#the tension you feel being the only two gay people in a room though when you know you're both gay

[myangelscrimson]

Women with glasses and dark/curly hair.

[patscorner]

one shot idea ! kk always liked y/n but was always nervous to make move so she sneakily starts leaving flowers in y/ns locker 🙈🙏🏽

yes ma'am🫡

Locker Of Petals

Summary: see request

wc: 1802

Pairing: kk arnold x teammate!reader

Contains: kissing, wingman Paige, angst if you squint

(first time writing for wcbb, cut me some slack)

______________________________

Kamorea doesn’t know when she knew she fell. She didn’t know when she started to notice the little things, like the way the jersey hugged your torso or the way she’d catch herself staring at your arms a little too long. Maybe it was the way your presence lit up every room you walked in or the way she’d catch herself looking for you at parties, praying you’d show up.

KK didn’t know if you felt it, but she had a hunch. From the way she’d look for you and already find you looking at her, to the way you seemed brighter around her, how your eyes lit up when she saw you. She seemed to convince herself that you were straight, even though she never asked, and you’d never mentioned anything about dating anyone.

But she knew she’d fallen and hard. Every single thought she had contained a bit of you. Whether she was eating dinner with her family or she was driving to practice, she was always thinking about you. And with you, she was even more of a mess, stumbling on her words, struggling to maintain eye contact, or messing up her shots because she heard your voice.

But to her, there was nothing she could do because she thought you were straight, as most people did. You were straight passing, but it couldn’t be farther from the truth. Sure, you’d had your fair share of boyfriends, who didn’t hit right, and you’d never felt that spark. But the first girl you’d kissed, you knew you didn’t like men.

KK knew she liked you, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t had your eyes on her either. You’ll admit, you noticed the way her arms flex during warmups, the way you smile extra wide when she’s in her dancing moods, the way you always seemed to navigate to her when you guys were in public settings.

You two weren’t subtle either, the team noticed the tension, often teasing you two or purposely leaving you two alone. The internet noticed too. They had compiled clips of you both staring at each other for a second too long, or being too close and whispering to each other. They noticed how everytime KK was live, you’d either be in the chat, or she’d request you to join, which you never refused. They noticed that after a good shot, or a game winning buzzer beater, you two were the first to make physical contact, hugging, chest bumping, or dapping each other up.

Either way, it didn’t matter because you both were oblivious to the feelings the other felt towards you, stupidly seeing the actions as platonic. It was painful for your teammates to watch, Paige and Nika ear often being talked off by both you and KK. Finally, Paige was fed up.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” she asked KK. KK scrunched her face and shrugged. “I don’t know if she likes me… or people like me.”

Paige raised her eyebrows. “People like you?” KK sighed. “Yeah, you know…” Paige shook her head. “You’re fucking stupid.”

KK rolled her eyes. “Very fucking helpful, P. Thank you! I feel so much better now!” she spoke sarcastically. Now it was Paige’s turn to roll her eyes. “Come on, bro, if you don’t see she’s gay, you’re the blindest fucker alive.”

“Spell blindest, Paige.” KK scoffed. Paige shook her head but ignored her comment and continued. “You’re missing the point, KK. Ask her, please. For mine and Nika’s sake. If I’m kept up for another night listening to you whine and bitch and complain about it, I will ask her for you.”

KK groaned and fell back on the couch dramatically. “But what if-”

“Do it.”

“P, come on, how do I kn-”

“You don’t. And you’re not gonna find out by sitting here and crying about it.”

KK shook her head, but she knew Paige was right. She was only delaying the inevitable. She was only hurting herself by waiting.

She sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

Paige perked up. “Seriously?” KK rolled her eyes. “I said fine, didn’t I?”

Paige scoffed. “You do not get to give me attitude, I’m helping you out. “Yeah, yeah. How should I do it?” KK asked.

Paige smirked. “Don’t worry, I got an idea.”

Over the weeks, KK found a way to leave your favorite flowers in your locker every day. She’d do it when you were in the bathroom, or she’d sneak into the locker room during practice. Every day, you got a flower, and every day, you grew even more curious about who it could be. You’d asked the team once, but they all denied it. You knew it had to be one of them, but you weren’t interested in confrontation.

Finally, KK grew tired of waiting for you to put the puzzle together, so she decided to give you the missing piece. Her.

It was just another practice for you guys, and you’d gone to your locker to grab your water bottle. You opened your locker and smiled as the flower you’d grown so familiar with fell to your feet. You picked it up and put it on the bench behind you, continuing to rummage through your locker, resuming your search. A voice echoes from behind you, startling you.

“You ever figure out where the flowers were comin’ from?” KK piped up. You jumped, putting your hand on your heart as you turned around to face KK, who was standing near the entrance of the locker room. “Jesus, KK, you scared the shit outta me.”

She chuckled. “Sorry. But, did you?”

You looked at the flower, then back at her and shook your head. “Nah, they’re really sweet, though. I just wish whoever left ‘em would talk to me, y’know. Kinda curious as to what they mean.” You spoke, turning back to your locker.

KK was speechless, stunned by your beauty. Even though you were sweaty and stinky, KK couldn’t help but admire you. Your loose hairs sticking out of your ponytail and your legs veiny from the running you were doing.

You noticed KK’s silence, and turned back to her. You watch as her eyes trail back up your body, until they finally meet your eyes. You both grow warm under the intense eye contact, looking away immediately.

“Sorry.” KK mumbled, rubbing her neck as she walked over to sit on the bench behind you. You shook your head. “It’s okay.” You whisper back, turning around so your back was to the locker.

Silence fills the air as you and KK stare at each other. Finally, you clear your throat, breaking the deafening silence. “So, did you need something?”

KK takes a deep breath. “Uh… yeah, I kinda had to talk to you about something.” You don’t say anything, which gives her the go-ahead to continue.

“Uh, yeah. So I was thinking maybe we could hang out sometime. We could go watch a movie or like, I don’t know, eat dinner, y’know just us, or-or not. We totally could invite the team if you want, like it doesn’t have to be just us if you're not-” You laugh lightly, amused by her flustered state. “KK, calm down. I’d love to go out with you.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really?” You smile. “Yes, really.”

She stands up and gives you a hug, embracing you tightly. You aren’t surprised by this movement, as you and KK often shared intimate, ‘platonic’ hugs. What you were surprised about is that when KK pulled away, she stayed wrapped in your arms, eyes glancing at your lips, then back up at your eyes.

“Can I kiss you now?” she whispers. You smile and nod. “Please.”

And with that, her lips interlock with yours as you sigh into the kiss. You wrap your arms around her neck, deepening the kiss. KK groans as you swipe your tongue against her bottom lip, inciting a make-out, and she places her hands on your waist.

KK pulls you against her as she sits on the bench, placing you on her lap without once breaking the kiss. You moan into her mouth at her actions, your tongues dancing together.

The kiss becomes more heated, but it’s interrupted by a throat clearing. You look up quickly, but KK knows who it is, and she buries her face into the crook of your neck with a groan. You laugh at her reaction, smiling at the blonde grinning widely at you.

“So sorry to interrupt, but I’m glad I did before you guys fucked on the very public team bench.” You laughed nervously as KK lifted her head up and turned to Paige.

“Shut the fuck up. We were not going to fuck, P.” You fake pout. “We weren’t?”

KK eyes widen as they shoot to yours. “Oh! Uhm- I mean we can lat-” “I do NOT wanna hear you guys reschedule your fuck-sesh, as long as it’s not in here, I do not care. Just- talk or whatever and come out so we can start these drills.” and with that Paige closed the door.

You laugh lightly, before getting off of KK’s lap. “I assume that means you’re the one who’s been leaving these flowers?” you say, picking up the flower, playing with it between your fingers.

“What..? Me..? Noooo…” KK says sarcastically, smiling as she stood up in front of you. “Whatever makes you say that?” she says, her voice darkening. She steps towards you, closing the space between you.

You feel your face grow hot as you recognize the lack of distance between you. She’s so close that you could smell her minty breath and even though she was just practicing, she looks so good. It’s undeniable that KK is attractive, anyone with eyes can see that. Her brown skin glistened under the lighting on the court, and her face of concentration was one you could stare at forever.

You looked at her in her eyes and shrugged. “Lucky guess.” Your voice matches hers, laced with seduction. She smiles. “You may be right.” You grin, taking a step so that you’re looking down at her.

You hum lightly, leaning down to peck her lips lightly. KK sighs into the kiss, and you smile at her reaction. She’s whipped. You break the kiss, but instead of pulling away, you rest your forehead on yours.

“Let me take you out.” KK whispers looking in your eyes. You nod before pulling away and closing your locker.

“Okay. Now, let’s go before Paige comes back and yells at us.” You smile, grabbing her hand and leading her out.

KK couldn’t help but feel her face burn. She’s liked you for so long, and finally, she took the leap, and landed head over heels.

All because of your locker of petals.

