tend—“

Sirius places a soft hand over Remus’s supple lips, glaring teasingly at the other boy, who’s grinning like the cat who’s caught the canary, his eyes teeming with laughter. 

Remus Lupin is going to be the death of  him, Sirius knows it.

“Listen Lupin, I’d like a shred of self respect here, so I can actually muster up the courage to ask you out on a proper date already.”

Remus perks at that, so Sirius moves his grasp.

 “You wanna ask me out?”

“Depends…. You wanna continue that little rant until I’m blue balled and  gutless.”

“Hmm,” Remus inches closer, setting his hand over Sirius’s on the piano. “Nah, I think I’d rather do this.”

He leans forwards and Sirius barely has enough time to gather his bearings when he feels Remus’s mouth over his own and it’s literally every starlit promise and sugar burnt secret and sunlit afternoon all rolled into one. And Sirius feels his heart thud an uneven staccato when he grabs for either end of Remus’s waistline and plunges his tongue into his own and he lets himself get lost in the overwhelming feeling of it all.

[morganaspendragonss]

´till death do us part

@911lonestarangstweek day 4 - m is for...mcd, mourning

if you saw my posts about the 'crying fic'... this is it

thanks to liz and @halsteadmarchs for the beta!

ao3 | 5.5k | major character death, hurt/comfort, mourning, non-linear narrative, car accidents, hopeful ending

This is a mistake.

It’s been a long time since Carlos last did this, but not long enough at the same time. His friends would disagree with him—they tell him he needs to get back in the game, and it’s well-meaning, but they don’t get it. They don’t know how hard these past few years have been for him.

They don’t know what it’s like to lose the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with; they don’t know what it’s like to go from being engaged one day to alone the next. In fact, there’s only one person Carlos knows who even has a hope of understanding, and he really doesn’t appreciate the irony that it’s the one person he’s guaranteed to never see again.

It’s not that he meant to turn himself into a recluse after it happened; he knows that’s not what he would want for him.

Thing is, Carlos isn't sure that he gets to have an opinion anymore, since he was the one who left. Carlos doesn’t blame him for what happened—that would be stupid—but sometimes, sometimes, he just gets so damn angry at him.

(he always feels guilty for it after, which is equally as stupid as the anger. there’s no one left for him to direct it at, after all)

Carlos sighs, shaking his head as he steps into the bar. He doesn’t want to be here—he wouldn’t be here, but Michelle had threatened to make a special trip back to Austin specifically to kick his ass if he didn’t at least give this a try.

This, being the blind date his friends had insisted he go on. Technically, he could leave and still not be lying when he tells Michelle he went—he is in the bar, after all—but Carlos has never liked the idea of standing someone up, no matter the circumstances.

So here he is. Alone at a bar, nursing a lukewarm beer, and wishing he were anywhere else.

Someone slides into the seat next to him, and Carlos barely gets a second to prepare himself before he’s met with a winning smile and sparkling green eyes.

God, why did they have to be green?

“Hey,” the guy says, still smiling. “Carlos, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Domenic.”

*

Carlos is still trying to catch his breath, his head thumping back against the wall of the bathroom stall they’ve ended up in, when lips brush his ear, hot breath sending electricity down his spine.

“I’m TK, by the way.” The whisper is rough, a smirk laced into it, like TK knows exactly what he’s done to him.

And Carlos is so far from fully-functioning that the only response he can come up with is a breathy, “I know.”

TK pulls back, his brows furrowing though there’s a wry quirk to his lips. “Didn’t take you for a Star Wars fan, but okay.”

Now it’s Carlos’s turn to frown as his addled brain struggles to put together TK’s thought process there. “What?”

“Never mind.”

Well. This took a turn. Carlos has no idea what’s going on, but there is something in the back of his mind that tells him he must have sounded like a creep, telling this guy he’s pretty much only just met that he already knows his name. He gestures lamely towards TK in explanation. “Your turn-out coat at the scene the other night. I thought it probably stood for something but then one of your team—Marwani, I think?—called you. So.”

Carlos shrugs, embarrassment quickly catching up with him, which seems absurd given what they just did. Then again, it’s been a long time since he’s done anything like this; he’s more of a wine-and-dine kind of guy than the type to make out with a near stranger in a less-than-sanitary bathroom.

But there’s something about TK Strand that has Carlos wanting to know everything about him.

And if everything starts here, well. He’s more than happy to take it.

Thankfully, TK seems to pick up on the sudden awkwardness in the stall. He takes a couple of steps back until he’s leaning against the opposite wall, which doesn’t really put that much space between them, but Carlos appreciates it all the same.

“So, do I get a name, or…?”

The question has Carlos flushing all over again, turning a bright red when he sees TK’s smile. He clears his throat and smiles, trying not to wince. “Carlos.”

“Carlos,” TK repeats, dragging the syllables out like he’s testing the sound of them on his tongue. Carlos shivers a little, his breath catching in his throat at the small smile that spreads across TK’s face.

Then a phone is being thrust in his hand, unlocked and opened on the Add contact page. “Put your number in,” TK says. “In case you ever, you know. Feel like doing this again.”

A thrill runs down Carlos’s spine at the thought that TK wants to do this again. Maybe he’s not the only one who feels this connection. Maybe…

Well. It’s too soon for that. But as he types in his number, Carlos can’t help but wonder where, exactly, this road might lead.

*

His house is quiet when he gets home. It’s a familiar kind of quiet, one that’s lain over the place like a blanket ever since that day three years ago. Carlos has gotten used to it over time, and he thinks that maybe it’s eased a little—but only a little.

Things haven’t changed much over the years. TK’s stuff still decorates the house, not as much as it used to, but Carlos hadn’t been able to bring himself to remove the stuffed bear that sits on the chair by their bed, or the plastic duck TK had insisted they have in the bathroom for ‘the vibes’, or the hand-sewn heart a little girl whose parents TK had saved had gifted him, which hangs proudly in their front window.

And the pictures; Carlos refuses to take the pictures down. The one sitting on his nightstand had been turned over for a long time after the accident, but now he can’t imagine going to bed each night without seeing it. It’s from their engagement party, a candid captured by Evie, a professional photographer in the making according to Tommy.

Carlos is inclined to agree—the photo, showing him and TK looking at each other, wide smiles on both their faces, is his favourite thing in the world.

His phone rings, making him jump. Carlos sighs heavily when he sees Michelle’s name flash up on FaceTime and he briefly considers declining, but there’s no way she’d be deterred so easily.

He takes a second to get himself together, then answers, plastering a smile on his face. “Hey chica.”

Michelle doesn’t waste a second in getting to the point. “So,” she says, leaning forward and grinning, “how’d it go?”

“It went.”

Her smile falters and she frowns, scrutinising him. “Did you even go?”

“Yes.” Carlos purses his lips, not wanting to get into it anymore, but Michelle is insistent and he’s too tired to make excuses right now. “His name is Domenic, he’s nice, I’m not seeing him again.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Carlos.” Michelle sighs, her voice going quiet. “It’s been three years.”

“That’s not a long time.”

“I know.”

“I still dream about him, ‘Chelle,” Carlos cuts in, sudden tears overwhelming him. “I still—I still think about what I could have done differently to save him, I still imagine the future we could have had. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop. I don’t know if I can stop.”

“When Iris disappeared—”

“It’s not the same,” he snaps, harsher than he means to. “You always had that hope, right? Everyone was telling you Iris was dead, but you always believed that she would come back. And she did, and I am so happy about that, I am, but guess what, Michelle? TK is dead. He’s dead. I’m never gonna see him again—in fact, the last time I did see him, it was when his body was lying in a morgue, and he was so cold and so still and so—so not TK that I could barely believe it was him.

“But it was, because he’s dead. It’s not the same.”

He’s properly crying by the time he finishes his speech, and Michelle has tears in her eyes too. Carlos feels a little guilty now, but he can’t bring himself to be fully sorry for what he said. Still, Michelle looks crushed, and Carlos can’t lose his best friend.

One more loss would kill him, he thinks.

“Michelle, listen—”

“It’s fine, Carlos,” she interrupts, swiping a hand under her eyes. “You… You’re right. It’s not the same. I’ll just. I’ll leave you alone now. I’m sorry the date didn’t work out.”

Then she’s gone, and Carlos is alone again, the weight of it settling uncomfortably on his shoulders.

*

Their first real date is painfully awkward, reminiscent of covert high school meet-ups with boys in the nearby diners, or like that one time Carlos tried using a dating app. That had been an experience he’d wanted to forget, but now he finds himself recalling it in horrific detail as he and TK sit on opposite sides of a table, a plate of limp fries slowly cooling between them.

“So—”

“I was thinking—”

They both speak at the same time, and an embarrassed flush rises on Carlos’s cheeks. He swallows past the lump in his throat and gestures to TK, barely able to look him in the eyes. “You should go first.”

TK laughs and shakes his head. “I was about to tell you the same thing. Since when have things been this awkward between us? We fucked on the floor of your front room about a week after meeting, surely we should be well past this stage by now.”

He has a point.

Carlos laughs too and finally works up the courage to meet TK’s gaze. “I mean, it’s not like we were doing much talking back then.”

“Things are a lot simpler without clothes,” TK agrees, a suggestive lilt to his tone and, somehow, it’s all that’s needed to break the tense silence they’d previously been suffering in. Carlos grabs a fry, grimacing at the grease that instantly coats his fingers, and points it at TK.

“Cool it, Strand,” he warns. “You aren’t going to find it that easy to seduce me anymore.”

TK grins, his eyes sparkling. “Oh, we’ll see about that, Officer.”

*

Carlos is surprised when he wakes up the next morning to a text from Domenic.

Hey, it reads. Sorry about last night. I know that you’re not into me or whatever and that’s cool, but I like you. Do you think we could maybe still be friends?

He sighs and drops his phone onto his bare chest, arm flopping onto the other side of the bed. It’s funny, he thinks idly; before TK, he’d tended to sleep closer to the middle and it had never bothered him. Now, it feels weird to break from the way things used to be—in Carlos’s head, the left side is still TK’s, and the right his.

He knows what Domenic’s text implies. ‘Let’s be friends and then we can see how it goes’. Carlos could tell him now that it’s not going anywhere and save them both the trouble, but he kind of...wants a friend.

It sounds pathetic, even to his own ears, but all his friends are either fellow cops, the 126, or Michelle, who’s in another state. And Domenic was nice. So, really, what’s the harm?

Twenty minutes later, they have plans to meet at a coffee shop.

Ten minutes after that, Carlos arrives.

*

Carlos startles as TK’s arms suddenly slip around his waist, his chin pressing into Carlos’s shoulder. He quickly relaxes into the hold, covering TK’s hands with his own, but TK isn’t fooled.

“Where did you go?” he murmurs, breath tickling Carlos’s neck.

“Nowhere,” Carlos answers. “I was just...thinking.”

“About what?”

“Well…” He hesitates, biting his lip, then spins to face TK, letting their still-joined hands swing in the minute space between them. “This is crazy, right? Not, like, bad crazy—well, a little bit bad crazy; our last place did burn down—but all of this. Getting a house together. Three bedrooms. All of it. It’s crazy.”

TK grins, the little frown that had emerged at Carlos’s first words quickly melting away. “Completely,” he agrees. He kisses Carlos briefly, then steps away, breaking their hands apart to tread a slow circuit around their new front room. Carlos watches him fondly, somehow falling even more in love with him.

“You know,” TK says suddenly, his eyes roving around the empty space, “I’ve never actually done this before.”

“What do you mean?”

He waves his hands, gesturing at the flaking paint on the walls and the lack of furniture. “Decorated a house. I had an apartment in New York but that came fully-furnished and I didn’t exactly have a ton of stuff to add. And then when I moved here with my dad, I didn’t care too much about how the house looked, and you know how my dad is about interior design. It’s a little...scary, thinking about doing it now, with you.”

Carlos’s eyes widen, his heart clenching at the words. “Do you… Do you not want to do this?” he asks, half-dreading the answer. He’d thought they were both on the same page here, but what if… What if…

“What?” TK frowns, crossing the room in three quick strides to meet Carlos. “Babe, no, of course I want to. It’s a good kind of scary, I promise.”

“You sure?” Carlos scans his boyfriend’s face, searching for any hint of doubt or anxiety. But there is none, and TK just smiles, kissing Carlos’s cheek.

“A thousand percent,” he says. “It’ll be fun.”

(‘Fun’ isn’t the word Carlos would give to what came next. ‘Frustrating’, possibly. Or ‘exhausting’. Maybe even ‘interminable’.)

(But, at the end of it all, they have a home. Their home. And Carlos can see their future taking shape before his very eyes.)

*

Domenic grins when he sees Carlos approaching him, and a part of Carlos regrets even agreeing to come. But he can hardly turn around now, so he forces a smile and slides into the chair next to him, extending a hand to shake. Domenic sends him a strange look at that, but obliges anyway, shaking Carlos’s hand with a surprising firmness.

“Hey,” he says, still smiling.

“Hey.” Carlos sighs, taking in Domenic’s bright eyes and warm, hopeful face, and decides, fuck it. “Look, before you say anything, I just want you to know that I’m not looking for anything right now. My friends set me up on that date with you—and it’s not that I don’t think you’re a good guy, I honestly do, but—”

“Carlos.” Domenic appears to be fighting off laughter, though he’s not entirely successful in it, a brief chuckle slipping past his lips. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I know it sounds hard to believe, but I really am okay with being friends. Not that I wouldn’t mind seeing where it goes, but…”

He trails off, seeing what must be obvious doubt on Carlos’s face. “Look, I’m kind of new in town, alright? I don’t really know many people around here, and I’m just...fuck, man. I’m lonely. So if you wanna be friends, then that’s incredible and more than enough for me. I swear.”

And Domenic is looking at him so earnestly that Carlos really has no choice but to believe him. He feels himself flushing a bright red, embarrassed at how self-centred and narcissistic he must have seemed, and a stammered apology is halfway out of his mouth when Domenic reaches over and lays a firm hand on his arm.

“It’s no big deal,” he says, patting once before drawing back. “I do want to ask, though, if you don’t mind? Why did you come on the date if you didn’t want to? Not many guys would.”

Carlos huffs a laugh. “My friends think I’m turning into a hermit. It’s an assessment that I...wouldn’t disagree with. Let’s just say you’re not the only one looking for a friend.”

Domenic’s eyebrows quirk up in interest. “Oh? Anything to do with your unwillingness to date? I mean, a guy like you—it’s hard to imagine that you don’t have men practically throwing themselves at you. Maybe even literally. How come you’re still single? Is there...someone else?”

Carlos’s whole body tenses at the question, his gaze dropping to his hands and his heart in his shoes. Tension lies thick in the air, and he feels the sudden urge to flee, but he’s rooted to his chair, stuck under Domenic’s scrutiny.

“Shit,” Domenic says, voice hushed. “Carlos, I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… Fuck, forget I said anythin—”

“I was engaged.”

Carlos hadn’t meant to say it. He doesn’t know why he did. It’s just… He hasn’t really talked about TK properly with anyone in the three years since; his friends were all TK’s friends too, and they all knew him—knew them.

This is the first time he’s actually spending time with someone who didn’t know, and it’s not freeing exactly, but it’s the first time he feels free to speak about TK the way he wants to, without anyone else’s memories looming over it.

“I’m not anymore, obviously,” he laughs wryly, finally managing to look back up at Domenic, finding shock on his face. “It was… It ended.”

Domenic’s mouth opens and closes several times before he’s able to pull himself together enough to speak. “Who called it off?” he asks—which was not what Carlos was expecting. “Because if it was him, man. He really missed out there.”

Carlos hesitates a moment, then answers, “It was him. But it wasn’t on purpose.” He breathes out shakily, swallowing hard. “He died a month before the wedding.”

*

Carlos smirks as he hears a groan at his back, glancing over his shoulder to find TK pretending to bang his head on the table. “Having fun, babe?”

Another groan. “Let’s just elope. Let’s get married in some random courthouse by some random Texas official. That way we wouldn’t have to figure out stuff like a seating plan or—or what kind of cake knife to use. I mean, babe.” TK sends a pleading look in Carlos’s direction, and Carlos can’t help but laugh, cruel though it feels when TK’s wounded expression just gets worse.

“I’m pretty sure my mother and your dad would kill us if we did that,” he points out, causing TK’s mouth to twist.

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“No, you don’t.” Grinning, Carlos turns back to his chopping, except, when he reaches out for the next ingredient, he only meets empty space. “Mierda. TK, babe, can you run to the store? I forgot the chilis.”

“Can’t you just leave them out?”

There’s a hopeful note to TK’s tone, but Carlos stands firm—his cooking is the one thing he’s able to resist TK for. “You’d think you’d be used to spices by now,” he comments. “And the answer is no; go on. You’ll barely even taste them.”

TK mutters his disagreement, but he gets up and leaves anyway. Carlos watches him go, shaking his head fondly before returning to dinner. Technically, he could leave the chilis out, but he’s been brought up to consider even the mere suggestion as sacrilege, and he’s not planning on letting TK persuade him otherwise any time soon.

Twenty minutes later, he’ll regret that decision more than anything else in the world.

*

“Carlos, I’m so sorry. You don’t have to—”

“I want to. As long as you’re okay with it; I don’t want to just unload all over you.”

“It’s okay, I promise. What are friends for?”

*

Carlos frowns, checking the clock. TK should have been back by now; the store is only a five minute drive from their place, and surely he would have texted if he was going to be delayed. He’s about to call him himself when his phone starts ringing, TK’s name flashing up on the screen.

He sighs in relief, answering the call. “Did you get lost or something?”

Silence.

“TK?”

Nothing again, and Carlos’s panic starts to skyrocket. “TK!”

And, this time, he gets an answer.

“C-Carlos.”

Carlos’s heart drops into his stomach at the rasp of TK’s voice. He sounds like he can barely breathe—in fact, if Carlos strains to listen, he can hear stilted, ragged breaths coming through the phone’s speakers. TK is hurt, probably seriously, and, fuck, it was Carlos who sent him out in the first place, this is his fault, he—

“Carlos, please.”

He breaks out of his spiral and clutches his phone tight to his ear, racing around the house to get his shoes on and grab his keys. “TK, where are you? I’ll find you, I promise I will, and you’re gonna be just fine, okay?”

TK doesn’t speak for a few seconds, before, “No.”

Carlos screeches to a halt. “What?”

“I don’t—I can’t tell you where I am. I don’t know. And there’s—there’s no time. No— Someone found me, they called 9-1-1, but they won’t—there’s no time.”

“TK, don’t you dare give up, okay, don’t you dare talk like that. You just need to focus on my voice and stay awake for a little while longer and then they’ll get you to a hospital where they’ll fix you up. You’ll be good as new right in time for the wedding.”

“The wedding. Carlos, I—”

“And if this is your way of getting out of making all the decisions, then it’s a little bit over the top, you know? I mean, point proven and all that, but you could have just told me.” He’s getting hysterical now, he can feel it, standing in the middle of his front room trying to keep his fiancé alive and talking when he’s god-knows-where in god-knows-what condition.

But, as always, TK is there to centre him again. “Carlos, stop, please.”

Carlos doesn’t know if it’s the way TK’s voice is getting quieter and quieter, his energy obviously flagging, or if it’s his pleading tone, but he’s suddenly struck completely still. He can’t move a muscle, every sense tuned into whatever is happening on the other end of the phone.

“I don’t—I don’t want to spend the time we have left lying to each other,” TK eventually says, his words riding on broken breaths now. “I don’t want to leave you, but I think… No, I know that I have to now. I’m s-so sorry. I wish… I wish we…” A gasp, and a horrific cough that sounds like it’s tearing TK apart. “I love you.”

Carlos doesn’t get a chance to reply before there’s a loud thud, and it doesn’t take him long to figure out what caused it.

TK dropped the phone.

TK passed out.

It’s salt in the wound when, seconds later, Carlos hears the wail of sirens approaching the scene.

*

There are tears dripping down his face as he tells Domenic of the sheer, gut-wrenching panic and fear of those next few minutes.

How he’d been unable to put the phone down, instead listening as the screech of machinery and the raised voices of firefighters and paramedics drifted through the speakers.

How the noises had dimmed when they extracted TK, and how Carlos had strained to listen as the paramedics began to work on him.

And how, when he’d heard those final words, his world had come crashing down.

“I’m calling it. McRae, radio it in to the ME’s office.”

*

This isn’t happening.

Carlos cannot be sitting in his parents’ backyard, at his fiancé’s wake, in the same place and wearing the same suit that he was supposed to be getting married in a month from now.

He—

Fuck.

Carlos presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and curls in on himself, barely suppressing a moan of agony at the pain in his chest. He’s distantly aware of everyone’s gazes on him, but he can’t stop this tidal wave of emotion anymore than he can turn back time and change the fact that TK is dead and that Carlos failed him.

TK died all alone, and Carlos didn’t get the chance to say goodbye or tell him that he loved him. He couldn’t even bring himself to speak at the funeral—the one thing, the last thing he could do for the love of his life.

Instead, when it was his turn to speak, he’d been frozen in his chair, eyes locked on the coffin—(and, fuck, TK was in there, that was TK, fuckfuckfuck)—and Judd had had to take over.

Carlos hadn’t heard a word he'd said, though he’s sure it was beautiful, and everything that TK deserved.

Everything that Carlos couldn’t give him.

He failed him, he failed, he—

“No,” a hushed voice says, warm arms pulling him into a tight hug, and Carlos must have been talking aloud without realising because the voice keeps reassuring him. “You didn’t fail, sweetheart, you didn’t, I promise. You were there for him at the end and that’s all that matters; that he wasn’t alone when it happened. I know it hurts but it’s okay, it’s all going to be okay.”

Carlos tenses, wanting to scream at whoever’s holding him because how could anything possibly be okay? But when he pulls out of their grip, he sees that it’s Gwyn, her eyes red and cheeks tear-stained, and all Carlos can do is fall apart in his not-quite-mother-in-law’s arms.

She keeps whispering that it’s okay, and Carlos knows that it’s as much for her own benefit as for his.

*

“Hey sweetheart,” Carlos whispers, getting out of his car and leaning against the closed door. He always comes here when he wants to remember TK; it is where they said goodbye to him after all. And it’s the place where they had so many important moments—it’s where they became official, and where they finally spoke openly and completely with each other for the first time, and where they got engaged.

It’s their place, ridiculous as it might sound.

“Remember that night?” he asks, even now feeling a little self-conscious talking to the air. “I made you a picnic and we came out here to eat it and you somehow managed to get chocolate on your nose from the chocolate-covered strawberries.” Carlos chuckles, then sighs wistfully. “You were so beautiful. I had this whole plan to propose to you, but one look at your face and that damn bit of chocolate and I forgot the entire thing.

“I just blurted it out, right there and then. ‘Marry me, Tyler Kennedy’, and you said yes, and it was perfect.”

He blinks furiously, tears beginning to blur his vision. “I thought… But it was too perfect, I guess. Perfect things never last, and since I was never going to leave you, the universe forced you to leave me.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. It’s nothing you don’t already know, and I’m not sure if I even believe that you can hear me. I never used to, back when we were together, but things change when suddenly the one who’s gone is someone you love. I’d give anything, Ty, anything to talk to you again, so I’m here.

“You know… Just in case.”

His hands tremble and he swallows reflexively against the pain and grief crawling up his throat. He reaches inside the car through the window and grabs the bouquet of flowers he brought with him off the passenger seat.

It’s the same one he always brings whenever he comes out here—red camellias, hydrangeas, blue salvias, and forget-me-nots—all flowers that have meaning to them and their relationship. Hydrangeas for understanding; it had been the first flower TK had given him, his way of saying thanks for sticking around even after their disastrous beginnings.

The camellia, Carlos had gifted TK one anniversary. It means ‘you’re a flame in my heart’, which TK always was, always, and Carlos had found it a little funny too, given TK’s background. TK had loved it, and had made sure to tell Carlos in as many ways as he could think of that he felt the same.

The salvias were something they both did, often and at random, sometimes with no particular reason. Just whenever they wanted each other to know they were thinking of them—though, that was something they knew anyway.

Carlos had added the forget-me-nots himself after… After it had happened. It’s a reassurance, both to him and to TK, that he’s not forgetting; that he never will.

That he can’t, even now, three years down the line.

On shaky legs, he walks over to the tree a little distance away, laying the bouquet between the roots almost reverently. Carlos stares down at them long after he’s straightened back up, leaning against the tree, and he allows the memories and the pain to overwhelm him for a moment.

“Can you believe it’s been three years?” he asks the empty air, shaking his head. “I swear, I still miss you like it was yesterday; it doesn’t seem real that I haven’t seen you or kissed you or heard your voice in three whole years.

“I’m going to see your dad later. He’s… He’s doing okay, all things considered. He misses you—we all do—but I think he tries to hide it, like he has to be the strong one for everyone else. Don’t worry though, Ty, we’re looking after him. Making sure he doesn’t, you know. Do anything stupid.

“Your mom helps out a lot too, her and Enzo and Isaac. God, TK you’d be so proud of Isaac now—he’s started school, making loads of friends, and he’s just… He’s such a good kid. I wish you could see him; he was so young when you— You’d be amazed at how big he’s getting. And, hey, we’re making sure that he knows who his big brother was, so...so don’t worry about that either.”

Carlos hesitates before continuing; it feels weird to talk about Domenic here. He doesn’t need to, he knows—technically, there’s nothing even going on between them, though Carlos couldn’t deny how good it had felt when Domenic had hugged him when they parted ways after coffee. But there’s been a weird lump of guilt sitting in his stomach since that first date at the bar, and Carlos figures that TK deserves to know about it.

Even if he’s three years dead and probably can’t hear any of this.

“I met someone, you know,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. “It’s not like that, we’re just friends, but I think… I think maybe it could be like that? Maybe? I don’t know, Ty. I thought I’d never be able to love anyone in that way ever again, but Domenic is so kind and sweet and he makes me wonder if there’s a chance.

“I’m terrified. It’s—It’s stupid and selfish, but I’m so scared of getting hurt again, of having to go through what I went through with you again. Not that I blame you for the accident, it’s just… I can’t do it again. I can’t.

“God, even considering this feels like I’m betraying you. I do hate you a little for that; you still own so much of my heart and I’m never getting it back, whereas all I have of you are your hoodies and your mugs and that goddamn stuffed bear. Why did you have to go and ruin me like that, huh? Why, TK?”

He’s almost shouting now, but the question fades unanswered into the air, and Carlos’s anger vanishes with it. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I don’t hate you. I love you so much, and I always will, but I think maybe it’s time for me to let some of that go. I can’t carry on like this for much longer; you understand that, right?”

And maybe he’s imagining it, or maybe it’s just a coincidence, but the breeze picks up a little then, gently ruffling Carlos’s curls, and it feels like… It feels like peace.

He closes his eyes, and for a moment, it’s like he can feel TK there, like he never left at all.

I know, it feels like, his voice ringing loud and clear in Carlos’s head. I love you.

“I love you, too,” Carlos whispers, opening his eyes. TK isn’t there, of course, but, somehow, he doesn’t feel so empty anymore.

Then, with one final glance at the flowers, Carlos turns and walks away, his heart feeling lighter than it has in three years.

[jamiedc-they-them]

Being May’s Daughter and an Older Sister to Daisy would include:

SPOILERS FOR WHOLE SHOW!

Being Melinda May’s daughter means you are an expert at control.

She always urged you pursue whatever passion you wanted.

But she always saw that part of you would be a fighter.

Andrew wasn’t exactly thrilled.

But he was supportive father and cared for you both. 

In fact, an argument between the two was part of what made them split.

Neither ever told you that.

May, however, suspected that you always knew.

When you met Skye, you saw an innocent girl dragged into this world that looked fun, but one that held a lot of pain inside of it.

So, you trained her when May had to fly.

Despite that it had autopilot, May seemed to know the role you were choosing to play in her life. So, she let you be.

Skye was always wanting to let people in, but always waited for the other shoe to drop.

You seemed to recognise it and didn’t force her into talking about anything.

You just acted like an older sibling and friend in subtle ways.

Checking in on her when it was late and talking to her if she was up.

One time, when she had a nightmare, she woke to you waking her up.

She returned that favour to you when you had a nightmare.

It was about losing your mother.

Now, Phil Coulson always had fatherly instincts.

He knew you and May, obviously.

He played the role of a father to you.

But, assured you that he wasn’t replacing Andrew.

“He’s your birth father, Y/N. I’m never going to beat that. Just know I’m here if you need.”

Anyway, back to Skye.

That night when she woke you, you talked for hours.

May found you the next day asleep in the bed, with you having a protective arm around her.

May let you rest in.

Skye trusted you with a lot of things about her past after that.

She even trusted you about the usb stick with information about her parents.

When they found out about her ties with the Rising Tides not being cut, the team were disappointed.

You, however, took her side.

Your mother wasn’t exactly pleased, but only showed that through a look.

You, like the others did forgive her. But, in your eyes, she didn’t really have much to apologise for.

You took her aside before her talk with Coulson, “I know you’re probably nervous, but he won’t throw you out. I won’t let him…. I just wished you would’ve told us.”

She apologised, but you just shook it off.

She then came out of the office and sat with you, telling you about her actual goal of joining the team.

You just listened to her the whole time and didn’t judge her.

In the end, you hugged her assured her you would be there for her and help her in her search.

While you didn’t know much about hacking, you tried to help her where you could

When your mother kicks her off the plane and she go looking for Coulson, you sneak off to help her

“Y/N?! What the hell are you doing here?!” She asked

“Helping, obviously.” You respond as if it’s nothing

“But what about May --?”

“I’ll handle her when we get back with Coulson.”

She doesn’t say it, but she appreciates your company

She doesn’t have to though, as you can just simply tell

So, you follow through with her plans, including the one to drive into the water to get the car sent

“Sorry.” She says

“We’re alive.”

When you both play dress up, you play the role of your mother and Skye plays the role of Coulson

You’re a lot more convincing

You find Coulson and call the rest of the team

You’re the one who speaks

When your mother picks up the phone, Skye looks at you with a worried expression

But you don’t seem too bothered

“Y/N.” She greets

“Mom.” You return, politely

“Where are you?”

You look at Skye with a, “See? Easy.” Look as she drives you to where Coulson is.

After that, you become a partner to her in the field.

When she gets shot, you are one who beats Quinn up instead of your mother. She watches the door for you.

You stay with Skye whenever you can as she heals. You are just elated to have her be alive.

While you play older sister to Skye, you also do to Fitzsimmons.

If any of the three ever need anything, they come to you.

Normally starts of with “Y/N, can I ask you something?” If it’s either of Fitzsimmons with their manners.

You, of course, say yes.

When Ward betrays the team, it shocks and hurts you.

You are with Fitzsimmons on the plane and fight Ward to try and protect them.

You end up being caught, but a SHIELD team get you out.

When the team reunite with Jemma, you pull up in a car and enter the place.

May, in a rare moment of vulnerability, runs to you and hugs you tight.

She doesn’t say anything, just hugs you.

Skye is next in her hug, “I’m so glad you’re ok.” She says voice cracking.

You just hold her and rub your hand on her back in comfort.

Jemma thanks you for protecting them.

During the time, May starts training you again and you spar with Skye.

May see’s the sisterly bond between you two now: the loyalty, the laughs, the late-night talks.

Neither you nor May say it, but you can tell that Skye is a part of the family now.

You are the third partner in their little SHIELD team.

You try and be the one who goes in while Skye hangs back out of protectiveness. But she’s stubborn.

“No, I’m not letting you go in there alone, Y/N.” Seems that protective spirit has gone to her as well.

You ruffle her hair whenever you go past.

She’d act annoyed, but kind of find if nice in a way. With you openly being affectionate and showing her that you care.

If you’re ever hurt on a mission, she’s by your side either on site, or when you return.

“Hey, Y/NN, you need to stay with me, ok? You’re not dying, not now. May’ll kill me.”

When she gets taken by Ward, it’s you she has to convince last.

“I’m not letting you go with him, Skye.”

“You have to. You guys taught me how to look after myself. I’ll be ok.”

You sigh but let her go.

Then she gets her powers.

She’s scared shitless, but you stay with her as much as you can like you did when injured.

When the team argue about her showing them, you argue her case.

“She was scared.”

“She kept it from us!” Mack would say passionately.

“To avoid this reaction!”

“It’s ok, Y/N.” She tells you when she arrives at the door. She gives you a sad smile, but in her eyes, you can tell she appreciates it.

You visit her in her cell, so she doesn’t feel alone. But she can tell that you aren’t quite sure how to handle it.

“It’s ok, you know. I’m not hurt by it.”

“By what?”

“My powers. It’s ok to say that you don’t know how to handle it.”

There’s the last tenet of your sisterhood: honesty

When she leaves, you stay in contact as much as you can. She asks you how it’s going back at base, and you ask her how she is.

Then SHIELD go after her, and real SHIELD enter the scene.

Now you’re all having to careful and tread lightly with this new SHIELD.

When Bobbi comes back, she tries to explain it.

“Y/N, just let me –”

“If you so much as lay a finger on any of my friends or look at them the wrong way, I swear, we are going to have issues, Morse.”

However, your mother see’s it and reigns you in.

“I understand that you’re angry.”

“So, you want me to, what? Bottle it up?”

“No, use it for something more. They’re after Coulson, and he’s after Ward. We need to keep her heads on straight.”

“…Ok, you’re right. I’m sorry.” May just nods, forgiving you.

When Fitz leaves, you help devise the scam for him to get away with the real toolbox.

“Are you sure about this, Y/N? What if it backfires on you?” Jemma asks you, worried about your wellbeing with this situation.

You just smile at her caring nature, “If it does, then it hits me, and not you guys. Now go on.”

When Skye comes back, your smile is as wide as it can be.

You hug her so tight, “Welcome back, Skye.” You tell her in a soft voice.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

When you see her power, you are in awe, “Look at you!” She smiles and sends a wink.

She even pushes a bullet away that was coming for you.

Having to work again with Ward is difficult, but it’s a necessary evil. Just like your mother on the SHIELD board to argue Coulson’s case.

“Are you sure you have to go back?” You ask Skye when it’s her turn to do just that

“I wish I could bring you. I do, really. But they have a thing about outsiders”

“It’s ok. Go on, kiddo. Go be with your family.”

You know that she has her parents now, but it still hurts a bit that you might lose her.

“Hey, I’m not moving on, alright? I’ll still come back, and we can even team up! I’m not leaving you, Y/N.” She assures you.

Then it all goes to shit.

Everything happens quickly, but two team ups happen: Yourself and Skye/Daisy; you and your mother.

Now it’s you, Mack, and Daisy (Skye’s birth name) as partners

Daisy and you are almost completely in sync. She doesn’t even need to yell, “Duck!” anymore before using her powers.

You know each other so well.

Mack plays big brother and adores it when you both have that synchronisation. Makes him proud to be your partner.

Not that you don’t forget about him, you always include him in your fights and activities such as games.

You pass the controller to each other when someone dies in the game.

Late night game sessions and drinking buddies don’t go well.

Then Ward comes back and kidnapped you.

Oh, you bet your ass that Daisy is working day and night to find you.

You’re her best friend. And she nearly lost Simmons (her other best friend), so she’ll be damned if she’s going to lose you too.

May tries to pull her away but fails.

“Daisy, you need to take a break.”

“Not until we find, Y/N.”

“I’m worried about her too. But she can handle herself.”

“Not with Ward, though! I should’ve killed him!”

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. And that’s what May does.

When they find you, they burst through the doors, more pissed than they ever have been.

Ward isn’t there, but you are, and that’s what matters.

Now they’re super protective over you now. Not only them, but the whole team.

Ward does a number on you mentally.

Jemma is extra careful with your wounds and keeps assuring you that you are doing well.

Fitz makes you some sleeping pills to try and help and makes you coffee every morning.

Mack gives you more and more hugs every day.

May checks in on you more.

Daisy…. well.

Daisy stays with you as much as she can. Whether that be in the same room as you, talking to you or being silent, going on missions with you.

She has your back all the way.

Whenever you flinch, she’s quick to withdrawal and apologise.

Sure, she’s worried and misses the spark that you had. But it’ll either take time to come back or it’ll be different.

Whichever it is, she’ll adapt. You’re her sister and best friend.

Then a version of Ward comes back and takes Daisy away from you guys.

Now May is very concerned about you. She can tell this is all building up to something with you.

Despite being her daughter and Daisy joking that you are pretty much May but bubblier. You are human after all.

Whenever they get closer to Daisy, May keeps you away.

You want to help Daisy, but you also know that you wouldn’t be able to handle it.

You start doubting yourself. Starting spinning ideas of, “What if?”

The whole team notices a shift in you. You miss more, take more hits in fights, you’re acting reckless more and now that your father is gone too, you’re spiralling.

And May is genuinely afraid that she can’t stop it.

One day, she goes to find you, only to find you gone and a note left behind.

It reads: “Mom, I know that this isn’t enough. But I can’t with this life anymore. You told me you’d support me through whatever I wanted to do. And I don’t think SHIELD is this. I’m done watching people die, mom. I’m done losing friends. I’ll make contact at some point. Just, let me be for now? Love you always, Y/N. PS. Find Daisy.”

Then there’s nothing for almost a few months.

When Daisy comes back after being freed from Hive, she doesn’t see you and fears the worst, “Is she…?” She can’t get the words out.

May shakes her head, “No, she’s just gone. She left.”

Then Daisy is gone too after Lincoln. Now May has lost two out of her three daughters.

Daisy, however, manages to find out what you are doing.

And what is that, exactly? Smuggling Inhumans out.

She watches from afar with her little scope, making sure you’re ok and safe.

She’s just happy that you’re alive. But doesn’t dare go close.

As Coulson chases leads on Daisy, May does the same for you.

She has a file that becomes bigger and bigger as she slowly pieces together just where you are and what you are doing.

Then Fitz finds it, “What is this?” He asks.

“It’s everything I’ve found on Y/N since she left. She’s running a smuggling operation of Inhumans to get them out.”

Fitz just nods, promising to keep it safe.

However, May does find a burner phone on her bed the next day.

She keeps it in her back pocket.

Daisy comes back first, and May is delighted to have one of her two missing daughter’s back.

However, it’s when Mace calls herself and Daisy in that shit gets real with you.

“There’s a situation developing.” The two share a look, worry filling them up.

“There was a fight between SHIELD and the watchdogs, some Inhumans were killed. But Y/N got away. But we think we know where she’s going.”

(Episode 4x13 - BOOM) They both capture the Watchdogs and find that they have been hunting you for a while.

When Shockley is going on a rampage, he see’s you in the road.

“Well, hell. There she is, Y/N May.”

You started firing your pistol at him but doesn’t do much.

Your gun clicks, “Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll make this quick.”

Just as your life is about to end, he is stopped –

By Daisy Johnson.

She moves to your side, holding out a clip for you. You take it, loading it in.

“You don’t touch her.” She snarls at Shockley.

So, it’s just like old times. Even if it cuts it a little close.

When Fitzsimmons arrive, they activate the machine and stop him.

Now, it’s silence, as the three stares at you.

You’re here, you’re actually here. They’ve found you.

Daisy doesn’t talk, she just hugs you.

You are taken aback by the action. But, before you can do anything, Fitzsimmons join the hug too.

“Come on, Y/NN, let’s go home.” Daisy says, taking your hand and pulling your dazed form along with her as Fitzsimmons flank you.

When May see’s you, that silence returns. You both can’t really seem to believe that you are seeing the other.

Coulson approaches you and put’s a fatherly hand on your shoulder, “Welcome back, kiddo.”

You might be about to cry here, but that’s besides the point.

You approach your mother with caution, “Hey mom.” You say, trying and failing to keep your voice steady.

“You’re back?” She asks you.

“I don’t think a normal life is for me.” You say, chuckling a bit.

She hugs you, squeezing you tight.

Her baby is home.

It takes a bit of Tim getting settled back in with the gang. But they’re patient with you, even with everything going on.

Then the LMD secret comes out. Your mother wasn’t the one you hugged.

You find Jemma and Daisy in hiding, close to losing it once again.

Daisy, being more in control, calms you down and sits you next to Jemma. She goes to leave, only to you try and get up.

“No, Y/N, I need you to stay with Jemma.” She asks of you, before she leaves on her mission of holding the LMDs off.

You all get out, holding hands in the Jet.

Then you enter that world.

The world where your greatest mistake is fixed.

However, as Daisy finds, your still May’s daughter. However, something is different.

You’re a TA for Coulson at his school. You aren’t a SHIELD agent.

You have a normal life.

It’s jarring to you at first, but you sink into the role as if it’s natural.

Meanwhile, you see that you and May are a bit distant here in this life, but there’s still a parental-child dynamic.

Jemma finds you first, at the school.

Then you meet with Daisy and all hug, having found one another.

Then you’re all right back in the thick of it, this time with Ward as you knew him: Kind, loyal, genuine.

To make it worse, you’re then stuck.

The rest of it goes pretty much the way most things do for you guys: badly.

However, when Daisy is caught, she brings up the fact that she knows you and that you are in the resistance to May.

You’re phone then rings, but you don’t answer, too busy helping the civilians in the base.

Now May is worried in this world too.

She springs Daisy, all in an effort to find you.

When she see’s you, she’s surprised to see you.

You’ve been a bit estranged as of late in this life.

She sees you are helping people and being in a natural element.

She’s reminded of the little girl who she used to be so close too.

“Y/N.” You turn in surprise to see your mother.

“Hi Mom.” You say, not quite sure how to act.

“I’m guessing you sure the report on the news?”

“Yeah, you’re footage. You did good, Mom.”

Tears come to her eyes at your praise.

Daisy smiles as she see’s the interaction.

You meet her eyes as you and your mother hug, you mouth to her “Thank you.”

You all get out, but you can’t even celebrate as Space them comes around and grabs you all.

You, like Jemma, are taken as a maid/slave and deafened.

You’re just kind of numb to this world, bottling it up.

You’re used as leverage against Daisy. She wouldn’t act brash if it would get her sisters killed.

And that bet was right.

When you are escaping and go to the lift, you’re shocked when Daisy wants to stay. You want to go to her and stay with her but May stops you.

However, Coulson stops that before it can even happen, Icing Daisy.

While May understands the reasons for you wanting to be with your best friend, she’s now a bit on edge with you.

So, when you go back to present day, she makes sure to keep an eye on you more.

Daisy, meanwhile, is a bit more evasive. Always fining ways to not go on missions.

It all culminates in the fear dimension.

You’re fear has always been losing your family. So, as you leave your room, the lights flicker before coming back on.

It’s everyone, dead.

You scream as you see it.

However, while this is going on, Daisy is also being tortured by the Doctor side of Fitz.

When that ends, your screams are still being heard.

The team (minus Daisy and Fitz) rush to you and see what you’re looking at.

Jemma quickly runs to you and assures you it’s not real. It takes a moment before you go with her logic.

Then she drops it, “Daisy needs you.”

You’re still a bit angsty after your trip with fear. But you’re little sister needs you.

You enter the room and see her lying on her bed.

You sit at the foot of it, knowing that she wouldn’t want to talk.

You just sit there, hoping your presence would be enough.

May enters a bit later, sitting next to you and taking your hand in her own.

After this incident, Daisy is a lot bossier and pushier.

You don’t mind it at first, but you do clash at times.

Then Ruby dies.

Then Coulson.

Then Fitz.

Then you’re in space and looking for your brother and you both have time to fix the gap in your friendship.

“I’m sorry.” She says.

“You’re good –”

“No, I mean it, Y/NN. I shouldn’t have been like that.”

“Daisy…. you couldn’t help it. We process things differently. Yours was more external.”

“And yours? I heard about your fear.”

“…. I don’t know if I have yet.”

“Me neither.”

So, that’s what you both do when alone together. You try and help each other through the shit you’ve gone through.

You just sit together in a room, writing reports, or in silence and looking at space.

You remind each other that you aren’t alone.

That you both have family right here.

Daisy even tells you about the kiss between Coulson and May. You both share a laugh at the story.

Returning home and reuniting with your mom is a blessing. You both hugs.

She’s even smiling!

But then you find out that Phil Coulson has sort of returned. This time with no knowledge of who he is.

Kind of like a shadow of himself.

Daisy and you are both freaked by it. Your father figure has returned but has no knowledge of himself or you both.

Despite being the older sister, Daisy is the one who snapes to attention and pulls you away. Pulls you around the corner before your breathing picks up.

“What the fuck?” You ask.

“Y/N,” She keeps her voice soft, “I know that this is fucked up. I know, trust me. But we can get through this, ok? You and me against the world, right?” She holds a hand to you.

You grasp it with your own, “Us against the world.”

That mantra is a thing you keep repeating as the two of you go on the truck journey with Sarge (Coulson’s shadow) along with your mother.

You can tell May is rattled too, but she seems to hold hope that this can bring Coulson back.

You aren’t so sure. You and Daisy both share that.

But you go with it for your mother’s sanity.

Coulson was the closest you had to a father after Andrew’s death. So, you understood with the way May felt about him would make her think this way.

You are the one to talk to May when she shoots Sarge.

“Seriously, Mom?”

“I don’t – I don’t remember doing that, Y/N.”

“…. I believe you.”

Then Izel starts taking over people, your mother being one of her victims.

When it comes to sharing information that no one else would know, Daisy is the one who clears you.

“When Y/N was on the run, she made a little grave for Andrew. It held a little silver box.”

May looks at you with sadness, but you nod and confirm it.

You are with Daisy when you hear that May is down.

While Daisy s hurt and blaming herself, she immediately looks to you.

You just stare at the radio.

“Y/N…. hey. Hey, look at me.” You do, “We’ll get her back, ok? We’ll fix this.”

“She – She’s dead, Daisy. My mom’s dead!”

“Hey, no! She’s just down. I promise you; she’ll be ok.”

It’s enough to keep you going, but now you and Daisy are fuelled by one of the most powerful things on earth: Hate.

She uses her powers; you fire every bullet that you have.

When your mother returns, you see that she’s weakened. She looks like a corpse.

She falls, but you catch her.

“Mom, mom, mom. I got you, I got you.”

Dais kneels next to you but holds one of May’s hands as you stroke your mother’s hair.

“Y/N…I – I wanted it to be him.”

“I know.”

Your mother gives you a smile that communicates something she doesn’t have a strength to say: I’m so proud of you.

Then she closes her eyes.

She’s gone.

Melinda May is gone.

Your mother is gone.

You let out a sob as it fully hits you.

Then a different version of Jemma enters the room and puts May in a pod.

Well, tries, but you interfere.

“No! Don’t you touch her!”

“Y/N They need to –” Daisy tries to stop you. But it’s Jemma who does it.

“Y/N, May will be ok. The pod will keep her alive.” She assures you.

“It better.”

Now you’re back in time. For you guys, only a few minutes have passed.

Robot Coulson is here, and May will live.

Your family is back together. But you aren’t the same.

You’re still processing.

Just before you leave to go out, Daisy stops you.

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to shut me out. It’s ok if you –”

“She died, Daisy! She died. And now she’s not. Coulson did, and now he’s here. I mean – I – I don’t.”

Daisy told you to stay on the Zephier. You did.

Then May woke up, as an empath who felt others’ emotions, but not her own.

She did, however, feel your familial love for herself and Daisy full on. Along with your conflicted feelings about her being back and alive.

However, it allowed her to be more in touch with you. As she could tell when you were lying.

That led to lots of looks from here that just told you that she knew.

It was nice though, like you guys were when you were younger.

When it all came to an end, May was a teacher, and you were her assistant.

You guys did the calls with the others.

Your family.

Sometimes, it would just be you and Daisy, catching up and having chats that lasted hours. May didn’t dare interrupt you then.

[dearlazerbunny]

Let it Go (Ch. 2 of ?)

Pairings: platonic avengers team x reader, potential background loki x reader

Words: 3000

Genre/Ratings: -WARNINGS- there will be an (unsuccessful) suicide attempt by reader- chapter will be explicitly marked in advance. Drug (pills) and alcohol abuse, lots of negativity and self loathing. There will be an arc, but said arc is going to start in the eleventh circle of hell and inch up from there.

Summary: *not far enough into this one to give an accurate summary, so this’ll have to be updated eventually. enjoy for now!*

He had just gotten used to the noise.

When he first woke up, it felt like he was suffocating him- always there, always cars honking and lights flashing and music playing and people going about their lives- the city that never sleeps. Someone told him that, he forgets who. He figured out what they meant the second he stepped outside for longer than a minute.

 Now there’s just the wind stirring up dust, and occasionally toppling over a loose pile of debris. City workers push brooms along the street, trying to clear a path. Machines groan and creak as they haul away pieces of the city- days ago, that window was hundreds of feet in the sky- like its nothing. Another day. Just a little quieter than usual.

 t’s hard to believe, even though he has the scars on his shield and healing bruises on his ribs to prove the aliens did, in fact, try to invade New York and take over the planet. Led by a god. And then he’d teamed up with another god- he still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He’d never been particularly religious, but Bucky was- the insufferable bastard Stark, two assassins and a green giant and became an Avenger of planet Earth.

 This wasn’t what he signed up for in 1941. Nazis or aliens, punching them in the face still uses the same muscles. Metal torsos don’t have quite as much give against the knuckles though.  

 He wanders the streets with no real purpose in mind, other than helping out with lifting here and there where needed. The war roars to life in the back of his mind, overlayed with the eerily calm day. His eyes mark the battle: here, where he launched Nat into the air, her dry words echoing in his ears; here, where Thor had very efficiently covered his back. Here, where for the second time in his life he watched a man who didn’t deserve to fall hurdle towards the ground.

 And here- something happened here. His feet remember even if his mind doesn’t- they’ve stopped in the middle of the road. He squints, resisting the urge to cough on a cloud of dust that gets kicked up in his face. Something… his shield, doing far greater damage than his fist ever could, and then someone… screamed?

Her. A girl, in the middle of the road, eyes sunken and skin so taught and paperwhite he’d wondered if the ghosts of this battle were already coming to haunt him before it was even done. She’s screamed at him to duck, and her voice was so raw it triggered something in the back of his brain from basic training and caused him to hit the ground before he fully knew what he was doing. Something had flown over his head- he could hear it cutting through the air- a thunk, a screech that would likely be added to his rotating litany of nightmares- then nothing, save the battle raging behind him. A Chitauri he assumed he’d missed lay twitching on the ground just inches from his neck, and sticking from its chest- ice. Solid ice. So cold that his gloved hand still recoiled when he reached out to touch it.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

The girl’s face had been a roulette of emotions- a hint of pride, a darkly sarcastic flicker of her lips, and then her eyes widened and- fear. He watched her watch him, clenching and unclenching her fists. By the time he had opened his mouth to call out to her, she was gone, leaving only a trail of what looked to be frost on the ground before she disappeared around a corner- and something that slipped out of her pocket, jostled from her sweatshirt as she made her getaway.

He didn’t have time to think about her after that. A second later, his comm had crackled to life in his ear, and Stark started barking instructions, and Captain America had straightened his spine and grabbed his shield, and got back to where he was needed.

Steve Rogers, though, still has her tucked in the back of his mind.

The frost is still on the ground. Not as white as it had been, but a few grains of ice still cling to the cracks in the pavement. Strange. Magic? After everything he’s seen the past few days he wouldn’t be surprised. He follows the trail, irrationally hoping she’ll still be tucked behind an overturned car or crumbling building corner.

She isn’t. But there is a neon orange bottle tucked amongst the wreckage, and as he reaches for it he has a flash of memory of it falling from your pocket as you run. The contents rattle. A prescription bottle- like the ones medical gives him never get touched and sit collecting dust in a corner of his closet. Neat rows of print declare it Klonopin, 0.5 mg. Take once a day at bedtime, take an additional half as needed. Ingest with food. In the upper left corner is a name and address and phone number- Christian Heysworth.