______________________________

taglist: @bueckerslover @wintersstan @breeloveschris

[risetherivermoon]

💫rosestarkillerchaser fake dating au!!!💫

raahh i wish i could answer two asks in the same post since i got another ask for this one, but here we are:

ive posted about this au a bit before, though that was less of an in depth explanation as this is going to be lol

so, basically the population of hogwarts are making tons of rumors based on the four of them, stuff about each off of them being involved with each other in one way or another,

here is basically the basis of why these rumors came across:

Barty & James: Theyve been seen leaving parties together and Barty has been seen going to the Marauders dorm room (Barty is actually tutoring James and they will leave parties to walk around and talk because James gets overwhelmed by the noise sometimes)

Evan & Regulus: They are both prefects together and they talk in hushed whispers a lot that people think has tension (They are just close friends and Evan is one of the only people that Regulus doesn't act like he despises talking to, (must be a rosier twin thing))

Barty & Evan: Barty and Evan are almost always seen touching eachother, hand holding, arm around a shoulder, head in laps, etc etc (Barty is a very handsy person and his love language is physical touch, Regulus hates being touched most of the time, but Evan doesn't mind it so Barty usually will cling to him when they're together)

Regulus & James: People suspect something is going on between the two of them because of their sudden friendship & because Regulus always looks very flustered when they talk (Reg & James are partners in their Potions class, (reggie is in the grade above because he's advanced in the subject) and Regulus has no idea how to react to how verbally validating James is and how sweet and kind, so he just goes red and stares at him)

Evan & James: People think they have something going on because Evan is just overly soft and sweet about him, calls him nicknames and pinches his cheeks (Evan does this with all of his friends, but James is just louder & basically the definition of adorable so people notice it more)

Barty & Regulus: They argue all the time but in the way where its incredibly tension filled and Barty will flirt with him all the time and Regulus doesn't punch him so that counts for something (They are just both very bantery and Barty loves making Regulus glare at him when he makes flirty comments)

basically they all find these rumors ridiculous and end up using it for their advantage. Barty comes up with the idea to just confuse the entirety of hogwarts with being fucking impossible,

Barty is doing it mostly to give a huge fuck you to his dad, James thinks this will be the best prank ever, Regulus thinks itd be funny to piss of his brother, and to bring disgrace to his family name, Evan is just...well he's bored so he goes along with it

just picture the hogwarts student body as a huge fandom who have constant ship wars, where the actual people apart of these ships are just laughing at them

but..then the plot twist: they actually start to like eachother,

that starts up the drama because all four of them are like: "this is supposed to be a joke though, this isn't supposed to feel real" and they all think the others think of it as not real, but nope, theyre all gay panicking

plus, bonus points: James didn't even know he liked men before this

oh and, Evan's excuse of him being bored is actually to cover up the fact he's had a crush on basically all three of the them at some point in his life and hes just like: "holy shit this is my time to be y/n"

but anyways, thanks for listening to me ramble abt my stupid little ideas, thanks for the ask and have a good day!!

(original post/list: socks fic ideas )

[moonlightsapphic]

Y'all aren't ready for this storytime.

So in 9th grade, one of the loudest girls in our class fixated on making me her latest project. At the time, I was still learning to cope with (undiagnosed) selective mutism and was the weirdo in the class. S thought I was chill, and I just needed to socialise a little more: interact, take pictures with people, wear makeup.

As the months passed, we became really close. S was a bit of a disaster: Her family wasn't the most stable, and neither was her mental health. She was conventionally very pretty—curvy with silky waves dyed caramel, sharp facial features and confident poisture. She was a bit outspoken and active for the liking of most guys in our conservative south Asian small town, but just pretty and charismatic and elusive and ✨ deep ✨ enough (even as a teen) for men to overlook that and try to slide into her dms and such. S spent her teen years jumping from toxic relationship to toxic relationship—fortunately with people our own age only.

She was just the type to reel in my chronic empath, neurodivergent ass as well. I loved pleasing S, impressing her, hanging out with her, being vulnerable together, comforting her. She was one of the only people that could keep up with my hyperactive texting, and despite our big differences, we had enough common interests to have something to talk about nearly 24/7.

(Looking back, I can definitely see some neurodivergent traits in her as well.)

When I was deeply crushing on this dumb dude that I thought was the coolest because he played guitar, was good at math and expressed feelings™️ well, I was pretty private about it. S literally emotionally coaxed me into telling her the truth. We were up late texting; she was—unsurprisingly—pretty down and I was keeping her company. She asked, “You know, I consider you to be my closest friend, though I don‘t say it a lot ... Will you tell me the truth? Do you like him?” If I‘d read that in a book, I'd be sure there was some romantic tension between these two characters.

When I had my first weirdly-sexual gay dream at seventeen, I was alone in her room with S later that day and hyperventilating. I was already in a very monogamous (and boring, in restrospect) relationship with that same dude and very happy about it, but that moment truly was the first step in my bi awakening. (It was probably inspired by some of my favourite public figures of the time, like dodie, coming out and talking extensively about it.)

I distinctly remember this one night when my boyfriend (spoiler alert: he’s trash) had been mean and made me cry. I was scared he would break up with me in the morning over this one tiny little mistake I’d made. S stayed up with me all night, and by daybreak I felt a flicker of feelings deep inside, of possibilities.

Unfortunately, as we neared 12th grade graduation, S began to get more conservative. She started to put her religious beliefs above any and all personal principles she once had. Ergo, queer people are sinners and also women should cover up and listen to men plus the country should become a fully "Islamic state" and get rid of all other religious minorities to achieve doubtless true utopia.

Uhhh … yeah.

Incidentally, she seemed unworried about following the same rules herself—her “faith” really shone when she was telling other people what to do, or being bigoted against a certain (religious, racial, ethnic, queer, et cetera) minority group she herself didn’t identify with. It was really just an excuse to feed her ego, perhaps a coping mechanism even, and it was hypocritical.

Let me make it clear here that the beliefs she kept citing are mainly a very specific set of interpretations of Islamic scripture that’ve come to be widely taught in our region at this moment in time. They by no means reflect the beliefs of all Muslims (and, in this case, were very informed by the bigotry of the cis-heterosexual, perverted, greedy old men who historically created these rules to maintain their power). S here absolutely is not a representation of the lifestyle and disposition of every practicing Muslim person.

ANYWAY, she began to make remarks about me posting LGBTQ+ positivity content on my social media, or feminism of the brand she didn't like. In my conflicts with shitty dudes from school, she would only support me if her ~ beliefs ~ allowed it. Additionally, she’d always been pretty emotionally volatile, but it had gotten worse since graduating school—She would get mad or upset with me now for being absent, insensitive, et cetera, asking for reassurance but in intense defensive attack mode. It was behaviour I never encountered from any other platonic friend.

As you can see, S wasn't very good at maintaining boundaries, or being open to other points of view. Her negative approach to many things in life often rubbed off on me as well.

With time and growth I found more friends who were like-minded to myself, whom I didn't have to tiptoe around lest I offend them or set them off, who were far more loyal to me. I’m a sensitive person—and I found a warmer community, much better for my mental health. So in our twenties, S and I organically drifted apart.

When I (finally!) dumped my shitty boyfriend (he’d turned extremely sour over time because he hated that I’d grown a backbone), and began happily dating a woman that I was very much in love with at the end of the year, I realised that having friends who support my queer identity is non-negotiable to me now. Just interacting with the queerphobes from grade school hugely triggered me, and I decided I no longer needed to carefully maintain niceties with them.

And it would all have ended there, except S wasn’t having it. We had drifted apart a while ago, but as soon as she saw that I was posting a bunch of pictures with my girlfriend, she began spreading rumours trying to out the both of us.

(Mind you, we weren’t out to anyone yet at the time. S was purely speculating, but she was spot on—I just couldn’t really figure out why this was the thing she decided to fixate on.)

And then, as if she thought I would forgive her straightaway for attempting to out me, she started hitting me up in my dms every few months demanding I give her an explanation for why I abandoned her. Each time, I patiently told S it wasn’t intentional and I had had mental health troubles. (Namely, ADHD, which she herself had once convinced me was impossible.) If she truly wanted us to keep up with each other, she could just reply to my stories in good humour and ask me how I’m doing instead of repeatedly villainizing me out of the blue. (I never brought up the outing thing, or anything queer-related at all. I didn’t want to give her any more leverage than the bits and pieces of evidence she had dug up herself, conspiracy-style.) However, that would only keep her away temporarily.

Not going to lie, the way she kept coming back to gaslight me into taking her back was an exact copy of what my ex-boyfriend had done for months. It was hilarious, and tragic.

… And (I realised later) kind of gay??

She’s been in a relationship with a really docile (*cough* ball-less) dude who agrees with all her conservative principles since 12th grade. (Honestly, good for them, they deserve each other.) I don’t think S has ever had feelings for me as much as she simply felt possessive of me. She regards it as betrayal that I am happily out and queer, and she can’t tolerate that some other girl has replaced her as my one true ✨ gal pal ✨. She's jealous, but it's hard for me to believe her jealousy is purely platonic. It's like she wanted us to be a pair of suffering queers-in-denial sacrificing ourselves for neurotypical comphet society together, hand in hand, forever. For the greater good.

How romantic.

I noticed a few weeks ago that she's finally removed me from all her social media—around the same exact time that my ex-boyfriend (whom I haven’t spoken to in years) blocked me.

Ah, two breakups that I initiated years ago coming back uninvited, for attention that I literally have zero interest in providing.

So bringing back this post:

Reading this was like a major brain go brrr moment to me, because I was like ??? That’s a queer thing??? No way???

And then I read through the comments and saw that every single sapphic person was like “uhhh yep we never dated though good riddance,” or “ugh yes and we ended up dating and it was so toxic we broke up soon after good riddance”.

For the first time in my life, I actually considered that S might not have been a straight queerphobe, but an incredibly suppressed dumpster fire of a queer person with extreme internalized homophobia.

And … it all fits.

She's always been sultry and glamorous in a distinctly sapphic way; I just never was able to exactly put my finger on it. (In high school, sometimes I'd look her up and down and go whoa.) I can totally imagine a parallel universe in which we forget men and attempt to date each other instead. After the first few months of euphoria, she’d probably get us into an anxious-avoidant trap the same way my ex did. She’d cheat on me with a man because of her internalised homophobia, then dump me and come back crying to gaslight me a dozen times. It would take me much longer to get rid of her than it did to get rid of my dumb man ex—because ✨ shared queer trauma ✨.