The girl in the sweatshirt doesn’t strike him as a Christian. He should probably drop the bottle- it’d never be noticed among the rest of the chaos- and walk away. Worry about his own life and his own mess.

He tucks the bottle into his pocket. It might be a place to start.

…

The knock on her door is crisp and succinct, with no room for error. A soldier’s knock. She knows who it is before she turns the lock, because Clint doesn’t bother knocking anymore. When the door opens, she tries not to look as tired as she feels. “Captain.” It’s an easy acknowledgment, and it gives him time to categorize the healing gash on her cheekbone, covered with a butterfly bandage; the bruise blossoming on her collarbone that peeks just far enough above the neckline of her shirt to be seen. She doesn’t need the attention, but he needs a reminder that not everything is different since the forties. Same soldiers, different decade. Despite herself, the corner of her lip flicks up in the tiniest hint of appreciation. It has been a while since someone’s cared. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a favor.”

Interesting. “With?”

“Something stupid, most likely,” His voice is just sheepish enough to believe him. From his pocket, he pulls an orange bottle identical to the ones SHIELD’s psych department keeps prescribing her and the ones she keeps using for target practice.

Oh. Something deep in her chest softens and clenches all at once. She knows these questions all too well. “Cap. If you need help with- well. I can try my best, but I doubt I’m the best person to-”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Oh, no, these- they aren’t mine.” He hands the medicine over and she appraises it with a practiced eye. Klonopin, schedule IV drug in the United States, dose as low as one milligram to sedate an average adult male within forty-five minutes, effects greatly compounded by alcohol- “I, um. I’d like to track down the owner.”

Her brain is humming. “Any particular reason?”

“It’s a long story.”

Wordlessly, she steps aside, letting him in. “I didn’t have much to do tonight.”

Eventually, there are cups of tea in front of both of them, though she’s only taken a sip and Steve hasn’t touched his at all. He tells her about the girl who leaves frost on the ground in the middle of Manhattan and saves him with a spear made of ice. From the way he speaks, its almost like he isn’t quite sure if she was real or not- just a ghost or a very strange guardian angel. It’s bizarre, but not even on her top ten list of bizarre things in this week alone.

“So. I want to… thank her, I suppose?” He laughs without mirth. “I’m not really sure.”

“Think she’s enhanced?”

“Hopefully not by force.”

It doesn’t even bother her, anymore, the implication. Her breathing becomes more controlled on instinct. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Don’t think about it. “Let’s hope. Is she on anyone’s radar? SHIELD?”

“I wouldn’t even know how to check. And if I did, I don’t have anything to go on.”

Natasha glances down at the bottle of pills. But there is Christian Heysworth. She reaches under the couch cushion she sits on to produce a laptop from the gap. It’s wafer-thin and high tech enough that pulling up something as inane as Facebook looks categorically ridiculous. There’s a few Christian Heysworths, but they’re quickly narrowed down by what little information she has. “Christian Heysworth: junior at NYU, frat boy, wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got a couple of DUIs under his belt paid off by someone in his family-” she glances up, sharp cheekbones illuminated in blue light. “What?”

“I just… what are the odds he’d be in SHIELD’s databases…?”

“Hardly, Cap. Behold the wonders of the internet. So, are we wringing his neck, or were you thinking something more subtle?”

She says it to get a rise out of him and is rewarded by an aghast expression. “I just need to ask him some questions, Natasha, not-” he stops when her quiet smirk lifts a little of the weight from her eyes and laughs with her. “Fine. But I’m doing the talking.”

...

Natasha Romanov has infiltrated thirty-seven countries in as many or more disguises and has never been caught. She is failing miserably at attempting to camouflage Captain America into a generic civilian. There aren’t enough sunglasses and baseball caps in the world to make him a more manageable height and physique, and his t-shirt- at least two sizes too small for him- attracts the eyes of every wannabe pro sports player and every girl and guy hanging off of their arm. Honestly, they expect her to work in these kinds of conditions? Thankfully pulling her top a little lower and batting her eyelashes nets her enough information to direct her to her “absolutely earth-shattering one-night stand.” They climb stairs in a dorm hall that could be nicer than some of the floors in Stark Tower. She has the urge to crack the tile with something sharp.

Heysworth opens his door in boxers and smoke still on his breath. Heavy-lidded eyes barely focus on her face. “Uh, hey. Can I help you?”

Steve comes up behind her. “Christian Heysworth? I’d like to have a word with you, son.”

“I didn’t do nothin’.”

“I didn’t say you did.” Steve’s blue eyes are cool when he takes off his aviators; primly folds them and hangs them on the collar of his shirt. “Recognize this?” He holds out the prescription.

“Uh, I didn’t really-” Heysworth stops. Belches. Squints up at Steve. “I- wait. Wait, holy shit, you’re fucking Captain America! Holy shit man, I can’t even-”

As he rambles, Steve looks over to Natasha, who shrugs. “You must have one of those faces.”

Captain America holds up a hand to the kid’s face. “Just answer the question, son.”

“I, yeah, okay, um-” he turns the bottle over in his hands. “Shit, is this what that bitch stole from me?”

“Language. Who stole from you?”

“I met up with some chick downtown who wanted to buy them, but then those freaking aliens started coming and I- you didn’t hear it from me though, ‘kay?”

Steve sighs. “Do you know her name?”

“Nah, chat rooms and shi- stuff. Sorry. I have her screen name?”

He agrees to trade for a selfie with the Captain, which Natasha promptly deletes as soon as he hands over his phone, transferring data to her own. “She’s communicating from this address,” she murmurs, showing Steve the area it triangulated before wiping that information too. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Uh-huh. Hey, are you-”

Steve neatly closes the door in his face. “I don’t think he looked at your face once.

Oh, Steve. What a pure soul. “To be fair, I don’t think anyone has been looking at yours either.”

Their trail leads them to the backstreets, to an alley so covered in grime it looks like the whole place should be condemned. And many of the buildings are- covered in caution tape, stairwells crumbling, and fire escapes rusted over. Wind whistles through shattered windows. Foundations are rotting. And yet there are a few minuscule signs of life- a door that’s scraped the ground so many times there’s wear on the concrete, a few piles of garbage here and there. “She’s off the grid.”

“Can’t be right. She was a kid, couldn’t have been more than twenty-”

“You do what you have to.” She gives him a look. “You know that.”

His face goes stony. “Let’s just find her.”

Natasha sets off in one direction, Steve in the other. They both know how this works. It’s a practiced dance. Search the bottom floors first, find faults in the buildings and stairwells so you can avoid them the next floor up. She picks a lock that has managed to stay fast despite rusting over, he leverages himself through a windowsill strong enough to hold his weight. Eerily silent save for scraps of trash and the skittering of mice. If you listen closely, you can almost hear the construction in midtown, slowly shoveling away.

Steve’s mark is almost laughably easy to find. There’s a door tucked in a second-level corner whose seams are iced over three inches thick.

Her boots crunch in frost spilling out from under a crack in the door. She punctures the air with a bird call, and seconds later Steve rounds the corner. He reaches down to run a finger through the snow. “it looks the same.”

“Do you want to do the honors then?” He tests the knob once, twice- the metal doesn’t even rattle, it’s too frozen solid. He opts to kick it in with a well-placed boot, wincing at the sound of ice cracking and then shattering into shards.

The apartment is empty. There’s a table along the far wall stacked with a few cardboard boxes to use as makeshift shelves. Packets of potato chips are shoved in one alcove, a few granola bars in the other. Empty soda bottles litter the floor. The table itself is mostly covered with alcohol: a whole skyline of glass bottles glinting in the light from the newly busted door. Some are empty, some are half full, a few have broken necks. An inspection of the crooked drawers attached underneath reveals nothing but a junkyard of pills, none of which are prescribed to the same person more than twice.

Natasha opens a few of the safety caps, rattling them like a scientist with an interest. “There’s enough in here to put even you to sleep.”

“Is she here? She would’ve heard the door.”

“Maybe.” A door leads off to a molding bathroom and a small hall closet. The next, a makeshift bedroom. A grimy mattress sits in the corner, covered in blankets so dirty there’s no telling what the print of them might’ve once been. There’s also a girl. She’s curled up in the center, drowning in layers of hoodies and sweatshirts. The second Natasha steps in the room she can see her breath. Another step in and the air feels like home. Whatever water was in the air has crystallized and fallen to the ground in a tiny hailstorm, surrounding her like a halo.

She also doesn’t move.

The spy moves with ruthless efficiency, ignoring the cold as she kneels by the mattress. Too many layers. Can’t even see if she’s breathing. She tugs her sleeve up over her fingertips before beginning to shove aside tangled hoods and t-shirts, digging for the collarbone.

“Natasha?”

“Here. She’s almost-” she cuts off with a hiss of pain, wrenching her fingers back like she was bit.

“What-?” the girl is still sleeping. Steve only spares her a glance before taking Natasha’s hand in his, checking for damage. There’s no blood, no broken skin. But the tips of her fingers are white and hard, paler than normal and cold to the touch. He recoils on instinct. “Frostbite.”

Natasha is muttering low in Russian, tapping her fingers together to move the blood, and Steve is momentarily taken back to a plane going down in the middle of an endless ocean surrounded by walls of blue. No going back, only going under, and nothing waiting for him but frost and ice and cold-

“Steve!” He blinks. Natasha’s face swims back into focus. “Get out. Contact the tower. We can’t move her like this and she needed medical yesterday.”

“I’m fi-”

“No, you’re not. I can handle this. Russian, remember?” She tries to give him a small smile. He doesn’t return it. “Get out and coordinate removal. That’s an order.”

Orders, some primeval part of Steve’s brain can understand. He turns and hopes he doesn’t run from the apartment, not even bothering to navigate the stairs- just jumps over the balcony to land in the courtyard below, chest heaving. Unconsciously, he glances in a nearby piece of glass, ensuring his breath isn’t fog. He isn’t cold. He isn’t. He’s fine.

He isn’t thinking when he puts a beacon out for JARVIS to trace. He isn’t flexing his fingers to make sure they can move. He isn’t drowning. He isn’t on ice. He isn’t, he isn’t, he isn’t-

In the apartment, Natasha swears and wrings her hand as pins and needles race down her arm. She’s handled plenty of frostbite, but it never gets easier. The girl is still unconscious, heartbeat dangerously slow. Whatever she put in her system, she meant to knock herself out for a long time. Or worse.

And Steve is on the verge of a panic attack and if your heart stops she can’t perform CPR, so she sits on the edge of your mattress blowing on her fingers as you keep causing the air around you to quietly freeze and fall, a tiny secret twinkle of ice in the middle of New York.

[yusuke-of-valla]

like rats fleeing a sinking ship, pt. 10

Whumptober 2020 Day 15: Into The Unknown

Prompt: Possession

TW: guns, fight scenes, canon typical violence

<- Previous Next ->

AO3

~

Only the tips of some of the tallest buildings are visible from where Kasumi stands on Shido’s ship. Akira had warned her about this, but it’s still off-putting. The rest of Tokyo was still normal in the previous two Palaces she’d seen.

Kasumi doesn’t want to think about what that means about the ruler.

“Are you ready to go?” Akec- er Crow asks, tapping a boot against the deck of the ship.

“Sorry!” Kasumi says.

“We need to give Yoshizawa a codename first though.” Mona points out.

Crow stares at her for a second. “Gymnast?”

“We’re not calling her that.” Skull says. “How about… Red?”

“At least my idea was unique to her. That could just as easily describe Panther.”

“But Panther’s already Panther, so.”

“How about Mist?” Joker suggests. “You know, since it’s Kasumi in English?”

“Isn’t that a little tasteless?” Crow asks.

“It’s better than Gymnast ”

“That’s not-”

“I love it!” Kasumi says. “From now on, I’ll be Mist.”

Crow tilts his head at her for a second, but throws his arms up. “Fine, whatever. Let’s just go.”

Joker takes the lead, putting Mist, Crow, and Noir in the front group. Mona and Queen hold back and focus on navigating. 

The Palace is crawling with shadows, and Joker leads them through the halls, until eventually they arrive at a large pair of doors.

“So this is where the Treasure is?” Mist asks.

“Yep, we’ve got three of the five letters of recommendation we need,” Panther says. “We were still going to grab info about the IT company president since he apparently never leaves his room.”

“We can go over the plan once we get to the safe room down the hall.” 

Mist goes ahead a bit and stops at a door. “This one?” she asks.

“Yep.”

Mist pushes the door open.

“Duck!” 

She drops to the ground before the Shadow behind the door can swing at where her head was, and Joker is quick to shoot it.

The guard stumbles backwards, then splits into three shadows.

One that looks like a large white lion breathes fire at her, but Mist manages to cartwheel out of the way, just barely singed. She isn’t so lucky when another shadow, a big snowman king thing swings his staff at her.

“Mist!” 

Queen throws out her hand, and suddenly a golden wall like a vault appears in front of Mist, and though she takes the hit, it doesn’t hurt as much.

“Thanks Queen!” Mist says. She calls Cendrillion to pierce the shadow with  Illusory swords. 

Joker pulls his new gun out, and blasts a ray of ice at the lion-shaped shadow, freezing it solid. In the meantime, Noir and Crow have managed to knock down the other two, and Joker gives the signal to finish them off.

Ths shadows defeated, Mist takes a second to catch her breath. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Joker pants, “there should definitely have been a safe room there, though.”

“There was.” Mona says. “It’s not there anymore.”

“So Shido’s cognition is shifting,” Queen says.

Skull scratches his head. “So what? Like, the cocky bastard feels like he has more control over things, so there aren’t as many places where the cognition is weaker.”

“Something like that.” Crow says.

“Wow. I didn’t think I could hate him more!” Skull sighs. “On the bright side, new gun’s working well!”

Joker grins and reloads the gun Skull had designed for him. Skull had explained earlier that while realistic guns were useful, since the Metaverse was based on cognition, they could probably get away with using guns that wouldn’t work in reality but were accurate replicas of weapons from movies and video games. Joker’s new freeze ray was a replica of a villain’s weapon from the Cake Knight Rises movies.

“Well there have to still be some safe rooms around, right?” Panther asks.

“Sure, they’ll just be fewer and farther between,” Queen explains. “It’s not ideal, but it’s still manageable. We just need to do our best to conserve energy.”

Joker nods. “We’ll switch up our strategy to rotate people out a bit more frequently.”

“Sounds good.” Noir says. “Anyway, I believe the last time we were here, we were going to try the restaurant to see about getting up to the IT president’s room.”

Everyone nods, and they make their way to the restaurant. Mist is impressed with how efficiently Joker leads them around corners, and the way he seems to know where enemies are. There’s a swell of pride in her chest when she sees Joker backflip away from a shadow to get the drop on it. 

They do eventually find a safe room that is still a safe room, and they rest there for a bit before checking the restaurant.

They get the room number from the restaurant, then head to the side deck of the ship.

“Crow, are you alright?” Mist asks at one point when they’re both in the reserve group.

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re just trailing behind the others, I was worried something was wrong.”

Crow shrugs. “I’m just focused on the mission.”

“Sure but even fights, the others compliment each other and stuff but you’re mostly quiet.”

“Why would I? I’m not part of the team, or anything.”

“You’re not?” Mist asks, tilting her head a bit.

“No, I am definitely not.”

“Oh,” Mist says, trying to conceal her smile.

“That makes you happy?”

“No! No, I’m sorry,” Mist says quickly. “I guess it just makes me feel better that I’m not the only outsider on the team.”

“I wouldn't really call you an outsider. They definitely consider you an equal part of their team.”

“But not you?”

“No.”

“Well,” Mist says, “even if they would consider me part of the team, I think I’ll stay back here with you. I don’t want you to be lonely after all.”

“I’m fine.”

“Nope,” Mist says, grinning. “Still going to stick around.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew everything about me,” Crow says in a threatening tone.

Mist hums. “I think I would. I can tell, senpai. You may be a more… intense kind of person than I was expecting, but you care deep down.”

Crow stops for a second, then runs to catch up with Mist. “Anyway, while it’s just the two of us, I meant to ask you something earlier. Why does Joker keep calling you ‘Kasumi’?”

“Senpai! Codenames. ”

“Huh?”

“You’re supposed to use my codename, not my real name,” Mist admonishes.

“But-”

“Hey, hurry up, we’re here!” Skull shouts.

“Sorry,” Mist replies, hopping across balconies to join the others.

“Not a problem,” Joker says. “So this seems like the president’s room, we just have to figure out how to get the letter of recommendation out of him.”

“Ask nicely?” Crow says, holding up his gun pointedly.

Queen shakes her head. “We want to avoid a fight as much as possible, if we can. We still need to get the letter from the Cleaner after all.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a fight, I assure you.”

“How did you get the other letters?” Mist asks.

“Well we basically just asked for most of them. In some cases we had to lie to convince them we deserved it, but yeah.” Skull says.

“So we should just go in and ask?” 

“That might not be a good idea,” Mona says, frowning. “With the way Shido’s cognition has been shifting recently, the shadows might recognize you as the Phantom Thieves right away, even if you changed.”

“Well, I’m not wanted. I could ask,” Mist offers.

“Are you sure?” Panther asks.

“Sure! Don’t worry, I’ve got this!”

Mist climbs into the IT president’s room. “Hello, sir!” she says cheerily.

The president startles backwards. “Huh? Who are you?”

“I’m so sorry, but I’m looking to get a letter of introduction to Mr. Shido,” Mist says, “and I’m just such a big fan of your company and your work, that I had to ask you!”

The president looks skeptical, and Mist continues.

“I know you’re a very private person, but since you’re Mr. Shido’s favorite co-conspirator, I thought I just had to get his letter over anyone else’s!”

“Well, Captain Shido does appreciate my genius,” the president says after a moment.” You know I created the fake Mejed for him and manipulated the results of the Phantom Thieves’ polls? And I erased all this Cognitive Psience research, clean off the net!

“Wow! That’s so astounding!” Mist says. “No wonder Mr. Shido speaks so highly of you! So can I have a letter?”

“Well, you’ve convinced me.” The IT president points to the desk, and one of the women in the room with him grabs a pen and paper off of it. “So tell me, are you a fan of my companies’ products?”

“Yes, sir! Huge fan!”

“Then you’ve got the latest model phone?”

“Uh, well no. I mean, my dad won’t let me get a new one.”

“So you have last year’s?”

“Can you just give me the letter.”

The president rips the letter from the note pad and holds it back. “Show me your phone.”

Reluctantly, Mist pulls out her phone. 

The IT president nearly gags at the sight of it. “That thing is ancient. You’re no fan of my company!”

“Are you serious?” Mist groans. “Uggh, fine.” She lunges forward and grabs the letter out of the IT president’s hands.

“You little- I’ll kill you!” the president roars before he and the women with him transform into shadows.

“You could have just given me the letter!” Mist shouts, dodging his attacks. “Guys, I could use some help!”

The other Phantom Thieves burst into the room. Panther is the first to act, wrapping her whip around one of the shadows beside the IT president and sending a jolt of electricity through it, shocking the shadow. Joker shoots it, causing it to drop to the ground.

The IT president meanwhile is still focused on Mist, who blocks one of his attacks with Cendrillion. Skull takes the opportunity to use the bed as a spring board, jumping on the shadow and slamming his pipe down on its head.

“Gah!” the shadow president cries, but Crow doesn’t give him much time to react, rushing forward and having Loki unleash a brutal barrage of attacks on it.

Noir uses psykokinesis to take down the other shadow, knocking all three of them down. 

At Joker’s cue, the Phantom Thieves attack simultaneously.

The shadows revert to their more humanoid forms.

“Anything you want to tell us?” Mona demands.

“N-no! I don’t know anything about the mental shutdowns, I just or anything, I just extracted, deleted, and encrypted the research! I promise.” 

“So you’re useless to us, then,” Crow says, pointing his gun at the IT president’s head.

“Crow, no!” Mist says, grabbing his arm.

Crow scoffs. “Fine, let’s go.”

Once everyone is back on the balcony, Mist turns to the others. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get the letter.”

“Oh you were fine,” Panther says, patting Mist on the shoulder. “That went about as well as literally every other time we tried to get a letter.”

“But you said to avoid a fight.”

“And you did the best you could!” Queen says. “You were great, believe me.”

Mist feels a weight leave her shoulders. “Thank you! I’m happy to help!”

“Hell yeah! So that’s four letters down, one to go,” Skull says. “We just need to get something from that Cleaner guy next, right?”

“We’ve checked all over the ship though, where could he be?” Mona asks.

“The engine?” Joker suggests.

Panther frowns. “Have we seen an engine, though?”

“Skull noticed smoke before,” Queen points out.

“So let’s find a way into the engine room.”

After a bit of searching, Joker eventually spots a grate with smoke coming out of it. “I think this is our way in,” he says.

They bust the grate open, and crawl through the vents. Sure enough, it empties out into the engine room, and they can see the Cleaner.

“There he is!” Mona whispers.

“Can we do this my way?” Crow asks.

“I don’t know,” Noir says. 

“He’s Yakuza, we’re not going to be able to just ask him nicely,” Crow bites back.

“I think Crow’s right, Noir,” Joker says. “We might just have to fight through this one.”

Crow grins. “Thank you!”

“Hey, you!” Crow calls out as soon as they’re out of the vents.

The Cleaner turns around and groans when he sees them. “What?” 

“We need a letter of introduction to see Shido.”

“Sorry, can’t help you,” he says, shrugging. “I’m fresh out.”

Crow summons Loki. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Crow, look out!” Mona calls, suddenly.

Crow turns around just inside to avoid the bullet that ricochets off the metal walls of the engine room.

“Don’t worry, I can handle these ones,” the cognitive Goro Akechi says, grinning maniacally.

“Sounds great,” the Cleaner replies, walking off.

“Oh no you don’t!” Skull shouts, chasing after him, but Cognitive Akechi snaps his fingers and suddenly a group of Shadows appear in Skull’s path, knocking him back.

“Skull!” Panther shouts, running to his side.

“I’m fine,” Skull mutters as he sits up

“Now, I can finally get rid of you all at once!” Cognitive Akechi says. “Our glorious captain will be so happy.”

“I’m going to enjoy wiping that smug look off of your face,” Crow says. He pulls out his sword and charges towards Cognitive Akechi, but Cognitive Akechi dodges.

A shadow leaps towards Crow, but Mist manages to knock it away with a well-timed strike from Cendrillion. “Careful, Crow!”

Crow grits his teeth. “I’m fine!”

“Skull, Noir, Panther! Handle the small fry,” Joker says. “The rest of us need to focus on the Cognitive Akechi!

Everyone except Crow, who’s mainly focused on attacking his double, gives their affirmations.

Queen summons Anat and boosts everyone’s defense, while Mona attacks Cognitive Akechi aside. Unfortunately, Cognitive Akechi blasts Crow away with an Almighty attack and kicks Mona across the room like he’s a soccer ball.

“Loki!” Crow calls, “Laevateinn!” The Persona appears in a burst of energy and rushes at Cognitive Akechi, causing him to stumble backwards.

Meanwhile, Noir summons Astarte to unload  hail of bullets on the shadows while Panther heals Skull up. Skull’s quick to get back on his feet and has Seiten Taisei sends ripples of electricity through the metal floor to hit all of the shadows.

While Cognitive Akechi is focused on Crow and Loki, Mist catches him off guard with a Kougaon. The bless attack calls him to stumble back, dazed.

“He’s weak to bless!” Queen calls out.

Crow grins. “Perfect.” With a flick of his wrist, Loki disappears and Robin Hood appears in its place. Joker follows his cue and switches to Dominion, and they follow up with two bless attacks of their own.

The cognition drops to one knee, panting. Crow strides over to him, and points a gun at his doppleganger’s head. “Well, this has been fun, but I’ve had enough of you.”

“Oh, I assure you, the fun isn’t over,” Cognitive Akechi says. He snaps his fingers again, and Crow doesn’t have time to attack before another shadow rushes him.

Joker quickly uses his grappling hook to pull the shadow off of Crow, but in that time, another reinforcement has healed Cognitive Akechi up.

Crow summons Robin Hood and cast Kougaon again, but instead of knocking him down, the attack is reflected back in Crow’s direction.

“Shit,”

“I got ya!” Mona says, healing Crow.

Crow looks around and sees the others aren’t fairing much better. The new reinforcements are overwhelming them, to the point that Noir has been knocked out and Queen has to help Panther and Skull fend them off.

“Aw, Akechi, are you worried about your friends?” Cognitive Akechi asks. “Don’t worry, you really should be more worried about yourself.”

Suddenly, a curse attacks rams into Akechi’s side, sending him across the room. When he looks up, he expects to see a shadow, but instead it’s Joker stalking towards him with a blank expression.

“Joker-senpai, what are you doing?” Mist asks.

“He’s been brainwashed,” Mona explains.

“That’s just great .” Crow spits out. Joker charges towards him, knife drawn, but Crow manages to parry with his sword. 

“Mona-senpai, what do we do?” Mist asks.

“We have to find the shadow that’s brainwashing Joker and defeat it.”

“Alright! Hold on Crow, don’t hurt him too much,” Mist shouts as she attacks the shadow Joker had been fighting.

“No guarantees,” Crow mutters under his breath.

Mist and Mona manage to defeat the shadow Joker had been fighting, but it doesn’t help.

“Mona, which one brainwashed him?” Mist asks.

“I don’t know!” Mona says. There are about five shadows left, and they have no way of knowing which one brainwashed Joker.

Crow drops down and sweeps Joker’s legs. While Joker’s down, Crow tries to charge at his cognitive double again.

Unfortunately, he feels something wrap around his leg, and Crow’s legs are pulled out from under him by Joker’s grappling hook. He tries to get up quickly, but just ends up staring down the barrel of Joker’s gun.

“This has been fun, hasn’t it?” Cognitive Akechi says.

“Joker! Don’t do it!” Mist calls, but Joker doesn’t react. She tries to run over to sop him, but one of the other shadows stands in her path.

“Damn it!” Mona says, helping Mist. “Joker, you have to snap out of it!”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Cognitive Akechi says, watching as all the other Thieves are occupied with the shadows. “Now then, I think it’s finally time to take out the trash. Any final words.”

“Fuck you.”

Cognitive Akechi rolls his eyes, and motions for Joker to shoot. 

Joker pulls the trigger, and a bang goes off.

But.

Instead of the feeling of a bullet entering his skull, a shimmering barrier appears in front of Crow that seems to have absorbed the attack. 

Before anyone can really attack, a large chunk of ice flies right past Cognitive Akechi, hitting and freezing another shadow instead.

“Fox, you idiot, you missed! ” Crow shouts as Fox rushes into the engine room.

“I wasn’t aiming for him, Crow,” Fox shouts as he shatters the shadow. Suddenly, Joker clutches his head and stumbles backwards. “And that’s not the polite way to thank someone for saving your life.”

“Fox?” Joker says, still shaking his head. “God, I hate being brainwashed. How’d you get here?”

“I saw you guys were in trouble so we got here as fast as we could!” Joker jumps at the sound of Oracle’s voice. “F- Oracle ! Where’d you come from?”

“We can explain later,” Oracle says, “for now, you might want to get rid of that other shadow that can brainwash people.”

“A-Alright,” Joker says, before summoning Arsene and attacking the shadow Oracle pointed out.

Fox helps Mona and Mist, allowing Mona to revive Noir. Queen hits the two remaining shadows with a massive nuclear attack, destroying them

Meanwhile, Crow goes back to focusing on his double. 

“Noir, while he’s distracted, use psykokinesis on the cognition!” Oracle says as soon as she’s up.

“When did-”

“We’ll explain later!” Oracle snaps, “just do it!” 

Haru does, and the blast causes Cognitive Akechi to stumble backwards, allowing Crow to get a good hit on him.

“He’s switched resistances again!” Oracle says. “Ok, before he gets the chance to call for more reinforcements... uh… new girl! Hit the cognition with another bless attack.”

“Oh, me?” Mist asks. “Ok! Cendrillion!”

“Now we need fire, Panther!” Oracle calls out!

“Hecate!”

“Don’t let up! Hit him Skull!”

“Seiten Taisei!”

With each hit, Cognitive Akechi looks worse and worse for wear. He’s clutching his side and panting.

“He’s on his last legs! We just need to hit him with a curse attack.”

Crow locks eyes with Joker. “Ready?”

Joker smirks. “More than ever.”

“Loki!”

“Arsene!”

“Eigaon,” the shout simultaneously. The two personas work in tandem, unleashing a curse attack that pushes Cognitive Akechi straight into the wall. The cognition tries to get up, but ultimately dissolves.

“Finally.” Crow sighs.

Suddenly, Skull shouts. “What the hell?”

Crow and Joker quickly pull their weapons to deal with the new threat.

“What’s wrong?” Joker asks.

“Oracle’s a ghost!” To prove his point, Skull sticks his hand through Oracle’s head.

“I’m not a ghost. I’m broadcasting into the Metaverse from outside Tokyo,” Oracle says.

“You can do that?” Queen gasps.

“With a lot of help. I met these guys called the shadow operatives, and a couple of them have the same powers as me so we can combine them to increase the range of my scanning.”

“Woah, really?” Panther asks.

“Yeah. Oh also, one of the people helping me is Rise Kujikawa, by the way.”

Panther’s eyes widen. “Ok now you’re messing with me!”

“No she’s legit here! Say hi Rise!”

Futaba’s form flickers and Rise Kujikawa stands in front of them. “Hello!”

“Oh my gosh it’s Risette.” Mist gasps.

“This is the coolest thing to have happened to me, ever.” Skull says. “Can I get an autograph?”

“I can give one to Futaba-chan for you!” Risette says. Then her form shifts again, and Futaba is back.

“Thank you! That’s the reaction I was looking for! Inari wasn’t impressed at all!”

“I told you that I was happy for you.” Fox says, walking towards the others with a slight limp.

“This is the coolest thing ever, I was expecting something a bit more excited!”

“Alright,” Queen says before the bickering can get out of hand. “We need to return to the real world soon, we’re all pretty banged up.”

“We still need to get that last letter of recommendation!” Crow says.

“None of us can handle another fight,” Mona says. “And you were the one that said we probably weren’t going to get a letter from the Cleaner by asking nicely!”

“We don’t have time to waste though!”

“Um if all we need is the Cleaner’s letter,” Fox says, reaching into his pocket. “I’ve got that one.”

The other Thieves stare at him. 

“How?” Joker asks.

Fox and Oracle share a look.

“There’s a lot you need to catch up on,” Oracle says. “Lemme find you guys a safe room nearby, then Fox can tell you the whole story.”

[stovetuna]

Hi, I hope you’re having a wonderful holiday season first of all! Second, if you’re feeling it, maybe Blind Date AU for Steve and Tony? Ty!!💖

PEACHY!! of course, darling, anything for you. Setting this in an amorphous MCU timeline again because I’m working on stretching my 616 writing muscles on another fic ;) 

- - - 

Steve knows it’s going to be a long night the moment he receives a text from Natasha that simply reads: Carbone. 1800. Wear the blue shirt.He’s tried—countless times, in fact—to dissuade her from doing this. It’s been a running joke between them for years, ever since that first time in the back of the C-130. 

Too scared? 

Too busy.

It’s not that he’s averse to the idea of being with someone. Far from it—he craves exactly that in ways he can’t articulate, not to Natasha, not to Sam, not to anyone. Sometimes, not even to himself. But the idea of dating, especially being set up on blind dates, makes something twist and sour in Steve’s stomach. The thought of being pushed into something despite his wishes because other people think it’s what he wants, or that dating is something expected of the unattached, is deeply upsetting. 

Plus, his life is complicated enough as it is. Adding an unsuspecting stranger to the mix would only complicate more. And how would he explain it to them, his life? How could he ask for understanding when what he does is so outside the scope of the average person’s day-to-day reality? How could he ask anyone to wait up for him, not knowing if he’d make it back to them alive? In what universe would that be fair to a partner? 

It’s not. That’s the point. Nor is it the point that he’s been nursing a crush on a certain someone on the team for the past year, a man so far out of his league it makes Steve’s head spin. That’s just background noise, at this point, an asterisk at the end of a sentence: Steve Rogers is not interested in dating.* 

*Unless your name happens to be Tony Stark.

Steve’s fingers hover over the phone screen, deliberating in his head how to respond to Nat’s text. The way she’s written it is different from her previous attempts at matchmaking. No so-and-so from such-and-such is nice, you should ask her out. I met this random guy during a raid yesterday, I got his number for you. Want it? This one’s come to him like a gift of flowers, beautifully arranged and packaged, leaving no way for him to bow out of it without coming across like an asshole. 

He shudders to imagine what Nat would have to text the person she’s trying to set him up with if he did: sorry, Captain America is a huge wuss. Feel free to order something to go, on me.

On the one hand, she means well. She knows Steve is lonely for companionship in ways his friends and the Avengers can’t satisfy. She might even know about his crush on Tony and this is her way of trying to help him past it. On the other hand, Nat is a notorious troll, and she could just be doing this to him for laughs. But it has been a long time since he’s gone on a date, even if he does hate the practice pretty much on the whole. One more for the sake of a stranger’s feelings won’t kill him. 

Fine, he texts back, but you’re my sparring partner for the next two weeks. 

Natasha’s response is so lightning fast it would make Thor dizzy.  

Worth it. 

Steve wears the blue shirt. He also goes to the effort of ironing his black slacks and polishing his dress shoes, because he knows Carbone’s reputation as the kind of place one goes to make an impression and/or be impressed. Tony talks about it all the time. “Oh my God, Steve, their spicy rigatone alla vodka is so good, it’s actually sinful,” he’d told him once. Steve had watched Tony’s eyes glaze over and his tongue slowly slide out to lave his bottom lip, obviously salivating at the thought of some random pasta dish, and it had taken just about everything in Steve’s power not to launch himself across the kitchen counter and chase Tony’s tongue with his. 

“I’m sure I’ll try it at some point,” he’d replied instead, pinching his thigh hard enough to dissuade his blood from flowing further south. 

At 4:30, Steve looks himself over in the full-length mirror in his bedroom. The black jacket seems overbearing for early summer, and he wonders if it’s worth keeping on. Should he bring it just in case? Is the tie too much? It feels like too much, especially after thinking about Tony and his tongue. Now he’s hot under the collar, about to go on a date with someone else. Damn it. Steve wrenches the black silk knot loose and pulls the whole thing off. It goes on the bed, along with the jacket. He unbuttons his shirt to the clavicle and rolls up the sleeves. (Tony has visibly admired his forearms enough times for Steve to make a deliberate habit of it.)

But Tony flirts with everyone, Steve reminds himself, and then he’s out the door. He opts to walk across town and down 12th Avenue, what should be a long walk along the Hudson shortened considerably by his long legs and enhanced speed. It’s one of those beautiful New York days, long, late May sunlight lingering in the clear blue sky even as Steve turns the corner onto Thompson Street at 5:45. It’s breezy but not chilly, warm but not stifling. People are everywhere, happy, flushed and bubbling over with spring fever. Even the hardened locals aren’t immune to it—Steve spots a grizzled bar owner just down the street who’s leaning against an old brownstone, face tipped up toward the sky, lips pulled tight in a barely contained smile. 

It reminds Steve distinctly of Tony, how his eyes crease deeply at the corners when he grins.

You’re supposed to be nervous about this date, Steve reminds himself as he opens the door to the restaurant. He’s immediately enveloped in dark tones of bluish green and the smooth voice of Frank Sinatra. He’s early, but the staff brings him through immediately to an intimate but decently large corner table in the back. A waiter, bald-headed but sporting an impressive mustache and wearing the hell out of a purple three-piece suit, pours Steve a glass of champagne and another for his date, who’s starting to cut it close, time-wise. 

At 5:56, Steve glances at his watch and takes a sip of water, opting to watch the bubbles in the champagne glass rise to the surface and pop instead of drinking it outright. At 6:08, the same waiter refills his water glass. They make small talk even as Steve fidgets under the tablecloth. In all of his gearing up for this blind date, the thought had never crossed his mind that the other person might be the one to duck out. 

Averse to dating as Steve is, he can’t say the thought of being stood up on a blind date doesn’t sting a little bit, even as it drives home his rationale for avoiding the entire practice in the first place. At least he’ll have ammunition against Natasha the next time she tries her hand at matchmaking. 

By 6:20, the back room is filled and noisy with other dinner guests, many of whom are also on dates and are doing a terrible job of pretending not to glance pityingly at Steve and the two untouched champagne glasses on his table. Steve sighs and shrugs at the waiter (his name is Duncan, Steve learned during Refill Number Three), who’s come by to refill his water glass again. How many does that make? Five? Six? Duncan glances at the empty seat across from Steve and shakes his head.

“It happens,” he says, genuine sympathy (but mercifully no pity) writ large across his middle-aged face. “In any case, you probably dodged a bullet. Want something a little stronger?”

Steve remembers telling Tony he’d try the spicy rigatoni alla vodka if he ever came here. Reservations to Carbone are hard to come by, and he should seize the opportunity while he can, even if it’s bittersweet. “Thanks. That’s okay. I think I’ll just—”

A man’s flustered voice appears suddenly from behind Duncan, cutting through the noise, words spilling out in a rush. Steve notices heads whipping around to gawk, bug-eyed, at whoever’s just appeared.

“God, I’m so sorry I’m late, usually I’m never late to this kind of thing but there was a malfunction with the—with the thing, and…I…uh…”

The man’s words trail off as Duncan steps aside to let him through to his seat. Steve is standing—when did he stand up?—and realizes with a jolt (and an unmistakable, overwhelming ka-thump of his heart) that he’s looking directly at Tony Stark, whose face has gone an endearingly bright shade of red, almost the same shade as the armor. 

“Steve?”

“Uh,” Steve is too distracted by the furious blush currently working its way past Tony’s pristine white shirt collar to respond at first. “Hi, Tony. Wanna, uh, have a seat?” Nailed it. 

“Sure…” Tony sounds skeptical. That’s fair. He’s probably already sussed out that this date wasn’t Steve’s idea. 

Duncan, to his credit, says nothing as he fills Tony’s water glass. But Steve doesn’t miss the warning look the waiter shoots him as Tony tips his head back for a drink, or the way Tony’s face goes slightly pale as he sets the glass back down on the table, chastised. 

Once they’re alone, the other diners seem to quickly get over the initial shock of seeing Iron Man and Captain America on a date together and go back to their own meals. The air in the room is fragrant with the smell of four-star Italian food, but Steve’s stomach is too tightly wound now to appreciate it. 

Tony breaks the silence. He always was braver than Steve gave him credit for. 

“So,” he says, “Going by your poleaxed expression I take it you weren’t expecting me.”

It’s not a question. Steve laughs hoarsely. “Yeah, you could say that.” More like you’re the last person I expected but I am so fucking happy you’re here. He doesn’t say it, but at least Tony looks more relaxed now. Smiling, they both take a sip of champagne simultaneously.

“D’you think Nat and Clint placed bets on whether or not one of us would cancel?” Steve asks. Tony laughs outright. Not for the first time, Steve watches Tony break out into a smile and wonders if the heat he feels is a blush or the fact that looking at Tony when he’s grinning like that is like looking at the sun—bright and dangerous and so unbelievably warm. Steve takes another drink of champagne to calm himself.

“Well, since they know you and I are so stubborn we’d both rather show up for a pre-arranged blind date at one of the most-booked restaurants in the city than flake, I’d say the bet’s based on whether or not we appear in the communal kitchen tomorrow morning together or separately.” 

Steve chokes on bubbles. Tony laughs again. 

“Hickies optional, obviously,” he says gamely, winking at Steve, whose shoulders are creeping up toward his ears. “We could just muss ourselves up before we get home and they’d never know the difference.” 

“Tony, they’re literally professional spies. Of course they’d know.” 

“I have my ways, Cap. Do not doubt my ways.”

“I don’t doubt your ways, Tony,” Steve manages from behind the sudden tightness in his throat, “But we’re talking about Natasha Romanoff.”

“You mean the woman who almost gave you a hard-on when she kissed you on an escalator in D.C.?” 

Tony is still laughing gleefully (while Steve’s burning face is still buried in his hands) when Duncan arrives with two oversized menus. Steve waves at Tony when he offers to order for them, too embarrassed at having learned that Tony knows about the D.C. incident to speak for himself, at least for the moment. Besides, Tony knows everything he likes. (Well, almost everything.) 

They breeze past awkward and straight into comfortable after that. Tony apologizes for being late again and Steve shuts him up with bread. 

“Eat this and you can work it off with me later.” 

Tony waggles his eyebrows at him and says, “Promise, Cap?” with a gleam in his eye that Steve resolutely does not read into.

“In the gym, Tony.”

The food is delicious and borderline excessive, coming in wave after wave along with wine and bread and cheese and free courses compliments of the chef, and by the second hour of their meal even Steve’s increased metabolism is starting to feel sluggish. Of course, that’s when Duncan places a massive, beautiful, steaming bowl of rigatoni alla vodka on their table. The smell of it alone is enough to rouse him. 

“Holy shit,” Steve whispers as he ducks his head over the bowl to catch a bigger whiff of the red pepper-and-cream sauce, just loud enough he knows Tony will hear him. The other man giggles. It’s too fucking cute. Steve has to remind himself for the millionth time that this is not actually a date, because the words are right on the tip of his tongue.

“I told you!”

“Yeah, you did,” Steve answers, smiling at Tony as warmly and happily as he feels. This isn’t a real date, but he’s still having a fantastic dinner with his best friend and crush, so it’s a fun, memorable night for him either way. Steve dishes a heaping spoonful of rich, glossy pasta onto Tony’s plate first, too preoccupied to notice Tony glancing at his mouth before he takes another drink of light red wine (the price of which Duncan didn’t mention and at this point Steve doesn’t want to know). 

“I like the look you’ve got going on, by the way. Very devil-may-care. How long did it take you to decide against the jacket and tie?” Tony asks once Steve’s finished doling out pasta for himself. God, it’s so easy to laugh with Tony. The man is hilarious, sure, but little things like that—things that only Tony would think to ask Steve because they know each other so well and he likes making fun of Steve’s idiosyncrasies, likes making Steve loosen up and laugh at himself—make Steve feel like the champagne he drank earlier: bubbly, light, happy. 

He could spend five, six, ten more hours at this table. He could spend all of his time with Tony Stark and it still wouldn’t be enough. But there is only so much of himself and his time Tony seems willing to give, romantically or otherwise, and Steve’s made his peace with that. Mostly. 

It does help that Tony seems willing to give Steve a lot of his time anyways.

And no one—not even Tony—will know if Steve indulges himself by pretending, if only for a minute or two, that actually is a date.

“Only a few seconds. Natasha did the lion’s share of the work picking the shirt out for me,” Steve replies, blowing gently on his forkful of pasta, saliva pooling in the back of his mouth as he watches the steam trail off it before taking a bite. “Why, do you think I should have kept th—oh my god,” he groans mid-sentence, eyes rolling up into his head. Chewing slowly, Steve claps a hand over his mouth to muffle the lewd moan that threatens to escape him as bold, decadent flavors burst on his tongue. Tony was right—this stuff is sinful. 

Steve’s so wrapped up in the food he’s eating that he almost, almost misses Tony muttering Jesus under his breath. It doesn’t sound embarrassed or insulted. When he opens his eyes, Steve finds Tony watching him so avidly, it’s hard to notice anything else other than the way the man’s pupils have dilated considerably and is leaning forward, almost over the bowl. 

Tony licks his lips. Steve tries hard not to stare. 

“Sorry,” he says with a chuckle in an attempt to diffuse tension, “but that stuff is ridiculously good.” Steve’s really glad he didn’t wear the tie now, given how hot under the collar he feels all of a sudden. Tony’s looked at him a lot of ways, but never like that—like the only thing stopping him from launching himself across the table at Steve is the table, itself. “I can see why you’re always raving about it.” 

“Steve,” Tony says. He hasn’t touched his pasta. The fork is just kind of there in his hand, like he’s forgotten he’s even holding it. Steve looks at him again. 

“What? Did I get some on my face?” he asks, retrieving his napkin and wiping his mouth with it. Tony makes a rough, strangled sound in the back of his throat and, when drowning it with wine doesn’t help, puts his fork all the way down on the table and buries his face in his hands. 

“I can’t do this,” Tony whines. The conversations happening around them are loud, but not so loud Steve doesn’t hear him say it. The words cut him like a cold knife sharply through the middle. His head feels woozy, and not in the airy fun way it should be after drinking good wine for two and a half hours. How did things end up here so quickly? A minute ago Steve was having a religious experience and now Tony face is ashen and drawn. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Oh god,” Tony groans, “please, do not apologize. It’s me. It’s very much me.” 

This seems like a fork-down conversation. Steve places his on the table and tries not to glance longingly at the pasta on his plate. Steve knows when Tony is gathering himself to speak, which is exactly what’s happening now, so he waits  and doesn’t eat. He does take a drink, though. That much feels appropriate.

“Just so I’ve got it right,” Tony finally says after an unbearably quiet moment, a palm pressed against his own forehead, “you definitely had zero input vis à vis this whole blind date setup?” 

He’s deliberately not looking at Steve when he asks it. If Steve could put a word to his expression, he’d say Tony looks downright despondent at the idea, even if they’d already established earlier that yes, this thing was entirely Nat’s idea because she’s an unrepentant troll. 

The dissonance doesn’t make sense. But it does put hope in Steve’s heart where there wasn’t any before. 

“I didn’t,” he says, watching Tony’s face intently. He knows it so well at this point, he can tell when Tony’s smile is fake or real, when he’s wounded and won’t admit it, when he’s tired but can’t sleep. So Steve notices all too easily when the corner of Tony’s mouth dips down, a fraction of an inch of a frown, before he recovers with a laugh and claps his hands. 

“All good then,” Tony chuckles, but he won’t look Steve in the eye anymore. He picks up his fork and starts to tuck in, chewing so fast it’s like he’s racing toward a finish line Steve can’t see and doesn’t know how to keep from approaching, except—

“Why,” Steve blurts out, stopping Tony mid-chew, “were you hoping I did?” 

Tony’s eyes fly open but are heavily guarded when he looks back at Steve from across the table. No take-backs, Steve tells himself. 

Tony puts down his fork again. 

“What if I did?” he counters. 

“You can’t answer my question with a question, Tony,” Steve says, smirking when Tony’s expression flickers. 

“Watch me.”

“I am.” 

“Steve.”

“Tony.”

Tony huffs. Before he can cross his arms defensively, before either of them can think another thought, Steve reaches out with both hands, pulls Tony forward by the front of his too-nice shirt and kisses him, fast and firm and warm. The kiss is a point being made more than anything else, but a point nonetheless. 

Tony’s lips are yielding and taste faintly of wine and carpaccio piemontese. Kissing him feels more right than Steve could have imagined (and he’d imagined a lot, elaborately and often). One peck and he knows without a doubt he could kiss Tony for hours. But that’s all besides the point. The point is now, Tony knows. 

Before he can pull away and apologize (again) for his behavior, Steve feels more than hears Tony sigh against his lips. Then Tony tilts his head a fraction and suddenly Steve’s the one being kissed. Thoughts of anything alla vodka fly out of his head in a rush as Tony licks the closed seam of his lips and tongues him deep and slow when they open. Steve’s fingers are still grasping the front of the Tony’s shirt; he knows he should release him and stop this while things are still relatively PG. Instead Tony nibbles on his bottom lip and Steve releases that lewd moan he’d held back a few minutes ago right into Tony’s mouth. 

Steve has just enough brainpower left to remember that 1) they’re surrounded by onlookers, and 2) if they keep going like this, Duncan’s going to have to throw them out. Would that really be such a bad thing, his lizard brain supplies, unhelpfully. 

Decided, Steve lets go of Tony’s shirt with a gasp. They both fall back into their chairs with a whoosh. Between them, the steam rising off the rigatoni alla vodka swirls, disturbed by the sudden breeze, then continues curling lightly upwards like nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Like Steve’s entire life wasn’t just irrevocably changed, upended, by a single kiss. 

Picking up his fork, Steve licks the taste of Tony from his lips as he looks across the table at his date and takes another bite of pasta. Tony looks back. He looks hungry. 

“What did I tell you,” Tony says when Steve moans softly again. This time, he doesn’t miss the way Tony stares lingeringly at his mouth like he wants another taste. “Sinful.”

- - -

Send me an AU prompt! 

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

57 Pings

The prompt from anonymous was this:

From the prompt list!! Can I get #51 w/Cayde-6 x female hunter reader? I don’t see any Destiny stories on ur page but it look like u mentioned it!🙏🏻

Cayde-6 x Female Hunter!Reader

Warnings: fighting and non-descriptive mentions of dying

1,698 words

“He is pinging us, again.”

You banked your sparrow against the Exodus Black debris sending up a spray of sand and dirt as your ghost spoke in your ear. Your cloak whipped around you, slapping against your helmet once, making you feel even more aggravated than you did 10 seconds before it happened. Usually you weren’t so sloppy or reckless on your sparrow, but according to the 57 pings from your Vanguard, time was of the essence.

“Open the communication channel.”

Static briefly filled your helmet before it turned to voices. The first full statement directed to you came from a cheery, robotic voice you recognized with ease, “Captain! Welcome back! The Cayde-6 is once again in grave danger, are you here to provide assistance?” Glitching static turned into a disappointed, dreary version of the robotic voice, “Somebody needs to put out the fire he’s caused.”

“Yes, I’m here to help the dumbass. Where is Cayde-6, Failsafe? Is he still in the Glade of Echoes?”

“Why yes, I am, and I do not appreciate the tone or derogatory comment on my intelligence.” Cayde replied himself and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. A pack of Fallen fired on you as your sparrow flew by them, but you just hunkered down onto your seat and sped up.

Nessus scenery was a blur of red and white around you as you finally reached an open portion of the terrain where you could really open up the engine. Failsafe, both her cheery and depressed side, rattled off another comment this time directed at the Exo himself.

“Just know this, Vanguard.” You interrupted whatever he was replying to Failsafe to speak up, “If the Vex and Fallen don’t kill you, I will.”

“Oof. Vanguard? You’re really upset at me aren’t, you? Did I interrupt something important? Were you—”

You groaned, “Shouldn’t you be shooting and not talking?”

“I’m a very good multi-tasker.”

You took another sharp turn and the sound of gunfire and yelling filled the air. The Glade of Echoes was not your favorite spot to visit on Nessus even on a normal day. It was a mess of metal wreckage where Vex and Fallen liked to wage war against one another, and there was just enough tunnels and coverage spots that made fighting back a giant pain in the ass.

A large Vex minotaur stood in an alley opening firing toward a half-broken billboard relentlessly while a smaller pack of Vex goblins fired at a pack of Fallen that were also shooting at the billboard. Something told you that’s where you’d find a certain, impossible Exo.

You drove your sparrow straight into their warpath and leaped off last minute. The sparrow tumbled into the goblins while you slid under the Minotaur, between its legs, tossing up a grenade at it at the same time. Shots were fired at you, you didn’t even know who from, but you ducked and rolled toward the billboard. The grenade went off, throwing the minotaur off balance, and you took this opportunity to climb up the wreckage and dive behind the cover it provided.

“Well howdy, Guardian.”

Cayde-6 was crouched down in front of you. His back was pressed against the wall and his hand cannon, Ace of Spades, was held up in front of him ready to fire when needed. His signature cloak’s hood was pulled up as per usual but none of the hood hid the smug look on his blue, metallic face.

You dismissed your helmet, letting strands of your [hair color] hair fall into your face. Cayde’s glowing blue eyes were trained on you and his jaw flashed yellow as he spoke, “Welcome to the party.”