I really, really dodged a bullet with that one. My girlfriend is the most wonderful, soft, and nurturing person I know, and she is my soulmate in more ways than one. I am very happy, and this is your PSA to not just date the one other queer person in your vicinity when you know you aren't good for each other. Be like me—run.

[asettledsky]

Top 9 Romantic Ships

I got tagged by @gay-and-tiredaf

So here's my Top 9 Romantic ships that are sorta kinda in order (well, the top three definitely, the others have wiggle room)

9. Jack Daniels

They'd be a lot higher on this list except I don't go looking for the content as much as I used to. They're hilarious though and they play off of each other so well. One of my Top 10 fics I would recommend to most people is called "Doctor Jackson's Diary" and it's hilariously slapstick and has quite a lot of sex in it.

8. JohnLock

If you could see my AO3 history it would have a frankly embarrassing amount of these two in various convoluted (and not so convoluted) scenarios that end up with them getting it on.

I regret nothing. Or maybe I do a little, which is why they aren't higher on the list.

7. JDox

I just really like the whole "The grumpy one loves the sunshine one" trope. Also John C. McGinley is a hottie.

6. Shassie

See above Re: Sunshine/Grumpy. Also these two just take the sassy up to eleven somehow. They're both so snarky. Everything about the show Psych is just great. There are so many good fanfics for this pairing, but I particularly like "The Dah-Ling Store It Yourself" series.

5. Chelley

I have a few reasons for this one. But by far is the fanfic "Blue Sky" by Waffleguppies, I cannot possibly tell you how amazing that fanfic is.

4. The Love Square

I'm not posting 4 gifs for you guys to get the point. I love all iterations of these two dorks. (Though not equally, Ladrian is definitely my favorite dynamic). I could write a few thousand word essay on why they're the most annoying couple of dorks in all of fandom though. Miraculous Ladybug is an infuriating show to watch sometimes. I stand by my theory that it was specifically designed to spawn fanfiction with it's design, which is all build up and no resolution.

3. Hellstrop

(Not me choosing the saddest part of their relationship as the most romantic gif available, whaaa?)

The only reason this one isn't #2 is because I haven't been into The Good Place for very long. I feel like, given enough time, it'll outpace Beetlebabes just because Silverfox Ted Danson is more attractive than Alex Brightman. (Yes I did say that, no I won't take it back). Also because of Michael's completely Adorkable personality.

2. Beetlebabes

3 ships for the price of 1. My preference being musical, movie, then cartoon as a distant 3rd. They are all very different dynamics. I love their relationship in the musical. Totally toxic, but somehow they're still the best thing that has ever happened to each other.

And our GRAND FINALE.....

1. Quodo

When I say the relationship between these two idiots is always in the back of my mind I am probably not exaggerating.

Never have any two grumpy middle-aged men had such belligerent romantic tension.

These two have the relationship and communication skills of people who had been married for three decades and then had a messy divorce but still have to work together so they choose to needle each other every day because they refuse to admit they actually still like one another.

[webethepeachesfromrockford]

Okay okay but how about a little ditty about Greta and Carson through Jess’s eyes since she clocked them earlier than anyone. Like little stolen moments that Jess caught because she was some how always at the wrong place and time and Greta & Carson weren’t aware they were being *that* messy.

Yes, yes, yes! I love this so much. I think Jess is a character that has a lot of depth they can explore. Let's see where this goes! Drop your prompts/ideas/desires here!

In her day to day life, Jess is the sort of person that's counted out more often times than not. That's the way of society, especially one that's not ready for a person like her. She can't stand the dresses or the makeup. All the prissy shit makes her feel like an alien in a body that already doesn't really fit. That's all a long winded way of saying Jess is constantly treated like wallpaper. She understood that long before the world decided to turn its back on her. Growing up around five brothers that never once hesitated to put her in her place always made it easy to fade into the background and exist in a space where no one ever really looks.

She's good about reading situations because of it. As a wallflower, taking in the room and understanding what's going on is the only true method of survival. Jess knows who to avoid and what situations are going to end messily. There are secrets none of the other girls know that Jess picked up on long before the people they're about became aware. Her gift is both a blessing and a curse. Jess finds it hard not to slap sense into people who aren't looking in the right direction. On the other hand, it's nice to be aware. At least then she's not blindsided by obvious shit the way Lupe is when Carson Shaw walks into Rockford's little gay bar. Jess knows long before her friend does that Carson isn't trying to out them; it's entertaining to watch Lu splutter and try to make up excuses. Watching Carson do the same is even funnier.

Jess can't help herself when she says "I've known since that first night at the bar." The way Carson's eyes get big and wide like a bug is worth giving up that sacred piece of knowledge. She wanted to keep it in her back pocket for a rain day when blackmail is needed but it's out now and there's no going back. Lu and Carson both look at her in surprise, so Jess continues on. "But also, a couple of weeks ago you fell asleep in my room with Greta. Rookie." Jess smirks before flicking on her lighter to start up a cigarette.

What Jess doesn't say is that she's seen a lot more than Carson and Greta think. That first night at the bar is fresh in her memory. Jess was trying to track down another beer when she sees Greta's approach. The square of her shoulders is recognizable in a way that Jess finds a little eerie. She probably does the same thing when she sees a pretty dame worth approaching. It's a surprise to witness Mrs. Shaw light up like a Christmas tree. Jess doesn't need to watch the two of them disappear together to know what's going to happen, though it's a pleasant sight all the same. Carson is a changed person when she comes flying out of whatever secret spot Greta dragged her into. Jess tries not to smile at the chaos that is about to ensue.

It's not like she keeps a close eye on them after that or anything. Jess is naturally a silent but deadly person, so turning off the detail collecting is a hard thing. There's an awkward time where Carson and Greta dance around each other - Jess desperately wants to smash their heads together to fix the problem. She knows from experience that a knock in the head and a firm talking to always does the trick. Matters of the heart aren't hers to dabble with, though, so she stays out of it. The tension isn't enough to be a problem, anyway. Greta Gill is an impressive woman that knows how to handle her shit. Jess knows personal drama won't be an issue - that girl is bottled up so tight, nothings seeping out.

The night that Carson bursts into their room with a look of determination on her face is the instant Jess knows things between them are for real. Carson completely forgot that Jess existed in the room, too. She looked a second away from pouncing Greta on the bed. It's a hilarious thing to watch Shaw come up with an excuse for her presence and a reason to draw Greta from the room. Jess is half a second away from saying it's all okay when Greta saves the day. She's got nothing to do but nod and try not to laugh at the unsubtly way Carson grabs onto Greta before the door is even closed. It's a wonder the whole house doesn't catch on with the way they're thundering down the stairs together.

Jess tries not to make anything between her teammates any of her business. She says stupid shit like "we're doing our nails" when Carson comes running into the room with some half baked invitation to go to a library that's long closed. They get worse and worse by the try. Jess has contemplated writing them down somewhere to make into a joke book or something later. Instead, she plays ignorant and covers for the two of them when someone asks about Shaw and Gill, gone together again. Jess tells herself it's not meddling if she stays silent and out of their business. Being a buffer is something she's willing to do for any of her friends. No way she's grown a soft spot for those two dense and dumb knuckle heads.

It's a relief not to have Carson breaking into her room at the convent, though. Jess recognized the plan early, long before Shirley bumbled through some bull shit explanation. It's clever on Shaw's part and Jess is glad to finally see those brains working out the right problems. Rooming with Jo isn't the worst thing, either. De Luca understands what it's like to be tough on the inside and outwardly look like it on the outside, too. Jess never tires of meeting other people who understand what it's like to live and exist on the outskirts of a world that doesn't make much sense to begin with. Never mind the fact that it's peaceful to not be interrupted by Shaw and her stupid excuses.

There's some beef within the team that makes it hard to be anything other than grumpy and dissatisfied for a while. Not just at Shaw or Lupe or Greta who's attempt at pulling away is ruining everyone's lives. The whole situation is a difficult one that's not easily solved between women so hard headed they don't need batting helmets to protect the little brains they have. Jess doesn't do well when the scales of consonance and dissonance aren't in balance. She's got her own shit going on, anyway. There's a frustration bubbling under the surface as all the personal drama grows and manifests and spreads like a viral weed. Something's gotta give and Jess hopes it happens soon.

Thankfully, Carson's raw attempt at leadership pulls them all together - the chick is terrible at talking but the fire that exists in her is contagious. It's easy to see why Greta took an immediate interest in the little firecracker. Jess is even more pleased to see Lu get her stride back - Shaw will always get her vote of confidence for bringing back her depressed friend from the brink. Watching Lupe pitch is a thing of beauty and Jess is loathe to admit she's missed seeing it. Not to mention the fact that her hermano's arm is mint. With her back on the mound, Jess is sure that the Peaches are going to continue to win, maybe go all the way.

She'll never admit that seeing Carson holding Greta in the small bed perpendicular to her own is heartwarming. There's been tension between the two of them that Jess hates to see. Many women aren't like her - they crave connection and camaraderie in a relationship. Jess likes to think about it like a transaction. At least, she's never been bitten by the bug that makes her want to settle down like the girls clinging onto each other so obviously do. Too bad the world's view is narrow and two dames together in a bed is cause for being committed. Locking the door before climbing under her own covers, Jess smiles over at the two love birds then turns onto her side to let sleep take her. She's up early enough the next day to watch Greta shake Carson awake with a soft little smile. They kiss and rub noses and do vomit worthy things until stalling anymore isn't an option - the house will be awake any minute.