“How did you manage to make every living thing in the vicinity angry at you?”

“Hmm, good question.” He held a finger up and motioned it toward you, “Why are you angry at me? That might help me figure out an answer.”

You pulled out your own hand cannon and Cayde’s eyes darted to it before landing back on you. Quickly, you made sure it was fully loaded and Cayde mimicked your actions. This wasn’t the first time the two of you were up against a crowd of angry enemies who wanted you dead. As Hunters, working as a team didn’t come naturally to either of you granted. It took years before you found a fireteam you trusted or worked well with. Cayde-6, though? Working with him was never difficult. Interacting with him was effortless, and you’d done it enough now that much talk wasn’t needed.

Your Vanguard gave you a look, and you returned it with one of your own. His eyes lit up with amusement as you brought your helmet back into place. Cayde nodded once, and then the two of you went to work. In a flurry of gunfire and solar energy, the two of you took out Vex and Fallen alike one by one.  Their numbers dwindled down to only a handful.

You fired your last shot, blowing a particularly annoying Fallen away, and then backtracked away from the corpse while reloading your weapon. As you turned, you watched as Cayde threw out his knife, taking out a Vex, and fired the Ace of Spades point blank into the face of a Fallen that leapt toward him.

One Vex crept out from behind a lump of broken metal and snuck up behind Cayde. You hadn’t finished reloading but gave up on it to grab your knife in your opposite hand. Without hesitation you lunged forward and buried it into the back of its head at the same time that Cayde spun around with his gun up.

The barrel was aimed at your head for only a second or two before Cayde grabbed the cloth of your cloak wrapped around your neck, yanking you towards him. He kept his grip tight on you as you stumbled into his chest and then he fired two shots towards enemies behind you. You glanced over your shoulder in time to see the last two Vex fall to the ground in sparks.

“Captain! The two of you did amazing! Thanks to you, the area is clear.” Failsafe spoke over the comm channel in her typical flip-flopping ways, “Granted, it was your fault the area was flooded with enemies anyways.”

Your shoulders relaxed and you put your hand cannon back into its holster. It was only then that you realized Cayde still had one hand tangled in your cloak, and now his other hand twitched at his side as his gaze didn’t waver from your helmet.

“Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now?” Cayde said in a tone that held amusement and something you didn’t quite recognize.

You dismissed your helmet again, gave him a soft smile, and replied, “No.”

His blue eyes blinked in shock, and you took his confusion as an opening to untangle yourself from him. Cayde rubbed the back of his neck, the confusion still evident on his features, “Well, either I’m bad at reading a room or you just ruined a perfectly romantic moment.”

“Romantic moment?” You scoffed, “Cayde, you’ve ignored me for nearly a month now and suddenly just call me up out of the blue to save your ass on Nessus randomly??”

You shook your head and brushed past him to leave the area. Maybe you’d stop by and see Failsafe in person before taking off entirely. That thought was interrupted as Cayde caught up to you with ease, “So that’s why you’re upset at me, huh?”

It was silly to be upset at this situation which was why you tried to avoid thinking about it the past month. There was too much going on in your life, and the universe, for you to worry yourself on the Hunter Vanguard dodging your messages and calls.

Cayde whipped around to stand in front of you, forcing you to come to a screeching halt, “Hold on, hold on.”

“What?” You crossed your armored arms over your chest tightly and twisted your lips in annoyance and embarrassment.

“Yes, I did sort of ignore you for a month and that is on me.” Cayde spoke with his hands, “But in my defense I was… thinking about something.”

You scoffed, “Oh, you were? Hope you didn’t hurt yourself too badly.”

You tried to push around him again, but Cayde side stepped easily and stopped you. This time he kept his hands on your shoulders as he spoke, “You said we should hang out more.”

That was accurate. On one of your last missions together, before the silent treatment, you suggested that the two of you should spend more time together. It came from an after-mission buzz of confidence. Things had gone very well, the two of you walked away with some great loot, and the words slipped out before you even really knew what you were asking. Cayde had nodded in response, went his own way, and then hadn’t talked to you until today when he sent a random message asking for back up on Nessus.

“Cayde-”

“I want to hang out more.” He said quickly. For the first time in a long time, maybe the first time ever, you saw hesitance on his face. Cayde-6 was a lot of things, but hesitant was not one. He tore his gaze away briefly before settling it back on you, “Sorry it took me some time to work through it and figure it out.”

Your own features softened and Cayde squeezed your shoulders with both hands. With a sigh, you lifted one of your hands to set on top of one of his, “When I said hang out more, I meant like get a drink. Notpiss off every Vex and Fallen in a 2-mile radius.”

Cayde shrugged and shifted so his hands on your shoulders turned to one of his arms hanging off it. You responded by putting your own arm around his waist as the two of you continued walking through the now abandoned Glade of Echoes, “Who says we can’t do both?”

[flamebearrel]

Split Number One

Fandom: Super Smash Bros

Synopsis: It was simple, really. Three formidable fighters, or at least two and a kid trying his best, but only one could be saved. As experienced, top-notch heroes, Mario and Kirby should have seen it all before. They could have easily made the right choice. Yet they didn't. And it doesn't seem the winner understands.

Word Count: 1607

Original Post Date: March 6, 2019

Characters: Villager, Mario, Kirby (Minor Master Hand, Sheik, Marth, Galeem)

Ships: None

Trigger Warnings: None

Other Notes: I see Villager as a kid (like twelve years old); Kirby can talk with a simple vocabulary; the Trophy rules kind of align with Subspace