After recalling all of that, it's funny to think that Carson Shaw believed herself to be sneaky. Any one with eyes and the depth perception to see past the end of their own nose could see such a match. It's lucky for the two of them that people aren't like Jess, she figures. At least they're not being found out by the wrong people. Between her own experience and the horror stories she's heard, Jess doesn't wish that fate on anyone. Still, the idea that two people so in love can hide it from others that function the same is a silly one. Jess recognized the glint in Carson's eyes the second Greta started to walk in her direction. There's something different about being on the prowl with undecided intention. For those two, it's leading to an unknown place that is obviously new to them both. That's the thing, though, Jess is rooting for them because of the uncharted waters they're going to face. She's sure in the fact that both Greta and Carson are strong women. If it's real and they both want it enough, Jess can't deny the simple way they just sort of fit. She's not one for love but it's nice to know that it still exists for people like her. Maybe one day the spark will catch up to her, too.

For now, Jess sips on her beer and takes it all in. Now that she's given so much of herself away, it's time to crawl back into the shadows and watch from afar. There's something in the way Carson looks that makes Jess think her watchful eye just saved someone's life. Why fix a habit that's not broken?

[fireandspiceland]

Ughh I’m suddenly in the mood for some NorFin again.

Maybe this writing prompt if you please 👉👈

Prompt:

Finland thirsting and being being horny for Norway while Nor is completely oblivious to this.

Doing little things like gay panicking when Nor smirks at him or blushing when there hands accidentally blush 🥺

And at the same time Norway is actually doing the same thing to Fin. He is getting all hot and bothered by just the thought of Fin.

Fin bends down to pick something up. *Cue Norway accidentally overfilling his cup because he was staring to long*

Its so obvious that every around noticed.

At one point Iceland is just like “I’m surprised you to haven’t fucked already”

Chaos ensues…

"I'm surprised you to haven't fucked already," Iceland threw at them like it was the most common thing to say when you first see the people you happen to live with in the morning. He shoved another spoonful of cereal in his mouth while looking at Norway and Finland expectantly.

"What?" Finland was the first to find his voice again. "I- I don't know why we would do such a thing as- uhm-" He looked at Norway next to him for help, but of cause the other nation was barely responsive before the first cup of coffee of the day.

The tension hanging in the room made if feel like moving though butter when Finland grabbed the coffee mug Norway held out to him. Finland wanted to scream at him to say something or at least acknowledge that Iceland had just said out loud what he had been thinking for weeks, no, must be months by now.

God, just thinking about Norway's slender fingers. They were wrapped around the coffee mug that Finland gladly took from him while imagining those fingers that brushed his now wrapped around something else entirely. He could feel his cheeks burn as he stammered out a 'thank you'.

Norway only nodded and picked up his own mug, filled to the brim, and downed half of its content at once. With every sip he eagerly swollowed he could feel the life entering his body and mind. Yes, this was how every day until the rest of eternity should start.

He watched Finland reluctantly lift his mug and scunch his nose when he noticed that Norway had only put one instead of three teaspoons of sugar into it. Of course he knew how Finland liked his coffee, but how could he let an opportunity to see that cute face he made when scrunching his nose pass?

Only after Finland had added more sugar and stirred it in he finally took a sip, then licked his lips to catch every last drop. Oh god, did he do that on purpose? Norway quickly looked away, hiding his flushed face behind the mug in his hand, but now he found Iceland giving him a highly judgemental look. Damn it, had he been there all the time?

"I can't watch this," Iceland remarked and got up from the kitchen table. "Even my cereal is getting frustrated being around you. You two" - he used the spoon in his hand to point at Norway, then Finland - "go fuck this out."

Norway and Finland were left speechless. Before either of them could argue or reprimand him, Iceland had disappeared to the living room. Now it was just the two of them. And the suffocating tension.

This time it was Norway who broke the silence by clearing his throat. He bit his tongue but finally looked at Finland again who tried to save his grace with a lopsided smile but his rosy cheeks burned with embarrassement.

Fucking Iceland, Finand thought, why couldn't he just keep his... his... Oh, who was he kidding. It must've been more than obvious that Finland had layed an eye on Norway a long while ago. And now with that expectant look Norway punished him with. Maybe it was time to admit it.

"So- uhm- Fucking this out, huh?"

Great, Finland. Very smooth.

"You-" Despite the caffeein kicking in Norway needed another moment to process the situation he found himself in. "Do you... want to?"

His voice was quiet as if to avoid Iceland in the next room hearing him (as if that was possible with the volume at which he was watching cartoons while having breakfast).

Now it was Finland's turn for a delayed reaction due to slow processing of Norway's words. Did he just- Does he want to- Is he really suggesting- "You want to fuck me?"

Finland bit the inside of his cheek one the words were out. Not the most chivalrous way to get this across, but at least this wouldn't leave any questions open, right?

Norway was surprised at how hot his cheeks grew, considering that quite some of his blood had just rushed to some other place at the thought of Finland possibly licking something else than sweet, hot coffee off those lips.

"Yes he does! Now fuck off to the bedroom, I don't want to be traumatised from catching you screwing in the kitchen when I just want more chocolate puffs!"

Neither Norway nor Finland spared Iceland a single look. They really needed to have a talk with him about eavesdropping, but not now. Really not.

Finland raised one questioning eyebrow at Norway, who confirmed with a nod. Needless to say, when Iceland went to refill his bowl for second breakfast, all he found in the kitchen was to half-full coffee mugs.

[moonyswritinq]

looking at you — loki laufeyson x male reader oneshot

❝ LOOKING AT YOU ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ Yours and Loki's relationship had always been made up of remarks, rude comments and arrogant opinions. An Asgardian ball brings more than you bargained for and you are finally confronted with your feelings.

PAIRING ➢ loki laufeyson x male reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ nemesis to lovers, gay reader, flirting, fluff, angst ish?, hurt then comfort, cursing, tension, banter, kissing, implied sexual content, rude comments, reader's sexuality assumed, reader's brother's name is Theodore, kinda? dark backstory for reader, maybe slight ooc Loki, ODIN !!!, takes place before Loki finds out he's a Laufeyson so that is why he is Odinson, just two giggly gay men being in love

WORD COUNT ➢ 4.1 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ references reader as you, y/n and y/l/n! finally, i bring you all a male reader fanfic! i've been trying to finish this for ages and i'm so happy i finally got it done. this is for you, Phillip <3

MASTERLIST

The first time you visited Asgard you were blown away by it. The colours, the people, heck, even the damn cobblestones seemed magnificent. It was all so much brighter than you were used to. Growing up, you’ve lived in your family home, passed on from generation to generation. It’s a dark and depressing house that somehow always manages to press onto your lungs, trying to suffocate the soul out of you. You were so used to the darkness that when you travelled to Asgard with your family it felt as if you could for the first time breathe properly.

Perhaps the earliest thing you remember in your life is the portrait in the living room. The windows are tall, yet the sunlight never seemed to reach the room inside, always casting the house in an eerie shadow. You remember sitting on the stool, having been told to stay still. Afraid to move. Afraid of the consequences of  disobeying your mother. Theodore, your older brother, towering beside you, your mother’s hand on your shoulder. A predator setting its claws in its prey. 

It’s been that way your whole life. Always staying in Theodore’s shadow — which you didn’t mind, really, because it meant your mother’s focus was on him and not on you. That didn’t let you off the hook completely, though. No, your mother has always been breathing down your neck about proper behaviour and the future and what you should and shouldn’t do. Your father isn’t much better; a figure you rarely see and when you do it is just to agree with your mother and remind you of the future legacy.

Suffice to say you desperately needed to get away. Theodore was to be wed to some lady of Asgard and the pressure was now on you to find a bride of your own as well. As if you’d ever let that happen. He suggested to your parents that he would take you to an Asgardian ball coming up and take the opportunity to introduce you to his fiancé. Somehow, your parents let you two go alone. Thank the gods. The last thing you needed was your parents hanging over your shoulder all night.

Magnificent. 

Magical. 

Absolutely, impossibly, beautiful. 

The only words you could describe Asgard with. The golden city is glittering in the setting sun. You don’t even mind that it blinded you. Your breath is knocked out of you every time you see it — as if you’re gazing upon it for the very first time. You and Theodore made your way down the rainbow bridge, swallowed by the sea of revellers also wanting a taste of the Asgardian castle. You were clothed in the finest suit you owned, black fabric hugging your frame and trying desperately to avoid the other people. You scowled as an intoxicated woman brushed up against your arm, almost spilling her entire drink. 

“Watch it,” you snapped. She gave you a dark glare and turned to leave, quickly getting lost in the crowd

“Bastard.”

Theodore rolled his eyes. “Would it really be too much to ask for you to not act like an asshole tonight?”

You gave him a sideways glance, cocking your head. He just sighed and urged his feet forward. It wasn’t that you hated being here — you would much rather attend a ball than stay in that awful house another second. But that didn’t mean you were happy to be here — it isn’t your life. This was sunlight and glamour and blooming flowers in the spring. You were rain and quiet and a book on an autumn afternoon. 

Besides, there was a particular man you were hoping to avoid. You didn’t need tonight to get any worse.

You passed the gates, your head thrown back admiring the walls. They really liked gold, huh? Your brother tugged on your sleeve, urging you forward. 

“Why in such a hurry, brother dearest?”

He chose to bite back his reply, knowing you couldn’t help yourself. One day that tongue of yours was bound to get you in trouble. He led you through the giant doors, held open to welcome the stream of guests. Flowing gowns, extravagant costumes, silken robes: they were all a blur of colour in the great hall. It stretched down opposite the great doors, ending in a golden throne. God, these people really were excessive.

The floor was a shining mix of white marble and golden threads that stretched to the walls and climbed upwards, towards the roof. If you looked closely, you could see the golden threads shining faintly and moving very slowly, as if the dancing gave life to them. An easy illusion, you could clearly determine, but a beautiful one for the simpler eye. 

Theodore started down the hall, pushing his way through the dancing crowds. You hurried after him, afraid you’d lose him in the blurring colours if you stood still for too long. That wouldn’t be the worst thing, though, you realised. 

This really wasn’t your scene. You usually felt like a black spot in the midst of movement, a token misplaced, compared to every other gentleman in the halls. A shadow hiding in a dark corner. But not tonight. Tonight, it felt as if a hundred eyes were fixated on you, watching your every move. You threw a glance over your shoulder, trying to ease the fear of someone staring at you. It didn’t go away.

Theodore was leading you towards the throne. Oh, no. That’s the completely wrong way you wanted to be walking. You tried to signal Theodore, but he ignores you and keeps walking. God, he’s stubborn. It’s too late now anyway. You could feel the eyes of Odin, king of Asgard, on the two of you, approaching with raised chins and well-kept smiles. 

“Welcome, honoured guests!” His smile was wide and his eyes alight with amusement. Despite the warm exterior you couldn’t help but shiver at his penetrating gaze. Something about him put you off. “Theodore y/l/n, I am delighted you could attend tonight’s ball.” His eyes shifted to you. “And I see you brought a guest.”

“Oh, yes, this is my younger brother, y/n.” Theodore bowed his head at Odin. Beside him, stood Frigga, the Queen of Asgard, who nodded back. “I wanted to introduce him to my betrothed — with your permission, of course.”

You shot a sideways glance at him. Who even was this bride?

“Of course,” Odin’s voice boomed. He gestured to a guard and muttered something in his ear, who in turn bowed deeply, almost touching his toes. 

You rolled your eyes. The disgusting ass-kissing apparently wasn’t excluded from the halls of Asgard. A lady came forwards, taking your brother’s arm and smiling up at him. You cocked an eyebrow.

“y/n, this is my betrothed, Cassandra,” said Theodore. She smiled at you, offering you her hand. You glared at it but didn’t make any effort to take it. Your brother cleared his throat at her faltering smile. “I am so happy you finally have the chance to meet.”

“I am too,” said Cassandra. “Theo’s told me so much about you, y/n.”

You crossed your arms, glancing at your brother, knowing fully well that all you had known about her before this day was that she was a woman. “Yeah, you too.” 

Theodore bent down to Cassandra’s ear and whispered something you couldn’t and frankly didn’t have any interest in hearing. She left with a small smile, her sage gown fluttering behind her. 

“What the hell was that?” hissed Theodore. “Can’t you behave for more than one minute?”

“I don’t know, can I?” You raised an eyebrow defiantly at him. He gave you a flat look and you threw your arms out in exasperation. “Come on, I greeted her, I talked to her — what more do you want from me?”

“You barely said more than two words to her!” Theodore pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You didn’t even try.”

You gave him a flat look. “I didn’t need to try to know I don’t like her.”

Theodore’s gaze pinned you to the spot. You looked away from it, trying to ease the squirming feeling. “This is important, y/n, not just another childish game.”

“I am offended by that.” Another look. You rolled your eyes. “Fine, I’ll try.” At that exact moment, Cassandra returned to her spot beside your brother.

She fixed you with a look, tilting her head. “If you keep rolling your eyes like that they will get stuck. We wouldn’t want you gazing into the back of your head for the rest of your life, would we?” she said, a smirk on her face.

Your eyes widened, glancing between her and your brother. He smiled, giving you a knowing look. Your smirk grew as you leaned forward. “And why wouldn’t we want that, m’lady?”

“Then you wouldn’t be able to see my punch coming.” She pouted, but her eyes shone with amusement. “Not really a fair fight, is it?”

You chuckled, leaning back on your heels. “Maybe I do like this one, after all.”

“What did I tell you, brother?” laughed Theodore. You dipped your head, smiling.

“Yes, yes, you were right—“

Your words faltered when the princes of Asgard walked into the hall, every eye turning to them. Thor, his blonde hair almost glowing in the fiery light, a charming smile on his face, walked towards the throne. He shot every person he passed a wide grin. Beside him walked his younger brother — the menace, as you liked to call him. His dark hair slicked back in loose curls, framed his green eyes. A thin smirk played on his lips as he made his way towards you, and when his eyes found yours you could see the mischievous glint in them. You let out a deep sigh and had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at his growing grin. Smug bastard. 

“Father, mother,” announced Thor, bowing slightly at the king and queen, his brother following suit. He turned to your brother and Cassandra with a smile. “My lord, my lady.”

Theodore clasped Thor’s forearm, bringing him into a hug. He muttered a few words into the other man’s ear, to which he smiled. You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t see why I am required to be stuck here with a far from desirable company.”

“Pleased to see you too, my dear y/n,” drawled Loki from his spot beside Thor. You mouthed an ‘I hate you’ before raising an expectant eyebrow at your brother. 

Theodore rolled his eyes. “Brother, you know the whole reason why you’re even here.”

Loki’s ears perked, suddenly standing up straighter. “Oh, is there some delicious y/n drama I hear? Pray tell, darling.”

“Shut up,” you warned Theodore, sending a glare to him. You’ve never felt a connection with women, no matter how beautiful or quick-witted or intelligent. None of them made you feel that spark, that fiery feeling you knew should be in your chest. Something to make you desire them, want them. You wanted to feel it — so badly. Your brother didn’t know it, but you knew you would never find a suitable wife.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Loki, leaning back on his elbows against the throne, a confident smirk on his lips. He wasn’t wearing his usual gold and green armour but had opted for a subtler dark green suit with gold accents, the laces open at the collar. The firelight from a nearby chandelier danced across his face, shading the edges of his jaw. Your eyes jumped between his features, drinking in the collected demeanour on his face, his cool gaze turning to you.

Your eyes immediately turned away, feeling your cheeks start to burn. Wait, why were you flustered? You’ve never particularly liked Loki. He was stubborn and arrogant and infuriating. He always knew exactly what buttons to push to get you enraged. Your relationship was strictly confined to petty remarks, rude comments about one another and endless teasing banter. You couldn’t change that because of some idiotic emotions. 

Thor walked up the dais to the throne, a woman by his side. He introduced her as Jane Foster, the person he was courting. Odin gave him a look you couldn’t decipher before his eyes turned to Loki. The orchestra started playing a lively waltz, the music curling around every person in the room.

“Loki, you should follow your brother’s lead,” said Odin, “Find yourself a partner.” You didn’t miss the glance Loki sent your way at those words. 

“Actually, I would rather not,” he drawled, rolling his eyes. “I much prefer the life of an available man. Settling down is much too, what’s the word? Boring. Besides, there is nobody fitting enough for me.”

Thor tried and failed to hold in a snort. You raised a questioning eyebrow his way but he only responded with a half-committed shrug. Odin’s eyes darkened. 

“You’re Asgard Royalty, the future of this kingdom. You have to act the part.” said the king.

Frigga put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Do not be so hard on him, he is still very young.”

“At least find yourself a partner to dance with,” Odin sighed in exasperation.

Loki pushed himself from his elbows, straightening. He let out a dry chuckle, but his eyes were fixated on you as he gritted out a choked, “Fine.” He walked towards you, extending his hand with expectation in his gaze. 

Your eyes widened as the realisation hit of what he was indicating. What was he thinking? “Loki, I—“ you managed to force out but trailed off from lack of words.

“Come on, don’t you just stand there staring, love, at least try to move your feet.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, letting out an exasperated sigh. “If you think everyone’s watching you, they’re not — they’re watching me.”

You sent him a tight smile. “Charming.”

“Only for you, darling.” He gazed at you through his lashes, a confident smirk on his lips, and his palm outstretched. Your eyes tried to find Theodore’s, or even Thor’s, but they were both gone with their respective partner. You sighed and placed your hand in Loki’s, somewhat reluctantly, and let yourself be led towards the edge of the dance floor. His fingers closed over yours, guiding you to where it should be placed over his shoulder, letting his hand wrap around your waist. He took the first steps of the dance, guiding you with him. 

You studied his face, examining the way his eyes glinted in the firelight. They were as amused as ever, the exact picture of mischievousness. If eyes were the windows to the soul then you had a pretty good idea of what his soul looked like. His smirk was as charming as ever, tongue as quick, yet you could not determine the change in him. Why would he suddenly disrupt 

You tilted your head to the side ever so slightly, narrowing your eyes. “Why would you do that?”

“Do what?” questioned Loki, innocence lacing his words.

“Don’t act all innocent now, Loki,” you spit out between gritted teeth. “Asking me to dance — what were you thinking?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was thinking I wanted to dance with you.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“When you have spent your whole life despising me, then yes. You always have a reason.”

Loki sighed, leaning closer to your ear. “I have never despised you, love.”

He leaned into you, hesitating before pressing a light kiss to your cheek and letting you go, turning to walk away. You stood there, breath hitched and a bit dazed from the interaction. What the fuck just happened? What was the meaning of that? People continued to dance around you, their colourful clothing a big contrast to yours. You hurried off the dance floor, trying to spot Loki’s dark frame. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a green glimmer disappearing into one of the halls. Your eyes narrowed. There was no doubt it was him. You took off, walking with determined strides towards the doors. The hall was darker and a lot quieter than the main hall, the silence almost suffocating. Only the occasional note or laugh seeped through the strong oak doors. 