Ao3 Link

~~~

Victory!

The R.O.B. clone fell to the floor before melting into a puddle of gold. As the substance slowly evaporated, they watched the Spirit inside rise from it. Mario gave a little smile. The Spirit floated for a moment, seeming to give a nod of appreciation, before flying away from the path and into safety.

“...I’m pretty sure that Guardian Spirit isn’t something we should just let go around,” Mario thought aloud, picking up the tiny puffball by his feet. Kirby blinked in response.

“Is that okay?”

“Eh, probably not, but don’t worry. There’s bigger things to think about.” The plumber put a hand on his friend’s head. “Let’s-a keep going, little guy.”

There were trophies on three sides of the courtyard, standing silently. The once-shimmering blue hair of the Hero King on the left had dulled. They looked up ahead, where Sheik towered menacingly, eyes void of any emotion. To the right stood the shortest of the three, Villager, with the smile he usually wore to battle wiped off his face.

Glancing between them, Mario felt something stir inside of him. Dismay, perhaps? All these fighters, individually trapped in eternal stasis, while he was up and running. With that train of thought, choosing who to save first felt like playing favorites.

So he’d leave that to his partner. The man with the red cap lowered Kirby to the floor again, asking, “Who do you want to help first?”

The puffball paused for a moment before running up to Villager. “Him!”

“Sounds good to me,” Mario said with a nod. Reaching down, counting in his head, the plumber tapped the base of the trophy and waited for the fight to begin.

~

It wasn’t that difficult with the both of them there. As Mario landed the final Super Jump Punch and sent Villager through the blast zone, the ropes of light circling his body tore to pieces. The mayor fell to the ground, battered, unconscious.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

“Kirby,” Villager muttered, “Mario… what are you… ow, everything hurts…”

Immediately Kirby ran to him, ducking under the weakened fighter’s arm. “It’s okay.” He pushed, trying to help Villager up. “You’re okay now.”

“Huh…?”

As he got to his feet, the third member took in his surroundings. “Where are we…? How did we get here? I can only remember the light.”

Mario nodded. “That’s what we’ve-a been calling this place, the ‘World of Light’! Though I wish it was as pleasant as it sounded. We should… probably find a better name-”

“I’d say.” Holding Kirby’s stubby hand in his own, Villager stepped towards the center of the courtyard. “With all this ‘light, light, light’, I’m surprised we all aren’t blind by n-…”

There was nothing to do but trail off as the mayor rested his eyes on the other two trophies. He didn’t respond. For a moment, all that was there was the weight of the situation finding a seat in an audience of shoulders.

Then the plumber cleared his throat.

“Oh, uh…” Snapping back to the present, Villager turned to them again. “Sorry, I… we should probably help them out now, huh?”

“Just what I was thinking.”

With that, Kirby sauntered to Sheik. “Here, then! If we keep going, we can save everyone!” He reached out to tap the base of the ninja’s trophy. “So let’s-”

Flash.

The three of them jolted, grouping together at the center of the courtyard in sight of the giant hand that was suddenly there. It was a Master Hand clone, again, looming above.

“Stay behind me,” Mario growled. A fireball flickered into the palm of his hand and he took a step toward the clone-

But the right hand didn’t want to fight. He simply snapped his fingers, and bam, something was there. They could do nothing but watch in dismay as glowing energy shields formed around Sheik and Marth. And then the clone was gone, and Mario extinguished his fireball and everything was cold.

What could anyone say?

Mario ventured, “Well. This might be a bit harder than we thought.”

Then, all of a sudden, Villager was sprinting toward the shield, shrieking, “No! No, you can’t do that! You can’t!” Without his boxing gloves, he punched at the barrier, drawing back when it burned his hand. Then he put them on and tried again. It didn’t work either. “That’s not fair,” he screeched. He planted a tree, grew it to full height, then sent it toppling. The barrier left it in splinters. A bowling ball, a Lloid Rocket, everything was dropped on it, and nothing, nothing, nothing worked.

The other two watched a while, speechless.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, Kirby rushed to the mayor’s side, pulling him back by his shirt. “Villager, stop, please! It’s not gonna do anything…”

“But I…” For a moment he resisted, but, slowly, he let the fireworks in his hands drop to the floor. He shook his head. The sparks fizzled away in the dust.

“…Are you okay?”

Quiet again. Stepping forward, ready to offer support, Mario opened his mouth- Yet no sound was allowed to escape him, because just then, Villager turned.

“Why did you do it?”

The man in overalls spluttered, “Wh-what?”

“Take a look around!” Villager gestured wildly at the shields, then at the rest of the world. “Everyone is dead, Mario! Just dead, completely dead, unless some hero can go out and save everyone. Do you know how impossible that is?”

“I know it sounds impossible, but I’m-a sure we can-”

“No, you don’t get it! Even if we did manage to save someone, Galeem would just mess it up again. Regular people can’t fix this!”

Reaching a gloved hand towards the younger fighter, Mario protested, “But we’re not regular people-! We wouldn’t be here if we were…”

“You’re not regular people,” hissed Villager, “but riddle me this! You have three choices: A warrior prince, a ninja, or some kid who panics as soon as the lights turn on. And you choose the kid? WHY?! What can I do that they can’t?” He scoffed. “I’m not a hero. I can’t save the world. I can barely even do my own job! So what do you want? Tell me! Do you want the extra burden, or just someone to pick on? Am I- am I comic relief?! Just- Just-! WHY DID YOU CHOOSE ME?!”

At that, his voice cracked.

Out of arguments, eyes glistening, the mayor simply repeated, “Why did you choose me…?” Then he slid down to the ground, in silence.

“…”

Mario stepped up to the younger fighter and took a seat next to him. He hesitated no longer that a moment. “Please, don’t-a go thinking that way. I stand by what I said, ya know? None of us are here without a reason. Like…” The man in overalls tapped his chin. “You’ve got confidence when you fight. It’s there in your smile, I see it. And- and you’re reasonable, something this team probably needs.”

“That’s a lie. Sheik and Marth wouldn’t yell at you as soon as they woke up.”

“This is your first apocalyptic disaster, paisano. If you haven’t seen ‘em in action, I wouldn’t be so sure!”

Villager pulled his knees close, staring at a crack in the stone floor. “Then I’ll never be sure, I guess.”

The plumber sighed. “Listen to me. We’re gonna save them; I can promise that. It might take a while, but we’re not stopping until everyone is here and everyone is safe. So what if you’re new to this? That-a doesn’t make you any less of a family member. You’re as much a part of this team as us, Villager. And we need your help just like you need ours.”

“We can all help each other,” Kirby chimed. A second passed without dispute before he pattered up and gave the mayor a hug.

Mario wrapped an arm around him too. Defeated, the kid leaned against the plumber’s chest, and the three simply sat. For a few seconds they were a single bundle of consciousness in a sleeping world.

“Okay,” Villager finally said. He straightened up. “Maybe, just maybe… You have a chance of being right. We should get back on the road.”

As the puffball next to them clapped his hands in satisfaction, Mario grinned. “There we go! It’s a good thing you finally came around- we can’t have the guy who holds the supplies be too upset to let us use ‘em!”

“Ha-ha, very funny.” He totally wasn’t smiling anyway.

The trio staggered to their feet and took their first steps down the rock path, Kirby leading the way. As he went to follow, Mario chanced one last look at the trophies behind him. The energy shields stared back, unyielding, undaunted, unbreakable.

Something about it shot dread through his veins. Galeem was toying with them. What else did he want? What else would he do?

Clearing these thoughts with a shake of his head, the red-capped man took off after the others. There wasn’t time to think about it. They just had to keep going. Going, going… Otherwise they’d never be able to save everyone.

It didn’t matter if there were more forked paths. It didn’t matter what Galeem was going to do. They’d fix it all, somehow. It couldn’t be impossible, because at the very least…

A Spirit whisked past then and there, nearly toppling them. Kirby looked at the other two, and when they nodded, he reached up to catch it like he would any other falling star. Another fight. Mario counted down…

Three, two, one.

Go.

At least they had conquered split number one.

[marvel-redemption-omega]

No Need To Fear, The Ladies Are Here

A/N: This is my submission for @captain-kelli ’s 500 Fam Writing Challenge! I had so much fun writing this despite the mini panic attack I had when I thought it was due on the 1st…. and it varies greatly from my usual song prompt stories! I love doing song fics but I usually get too far gone with writing. It was nice to be able to step back and try a different style of writing. I hope you enjoy hun! Everyone else, please enjoy and remember that feedback and reblogs are much appreciated! And as always, this is beta’d by my babe: @kelseydactyl --Thank you for putting up with my delays and bouncing from story to story! I love you bby! <3

My Prompt: Salute by Little Mix (used in a couple parts, bolded and italicized for main use, italicized for the rest)

Word Count: 6158

Warnings: Cursing, mild violence, mentions of death/dead bodies

Pairing: Sam x F!Reader; Everyone x F!Reader (platonic)

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrat!

Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-ta-tat!

Zpppfting! Ziow!

Zpppfftiiiiing! Ziow ziow!

Brrrrrrrrrating!

Bullets rained around everyone; ricocheting off the metal sheets lining the sides of the walkways overhead, metal walls, and large, metal shipping crates scattered around the lower level.

Muffled swearing came across the comms. You quickly ducked behind a corner and glanced up to where Nat and Sharon were above on the walkway; meeting the red-head’s gaze, she nodded and took out the guy standing between you and the doorway. Sharon had her back to Natasha’s and stepped away from her as she pulled the trigger, dropping another agent.

“Y/n, take Loki and go as far as you can. We’ll meet you two once we finish cleaning up here,” Wanda’s calm voice came over the earpiece. Adjusting the M4A1 to a more comfortable grip, you nodded knowing full well she couldn’t see you.

“Copy that. Moving in with Lady Loki,” you shouted back over comms and moved towards the entryway, not bothering to spare a glance when you felt someone behind you. “Ready to kick some Hydra ass?”

“Always ready to torture those who aren’t me who do harm to my dumb brother,” Loki replied with a devious smirk. You snorted a scoff and motioned for her to cover you. Loki snapped and a force field materialized around you as you moved back out into the bullet shower. She tossed knives at two snipers when they popped their heads from behind their cover to survey the area. You nodded your thanks and gave her a smile.

“Do you think anyone’s coming?”

“Do you think anyone’s coming?” Mocked Tony, voice a pitch too high and snarky as ever. “Don’t be stupid, Steve. Pepper knows I wouldn’t miss date night. Not to mention Peter was supposed to come by but he’s here too. Pep probably has Nat and Y/n looking for us if they aren’t already here.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and leveled a glare at Tony. The billionaire matched his pose and raised his brows, waiting for a challenge. Steve sighed and relaxed his posture after a moment, though he kept his arms crossed.

He leaned against the wall, chin resting on his chest. The cells were silent amongst the men after the brief exchange, sighs and groans of frustration and irritation being the only sounds heard aside from leaking pipes and constant dripping water.

“Pepper, what’s the status of the entrance?”

“Looks like Wanda, Okoye, Carol and I took care of everyone. Wanda’s coming in to help you and do an interior sweep. I’ll stay out here with Okoye and Carol to make sure everything stays secure,” came the reply.

“Mrs. Stark, the Van Dyne woman has reached the central control room and secured it, though she reports she could use some back up,” Friday relayed to Pepper.

“Gamora, Nebula, you guys get that from Friday?” Pepper called and lowered herself by the only accessible entrance to the abandoned warehouse. The facepiece separated and folded back as she made eye contact with the Wakandan warrior and blessed-by-an-Infinity-Stone pilot, giving a small nod of appreciation.

“Yeah, en route,” Gamora answered.

“Are we sure the girls are looking for us? I mean, what if they are finally relieved not to have to put up with us anymore?” Peter paced his cell and smacked the heel of his hand to his forehead. “I haven’t wooed this Gamora to fall for me yet!”

“Quit your whining would you? It’s annoying,” Bucky grumbled, shifting on the cell floor, glancing at his left shoulder. A sigh left him and he closed his eyes. “How the hell did we get in this situation?”

“Because you weren’t paying attention and were the first to get knocked out,” Sam snarked at him. When kicked-puppy blue eyes met his brown ones, he swallowed thickly and nodded. “Right, sorry, Buck. Look,” he lowered his voice and moved to sit with his back to Bucky’s, despite the cell bars separating them, “this is on all of us. We all rushed in without having the proper knowledge on what we were getting into. It’s not any one person’s fault. We’re all to blame here, alright?” Bucky glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Sam, nudging him with his right shoulder.

“I am Groot.”

“I know, Buddy. I’m sure they’re on their way to save us,” Rocket reassured Groot, paw on the adolescent tree’s shoulder. Thor looked at Groot and smiled, kneeling down beside him.

“Hey, don’t worry. I promise you Loki won’t let us sit here long. She’s got quite the temperament when it’s others picking on and being mean to those she loves and cares about,” he explained. Groot looked up at the Norse God and nodded, giving a soft “I am Groot” in reply.

“She? I thought Loki was your brother?” Drax inquired, head leaning back on the wall he sat against.

“Yes and no. Loki is gender-fluid.”

“I thought he was a God-human thing?”

“N-what? No. Gender-fluid means that when Loki feels more masculine, she’ll use he/him pronouns, but when she feels more feminine she will use she/her pronouns. So she doesn’t really feel solidly one gender but sometimes both or somewhere in between, in limbo kind of,” Thor tried his best to explain what Loki had once -a long time ago- explained to him. Everyone glanced at the powerless God before nodding and settling back into the uncomfortable silence.

“They have comms too, don’t they, Y/n?” Loki asked, eyes scanning the hall for anyone they might have missed. She ran her hand along the wall, pausing in wait for your answer.

“I think so, but I couldn’t tell you what channel they’re on,” you replied, M9 crossed with your flashlight as you lead her down an empty corridor that smelled of mildew. A glance to the corners where the wall meets the ceiling confirmed your suspicions of mold. You pulled a face and glanced back at Loki, admiring the black and green velvet battle dress she wore. “Why?”

“Just wondering if we could possibly find the right one and let them know we’re on our way with a plan,” her tone masked a deeper meaning but you didn’t want to push. Best to let her do what she wants and be done. She’s not hurting anyone, you reasoned with yourself.

You continued on down the seemingly endless hall until a cool hand on your shoulder stopped you. You turned to Loki, the force field dissolving from around you and appeared to dissipate at her hand.

“What? Did you find something? Someone?” You couldn’t help the hopefulness that leaked into your tone, you just wanted everyone back. She shook her head no but had a smile plastered to her face. She reached to you and fiddled with your ear piece a moment before many familiar voices came over the comms.

“Hey, Mr. Stark, Sir, do you really think they’re coming to get us? What if Mr. Quill is right? What if they are finally fed up with us and just leave us here?” The spider-boy’s anxious voice filtered in through the comms link. You breathed a sigh of relief, thankful at least one of the guys were safe, probably two if he was actually talking to Tony.

“Hey, Kid, come on. Breathe. Easy. Alright, settle down. I have no doubts that they’re coming for us. Much as we might annoy them, they love us, otherwise they wouldn’t put up with us,” Tony’s voice rang loud and clear over the ear piece. You exchanged smirks with Loki.

“Alpha, Wolf Strike, we have one way comms with our lost little soldiers. Not sure what Loki did but we’re gonna see if we can establish two way comms. Until then, switch to 7-Delta to hear them.” You called in over the comms to the rest of the team. Murmurs and whoops and cheers all deafened you for a moment and you couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled it’s way from your chest at your team.

“Wolf Strike, Command, I’ll try and hack the disabling system that’s bugging their equipment. It appears to be a simple jammer, should be simple enough. Give me 5 Mikes-10 tops,” Shuri called to you one way.

“Copy that, Command. Let me know when you get it. You have my location right?”

“Negative. Seems that whatever is jamming their comms is just in range enough to reach your tracker,” it was Hill who responded this time, furious clacking of a keyboard sounded in the background.

“I’ve got it. You go ahead and look for them. I won’t be long and you’re not alone,” Loki waved then was gone. You startled slightly at her magic display, suddenly questioning if she had ever even been there.

“Ahh, Brother. What a fine mess you seem to be in. Such a pity that it wasn't my doing though. Fortunately the craftsmanship is poor, the intellect weak, and the numbers few,” Loki walked down the cell block, tsk-ing at the use of old iron and aged cement.

“Loki! By Gods, you are here! You haven’t the faintest idea how pleased I am to see you!” Thor yelped in shock, moving to the cell door. “Our comms are shot, we’ve all lost what makes us each individuals, and we were all so worried you wouldn’t be able to find us!”

“That was your first mistake. Your second was doubting us. Now!” Your voice rang out through the men’s earpieces and their eyes lit up. Music started drifting into your ears via your comms and you couldn’t help but laugh. Leave it to Shuri to bring the music during a rescue mission. “Ladies all across the world, listen up we’re looking for recruits! If you’re with me, lemme see your hands, stand up, and salute!” you sang along softly and darted back to the corner hallway where Loki stood waiting; her apparition faded from Thor’s view on the other side of the locked metal door. His face twisted from happy to annoyed that Loki hadn’t actually been in the room.

Curse her and her stupid magic tricks, he thought with a huff.

Ba-boom!

Bucky and Sam jumped to their feet at the explosion. Bucky’s eyes wild with fear for a brief moment as memories flashed before his eyes. He shook his head and with the help of Peter, who had gotten tossed in his cell, pulled himself from his mind and readied himself for a fight. Everyone stood tense and on edge as the dust cleared.

“Miss me, Boys?” You tilted your head to the left and beamed at them, Loki walking up behind you. She rolled her eyes at your antics but slipped a key into your hand nonetheless.

“Let’s hurry. I didn’t see anyone but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t hiding out somewhere waiting to ambush us,” she hissed.

“Right. Alright, well, be prepared for the death of the king!” T’Challa raised a brow at you and crossed his arms.

“Did you just quote Scar from The Lion King?” Peter inquired as you open his and Bucky’s cell first. With a shrug and a lopsided grin you moved on to Cap and Tony while Loki broke out Thor, Strange, Vision, and the Guardians. The Wakandan King seemed to relax at the realization of your quote, courtesy of Parker, and shook his head.

“Purgatory maybe,” you sniggered and stepped up to the cell with people in it and curtly bowed your head. There were groans of protest from behind you at your reference to the Supernatural post you had shown everyone when it crossed your Tumblr dash. “King Panther,” you hummed and opened the door. T’Challa stepped out holding an unconscious Bruce, with Scott and Clint following him.

“They’ve sedated him to keep the Hulk at bay,” Clint answered your silent question, absentmindedly signing as well. “I also think some of the others have a similar serum. I saw them administering shots of a green-ish liquid into them.” He continued to sign as he spoke. You nodded and signed “thank you” back before ushering them towards Loki and continuing your investigation of the room. When you gave the all clear, Loki projected a malleable forcefield around the group as she led them back the way you two had come.

The guys all filed in line behind Loki, Thor taking over carrying Bruce, and you brought up the rear with Bucky and Sam in front of you. Between you and Loki, and the sassy comments from the rest on comms, you had given the basic escape plan to them and told them not to worry about their losses for now. It took about five minutes of reassurances from everyone that the others were fine aside from Bucky’s missing limb and some scratches, and nothing needing urgent care. Once that was done, everyone fell into a content silence, at least over comms.

“But how will you bring me Mjolnir if you cannot pick it up? Only those worthy can, and I cannot call it to me,” Thor questioned as he followed close behind Loki. She glanced at him over her shoulder and nodded to you and Peter, with whom you were in conversation with.

“Surely one of those two can do it, yeah? We’ll figure it out or you can come get it, but not until we’ve covered the grounds and cleared it out. You’re pretty useless right now,” she grinned and continued to backtrack through the halls leading back to the main entry point. It was quiet for a little longer.

“So tell me dear Brother, how did the mighty Black Panther get captured? Wakanda nonsense is that?!” Shuri chided T’Challa over comms after about ten minutes of silence. Laughter broke out from all ends at her pun and the King just groaned at his sister.

“Not right now, Shuri. Can’t this wait?” He pleaded, exhaustion seeping into his voice. “It’s bad enough I don’t have the necklace you gave me for the suit, I don’t need your chastising too. Don’t add insult to injury,” he sighed, defeated.

“You lost the necklace that contains the suit? Brother! What the hell were you thinking? It’s a good thing that not only did I program it specifically to you, but that no one else can get ahold of the Black Panther’s gifted flower!” Shuri yelled at him.

The laughter ceased and the line went silent at the berating of the King by the Princess. Everyone seemed to have the same thought, staying out of that, as they all lowered the volume or turned off their earpieces completely. It wasn’t their business what the Wakandans argued over nor was it their right to take sides. Especially not after the last time when Steve and Tony fought. Everyone remembered that.

“Hey, Loki, hold up. I think I heard something down this hall. I’m gonna go check it out. I still have that personal force field right?” You called and backtracked about three steps.

“Yes it’s still good, but don’t go alone. We haven’t scoped out anywhere else. Take someone else or wait and come back with Natasha and Pepper or something,” she suggested and halted, turning to look at you. The sound of metal buttons snapping was heard and you nodded to Sam, Bucky, and Steve.

“Come with me. You can shoot, right?” You rhetorically asked and passed them each a gun; Bucky your M9 pistol, Steve your .44 revolver, and Sam your M4A1 from your right shoulder, while you swung the Remington R4 from your left shoulder around to your hands. “I think I’m covered,” you beamed and lead the trio of soldiers down the damp hall.

“Come on, let's get out so we can get you lot patched up,” Loki heaved a sigh and touched the wall. It lit up in a bright green rune before disappearing as if nothing happened. Thor raised a brow but didn’t ask his sister why she had been marking the path with ancient Nordic runes.

“Everyone step back. I’m gonna blow the lock,” you ordered and pulled a small electronic gadget from your cargo pants pocket after shouldering her gun. Sam raised a brow and shook his head with a laugh. You pressed a couple buttons on the side and set it snug against the iron lock before pressing one more button and backing away quickly.

“Is that a variant of Tony’s repulsor from his suits?” He asked as you joined the group at the far end of the room, where you had blown off yet another door. You grinned and gave a subtle nod in his direction before covering your ears. They all followed suit.

“If it’s what I think Y/n is using, then yes it is. It’s similar, except that is a small bomb. Small and handy like a grenade but can be as explosive as ten C4 bombs if the setting is changed,” Shuri’s voice explained over the comms, music still played in the background, though it couldn’t be made out anymore.

Ba-BOOM!

You waved your hand in front of your face at the dirt and dust kicked up from the explosion. It took the guys a little longer to get reoriented with their senses, and by the time they had, you were on them with your arms full. You passed Steve his shield, Sam his wing pack, and you tugged Bucky towards the table where the rest of everyone else’s gear lay.

“Sit,” you ordered gently and waited until he was situated on it before you helped him remove the top half of his tactical gear so you could reattach his Vibranium arm. Sam and Steve collected the remaining gear while you worked silently. It took you all of five minutes to get Bucky back to being fully functional again.

“Arm up. Wiggle your fingers. Roll it. Twist it, does it feel off?” You instructed and watched to make sure nothing stuck or had been damaged.

“Thanks.” He smiled and shook his head no as he slid from the table, redressing himself while you hummed and busied yourself in double checking that Steve and Sam had collected everything. A flash of red caught your eye and you rounded to where you thought you saw it.

“What was that?” You pulled your flashlight out and shined it along the wall until the light landed on the -very dirty and wet- cloak. You recognized it immediately as Strange’s. “Oh no. You poor thing,” you cooed, as it seemed to flap anxiously, and you immediately began trying to pull the iron railway spike from the wall without ripping the cloak.

“Here. Allow me?” Steve offered and raised his shield. After a moment you nodded and stepped back, watching as the Captain wedged the shield between the wall and the spike and used it as a lever to pry the spike out. Bucky grabbed the spike as it came loose and gently pulled the cloak from the end. He tossed the spike to the side and held the soggy clump of cloth to you.

“You poor dear, let’s get you to Strange and then we’ll get you home and all cleaned up, ok?” You murmured softly to the cape and cradled it in one hand and grabbed the bag with everything else in your other. You slung the bag onto your shoulder and glanced around one last time. “Alright, looks like that’s everything. Let’s head back to the others.”

The trio had given you back your guns, Sam threatening to put them back in their holsters himself if you didn’t take them. You conceded to prevent that, at least under the circumstances, otherwise they knew you’d have taken off for them to play catch up. It was a silent walk back, though the happiness that radiated from the men was contagious and you couldn’t stop smiling if you wanted to. They seemed more relaxed and content now they had their belongings back.

It wasn’t long before you were stepping over downed soldiers and rubble and debris. You were trying to squeeze through a pile of -probably dead- Hydra agents and the wall when your knee connected with something sturdy. You let out a yelp and stumbled forward into more bodies. Sam rushed to you and helped you back to your feet as Steve and Bucky moved the pile to find what you had tripped on, or to see if it had been a survivor in hiding.

The blonde huffed and shook his head at the sight of Mjolnir resting on a guard’s chest at the bottom of the pile. Of course it wouldn’t have been knocked over or moved even with all the bodies piled on top. “Y/n,” Steve called to get your attention.

“Shit. How are we supposed to get Mjolnir back? We can’t pick it up,” you groaned inwardly at the conundrum as you glanced back over your shoulder. Steve stayed quiet as the realization of what hammer it was didn’t register with the other two.

“What do you mean? It’s just a hammer isn’t it?” Sam and Bucky asked in unison. They shot glares at the other before turning back to you and Steve. Steve chuckled and gestured to the God’s hammer.

“If you think you are worthy, then wield it,” he suggested and took a step back to watch the events unfold. You pursed your lips and joined the Captain while Sam and Bucky played Ro-Sham-Bo to see who would try to pick it up first.

“Hah!” Sam smirked, “Paper beats Rock!” With a minor adjustment of his wing pack on his back, he strutted to the table and grabbed the handle, “Watch and learn, Barnes.”

You rolled your eyes at their egos but hummed in contentment anyway. It was going to be fun watching Sam and Bucky fail to lift Thor’s hammer. There were only three people you knew could do so; Thor, himself, and Peter Parker, the Spiderling. You had opted to not embarrass yourself when everyone else was having a go at after Thanos’ end. Your eyes widened and jaw went slack as you remembered something. You turned to Steve.

“You!” you cried hysterically and pointed at him, realization dawning on you. You watched his face tinge pink and he laughed with a nod. “You just wanna see them try and fail, don’t you?” you hiss at him as Sam struggles -and fails- to even get the hammer to budge. Bucky almost doubled over in laughter.

“Maybe. Sometimes they both need to be taken down a peg or two,” he shrugged nonchalantly and watched as Bucky and Sam switched places. The second super soldier slipped his Vibranium hand through the holding strap so it rested on his wrist and gripped the handle. He flashed a smile before giving a tug to the hammer. It didn’t lift, but it did shift slightly as it had done once before with Steve. He tried again with the same results.

“Fuck, man, I don’t think we’ll be able to bring this back,” Bucky sighed and retreated to the group with a hit to his ego and his pride bruised. Sam nodded in agreement while you giggled at them. Steve sauntered up to Mjolnir and grabbed the handle.

“Or maybe,” he tugged and it moved as though it weighed nothing, “you’re just not worthy.” You groaned aloud as he quoted Thor from several years ago. He winked at you and nodded. “Let’s go, shall we?” He took the lead as you fell back into step behind him, leaving Sam and Bucky to fall in and follow. Bright green Nordic symbols lined the way and it wasn’t long before you regrouped with the whole team.

“Ladies all across the world, listen up we’re looking for recruits! If you’re with me, lemme see your hands, stand up, and salute! Get your killer heels, sneakers, pumps, or lace up your boots! Representing all the women, salute, salute!”

Steve trudges down the hall to the common room and kitchen in a worn out white tee and a pair of sweatpants. He tilts his head as the lyrics meet his ears. He hesitates before continuing into the kitchen for breakfast, deciding to skip his usual morning run.

“I’ve heard this song before, but I can’t place where?” He scrunches his face, brows furrowed as he tried his best to remember.

“Yeah. Y/n plays it all the time. It’s kind of her theme song. She always has it in her workout playlist and Shuri played it over our comms when we saved your ass just a couple weeks ago,” Nat smirks smugly from the island bar with a plate of bacon, eggs, sausage, hash browns, toast, and waffles.

“Language,” Steve startles at her voice, having not noticed her when he walked in. He gives a friendly wave and small smile before what she said registers and he scowls at her. His eyes scan the room and land on Wanda who is fixing a plate at the table, also smirking. “And you know that wasn’t our fault right?”

“Oh yeah. EVERYONE gets bad intel from time to time. Just, yanno, usually it’s not like over half the team,” your voice cuts through the song and Steve glances over to see you -making more waffles and bacon- swaying and shuffling to the song, stomping when the lyrics “lace up your boots” is said and mock saluting when “salute” is said. He shakes his head at you.

“That’s not funny. We thought the emails and intel came from Fury,” he counters and grabs a plate from the stack beside you. You raise a brow and cock your head to the side, smirk on your face.

“That is funny. I don’t recall Nick getting a gmail account,” You giggle and flip the waffle maker to evenly cook the batter through. “Or better yet, I didn’t know he was doing it differently by not making an appearance and scaring the ever-loving shit out of everyone,” you smile at the way Steve shifts uncomfortably at your cursing.

“Hey, stop making the Cap feel old, well older than he is. You know how much a lady swearing makes him feel even more out of place,” a teasing voice calls from the entrance. Natasha and Wanda smile while you try to ignore the male, but you can’t help but smile as you take out the waffle and start making another. You sense him before you feel his arms around your waist and his lips on your neck with a hushed “good morning, Beautiful” against your skin.

“Go shower then you can have waffles,” you ignore the almost inaudible cries from Sam but you only shoo him from you. “Shower or no waffles, Samuel,” you grab the hand towel from the counter, wind it up, and pop his backside with it as he finally concedes defeat. He yelps in surprise and turns to see you with the towel over your shoulder, swaying to the last few lines of “Salute”. Nat and Wanda laugh behind their hands while Steve stared in bewilderment at what just took place. Sam rolls his eyes and heads to the bathroom to shower. He passes Tony with a “good morning” said between them.

“I think you’ve managed to confuse and startle everyone with not only your cunning wit, rivaling sass, but your knack for going Captain on them,” Tony teases and grabs a plate. You glance at him and shrug, offering him the just-done waffle.

“I learned a lot in the Navy. It’s how you survive,” you respond and set everything aside and get a plate to make for Sam. “Besides, the best way to prevent someone from being condescending is to establish dominance. I do that by going Drill Sergeant,” you explain and set the plate on the table.

“Ahh yes. I remember when you first met everyone. You had them all scared out of their pants! They all snapped to attention and looked ready to salute,” the billionaire laughs at the memory. “If I recall right, that was your theme song too, the one that was just playing? I remember Happy telling F.R.I.D.A.Y. to play it when you went to spar with Natasha.”

“Oh, yeah, that reminds me--how did y’all know we were all captured?” Steve pipes up from the table. Tony raises a brow while the other females smile. You busy yourself making your own plate before answering.

“Honestly? I just knew you, Sam, and Buck were out on a mission together. Then Nick dropped in and asked where Tony was, which sparked interest in Bruce, Scott, and Strange’s whereabouts. When I didn’t have an answer, we tried to look up any info we could manage. We didn’t think anything like a hostage situation until Shuri called to see if T’Challa was here. She said that she hadn’t heard from him in a few days and the last thing she got was a notification on her Kimoyo bead bracelet for T’Challa saying he lost signal about two hours prior. She thought maybe some Stark tech was jamming it but then when it didn’t come back on she decided to make some calls,” you recall and bring the orange juice jug to the table with your plate of food.

“That’s right. After Y/n got off the phone with Shuri I found Pepper to see if she knew where you were, Tony. That’s how we knew you were gone. She said you had promised to be here for dinner and when you didn’t show she got worried, then Parker called and said you had missed coming to his school and we knew we had to start looking. Then May showed up her that night saying he never came home from school and the school was saying he left around lunch,” Wanda adds as she moves to the table with Nat. Sam slides into the seat beside you, freshly showered.

“Then Loki showed up and she went off about Thor and we knew that something big had happened. When we called Nick to verify the missions he supposedly gave out he just gave us his bitch face and we knew something was very wrong,” you pour syrup over your strawberries and waffle. “You’re just lucky we got there when we did. Y’all owe Dr. Cho, Shuri, Hill, MJ, and May big time. They were holding it down here and giving us anything and everything we needed to know. Oh and for future reference? Nick will never email or send someone else in his place when giving orders. It’s proven to be too much of a security issue,” you state and dig into your breakfast so they won’t continue pestering you about the day you saved them.

It had been nonstop questions about how you had planned the rescue, who had been team leader in Cap’s place, who decided who went and who stayed, and so on and so forth. You were over it and your answer seemed sufficient enough for Steve and Tony as they began to eat their food, a comfortable silence settling over the compound for the first time since everyone got back.