Your eyes roamed the shadows beside you, all too aware of Loki’s ability to disappear whenever it pleased him. 

“Loki,” you called out, even though you knew there would be no reply. 

Your feet took you down the marble floor, every step too loud in your ears. There was no sign of him. You felt your cheeks burn, embarrassed and furious — a dangerous combination. Of course, he would toy with you, with your feelings. You knew Loki better than to expect anything less from him. God, how could you have been so stupid?

Loki would have it coming. He will have something coming, you just didn’t know what, yet. He may be a god, but you were a vengeful man with way too much time on your hands. 

Without a second thought, you set off to the gardens. It was the only place you were going to be left alone tonight. The cold air hit your flushed skin, furiously trying to cool it down. You took off your jacket and unbuttoned the few top buttons to quickly lower your temperature. Asgard’s palace may be beautiful, but it attracted the warmth too quick for your liking. 

Your breath fogged in front of you and despite yourself, you let out a chuckle. Either it is too cold or too warm — nature was never happy.

“You will become sick like that.”

You spun on your feet, standing face to face with Loki. The moon lit up his face in an entirely different way than the firelight did. His jaw sharper. His eyes too cunning. His skin like a pale ghost waiting to haunt you after its death. You let out a breath, shaking your head.

“What do you want, Loki?” 

He tilted his head, his hands in the pocket of his pants. His gaze was almost… amused? “I don’t want you sick.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” You turned away from him, instead opting to admire the landscape around you. A large tree stood a few feet from you, its branches reaching for the sky like drowning hands in a lake. 

“Is it not obvious?” he asked as you turned around to face him again.

You sighed with exasperation, rolling your eyes. “No, it is not obvious, Loki. You are toying with me. I know we don’t get along well but messing with my emotions is over the line.”

“Yes, I know, I’m so—” Loki cut himself off, his eyes narrowing. He opened his mouth but promptly shut it. “Your emotions?”

You realised what you had said and immediately turned your gaze away. “No. No emotions. What are emotions? You have emotions.”

Loki chuckled, walking closer to you. “Is there something you wish to tell me?” he asked with a growing smile, furrowing his brows. You continued to avoid his gaze, shaking your head. His hand cupped your chin, tipping it so you were forced to meet his eyes. “Are you sure?”

You were about to deny all claims when a thought made itself known, causing you to smirk at him. “Actually, I think you have something to tell me. Wasn’t it you who so desperately wanted to have a dance with me? Who kissed me?”

This time it was Loki’s time to blush, eyes lingering on your lips before diverting to the sky. His hand began to slip from your cheek but you caught it before it did, bringing it to its place again. You smiled reassuringly at him, meeting his eyes again. Slowly, you leaned in, hesitating halfway when he had made no sign to move. Despite yourself, your thoughts began to run wild. 

Had you read the interaction wrong? Maybe he actually did want nothing to do with you. How could you even begin to explain a situation like this? Gods, he was really going to hate you after this. You sighed and tried to step backwards, but Loki’s hands suddenly firm grip on your collar pushed you forwards — into him. 

Your lips met his, soft and fierce at the same time. You closed your eyes, bringing your hand to the nape of his neck, pushing him closer to you. The kiss was everything you would expect from Loki. It was gentle but challenged you. He pushed you and you pushed back, just as hard. His hands snaked around your neck and began to slowly push you backwards. You felt your back hit the trunk of the tree, rather hard, and a breath escaped you at the impact. Loki pulled away, his eyes roaming your face, lingering on your lips. A laugh escaped him, causing him to fall against you.

“Who would have thought? The cold and ruthless God of Mischief turned into a giggling moron just for me.” You shook your head, chuckling and bringing your arms around him to hug him closer.

He pulled away to glance at you, dismay clear on his features. “Giggling moron? And this is coming from the idiot who can’t stop blushing every five minutes.”

You scoffed. “Not very polite for a prince, huh?”

“Well, what can I say? You bring out the impoliteness in me,” smiled Loki, bringing you in for another kiss. His lips trailed down your neck, sucking and biting at every piece of skin he could reach. Your hands found his hair, your head thrown back to give him better access. He was truly divine. And to think you had thought him so awful only hours before. To be fair, he was still an arrogant asshole — but a hot one at that.

You let out a low moan, something that seemed to make Loki only more motivated. You could feel yourself getting more aroused by the second and you swear that the two of you would have done it if it weren’t for two guards entering the gardens, chatting among themselves. Loki sighed against you, waiting until the footsteps of the guards had disappeared. 

They had been completely oblivious to the two of you, hidden beneath the shadows of the tree’s branches. A chuckle escaped your lips, meeting Loki’s gaze already on you.

“What?” you asked, brows furrowed.

He tried to hide his smile, averting his eyes. “Just— you’re so beautiful.” Your cheeks began to burn furiously and you tried to brush off the compliment as nothing. It only made Loki’s smile grow. “See, there you go blushing again.”

You gave him a deadpan look. “You’re one to talk, pretty boy.”

“I think I preferred giggling moron.” He took your hand in his and started to lead you into the palace. Thankfully, no guards were on duty in the halls you walked. It may not have been luck so much as Loki knowing exactly what routes would be guard-free. 

“You sure you wouldn’t want to take this night in another direction?” asked Loki, leaning against the wall with your hands in his. 

“As much as I would want to, my dear brother is probably driving himself insane searching for a lady to suit me,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Loki remained quiet, fiddling with your fingers. “What? Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Loki scoffed, very clearly offended. “I am certainly not envious of some simple minded fool!”

Your eyes widened, a surprised laugh escaping you. “Oh my lord, you definitely are!” You took his hands and began to kiss his knuckles. “Do not worry, you’re the only asshole for me.”

He tried to hide his smile and turned to the door. “You’re terrible,” he muttered, opening the door and holding it for you.

You smiled — he made a point of avoiding your gaze — and leaned in to whisper in his ear as you passed, “Only for you, my darling.”

He took hold of your wrist, stopping your tracks. "I lied," he said. When you gave him a clueless look he cleared his throat. "When I said no one was looking at you, I lied. I was looking at you. I've always been looking at you, y/n."

Maybe getting involved with the God of Mischief wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all, you thought with a smile.

[writer-monster]

11 reasons why cap 4 should reintroduce Bucky Barnes as the love interest, an essay

to start this off, i am not writing this essay from a shipping place nor do i believe that this would have any influence at all over the upcoming movie. i expect nothing. this is simply something that i would personally like to see. (of course no hate to anybody who thinks differently)

here are 11 reasons why i think making Bucky into Sam Wilson's love interest in Cap 4 would be a good move for Disney.

-

1. on the Chinese film market - and why it's an irrelevant argument against the inclusion of homosexual themes in Cap 4

the Chinese film market is something that has been blamed for a lack of diversity in Hollywood films a lot lately. many people claim that this market with a lot of buying power has been responsible for the lack of gay and black representation in particular within Hollywood films.

and we have certainly seen Hollywood treating it as such, going so far as to cut gay scenes from movies for their Chinese releases, and vastly minimising John Boyega's (a black actor's) presence in the Chinese poster of Star Wars The Force Awakens.

[image ID: on the left is an image of the American poster for Star Wars The Force Awakens, featuring John Boyega prominently on the right-hand side. And on the right is the Chinese poster for the same movie, in which John Boyega is barely visible.]

so we know at the very least that Disney believes this through their own actions and efforts to self-censor for the different markets.

but Captain America 4 is a black-led movie, don't you forget. and Disney can't minimise Sam Wilson/Anthony Mackie in the movie or the poster because it's his movie and his poster. and no amount of creativity in the editing room can change that (thank God!).

so if by their own argument the film is already going to be either banned, panned or slammed in China... then what do they have to fear from making it a gay movie too?

-

2. oh, the queerbaiting

queerbaiting is an unusual cultural idea. and sometimes i find myself thinking that the term is far too easily used, but then all of a sudden i will stumble upon a movie or show that is so quintessentially cruel and overt in it's... well... queerbaiting that i will start to wonder what the hell kind of a bizarre relationship all these straight people seem to have with their friends. take Troy and Abed from Community or John and Sherlock from Sherlock as the perfect examples of this. (in which my reaction to the show's creators saying the show wasn't gay was to ask so then why did you make it so gay?!)

i felt that Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes in tfatws were getting quite close to this level of queerbaiting.

there was the field scene, the couple's counselling scene, the boat scene, the couple's counselling scene, Bucky going with Sam to face Karli when she told Sam to come alone, the couple's counselling scene, ALL the staring scenes, Sam checking out Bucky's ass here as they said goodbye, the "i would move in with him but" hidden scene, "Uncle Bucky" showing up at the cookout scene, the romantic walking off together into the sunset together ending scene, and the couple's counselling scene. did i forget anything? but i mean seriously, the couple's counselling scene!!! that thing they did with their legs and their crotches while staring deep into each other's eyes, would any straight guy willingly do that? do straight guys crotch-snuggle now?

[image ID: an image of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes during the therapy scene with the quote, "Isn't anybody going to drag me into impromptu couple's therapy and slot my legs firmly between theirs before staring deeply into my eyes?"]

(yeah i stole this image from a buzzfeed article on the fan reactions to the couple's therapy scene. but given that they stole 80% of the content of that article from fandom tumblr, i think it's pretty even-steven.)

there's also the fact that people started talking about bisexual Bucky Barnes a lot after the tiger pictures line, and the lead writer Malcom Spellman responded to the talk of Bucky's bisexuality with "just keep watching". well we watched, Malcolm. but it's beginning to feel like you were just jerking us around.

-

3. the writing

seriously though, what else is Bucky Barnes doing right now in the MCU? his only remaining connection to anything going on right now is through Sam. there is literally nothing else established that's left for him to do that doesn't involve Sam. he moved to Louisiana to be closer to Sam (canonically), he hangs out with Sam's family (canonically), and Steve is presumably gone and is definitely not coming back for more adventures.

he has no villains or loose ends left. he has no other superheroes that he appears to be in contact with. he has no girlfriend or potential love interest, or even other friends or family. he is living in a tent that he has secretly set up in Sam's backyard and is mysteriously appearing from the bushes when it's time for dinner like a stray cat.

in my opinion there is no other meaningful and pre-established progression for Bucky's character that wouldn't just feel cheap.

plus, i don't think the general audience would be all that surprised if they kissed. i think a LOT of people picked up on all that tension. i think a lot of straight people picked up on all that tension too.

-

4. the chemistry between the actors & the chemistry between the characters

the original pitch for tfatws was essentially just this, it was the chemistry between Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie and their respective MCU characters of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson.

now obviously Anthony and Sebastian are simply friends, and i wouldn't mean to imply anything more. but they are also not their characters.

Sam and Bucky's scenes together before tfatws were both limited and short, and yet audiences still fell in love with the dynamic between the two characters.

in interviews, these two actors are constantly slipping into character and flirting with each other and frankly it's adorable. plus it's really entertaining. i'd love to see that dynamic, unfiltered, in a movie.

because believe it or not the flirting is actually even more open in their interviews than it was in tfatws. and i'm leaving some links as proof.

this here is known as the "married" compilation

and here's a "lucky dip" selection of interviews - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,

and here's Anthony trying to get Seb to take his jacket off.

i'm just saying, why not let their chemistry shine? these two are so talented and so entertaining, especially when you put them in a room together. and can you imagine how absolutely hilarious and brilliant it would be to watch them navigate being a couple?

(and for those who bring up the "friends would be uncomfortable pretending to be dating" argument, i'm not here asking for a sex scene or anything. i don't think anyone would expect them to show any more intimacy (physical or emotional) while playing a couple than what they've already shown together in say... tfatws or in their own interviews. not that i actually expect anything regardless.)

-

5. if they were a man and a woman they would've gotten together in tfatws

i have no more to add here. just that... yeah, they would've.

-

6. and i'm not talking about the comics here, i'm talking about the MCU.

i understand fully that none of what i'm saying here falls in line with these characters from the comics. but the mcu itself doesn't fall much in line with the comics either, and these two characters especially are very different from their comics counterparts.

i'm not asking for these two to get together in the comics. tbh i don't think that it would work.

but the mcu Sam and Bucky are different and closer than their comics counterparts. they've got different histories, different backstories, and a very different dynamic. please rest assured that i am only talking about them in the mcu.

-

7. Bucky Barnes is believably bisexual. and Sam Wilson has never been proven to be straight in the mcu, nor has he had a love interest.

(now please continue to keep in mind that these points only stand for the mcu versions of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, and not at all for their comics counterparts.)

Sam Wilson has never had a love interest, which is crazy because have you seen that man! he has had two blink and you'll miss it moments of verbal expression of attraction to women, both in TWS. and that's the extent of it, through his entire history in the mcu.

Bucky Barnes has had a number of surface-level female love interests, but none of them even came close to the level of connection and chemistry that Bucky shares with Sam.

and i'm sorry SarahBucky fans, but i just don't think there's very much to their relationship either. i love Sarah, i really do. but it's Sam who shares all the meaningful moments and history and chemistry with Bucky. and i don't see what making her into a love interest would do for Sarah's character either, what would that add to her story?

[Picture ID: Bucky at the cookout with Sam, Sarah, Cass and AJ. Bucky and Sam are looking at each other and smiling.]

and also there is the whole tiger pictures thing... again. which does strongly suggest that Bucky is bisexual whether this was intentional on behalf of the writers or not.

-

8. it's representation... AND it feels natural

marvel hasn't had a lot of queer representation that's been noticeably present in the MCU at the time of writing this.

there have been a lot of failures so far, from the bisexual erasure of Valkyrie in Thor Ragnarok to the wlw erasure in Black Panther.

there was queerbaiting almost identical to the bisexual Bucky baiting for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2. when asked if he had considered featuring a gay hero in gotg2, director James Gunn stated that "We might have already done that. I say, watch the movie." after the movie's release audiences were understandably confused about the lack of queer representation. To which the director followed up his comments with, "But we don't really know who's gay and who's not. It could be any of them."

there is also Loki, considered by most fans after the airing of his six episode series on Disney+ to be both a poor attempt at both genderfluid representation and bisexual representation. with both attempts being summed up fairly well by the term "blink-and-you'll-miss-it". (also it's just terribly written and Loki doesn't wear any interesting clothes! fanficcers are a Goddamn blessing in this hard time!)

and let us not forget that Andrew Garfield was apparently FIRED for pushing for a bisexual spiderman. a bisexual spiderman within an interracial mlm relationship no less.

so for all these failures, marvel, why not allow us queer fans this? two brilliant and heroic men in a loving interracial relationship. two heroes that we can look up to.

now, one of the biggest detractions from the argument for representation is the idea of "forced diversity". and some poorly written characters certainly do end up feeling forced into the narrative. take Iceman in the comics for example, with Jean Grey just straight up suddenly telling him he's gay. like, marvel, sweetie, that's not how this works! and i don't know a lot of queer people who thought much of that "representation".

but the crux of the "forced diversity" argument is almost always that it feels unnatural within the story, right? and i don't think that anyone could say that about MCU Sam and Bucky ending up together, given these characters' existing chemistry and their history. they've both played characters in gay relationships before so we know that it's not outside of either actor's wheelhouse. and y'all know that Anthony and Seb can act, people. if it's in the script i believe that they'll make it seem like the most natural thing on earth.

-

9. it'd be a nice change

there's been an ongoing meme lately about "Disney's first gay character", the joke being that they continually announce gay characters without really ever including gay characters in their films.

this is to the point where Disney has formed a reputation amongst queer audiences of being homophobic.

if Sam and Bucky were to become a couple, then Disney could have its first actual gay character within a gay relationship. AND have him be in the lead of his own movie, no less.

it's also worth keeping in mind that there's likely an overlap between the people who were outraged by a Sam Wilson Captain America, and the people who'd be outraged by a gay Captain America. and if they were already not seeing the film, then i don't think much is gonna change that.

queer audiences would definitely love it, and the media attention would be guaranteed to be huge. i mean, simply look at the amount of media attention mere rumours of a character's queerness gets you and multiply that by a canon confirmation of said rumours.

but i'm pretty sure that Disney already knows this.

-

10. and yet, in truth, it's not about the representation

in truth i've never felt that i had any trouble relating to characters of any sexual orientation, race, gender, sex, body type, etc. (although that is not to throw any shade at all on people who do wish to see themselves represented) but for me, i think it's more about the story than the packaging.

and yet, a love story is still just a story. straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial. when two characters have chemistry and history and have sacrificed for each other time and time again, and they also can't keep their hands or their eyes off each other, then i'm pretty sure that that's a love story.

straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial, it shouldn't be about these simple labels. it should be about how well written the relationship is. it should be about chemistry, and history, and sacrifice.

because i'm fucking sick of all the hollow, forced romances in media no matter the genders of the participants. i'm sick of lazily written, shallow relationships where any two people sharing the same space for any extended period of time will simply fall in love. it's boring, it's repetitive, and as a writer myself it drives me up the wall!

romance stories suck! and everyone knows that romance stories suck. between twilight, and most of the entire YA genre, and love triangles (so boring), and romance used as poorly-written throwaway subplots in Hollywood movies, the world is in agreement that the romance in western media is simply dreadful. and yet we still want love stories. it's an entire genre that sits at the heart of the human experience (<3), and yet one which so few of today's best known writers seem truly able to capture.

i don't think that i'm the only one who feels this way, either. i suspect it's actually a large part of why fandom is so romance-centred in the first place, that we're all just starving for a good love story.

(btw i think fandom has a reputation for being something that as a whole that it is not. it has this reputation for straight up demanding things and harassing people until they get their way. while unfortunately there are a few people who do this, they're fucking annoying and i swear that they're far from the majority.

in my experience fandom is mostly about writing a five thousand word story at three am while drunk off your ass because it might make someone whom you've never met smile, editing it in the cold light of day, and then posting it. expecting nothing. sometimes getting nothing. and sometimes getting someone send you kudos or a comment so heartbreakingly wonderful that it makes you smile in return.)