“Hey, don’t forget we have some new S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to whip into shape,” Sam nudges your arm, making you pause with a piece of waffle halfway to your mouth.

“I completely forgot. Let’s hurry then,” you perk up and finish your bite.

“How is she not tired of this playlist yet?” Rhodey crosses his arm, standing beside Tony on the upstairs overhang in the gym. The same playlist you turn on every time you train loops through F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s speaker system.

“She’s crazy, that’s why,” Tony sasses and chuckles.

You and Wanda are grappling while you wait for Steve, Sam, and Bucky to get back from taking the new agents on a mile and a half run. Natasha watches from the sidelines, yelling pointers and reminders for certain techniques the two of you are trying to smooth and perfect. It’s when Wanda pins you to the mat, red encircling from her hands up her forearms, that you tap out with a huffed laugh.

“Using your powers is cheating. This is a spar for hand to hand only, no powers,” you tease and buck your hips so high that she rolls off you, over your shoulder. You both sit up and she gives you a large smile, wiping the sweat from her brow as the red dissipates.

“I’m working on it,” she shoots back. She nudges her shoulder against yours and nods to the door. “Looks like the kids are here. Want me to get them ready with stretches?”

“I think they need cool down stretches and a water break from the looks of their run. I think Steve and Buck went overboard again. Damn super soldiers,” you laugh and push yourself to your feet, offering Wanda a hand up. She accepts it and heads over to the group of barely standing recruits.

“Everyone go get some water and line back up. We’ll do some cool downs since our soldiers like to overwork you first thing in the morning,” Wanda jabs at the old soldiers before shooting them a wink. They both flush pink and duck their heads as they retreat to the boxing ring. Sam laughs and snatches his water bottle from the bleachers and gives the witch a questioning look. She tips her head to you on the far side of the gym, talking in quick, hush tones with Natasha.

“Look, it’ll be funny. You saw the video of when I first, officially, met the guys right? It’ll be kinda like that,” you grin and bump her hip with yours. Her eyes narrow slightly, a playful glint in them, and she nods.

“Fine. You can have this group. I’ll get the next ones. I’m recording this though,” the Russian quips and grabs her jacket and water bottle. She nods at Sam in passing, heading straight for Tony and Rhodey upstairs.

“What was that about?” Sam inquires and leans against you. You raise a brow at him, swipe his bottle, and take a sip. He pouts for a split second before you hand it back to him.

“Just some good ole’ pranks on the unsuspecting newbies,” you chuckle and lean away from him. He follows so half of his upper body weight is leaning on your left side. You give him a fake sigh. He pulls back slightly and goes to lean back once you give him a smile, but you side step just out of his reach and he stumbles.

“Hey!” He yelps and grabs your wrist, pulling you close once he has his balance back. His dark eyes are bright with mirth and mischief. “I thought the pranks were for the kids?”

You lean towards him, noses brushing. For a moment you both just stare into the others eyes, lost in contention. You break eye contact and giggle.

“I mean, aren’t you a kid?”

“Oh har har har. Very funny, Y/n.”

“Thanks! I was thinking of quitting the Avengers to do my dream job; be a comedian!” You cheer and give his shoulder a nudge. “You know I’m just playing. Anyway, time to go scare some new agents into shape! Oh, and tell the Soldiers to slow the pace or I’ll have them supervise the kids on treadmills instead.”

“Aye aye, Ma’am!” He salutes and takes a seat on the edge of the boxing ring where Steve and Bucky are stretching. “You two heard the lady.”

“Ladies all across the world, listen up we’re looking for recruits! If you’re with me, lemme see your hands, stand up, and salute! Get your killer heels, sneakers, pumps, or lace up your boots! Representing all the women, salute, salute!”

The music slowly fades in as Wanda addresses the recruits to get back in some formation. You slink up behind them, waiting for one of them to notice you and say something. When they don’t, you have F.R.I.D.A.Y. turn up the volume of the music just a little, waiting for the right moment, timing it with the lyrics of the song.

“ATTENTION!” You call, using your diaphragm and startling every single one of the new recruits. They all jump, stumble, and trip over each other in an attempt to turn and cower or push their way to the front. You grin at them, eyes brimming mischievously. The ones with previous military and junior ROTC are standing at attention but slowly stand easy again when they realize it was a joke. A Cheshire grin spreads across your face as you make eye contact with each and every one of them. “Time for the real training to begin. You will start by sparring with Natasha, Sam, Clint, and myself. Break up into even groups. Move it!”

[thetriggeredhappy]

idk if you've done 31. speedingbullet before but oh man, that would be such a wholesome blessing ♡

missed the festival in town this year unfortunately bc travel reasons, time to live vicariously through these fictional 60s/70s gays again. (warnings for sappy, mentions of vomit in goof contexts, mentions of weed because im a creature, food)

31.) “Can I kiss you?”

One of these days, he’d figure out how to get Sniper out of his shell. He was sure of it.

He’d tried just about everything he could think of. He’d invited Sniper to the movies, to tag along to help with a shopping run, out to eat at three kinds of restaurants for lunch and two for dinner. Hell, he’d ended up roping Sniper into a double date, himself set up with a fiery-tempered girl who’d dumped a drink on his head and then written her number on his arm, Sniper with the tag-along friend who apparently needed to get out more. The date hadn’t gotten much of anywhere, the girl and him half-arguing the whole time and Sniper and the other girl staring at their plates and hardly even chiming in when invited. It had taken a bit of pestering to get Sniper to go out again after that.

He dragged Sniper to team meals, to bars, to clubs, to casinos. To a museum, to the farmer’s market, to a flea market. And each and every time he brought Sniper somewhere, the man ended up pacing along beside Scout, hands in his pockets, quietly chiding him when he got argumentative with civilians and quietly laughing at him when his bad luck had him making a fool of himself.

He just wouldn’t open up. Scout told him story after story, showed him all his own interests, presented every kind of joke he could think of, and the guy wouldn’t budge. Wouldn’t start telling his own jokes, wouldn’t start telling his own stories. Wouldn’t commentate on the things around them unless directly asked, and never once suggested where they should go next.

If Scout didn’t like a challenge so much, he would’ve ripped his own damn hair out.

The fair was his last resort. If he couldn’t get Sniper to open up somehow with the excitement and variety and overall greatness of an entire fair, then he was denouncing the man as a robot who did not feel things or have real emotions and turning him over to Engie for further study.

This was the middle day of the fair, meaning it was straight up bustling. Every stand had at least two people at it, and all the food booths had lines, and all the rides had even longer lines, and the number of teenagers stood around with each other was downright astronomical. This was a big fair, too, one of those harvest-type once-a-year nothing-else-ever-happens-in-this-state festivals that people would come from all over the place to go to. Engie had a lot to say on those kinds of things, and in fact had been the one to suggest Scout go check it out after hearing about it from some other old person when he was out doing some work-related supply run stuff.

Scout was most excited, as he often was, by the food.

The first thing they did once they got in the place was beeline to the first booth, some caramel corn thing, to get a small bag of it. Sniper commented lightly on his restraint. The second was to go to the next booth, which sold cotton candy. They got one cone to split between them. The third was to go to the next booth, which was one of those fair-specific food trucks. Sniper was starting to catch on.

“Aren’t these… well, the same sorts of food you can just find in a city somewhere?” Sniper asked, voice lowered so that only Scout could hear him.

Scout put on his best expression of complete shock and offense. “What! No, it’s totally different! The hell you talkin’ about? Fair food is awesome!”

“I mean… I’m not so sure, mate,” Sniper said carefully, glancing over the colorfully-painted sign.

“I—okay, hold on,” Scout instructed, and turned to pay as he was handed his latest portion of food, the Bucket ‘O Fries. “I mean, c’mon, check this out! It’s a bucket of french fries, what’s to dislike?”

Sniper looked at him blankly as they walked away from the food truck. Scout breathed in and began to elaborate.

“I mean, okay, the quality of the fries? Not great. I’ll admit, they’re fuckin’ shit, garbage oil sticks, and they’re also just straight up delicious. They’re the best trash. They’re the truck stop diner bacon of french fries. They’re tasty nightmares. I’m literally gonna like, sweat oil and salt after eating these, and it’s absolutely worth it. You can’t get this specific brand of perfect awfulness anywhere but at a fair. And, and? It’s in a bucket. That’s hilarious. Food in a bucket is awesome. Like, it’s maybe the closest a food place can get to calling its customers animals without making them eat from a trough, and I’m all about it. And you get to keep the bucket. Like, I just have a little plastic trash-lookin’ bucket now. What part of this isn’t objectively the greatest?”

Sniper considered the question. “Well, don’t imagine you’ll be able to eat all those,” he said after thinking about it for a moment. “So, not ideal.”

“Dude, don’t even worry about that. Best part of a carnival like this? They’ve got all this horrible garbage food, and like thirty feet away—“ He stopped in his tracks, and Sniper stopped as well, following his line of sight. “—They have spinny rides that’ll make you puke.”

Sniper was still. Scout watched him, waiting for a reaction. “Rides make you throw up?” he asked after a second.

“If I eat a whole fuckin’ bucket of french fries before I get on, then hell yeah they do,” Scout said cheerfully.

Sniper considered that, or maybe just stared at the ride and all of the screaming and hollering people aboard it.

“How many foods come in a bucket, y’think?” Sniper asked.

“Uh, you got fries,” Scout said, lifting his Bucket ‘O Fries to demonstrate his point. “You got fried chicken. I went to this place once with chicken tenders in a bucket with fries.”

“So just a combination of the first two,” Sniper said.

“Oh my god, what? Dude, no way, fried chicken and chicken tenders are wildly different, you kiddin’ me?” Scout gasped. “Barely the same food group!”

Sniper shifted his feet, still watching the ride. “How’re they different?”

“Don’t even get me started, man,” Scout warned.

“Do you even know the food groups?” Sniper asked next, voice flat in a way that Scout had learned meant Sniper was joking.

“Sniper, as a connoisseur of absolute garbage, you insult me,” Scout deadpanned back. “Let’s take some laps of the games and stuff before we go on the rides, I gotta have time to appreciate these fries before they’re being sent into a trash can.”

Sniper shrugged in agreement, following Scout as he started off towards some of the games.

Scout blew a good twenty dollars on the bottle ring toss game, pleased to hear Sniper chiming in every time he made a particularly bad throw. The next booth over had Scout making a repeat performance with the cane ring toss game, except he did manage to win himself exactly one prize, a sticky hand which only ended up directly in his pocket due to the look of immediate dismay on Sniper’s face when he saw Scout wielding it.

“Hey, if there’s one of those shooting games here, think you’d wanna play it? Show up some people?” Scout asked.

Sniper shook his head. “Mate, even out here in civvies,” he started, plucking at the shoulder of Scout’s civilian t-shirt and the chest of his own choice of clothing, a green-grey button-up, “I imagine an Australian washing out the place and a Boston bloke cheering him on would earn enough looks to get us recognized. Especially since you’ve still got the hat and I’ve the glasses.” He tapped first the bill of Scout’s hat, then the side of his own shades.

“Then we fake some accents,” Scout said cheerfully.

Sniper raised an eyebrow, which Scout had long learned was the closest thing to emoting that Sniper managed most of the time. “As if you know how to fake accents,” Sniper said, a note of disbelief showing through.

“What, you think I don’t?” Scout challenged, bumping elbows with him partially by accident as they needed to squeeze between two gaggles of people.

“Do one, then,” Sniper said simply.

Scout cleared his throat, raising his chin. “Oi, look ‘ere, mind tellin’ me where you might find a hotel ‘round ‘ere?” Scout said in an approximation of a lighthearted British accent.

Sniper stared at him. “The hell’d you learn to do that? That was damn well spot on,” Sniper said, both eyebrows raised now.

Scout kept grinning, ducking ahead for a second to squeeze between two intersecting lines of people. When Sniper caught back up he started explaining. “Me an’ one’a my brothers spent these two summers pullin’ this scam,” he started to explain. “We’d pretend to be tourists in town for tour group stuff, sneak into tour groups around the middle’a the day with these old busted cameras he got off people and fake accents so people thought we were from somewhere else, get into buffets for tour-specific stuff and eat for free and leave again,” he explained. “First summer we did it for like two months straight with different tours, second summer we only made it a month in before we had to cut it out.”

“Why?”

“His ex-girlfriend apparently got a job as a tour guide. That was, uh, the second time I ended up in custody that summer.”

“Hooligan,” Sniper murmured in a way that made Scout unsure if he was being made fun of, scolded, or congratulated.

They ended up at the ball toss at some point, which Scout did end up knocking out of the park a few times until the attendant told him to please move along already, reasoning that they already had a frankly ludicrous number of stuffed animals. Indeed, Sniper was carrying three large ones, and Scout had another one in the arm not carrying assorted food.

“I’m namin’ this guy Cotton Candy,” Scout said matter-of-factly, hefting the blue-pink-and-white rabbit up higher as it started to slip from his grip. “And I’m naming that guy Fry Bucket.”

“Which one?” Sniper asked, glancing between the three stuffed animals in his hand.

“That one,” Scout said, bumping a the yellow-and-purple-and-white-and-black slightly-suspicious-looking cat with his elbow. “Because the colors are bright like the bucket.”

“What about the other two?” Sniper asked.

“Eh, they’re yours, up to you.”

Sniper didn’t speak for a moment, just shifting the stuffed animals a bit. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I don’t got a use for four of these guys,” Scout shrugged. “Already I’m thinkin’ about whether Pyro’s gonna want Fry Bucket or Cotton Candy more.”

“What’s that second name about?” Sniper asked. “Is that a brand?”

“…What?”

“Cotton candy.” Sniper’s accent wrapped around the words strangely. “That a specific kind? The, er, blue-pink stuff?”

“…Of cotton candy?” Scout asked slowly.

“Yeah. It’s fairy floss, so is cotton candy then just a certain—“

“It’s fuckin’ what?” Scout asked, eyes lighting up.

Sniper paused for a few seconds. “…You people made up your own name for somethin’ again, haven’t you?” Sniper asked, sighing.

“Fairy floss? Okay, let’s talk about this. Let’s talk about that name.”

“No, we already did this with the bonnet and hood thing, and the… prawn and shrimp thing. So you people call it cotton candy. Noted. Moving on.”

“So like, the tiny winged girls, fuckin’—so goddamn Tinkerbell, she brushes her teeth, right? And she’s gotta be thorough. Ain’t gonna get no gum disease here in fuckin’ Neverland, no way, no adults here so no dentists so that’d go pretty bad. So she’s gotta floss, right? And she uses a goddamn cloud-lookin’ pillowy thing? It’s fairy floss?”

“I didn’t invent all of Australian slang,” Sniper interjected. “You can’t judge me for my country’s choice in naming things. I can’t help it.”

“It’s cotton candy, man! It’s cotton, like outta some kinda pillow, made with sugar. I don’t get why you would call it somethin’ else.”

“Apparently Ireland and those blokes up there split the difference, called it candy floss,” Sniper added in before Scout could get too carried away.

“It’s still not floss! Couldn’t pick a different one? Called it, what, fairy cotton?”

Sniper’s lip twitched up for a moment. “I’m nearly sure that’s some sort of code word for hooch, mate.”

“What the fuck is hooch? Are you speaking English? Am I in fuckin’ wonderland right now?” Scout asked, downright baffled.

“Hooch. Marijuana, cannabis. Mate, you said you grew up in the city, the hell you mean you don’t know what hooch is?”

“Who the fuck calls it hooch?! Man, I knew that Australia was weird, but seriously, it’s gotta be crazy down there,” Scout laughed.

They continued to wander the fairgrounds for awhile longer, and while Sniper was a bit more talkative than usual, Scout couldn’t be sure it wasn’t his imagination and his quietly trying to prompt Sniper into saying more. Eventually Scout could tell that the fairground was nearing closing time, crowd thinning alongside the various booths starting to close up shop and haul things away and lock stuff up for the night.

“I don’t think we’re gonna get around to that eating a ton of food and throwing up thing,” Scout said, a little bit put out.

“Sounds…” Sniper started to say, and stopped again quickly.

Scout waited. “What? What were you gonna say?”

Sniper hesitated. “I was going to say that it… sounds a bit juvenile, don’t you think?” he said slowly. “Not quite as fun as an adult.”

Scout considered that for a few seconds. “…Yeah. Maybe,” he conceded. “Haven’t done that since I was a teen. Might not be as great anymore.”

Sniper hummed. Scout kept talking, as he was used to.

“I mean, back then stuff was also pretty weird all the time,” he said, fidgeting with the handle on the fry bucket. “There was school, then practice, then I’d go home and have stuff with my brothers goin’ on all the time, some kinda shenanigans to pull. Now it’s just work, then I go do chores, then I’m all tired and don’t wanna do nothin’ except go to sleep, then I go to sleep and it’s the next day and I got work again. If I don’t got chores or whatever it’s fine, but man. When did I get all boring, y’know?”

“I don’t think you’re boring,” Sniper said quietly.

Scout looked at him, but couldn’t quite catch his expression the way he was holding the stuffed animals. “Huh? What’d you say?” he asked, fully aware but giving Sniper a chance to take that back or spin it into a joke the way just about everyone did.

“I don’t… I don’t think you’re boring,” Sniper said again, a bit louder now. “You’re interesting. You’ve got big opinions on just about everything, a million stories, a bunch of secret talents that only ever happen to come up at odd times. And you’ve got a lot of jokes. You’re…”

He trailed for a moment as they passed a small group of teens, chattering and laughing among themselves.

“You’re funny. You’re interesting,” Sniper said simply. “Not boring.”

Scout didn’t fight the smile that pulled at his face. “Well, look who’s gotten sweet all of a sudden,” he marveled aloud. Sniper readjusted the stuffed animals he was holding, bringing them closer to his face. “Well, speakin’ of sweet, want some more fairy floss before that place over there closes?”

Sniper nodded somewhere behind the layers of fluff and foam.

Their last stop was out towards the edge of the fairgrounds, the big ferris wheel they had set up. It was the tallest thing at the fair, no contest, and while it definitely wasn’t the biggest ferris wheel Scout had ever seen, or even been on, it was still surprisingly nice.

“Imagine that’s the sort that they need to break down to transport, rather than just keeping it on a trailer,” Sniper said almost offhandedly, following Scout’s line of sight.

“You know stuff about ferris wheels?” Scout asked, blinking.

Sniper shrugged. “Needed to for a job. Just the basics.”

“Huh. Cool.” Scout continued to look at the wheel. “Hey, I know sometimes they don’t shut those off at night, to like, promote the fair. Think they’ve still got an attendant working?”

“Probably not,” Sniper said, glancing around at the line of closed tents and booths around them.

“Wanna just hop on board?”

Sniper looked at him with a slight head tilt. “Why would we do that?”

Scout grinned. “Hey, we aren’t plannin’ on coming back here tomorrow, might as well make a grand exit and get kicked out,” he reasoned.

Sniper’s head tilted slightly further, almost disapproving. “We’d get arrested. The boss would be furious.”

“Assuming they call the cops and the cops get here before we’re gone. What’re they gonna do, be mad? Call our parents? Give us a stern lecture?” He elbowed Sniper. “Come on, let’s live a little!”

And then Scout was off, headed towards the wheel.

“I didn’t agree to this, technically,” Sniper said, hurrying to follow, voice slightly raised.

“But you’re gonna do it anyways!” Scout chimed.

Sniper did not argue that point.

The security was foolproof. A padlock and chain on a gate that was three feet high and had horizontal bars, as well as another lock on the control panel lever. Scout, known for his ability to jump vertically to well over his standing height, was quiet simply unequipped for such a challenge.

Sniper did have to hand over the stuffed animals before he could hop the gate, but soon Scout was placing Fry Bucket on lever duty and the other three nearby to stand guard, then he and Sniper were clambering into one of the cars and headed up.

It was going fairly slowly, to be fair. It took a solid minute for them to get only a bit above halfway up, and it spun them up backwards, meaning most of the view was obscured.

“Other wheels I went on usually spun the other way,” Scout commented lightly, kicking his feet up despite the slightly awkward angle. “Kept stopping to let people on and off, too. Way smaller, though.”

Sniper hummed. Silence fell.

Not long after they’d reached the apex and started heading back down again, Sniper sighed quietly. “I’m sorry if I got sharp with you,” he apologized, very serious. “I just… crowds aren’t much good to me. Too much noise, too much action. People too close. Gets me on edge.”

Scout was suddenly treated with the memory of just about every outing he’d gone so far as to take Sniper on, almost all of which involved crowds. “What?” he asked, taken aback. He pulled his feet down, sitting up. “Really? Dude, why didn’t you say nothin’? I’ve been takin’ you out to real bustlin’ places for like, two months!”

Sniper made a listless gesture. “Didn’t want to ruin your fun just because I’m a worrywart,” he replied, even quieter now. “And I doubt you’ve got many places you know that don’t involve whole masses of people. It’s your whole element.”

Scout couldn’t really argue with that. “Well, then I would’ve been letting you pick where we hang out,” he said stubbornly.

Sniper’s eyebrows drew together. “What? I thought you just wanted someone to bring with you when you went out,” Sniper said, clearly confused.

Scout blinked. “Dude, no. I’ve just been tryin’ to find a place you’d like to hang out in, see if I could get you to talk about anything. You’re always all quiet, I figured it was because you’re bored.”

“Of course not. Opposite, really. Gets overwhelming, I try my best to shut my mouth and pay attention.”

Scout needed a minute to loop his head around that. “Oh. Huh.” They reached the bottom of the wheel, but neither moved to get up, and they just continued on their steady path up again. “I… shit. Dude, I had no idea. I thought you were just hard to please.”

Sniper shook his head. “No. The places are always nice—this is nice—but I just…”

He trailed off. Scout waited for him to sort through his words.

“I just prefer… things like this,” he decided on. “Instead of noises and movement and close quarters and a hundred food smells.”

Scout’s mind went ahead and dealt with that one for a good minute. “Close quarters,” he repeated. “So this isn’t good either?”

“With other people, other folks,” Sniper clarified. “I’m fine with closed spaces.”

“Well, I’m other folks,” Scout said.

Sniper looked away, off to one side. “Not really,” he said, words almost lost to a breeze that decided to blow by just then. “You’re just Scout. I’m fine with you.”

Quiet again.

They made it to the top of the ride again, and Scout found himself relaxing a little bit. He tilted his head back.

“Can’t see the stars out here so good,” Scout said, looking up at the sky.

“Light pollution,” Sniper murmured in agreement, looking up as well. “I can hardly see any at all.”

“You’ve still got your shades on,” Scout half-laughed.

Sniper reached a hand up as if to push his glasses up his nose, and just kept his hand there on them for a few seconds.

“C’mon, not so many stars, by they’re still good ones,” Scout urged.

Sniper hesitated for a moment before he pulled the shades off, folding them, hanging them on his shirt. His gaze fell down below for a moment, then up to the sky. He had pretty eyes. There were some wrinkles around them, the kind of thing that meant Sniper either laughed a lot, or spent a lot of time in the sun, or a mixture of both. Scout realized he’d probably have his own pretty soon with his lifestyle. He found a lot of things funny.

Sniper briefly glanced at Scout out of the corner of his eye, then back away again.

“You’re staring,” Sniper said quietly, gaze falling to the tents and stands as they started on the inward down curve.

Scout looked away, also out at the area they’d just been in. Only a few places still had lights around them. The area was mostly dark, the tent blockings around them lit mainly by the gently changing lights on their ferris wheel. “You should take your shades off more,” Scout said.

Sniper shifted. “I use ‘em at work,” he replied. “They help me shoot.”

“You weren’t at work today, or any of the other times we went and did stuff,” Scout replied, tipping his head against the back of the seat, rolling his head to look at Sniper. Tiredness was creeping up on him, not in a cranky way, just in a lazy way.

“Why would I take ‘em off?” Sniper asked, not looking at him.

“So I can know where you’re lookin’,” Scout shrugged. “And because you look good, and they hide your face.”

Sniper’s eyes fell to his own knees, which he gripped in both hands. “Maybe that’s the point,” he said, voice rumbling against the lowest volume he could manage.

Scout kept looking at him, then back up at the sky as they made it to the upper half.

“Scout, I have a question,” Sniper said, eyes locked downward.

“Mm,” Scout hummed.

Sniper took a breath, exhaled. Looked over at Scout, made eye contact, maybe for the first time without the barrier of tinted, reflective lenses in the way. “Can I kiss you?”

Scout wasn’t sure what his expression was in the following several moments of silence, but it made Sniper tense, paling under the colorful lights, visibly sinking at roughly the same speed as the car they were in as they passed the apex.

“I’m sorry, I just—“ he started to stammer, backtracking as Scout did his best to mentally try and sort out the can of worms that was just opened. “I thought, we—ferris wheel, you sayin’ that I’m, I’m good looking, and—“

Scout saw the way he was fidgeting, fiddling, hands no longer able to be stuffed in his pockets to prevent it.

“—and you won those stuffed animals for me s’well, and you’ve been taking me to dinner, tryin’ to make me laugh, and—“

He couldn’t quite look at Scout, and maybe he could never quite look at Scout, and maybe that’s why he never took his sunglasses off. Maybe that’d why he kept his hat’s brim low. Maybe that’s why he held things up near his face.

“—and I just assumed, I, I’m sorry, I’m godawful at picking up the clues on that sort of thing, and maybe I just imagined things, I—“

“Do you wanna?”

Sniper’s rambling stammered to a halt. He didn’t look at Scout. “What?”

“Hey. Look at me.” It took a minute, but he did, tipping his head up first, eyes following a second later. Crow’s feet. “Do you wanna kiss me?”

Sniper managed the tiniest of nods.

“Out loud,” Scout added, voice level.

Sniper took a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like to,” he said.

Scout tilted his head up for a second. They were headed back up and over again. Stars.

“Yeah,” Scout decided. “You can, if you want.”

Sniper had to take a second to process that. But then, slowly, he placed his hand on Scout’s shoulder. He second-guessed himself, hand moving instead to rest on Scout’s cheek, tilting his face only on accident, and then Sniper was kissing him.

It felt nice. Scout reached up slowly so as to keep from scaring Sniper away, an arm wrapping up around his shoulders.

By the time they pulled away, they were at the bottom of the wheel again. Sniper managed to smile at him, so visibly relieved and contented that it almost left Scout reeling, the sudden input of reaction making his head spin.

“You taste like fries,” Sniper informed him quietly.

Scout laughed.

[theorangedeath]

Some webcomic recs

Webcomics are as underrated as they are varied. I mostly read printed comics now, but there’s no way I’d have gotten there had I not found webcomics before - believe me, I tried, but this damn hobby is super inaccessible to a beginner, not to mention expensive. Webcomics are like fanfics in that regard - hell, some of them are fan comics - in that there’s something for everyone, all within your reach, but in order to find something you like you have to either 1. Get very, VERY lucky, 2. Be prepared to read a lot of bad stuff in order to get to the good stuff, or 3. Hear about them from people you trust. 

I was a 2 - i would read anything, back in the day - and while i’m not as unconditionally enthusiastic as i was, there are still some gems I wish got the same appreciation as some talents in the industry. I’ll spare you the rest of the article (dm me for comic rants though), let’s get to it! 

note: all the comics are numbered as “1″ because tumblr messed up the google docs formatting 

Comics i still follow as they update because either tumblr starts posting about them right away or they’re on tapas

Check Please! 

https://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/

I’m probably not the one introducing you to Check Please, as it’s one of the most popular webcomics out there, thank god. The parts of the fandom i’m familiar with are cool and wholesome, just like the work itself. It’s about a southern gay kid, Eric Bittle, who joins the hockey team in his college. It’s impossible not to love every single character there, the sports drama elements are great, and the format is like solidarity put into panels. The Samwell Men’s Hockey team’s motto is “we’ve got each other’s backs”, and there isn’t a single part of the comic that doesn’t 100% incorporate that. 

Heartstopper

https://tapas.io/series/Heartstopper

The 2000s so far have been a rough contest for the title of “sweetest ya romance” but guys, we found it, we can stop now. Nick and Charlie are in highschool, Charlie is gay and out (not by will), Nick plays rugby because apparently that’s what british jocks do. Can i make it any more obvious? It took me a while to fall in love with the artstyle but when i did i fell HARD - the creator is re-drawing some of the older chapters, though, so your experience might be different. The story’s captivating right away, and you want everyone there to be happy from pretty much page 1. The creator also writes ya prose, and some of her books are about other characters from the same school. I love all of them, but Radio Silence is my personal favorite. She also has two novellas about Nick and Charlie themselves, available as e-books. 

Charity Case 

https://tapas.io/series/Charity-Case

I rarely start new webcomics anymore, but boy, this one got me FAST. and that was even before I realized it’s a polyam love story, which i love but is surprisingly rare in webcomics - at least the ones i know. Julien, an irresponsible young musician, resorts to sharing an apartment with two roomates who are a couple. I fell for the unique, gorgeous artstyle first, and by the time i realized i’m also super invested in the story and characters, it’s already become one of my favorites. Plus, Julien’s hair looks so soft! 

The Property of Hate 

http://thepropertyofhate.com/TPoH/

THIS is what comics should be. There’s so much passion here, not just for the story but for the storytelling as well - and the two aren’t as separated as you might think. A young girl is recruited by a TV man to be a hero. The world they enter seems nonsensical and arbitrary at first, but as they travel she discovers its logic, stories and secrets. She will also, as her title suggests, need to save it. There’s so much i love about this comic that i don’t know where to start, so i’ll just say this: it’s absolutely inspiring, in every sense of the word. Also, read the creator’s duck comics, they’ll make you feel things. 

Webcomics i occasionally remember to catch up on, get blown away all over again by how good they are, vow to check them regularly for updates then forget. And repeat 

Wilde Life

https://wildelifecomic.com/

I think this is the first ever webcomic i read that had a plot? I got on the wagon at around chapter 1 or 2 and it’s hard to believe it but it only gets better with time, even though it already starts at 100%. Oscar moves to a new town and immediately makes friends with a ghost and a grumpy teen werewolf. It has both monster-of-the-week type problems and overarching plots, and reading it feels nostalgic and brand new at the same time. The fantasy world has this special feel to it, that makes me miss growing up in the american wilderness even though i, well, didn’t. Plus, the creator is cool as hell. I knit her a hat in high school in exchange for a commission. 

Sfeer Theory

https://sfeertheory.com/

This comic got me through a hard time and i’ll forever be grateful for that. Also, it’s really, really good. This is another case of a comic where you fall in love with the art right away and before long you find yourself caring very much about the characters and the story. You might also find yourself growing out your hair to style it like Luca’s. If you’re me it’ll be a lost cause, so, uh, keep that in mind. Luca works as a technician at the prestigious Uitspan university. A mysterious, powerful man is looking to change that. While the comic’s biggest strength is probably the gorgeous, fascinating worldbuilding - and Luca’s hair - the characters are also ridiculously easy to relate to, even if we don’t know anything about them. Even the most meaningless extras are somehow compelling thanks to the dynamic, rich art style. And did i mention the hair? If you like it, you won’t be disappointed by everything else Little Foolery makes. 

How To Be a Werewolf

http://www.howtobeawerewolf.com/

I almost didn’t read this one! My brain has decided i don’t like werewolves and i don’t know how to reverse that. But then i saw Elias’ body language and it was extremely fun and friendly, and so was the rest of the comic, and the rest is history. Malaya knows she’s a werewolf, but seeing as she doesn’t know any other werewolves, dealing with that is hard. That is until Elias discovers her and decides to help, along with the rest of his pack. It’s filled with family and solidarity feelings, some dark mysteries and themes, and the art is beautiful and expressive. 

Monsterkind 

http://monsterkind.enenkay.com/

Another case of read-everything-this-creator-makes-it’s-all-amazing! Wallace, a social worker, moves - or rather, is moved - to District C, which is mostly populated by monsters. His heart’s in the right place, and apparently so is his apartment, because his neighbors are cool as heck and agree, some of them reluctantly, to help him get his bearings. There’s a mystery to uncover, some monsters to help and a dashing tea octopus to woo - for Kip to woo, anyway - and it’s all a delight to read. Every single character brings their own lovable-ness to the table, and even with the darker parts, reading this comic kinda feels like being hugged. 

Comics that no longer update

The Less Than Epic Adventures of TJ and Amal - finished 

http://tjandamal.com/

Guys. guys! I’m pretty sure this is my all time favorite comic, web OR printed. I have the printed version, i still read it online occasionally, a lot of the songs mentioned in it are now saved on my spotify, i had it as my phone background for a good couple of years, the whole package. Amal comes out to his family and it ends with him having to drive to his sister’s graduation in Providence. There’s a guy in his kitchen who just so happens to need a lift there, and he’s willing to pay, and Amal’s too hungover to argue. What follows is the best roadtrip story ever. I’m seriously considering getting my license just to recreate that route. I just really love this story, okay? Oh, and if that wasn’t enough, the creator’s music taste is GOOD. 

Prague Race - to be continued in text 

https://www.praguerace.com/

The fantasy aesthetic to end all fantasy aesthetics. And the characters are good and interesting. And the world is well built and leaves you wanting more. AND there’s a cat. And it looks so good! Leona is irresponsible and spontaneous and gets her friends in some weird shit that leaves them trapped in a strange world, dealing with several curses, trying to survive and make sense of it all. I could spend a lifetime looking at the art and die happy. 

Shoot around - finished 

https://www.webtoons.com/en/drama/shoot-around/list?title_no=399&page=1

A girl’s basketball team and its coach, Jeff, deal with a zombie apocalypse. They make the most of the post apocalyptic world. There’s drama, friendship, found family, love and hope - it’s basically everything a zombie apocalypse narrative should be. And i love how the creator plays with the colors from chapter to chapter! 

Rock and Riot - finished 

https://tapas.io/series/Rock-and-Riot 

It’s cute! It’s fun! It’s a 1950’s queer ensamble cast high school drama! It’s what Grease would’ve been like in a better timeline, except we still got it in this timeline. The artstyle fits perfectly with the story and characters, but if you want to see what’s the creator capable of now, read their newest comic, Project Nought. It’s a cool sci fi story and just like in Rock and Riot, it’s super easy to connect to every character there. 

Alright there’s a lot more but i somehow wrote 4 google docs pages of webcomic recs in one sitting (this is what i’m able to focus on? Really, brain?) and i think that’s enough for now. Like i said, please dm me if you want to talk about anything here, rec some of your own, listen to my rants or tell me i’m a nerd. Or all of the above. I might make a similar post with print comic, but right now i have some dogs to pet. Keep being cool! 

[killjoy-loveit]

The Set Up

Request: Hey can I request a Hanbin scenario where you become friends with someone he is close to and they ‘subtly’ try to set you both up and it’s awkward but cute at the same time? Love you ❤️❤️

A/N: Alright, so I got carried away, (I’m writing this before I’ve even actually finished as it’s longer than my other requests). I just wanted to create a bit of backstory because it helps me connect to my characters, thus the increase in length. You got a problem with it, too bad :P I would like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction and isn’t to be taken as a true portrayal of reality.

Word Count: 2,174

Genre: Comedic Fluff? (You guys should know by now I suck at determining the genres, unless it’s an AU)

***Profanity warning (like two words, but still)

    Air filtered through the open crack of your bedroom window, sending a much appreciated breeze through the stifling room. A groan of annoyance escaped your lips as you stared at the page of numbers in front of you. None of it made any sense whatsoever, or at least that’s what you were convinced. It felt like math was an actual person who decided to con you for the long haul, staying silent for the most part and allowing you to believe that everything was okay. Except in the end, as any long con goes, you get screwed over.

    You mentally cursed at yourself for believing this course wouldn’t be too difficult. Another distressed sound left you, causing you to pick up the offending textbook, fully prepared to throw it across the room. And you actually would have done it if your roommate hadn’t opened your door at that exact moment. She blinked at you for a second, taking in the way you had the textbook raised, poised to launch it into the air. Then she promptly burst out in laughter, which had you drop it back on the bed with a pout.

    “Oh my god, Y/N! Were you really going to throw that book?” Lisse asked, her face lit up in amusement.

    “No. Maybe… Yes. It’s just- math is really frustrating you know? I feel like I was five seconds from yanking my hair out!”

    “How about you get out of the house for a while and, I don’t know, get some air? There’s that new smoothie place a few blocks down. Oh, or that little coffee shop on the corner!”

    “Alright, alright. I’ll go.” You huffed, rolling your eyes.

Thirty minutes later you had a mango-peach smoothie in hand as you walked aimlessly through a nearby park. The trees were swaying lightly as the breeze flowed around them. As they swayed, you took note of the other people in the park. There was a couple having a picnic and being almost sickeningly cute, a few kids were running about, and some people were out walking dogs. Then a little further down was a group of guys, who if you had to guess, were close to your age, playing some game with a ball. Walking a little further you spotted a bench facing the small pond, and with a bright smile you made your way over to it.

    You’d only been sitting there a few minutes, enjoying the vague sense of serenity you gained from looking at the pond, when a shout interrupted you. Shocked at the loud noise, your head whipped around only to see a ball flying full speed at your head. Immediately, you ducked, and followed this action with a whispered curse.

    “I’m so sorry!” Came the voice of a guy, one you assumed who’d been playing the game.

    Sitting back up properly, you looked at the guy standing in front of you. Although the look was more of a glare than anything else. As you inspected him, you took note of the fact he was wearing a hoodie in the middle of summer, which struck you as odd. He had a pair of glasses perched on his nose, and a small apologetic smile on his face. Your harsh glare softened as you deemed his apology sincere.

    “It’s fine. At least it didn’t actually hit me.” You murmured.

    “Again, I’m really sorry. My friend lost control of the ball, he’s not very good with this kind of stuff.”

    You laughed quietly at his words. “If he isn’t good at controlling the ball, why do you let him play?”

    “Teams would be uneven without him, and to be honest he doesn’t really want to. We just convince him every time.” The guy explained.

    An idea struck you at the guys explanation. What if you played the game with them? It would most certainly serve as a good distraction from the intimidating math assignment that was driving you crazy.

    “Can I join the game?”

    His eyes widened slightly before he grinned widely at you. “Sure!”

    In the following hour you had finished your smoothie while playing some game- you still weren’t sure exactly what it was to be completely honest. Not only did the game provide a sufficient distraction but you also managed to help your team win somehow. And you’d learned the guy’s name, the one who’d come over to apologize, it was Bobby. Now, the sun was beginning it’s descent for the evening, signaling the end to this brief distraction. As goodbyes were said, an exchange of numbers went down, since the group of guys decided they wanted to be hang out with you later on. You were satisfied with how your afternoon had gone, and you felt oddly energized to take on that demon of a math assignment.

    Weeks had passed since that day in the park, and you’d managed to hang out with the guys a total of five or six times since then, sometimes dragging Lisse along. Bobby was always the one texting you asking you to come hang out with the group, recently he’d been mentioning there was someone he wanted you to meet. Honestly you weren’t sure what to expect, although Lisse thought he was trying to set you up with someone. Every time he mentioned it while you were all together, Lisse would shoot you a look, the kind that said ‘you’re getting set up’, paired with her wiggling her eyebrows.

    Of course, you didn’t believe this, you just thought he wanted you to meet one of his friends he was close with. Thus, when he texted you to meet him at his place, saying he was gathering people to, in his words ‘just chill’, you didn’t think anything of it. So, you headed over dragging Lisse along with you. Though she complained the entire way there, saying how you interrupted her quality couch time to just hang out with the guys once again. When you arrived and Bobby answered the door, he looked flustered at the fact you’d brought Lisse along. His eyes going a little wide upon seeing her standing, pouting beside you.

    “Hey Lisse, I thought just Y/N was coming.” He said, casting a confused glance at me.

    Lisse butted in before you could respond, playing like you had actually forcefully dragged her here. “It was terrible, Bobby. She just pulled me from my beautiful couch, all the way here. I just wanted to stay there and watch tv.”

    She ends her whining with a pout and folds her arms across her chest. Thankfully Bobby was used to Lisse’s antics and just chuckled at her, before motioning you inside. You walk inside quickly, taking note of the fact that it was rather empty. Where were the other people Bobby said would be here? As you were looking around trying to find traces of any other person, you made it into the living area, where you found a guy you hadn’t met before, half-asleep on the couch. You turned around, flattened your lips and blinked slowly at Bobby, waiting patiently on an explanation.

     “This is my friend, who I wanted you to meet,” He says, walking forward, shaking his head. “Hanbin!”

     The guy shot up in his seat, eyes widening like he’d just been shocked. “Yes?”

     “This is Y/N. Y/N this is Hanbin.” Bobby said, a small mischievous smile finding its home on his lips.

     “Nice to meet you, Hanbin.” You murmur, looking over at him.

      He nods lightly. “Same to you, Y/N.”

     “Oh, I forgot to grab some stuff from the store. I’m almost out of chips and snack food. Lisse, come with me!” Bobby said quickly, giving none of you any time to protest before he was rushing out the door with Lisse in tow.

     Then it was just you and a stranger in Bobby’s place. Well, he wasn’t a stranger to Bobby, but you on the other hand had just met him. You smile awkwardly at him before cautiously making your way to the opposite side of the couch and taking a seat. Hanbin sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face in what you thought to be annoyance.

     “I- he just… Fuck,” He muttered. “Shit… I’m sorry!”

      You just laughed at his behavior. “It’s alright, a few cuss words aren’t that bad. Besides I’m an adult, I can handle it.”

     “Ha, okay.”

     An awkward silence fell over the two of you after that. You could tell he felt some sense of obligation to try and carry on a conversation the way his mouth opened and closed every so often. It was also easy to notice he was pretty uncomfortable being left alone with you, seeing as how every time he looked over at you his ears turned red and he’d blush a little. If you were being honest, you thought he was kind of adorable. So, since it was difficult for him to break the silence, you figured you’d do it for him.

     “I’m not going to bite you, ya know?”

     Hanbin let out a loud burst of laughter at that. “I guess if you say so.”

     “I mean there are certain people I’d bite without second thought, but you don’t seem so bad.”

     “Thanks, I think.” He replies with a tilted smile.

     After that the awkwardness between you two was broken, and conversation flowed smoothly. Although it did have it’s pauses here and there, whenever he’d get back into his head and start jumbling his words. Every so often you’d need to jump in, throw out a quick joke to get him out of that headspace and allow the conversation to get back to its original path. By the time Bobby and Lisse got back, you felt you knew quite a bit about each other. It was also quite obvious what Bobby had hoped to achieve by leaving the two of you alone. He’d wanted to set you up with each other, and it was evident in the way he smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at you.

     “So? Did you guys get to know each other?” He questioned.

     “Do you like each other yet?” Lisse asked with a wide grin.

     “Way to be subtle.” Bobby muttered, elbowing Lisse in the side.

     You rolled your eyes at the two of them, standing up to go see what they’d gotten from the store. As you were looking through the bags you heard a quiet murmured conversation happening behind you. Although the words were too soft for you to make out what exactly what was being said, you figured it was some type of debate with the heat that was in them. Lisse came up beside you, wrapping an arm casually around your shoulders.

     “Hanbin’s really cute. I was right, though, Bobby was trying to set you up with a friend. I, personally, think you should totally go for it.”

     You sigh. “Were any of his other friends coming over or was this just a ploy to initiate the set up?”

     “Oh they’re coming over, in… Less than five minutes.”

     Forty minutes later you were fully immersed in a debate about which chips were the best. It was stupid and you were quite aware of that fact, but you couldn’t just let this guy trash your favorite snack. Other people were scattered around the apartment, some drinking, others chowing down on the snacks that had just been acquired. You were about to make an amazing rebuttal, if you had to say so yourself, when you spotted Bobby and Hanbin across the room. Bobby was saying something to Hanbin who was blushing and shaking his head, like he was embarrassed. You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face, Hanbin was just too cute. Then Bobby suddenly pushed him forward, saying something you made out to be ‘go’. Briefly you wondered what it was he was making Hanbin do before you turned back to your debate, only to find your opponent gone.

     Though you didn’t have to wait too long to find out what it was Bobby was making Hanbin do, as you felt a hand meet your shoulder. Turning around you saw Hanbin standing in front of you, his eyes creased with worry, and the blush still present on his cheeks. His teeth nibbled at his lower lip as he thought on what he was about to do, eyes flickering over to Bobby, who was shooting him a thumbs up.

     “This is- you can say no if you want to, I don’t know why he’s making such a big deal out of this. Do you, maybe, wanna go on a date with me?” Hanbin stammered out quickly.

     “Sure.”

     “It’s okay if you say no, really I’d-.” He cut himself off, looking at you with wide eyes. “Wait, did you just agree?”

     “Yeah, I think you’re cute and you have a nice personality from what I can tell so far.” You say shrugging your shoulders.

     Hanbin smiled brightly at you, a cheerful laugh escaping him. “Okay.”

     “Okay.”

[diinofayce]

Parties and Promotions

This is for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Full Figured Fantasy writing challenge. Hopefully I hit the mark for you. I realized as I was writing that maybe Tony is a bit of an awkward duck for me to write. I hope it comes off natural enough? Feedback really appreciated on this one. 

Pairing: Tony Stark x PlusSized!Reader | Word Count: 1.4k | Warnings: none, just some insecurities | Fluff mostly | Prompt: I got 99 problems, but my curves ain’t one

You hated these Stark Industries parties, they were full of pomp and circumstance and beautiful people putting on their best faces and you were just…you. Plain and simple, average features with a little more to love around the edges and it always made you so insecure to stand next to these model thin women with their slim flutes of champagne. You sighed and brushed your hands down your front, trying to smooth away non-existent wrinkles in the fabric of your dress; it was a gold sequined number with a scoop neckline that accentuated your breasts in the best possible way, it hugged you perfectly to give you that classic hourglass figure that guys claimed to fall down over but you still found yourself as single. But no matter how much you hated the parties, being on the direct Stark payroll meant your mandatory attendance.

Your phone chirped on the desk and you hit the home button to bring up the text message. It was from your boss, Tony Stark, wondering where you were. You smiled softly and returned to your mirror where you replied a coat of your favorite shade of lipstick before throwing it in your little black clutch and headed up to the rooftop where this shindig was being thrown. You took a deep breath to steel your nerves and put your pleasant Stark assistant face on as the elevator opened up to the rooftop. You looked up from the entrance platform out on the sea of perfectly trimmed topiary and fairy lights. It had been a painstaking week of planning the soiree to every minute detail, Tony had given you free reign to take some of the burden off of Pepper’s busy schedule.

You made your way down the stairs and headed straight for the bar, giving a little wave to Steve and Sam as you passed and quickly ordered yourself a martini and a shot of Svedka. Shooting back the shot quickly you winced at the rubbing alcohol like burn before chasing it with a swallow of martini, the dry vermouth not doing much to take the sensation away.

“Hey, sweet cheeks, getting good and party ready?” the familiar voice had you plastering on your best smile before turning and facing him. Tony Stark stood in front of you in a navy blue suit with a silvery silk shirt underneath. The top few buttons were open, flashing a bit of chest hair and the soft glow from his arc reactor. His brown hair was gelled to a perfectly tousled mess and his black rimmed glasses were void of the rosy hue the lenses normally had to hide the red of his eyes from lack of sleep.

“Of course, Mr. Stark,” you responded stiffly, raising your glass to your painted lips once more.

Tony frowned and fiddled with the cuff links on his jacket. “Come on, it’s been three months now and every day I tell you to call me Tony.”

Your smile falters for a moment before you nod in understanding. “Sure thing, boss,” you tease, skirting around getting too informal with the man himself. He rolls his eyes, knowing what you were doing. “Are there any important people here that I should be taking note of?” You ask to distract him as you open your clutch to fish your phone out. No matter how tiny your purse was it never ceased to amaze you how your phone always got lost in them.

Tony’s hand reached out and settled gently on yours. “You’re off duty tonight, Y/N. Come dance with me.” You opened your mouth to protest but he held his hand out. “Come on, it’ll show them I still have good taste.”

You snorted inelegantly, but placed your hand in his none the less. Tony pulled you out onto the dance floor and even with your hand folded in his and your other arm draped around his neck you couldn’t help but anxiously cast your eyes around and focus in on the women who did double takes every time they noticed who Tony Stark was bothering to dance with. You flushed and dipped your head slightly, your hair falling to hide your face as Tony spun you both slowly around the floor.

Tony pulled away from you a little to look at you properly and brushed the hair out of your face to tuck it behind your ear. “I can’t be that bad of a dancer,” Tony teased, trying to lighten whatever mood had you suddenly downtrodden.

“I just don’t like everyone staring,” you murmured.

“Oh, they’re just trying to figure out where I hide the super suit,” Tony continued to joke.

“No, they’re trying to figure out if I’m going to be the next woman to try and tame Tony Stark. They’re either feeling bad for me or brushing me off because I’m very obviously not your type,” you answer with a little more venom then you meant, it shocked you a little the ferociousness of it but it didn’t seem to faze Tony in the slightest.

One of Tony’s eyebrows raised and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a boyish smirk. “I didn’t know I had a type.”

The tempo of the band had picked up, but Tony continued to move around the dance floor at his own pace. It was a such a Tony Stark thing, it didn’t matter what everyone else around him was doing he was always going to do what he thinks is best regardless.

You laughed at what you assumed was his feigned ignorance. “Please, Tony. Look, I have 99 problems and my curves ain’t one, but they obviously aren’t your type. That’s okay, everyone has a type.”

Tony’s brows furrowed in contemplation and he simply hummed in understanding, his lips pursed slightly. You were about to apologize, afraid to have offended the man, when the cloudy look disappeared from his face and he retrained his laser vision to you.

“Well, I can assume short aging men aren’t your type. So maybe they’re all pitying me,” Tony shot at you. You narrowed your eyes, his tone came off as him trying a little too hard to be flippant.

“Shows what you know. Silver foxes are very much my thing.” You laugh at his attempt to hide his shock at your comment and he tries to hide it further by dipping you down suddenly and whisking you back up.

You laugh more and push him away slightly so you can get your hair unstuck from your lipstick and back in order. You thank Rihanna for the wonderful bra that kept the ladies snugly in place during that move of his. Tony chuckles at you and helps dislodge a lock of hair from your fake eyelashes without pulling them off. Without skipping a beat he has you back in place in his arms, but this time a little closer than before.

“So if after three months I don’t have you figured out, what has you so sure you have me figured out?” Tony asks suddenly.

You pause and run your tongue over your lips, missing how Tony’s eyes followed the movement with rapt attention. “Forgive me if this sounds too forward, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony.”

“Tony…But you have a bit of a paper trail. You’ve never been off the publicity radar and they don’t really build super models and bottle girls and high class reporters like me. I mean, look at Ms. Potts, she’s gorgeous. It’s not exactly a secret that you hired me as her replacement because I’m less distraction,” you admit freely, the vodka finally catching up to you and making you a little loose lipped.

Tony cocked his head to the side and sucked his lips against his teeth in thought. You quirked an eye at his intense gaze and stopped letting him lead you along the dance floor, he stopped easily as if you had been leading him the entire time which you very might have been now that you thought about it.

“I find you incredibly distracting,” Tony admitted blinking rapidly at you in confusion. “I find it distracting how you carry yourself with such a dominating confidence. I find it distracting that in three months of working with me you know my needs better than anyone ever has. I find it distracting that someone as stunning and bright as you lets herself get knocked down by snarky comments. I find it distracting that apparently you have 99 problems and haven’t bothered to come to me with any of them.”

You were acutely aware that the two of you were stood still in the middle of dancing couples, some of them had even stopped to watch you while the others simply stared as they danced past. But you ignored them in favor of the man in front of you. You licked your lips nervously and ran your hands down his suit jacket lapels to smooth them. You were too aware of the weight and warmth of his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh softly to stop you from escaping.

“I don’t come to people with problems that can’t be fixed, Tony,” you chuckled darkly, trying to gloss over his admission.

Tony pursed his lips and nodded and with a smooth step you were both moving again, your arms wrapped around his neck as his hands hadn’t left your sides.

“I think the world needs more women like you, Y/N. You’re strong and you’re confident, even when you’re mentally beating yourself up. I wish you’d be a little more take charge, but I guess that’s just going to have to come with a position of authority,” Tony said.

“Are you firing me, Tony?” you asked, stopping the dance once more.

“As my assistant? Yes. But that’s because you’ll be too busy heading the public relations team,” Tony said simply, taking your hand and leading you off the dance floor and out of the way of the couples that had started subtly glaring at the two of you.

“Excuse me?” you gasped and took the flute of champagne he offered you.

“I filed the papers with Pep this morning. You’ll get dinner with me tomorrow to discuss the details?”

You took a shaky gulp and nodded. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I can do tomorrow.”

Tony nodded and smiled brilliantly. “Great. Maybe now that you aren’t my assistant you’d like to accompany me to a gala I have to go to on Saturday as my plus one. I’d hate for the rumor mill to start saying my type is my assistants.”

With a wink he was whisked away into another business conversation. You made your way back to the bar where you started and smiled as Natasha approached you from the shadows.

“You seem to be having a good night,” she commented coyly.

“Yeah. Yeah, this is a pretty good party,” you answer with a smile and watch Tony from across the rooftop, already planning what to wear on your upcoming date.

[deepdisireslonging]

Family Found Part 36: Choices

The members of the Raw roster are coming to crossroads, including the Reader. Depending on which direction they take, it will determine what happens to them at the Royal Rumble and in other future pay-per-views.

Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence, Dr. M surgical talk

Word Count: 2440

Note: Why do I wait to edit till midnight? Because university is starting back and I’m already a mess. Still, this chapter came out pretty good. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. The tag list for this series is still open and will be up to chapter 48 (of 50). Enjoy!

Part 1: Welcome to the Team

Part 35: Secrets

Monday Night Raw – January 14, 2019

The Authors of Pain were ready to be celebrated as the new Raw tag team champions. Drake Maverick stood between Akam and Rezar. He looked left and right to the matching belts on either side of him and smiled. “Welcome to the new Monday Night Raw!” He smugly started to pace the ring. “Dr. M had one thing right: we are the real power in the tag team division here. Where he uses smoke and mirrors to get his edge, we’ve got it in the power of our fists. He uses Braun like a wild card that he could never hope to fully control. Akam and Rezar are like brothers. They cannot be separated, and Dr. M’s addled attacks will never be able to break them apart. As for me, well,” he shrugged, “I make sure these powerhouses get where they need to go and get what they deserve. And tonight, they deserve to be-“

Drake gulped as the lights went out. When they came back on, Dr. M and Braun were standing between the ramp and the ring.

Akam grabbed Drake and stood in front of him. Rezar stood by Akam’s shoulder. Drake peaked around them. “What do you want? Automatic rematches aren’t-“

“Be quiet, leech,” Dr. M growled. “You have said enough. And not all of it true.”

“Oh, really?” Drake batted his teammate’s protective hands out of the way. “Would you care to enlighten us?”

Dr. M ascended the stairs and Braun stepped onto the apron. They stood outside of the ropes. “Yes, I would. Very much so.” They stepped between the ropes. The new champions took a step back, distancing themselves. Dr. M wet his lips. “We let you win the titles.”

“You did no such thing.” Drake shook his head. “I… we… why would you even dare to think that?”

Braun growled, keeping the manager from stepping forward. The two champions stared him down.

The monster among men only backed down at Dr. M’s wave. “For such a well-spoken manager, you make a lot of mistakes. Yes, Akam and Rezar are the powerhouses in this ring, and in the tag roster. They are like brothers. I could never separate them. But why would you assume I would want to? There is power in numbers. And yet,” he stroked his beard, “power means nothing if the blind lead the blind. A surgery is necessary.”

All three of them shifted uncomfortably. Drake’s hands shook as he raised his mic. “What- what do you mean by that?”

Dr. M grinned. “To heal blindness, the cataracts must be removed. Unfortunately, it is not something I can do. I am here in the WWE to heal, yes, but I can’t do this like the other maladies I have ended. This, the Authors of Pain will have to do for themselves. They will have to make a choice. Continue living in darkness and have a shallow title reign, or go to surgery. Make the necessary adjustments. And stand tall, proud, and truly powerful when they are no longer held back.” Dr. M nodded at Braun and they went back through the ropes. He giggled. “Be careful that you make the same choice as them, Maverick.”

Drake rushed forward and pushed Dr. M off the apron, who rolled with a laugh. Braun caught Drake by the throat and tossed him back to the center of the ring. He barely made it through the ropes himself before AOP was attacking. He clotheslined them both. When they stayed down, he nodded and went to stand by his tag partner. They were gone with another flicker of lights.

***

With that drama out of the way, you hurried Seth to make his entrance. He high-fived Drake on their way by, then continued to the ring for his title match against Dolph.

They fought hard. But something was holding Dolph back. He kept looking back towards the stage. Other times he stopped mid-attack to check ringside behind his back. Seth wasn’t to capitalize every time, but often enough. Seth almost hoped Drew McIntyre would interfere; it would be better than only having half of Dolph engaging in the match.

Seth swatted at the back of Dolph’s head. “Are you going to fight or not?” He poked and pushed him, repeating his question.

Dolph finally engaged, using his saved energy to take Seth down to the canvas. While he had Seth in a choker, he checked the stage again. And the bell box. He forced Seth to roll so he could check the area behind them. Still no Drew. Dolph relaxed his grip enough to shrug. It was too much of a relax.

The match quickly flipped. Now he had all of Dolph’s attention because there wasn’t room for anything else besides defense. No room for tricks. No room to attack. A curb stomp later, Seth had officially retained his Intercontinental championship. He shouted at the ring and the crowd on his way up the ramp.

“Send anyone. Send multiple someone’s. I’ll curb stomp them all.”

***

As the match came to a close, you turned from the backstage screen to Elias. “I can’t just give you Seth’s championship, but I can give you an opportunity. A title shot. If-“

Elias rolled back his shoulders and grit his teeth.

“If you do your part. We had a deal. Don’t let this slip through your fingers.”

Elias bobbed his head. “You told me to keep him distracted. He will be.” He slung his guitar off his shoulder and toyed with the adjustments on his way by. You had to duck to avoid being hit by the neck.

Shaking your head, you went the other way. A few steps later, you stopped. Further down the hall Finn Balor and Drew McIntyre were talking. Both kept watching the other man’s back like they might be overheard. Seeing no one, they shook hands. Drew disappeared down the hall. Finn noticed you and waved before walking towards you. You snickered. “Well, there’s something you don’t see every day. What’s up with you and McIntyre?”

“Nothin’. Though he might have my head if I can’t convince you to give us a match.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Is there an unordinary stipulation or something?”

He smiled. “No. It’s jus’ I want it to be a handicap match. Drew agreed to find two other guys.”

Your brow creased. “So… you were making a deal with McIntyre… to get beat up by him and two other wrestlers?” Finn shrugged. “If that’s what you want to do, I don’t see why not. Matter of fact, if you live through it, I would have to be crazy to not be impressed. Head towards the ring. I’ll send a ref.”

Finn took your hand in both of his to thank you. After he left you alone, you rubbed at your palms. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something didn’t feel right about Finn.

***

He eagerly awaited his opponents. Drew came out to the stage and waited until Mojo Rawley and Jinder Mahal (sans Singh brothers) joined him before going down to the ring. They circled it, keeping Finn’s head on a swivel. Hopping onto the apron at the same time, they looked at each other confused.

Finn was smiling.

They attacked. Finn dodged at first, creating a comical moment when Mojo and Jinder crashed into one another and Drew tripped over them. But the Scotsman made it to his feet quickly. They kept him moving, ready to pounce at the first sign of exhaustion. It never came. Jinder was flipped out of the ring. Mojo saw him fall, but Finn was on the other side of the ring. He didn’t have time to process it before he was twisted into a ring post. Drew circled back after having dumped Jinder, only to be dropped kicked out of the ring himself. Finn finished Mojo off with a Coup de Grace before the other two could make it to their feet. The winner hurried out of the ring as they rushed in.  

Finn was still shooting the audience a ‘too sweet’ from the stage when you joined him. He beamed at you and gave you one too.

“Well, it’s official,” you said. “I’m not crazy. I am very impressed by you Mr. Balor. First, you beat Tyler Breeze and Zack Ryder last week. Then this week it was McIntyre, Jinder, and Mojo.” You thought for a moment, though really, you’d already come to a conclusion backstage. “It might be a little early, but how would you like a spot in an elimination chamber?”

The crowd cheered, agreeing.

“Shall we say, the first spot for the Universal Championship?”

He took your mic hand and leaned towards it. “I would like that very much.”

You nodded. “Great. Congratulations… and good luck.”

In the ring, Drew growled. It had been a trick. Their deal had been one-sided in Finn’s favor. If the demon vessel got the Universal title before him, then he was going to end up with nothing. He caught Finn’s eye and punched the canvas. Finn merely smiled back and gave him a little wave.

***

True to his word, Elias caused a distraction. Dean was deep into his rematch with Baron when he set up his stool at the base of the ramp. The catchy tune quickened Dean’s bouncing around the ring. And set Baron’s hackles on edge. The lone wolf tried to leave the ring to make him stop, but Dean caught and dropped him in a Dirty Deeds. He danced for a bit instead of going for a pin.

Baron staggered to his feet. He kept going, to his credit, prolonging the match and Elias’s concert. Corey was beside himself, irritated to a sputtering point. “I don’t care who wins this match. Just somebody make that horrendous noise stop!”

It took another Dirty Deeds, this one followed by a pin, to do so. Elias stopped playing as the bell rang. He pointed at Dean and muttered something only Dean could hear. Something that made him grip the ropes and his formally cheerful eyes to harden. Elias made a quick exit.

***

To lead into the Royal Rumble, one member from each of the participating women’s tag teams was supposed to be ready in the ring. By the time the bell was ready to ring, it was still unclear who they were going to be. Each side seemed to be waiting for the other to make a move. Impatient, Sarah Logan gave Liv Morgan a quick nudge, directing her out of the ring. Tamina did the same to Nia. The Riott Squad wasn’t worried about this match. It wasn’t for the tag titles. Just for show. And there were three of them against only two. All in all, great odds.

But as the match progressed, it turned into something more. Sarah was unable to legally call in help. And each time one of her teammates tried to get involved, the referee threatened to throw them out. Then she would be alone at Tamina’s mercy. If she had any. Scratch that. She absolutely did not have any mercy for Sarah. Liv and Ruby screeched as she was tossed around the ring. Sarah gave her own cray and tried one last ditch attack.

It didn’t work.

Tamina caught her and powerbombed her into the canvas. She stood with her boot on her chest and her gaze at the other two members for the three count. Nia whooped, celebrating with Tamina once she made it to the floor. “Is that all you’re going to have?” she called back. “The match is going to be easier than we thought!”

***

The main event was reserved for the last women’s tournament match. Rhonda and Natalya met again, shaking hands at first. The bell rang. Rhonda was immediately on the defense. She backed into a corner, curling in on herself to protect her torso from Natalya’s offense. They broke apart to catch their breaths, then began again. The ref kept having to jump out of the way. Their moves circled the ring quickly, neither wanting to give the other any ground or space to gain an upper hand.

With a triumphant yell, Natalya caught Rhonda in a sharpshooter. She sat deep, putting intense pressure on her friend’s spine. The deep squat put her off balance, though, and Rhonda was able to break the hold by grabbing a rope. She wasted no time to recover herself. Instead, she flipped Natalya around with an armbar.

“It’s my time, Natty. My turn to reign. To prove my place on this roster. Why can’t you just give me that?” She was so focused on finishing her thought, it wasn’t until the referee was physically pulling her away that she realized Natalya had tapped out. She let go. Rhonda helped Natalya to her feet. She flinched when Natalya ripped her hand away. “Natalya-“

“Don’t. Just… don’t.” She held onto her arm as she passed through the ropes. Halfway up the ramp, Ember Moon’s music hit. Natalya veered to the right and took the side stairs rather than confront the champion.

Ember had a clear path to the ring. She was wearing the title and was twirling a microphone in her hand. Rhonda asked for one as the champion took the stairs into the ring. They came to face one another in the middle, Ember standing proud and strong, Rhonda slowly twirling her mic and looking out the way Natalya left.

The champion cut to it. “You know, I have to agree with what everyone is saying about you. You’ve been putting in the work, actually trying to learn the system. But-“

“There aren’t any buts. I’ve been busting my ass to get my hands on the title again.” Rhonda swallowed a broken thought. And breaking some other things too. Relationships I didn’t want to… haven’t broken yet. “And come Sunday, I’m going to do just that.”

Ember paused, unimpressed. “Then what? There’s the Rumble too. Even if I lose, who says I can’t just win the Rumble and take it from you at the grandest stage of them all?” She stepped forward. Rhonda mirrored her. A kendo stick wouldn’t have fit between them.

“Try it, war goddess. You won’t make it. I’ll make sure of that.” With a growl that sneered across her face, Rhonda dropped her mic. She didn’t give Ember a backwards glance as she hurried up the ramp. On the stage she paused, then chose to take the side stairs towards backstage.

Part 37: Planning the Rumble and Beyond

Series Masterlist 

Masterlist 

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