-

11. so once again, it is all about the writing.

i want to see Sam and Bucky get together in the mcu, not because they would be a gay couple but because i genuinely believe that their story has potential to be an amazing love story.

and i know the mcu isn't about the romance. it's why in my personal opinion we haven't gotten a lot of good canon romances besides Peter Quill and Gamora. and i don't think that the mcu should be all about the romance either. i fucking love the action and the fighting scenes. i love the comedy. Captain America: The Winter Soldier had no romance and it was a fucking treasure, it was an amazing spy-action-thriller and it made my little gay heart dance. Thor Ragnarok had no romance, and it was an utterly brilliant comedic spectacle action film. not every movie needs romance.

but mcu Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes were doing couple's therapy and fixing a boat and walking off into the sunset together in tfatws. they were inseparable on the battlefield. they've got a dynamic. it's beautiful, it's romantic, and it's gold.

a budding relationship between them in the next movie would be a good way to explore both characters more without the narrative feeling too stilted and separate. at the end of tfatws, both Sam and Bucky fans found that their respective fave felt somewhat underutilised and that their characters were underexplored.

now, that problem would be even more difficult to remedy in a movie, because the plotline of a movie needs to be really tight to work (giggity). and we know that the central conflict of the movie is gonna be action-based (which is good), but we still need each character's personal journey and growth to tie into the main conflict. (which is another issue that some fans found with tfatws, that these characters didn't really feel connected to the action-based plot on a more personal level.)

if Sam and Bucky are already in a relationship, however, this whole dynamic changes. first, their relationship has already been set up for nicely since TWS and through tfatws and they would officially be the best-fleshed-out couple in the mcu. but most importantly, a relationship gives them a perfect vehicle to explore both of their pasts comparatively and connect them personally to the action-based plot.

do you want to establish that Sam is a little too trusting and naïve? then establish this through his relationship with Bucky, and through showing his placing his trust in Bucky. (rather than through having him sympathise with a villain who threatened to murder his sister and his nephews).

perhaps you want to show Bucky recovering from his trauma? show us how comfortable he is with Sam. they get along, they're enjoying each other's presence, we see more of Sam's life and of his family, and then let Bucky tell Sam something that's raw and dark and honest about his life as The Winter Soldier. something about a memory, one that he only just recalled. he's opening up. and maybe what he tells Sam is even something that sets up the future action-based conflict, to ground that in something real.

you want to explore that Sam has trauma too? do this through Bucky. he tells Bucky a story about his time in the military. in the form of a flashback, he shares his own story of loss to evoke before the audience the shared theme of feeling at fault even when you're simply a helpless bystander to an act of pure destruction.

then, action sequence! and it's directly connected to Bucky's time as the Winter Soldier. explore the grief of someone whose life the Winter Soldier tore apart manifesting into a villain perpetuating the cycle of pain. establish your villain.

Later, Sam is dragged into battle against this villain for protecting Bucky. But Bucky doesn't want Sam to protect him. He feels guilt for what he can't control and he doesn't want Sam getting hurt because of him. Bucky reminds Sam that he has a family, one who needs him and who loves him. He tells him to go home.

Sam reminds Bucky that he's a part of that family. And that sure Sam's a hero and his job is to protect anyone and everyone, but that he's doing it because he wants to. It's not simply to prove that he can, or to prove that he's not a bystander (this connects to Sam's trauma here), but that he's doing it to help people.

and this gets Bucky thinking about who he is and what he's doing here. is he a hero who stands by Sam's side? or is he an ordinary man who stands aside? or perhaps, does he stand alone? what does he stand for? Maybe Sam knows. But does Bucky?

Sam and Bucky fight off the villain again, and for the first time Bucky meets this adversary face to face. And Bucky recognises this villain, and has a flashback to the genuine pain that he inflicted upon them in the form of the Winter Soldier. Bucky freezes mid-fight, he almost dies, and Sam has to save him.

Sam chews Bucky out for almost getting killed because he was afraid for him. but Bucky takes this the wrong way and goes off to fight the villain alone, or perhaps to die alone, he's not quite sure.

He puts up a half-hearted fight. He apologises for what the Winter Soldier has done, and he waits for the killing blow, when Sam swoops down and he saves him. He asks Sam why he saved him and Sam calls him a moron. And then, Sam asks him what sacrificing himself would solve. He tells him that you can't choose your past but you can choose your future (connecting to his own experience of loss and guilt and grief). And that no matter what Bucky Barnes still has a future, whether that's as the Winter Soldier or the White Wolf or just some dork with a day job. And that he has a future as a part of Sam's family too.

Sam fights the villain, and it's toe to toe. He delivers a few good blows, but receives a fair few himself. And then the villain tears off his wings, first one and then the other, in a manner reminiscent of what the Winter Soldier did to him in TWS. Through Bucky's eyes there's a flashback to highlight the parallels. Sam gets back on his feet and he fights his best fight, but is now losing.

And then the heavily injured Bucky steps up and fights by Sam's side, and only together do they take down the villain.

"So... I inspired you, huh?" Sam teases with a smile, utterly exhausted. "With my heroism and-"

"You inspired me." Bucky said, equally exhausted. "Let's leave it at that."

Together, Sam and Bucky go back to the safety and warmth of their family. Sam fixes his wings. Sam goes back to being Captain America. And Bucky... he's around, but it's unclear what he's doing.

That is, until the very end. When Sam is in a fight, and suddenly Bucky shows up and helps him out.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asks.

"I've made up my mind." Bucky says. "I'm the Winter Soldier. But now I'll save lives, Sam. Now, like you, I'll be a hero."

Sam smirks. "So does this make you my sidekick, then?"

Bucky smiles. "C'mon, at least make me a partner." He says.

"How about co-workers." Sam says (in flashback, he remembers back to the death of his last on-the-job partner).

"How about friends." Bucky says, with a wry look.

"Bucky... I don't want to see you put your dumbass self in danger." Sam says.

"Oh, and it's ok for you to go running off into danger on your own all the time?" Bucky asks.

"Yes." Sam says stubbornly. "Absolutely it is."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not a dumbass?!"

"Sam, if you think I'm not gonna be watching your back for the rest of time... then you're the biggest dumbass I know. And I don't care if you need me or not, I will be there for you."

"Because Sam, you're more than Captain America. You're more than a good soldier. You're a good man. And I think sometimes, the world forgets what the difference is."

-

...or something like that.

(i only spent like 15 minutes on that. you know if i were actually writing this movie i would come up with something much better. and if anyone from marvel is seeing this, yes i can come work for you. i will make the time, let's do this thing right!)

-

finale

at the end of the day, whether or not the mcu chooses to make Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes a couple, it's their decision. and they don't owe me anything.

i'm just some random person on the internet. who thinks that Captain America 4 should #givecaptainamericaaboyfriend

[forever-emo-phase]

Mission Status: Sick!

Notes: Hello this is my first fic for Sanders Sides! It is inspired by @illogicallyinclined​‘s hockey AU! If you haven’t ever gotten into it, do it! However, you can still read even if you don’t know anything about the AU! Characters: Virgil, Logan

Ship: The whole thing is pretty much just analogical pining Warnings: Panic attack is described Genre: Just guys being dudes being gay. Fluff maybe? It’s not sad and that’s all I can tell you. Summary: Which is how Virgil arrived at his current situation, Logan tensely sitting at his desk in the middle of the night with shoulders so tight he looked like he was seconds away from shattering.

'It's a good thing that my homosexuality is stronger than my pride', Virgil thought as he opened a capri sun and violently squeezed it onto his sheets.

Check it out on Ao3 here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/33804841

Anxiety sucks. Virgil’s nails are always bitten down to the quick, hands never still, and the insides of his cheeks chewed and raw. If Virgil had to find a bright side, it would have to be his ability to read people. With just a look, Virgil could tell by the slump of his shoulders when Roman needed a little bit of extra praise. He would notice the redness around Patton’s eyes and know that he would need more company than normal. 

But the one person Virgil prided himself on seeing was Logan. It was almost second nature for him to sense the tension in Logan’s shoulders without even looking, he could almost feel it in the air. He could see when Logan needed to get out of his head and stop pushing himself before he broke. 

Dealing with Logan’s emotions, however, was slightly harder. If his approach was too physical, like he would approach Patton, Logan would withdraw. If he tried to take the same approach he would with Roman, showering compliments tempered with a light bit of teasing, Logan would get uncomfortable and retreat.

Which is how Virgil arrived at his current situation, Logan tensely sitting at his desk in the middle of the night with shoulders so tight he looked like he was seconds away from shattering.

'It's a good thing that my homosexuality is stronger than my pride', Virgil thought as he opened a capri sun and violently squeezed it onto his sheets. 

The thing with Logan is that he doesn’t care about himself. He will push himself to his limit and keep going, but, if someone else needs something? He will help as much as he can, even though sometimes it may not be overly obvious that he is helping.

“Hey Logan?” Virgil says from across the room, staring at his now soaked bedding. 

“Yes, Virgil?” Logan doesn’t look up from his computer as he sharply replies. For a moment Virgil wonders if this scheme was the best idea, it could fail horribly and Logan could be angry and refuse. But, the wheels were already in motion, his sheets were already wet, and there was no turning back.

“I fucked up.” He said plainly, watching as Logan’s head turned so fast to look at him that he was surprised that he didn’t hear a crack. Realizing how ominous his statement was, Virgil raised his hands and quickly spat out a placating “No it’s okay i’m fine!”

Logan let out a sigh before replying “What did you manage to do that was so dramatic that it required that statement, while I was sitting in the same room, only a handful of feet away from you?”

“Well…” Virgil started, choosing his words very carefully to make sure his plan could not fail. “I was panicking a little bit while I was drinking my Capri Sun and I squeezed it a little bit too hard. It spilled on my sheets and my bed is soaked now.” 

Logan’s eyes assessed Virgil, making him momentarily wonder if his lie was believable. Did his dishonesty show on his face? Was Logan about to get angry and yell at him? His hands began to shake slightly and his breathing picked up and, he thought wryly, at least now he wasn’t lying about being anxious. His fears were eased when he saw the slight softening of Logan’s face. 

“Oh Virgil,” Logan huffed out, his face morphing into an expression of fond exasperation, “You need to stop having drinks in your bed, especially ones of the extremely spillable and sugary type.”

Virgil shrugged, “It is what it is, you know?”

“It does not have to be the way that it is?” Logan said with a hint of confusion sneaking into his voice. “You can very easily change the circumstance.”

A small chuckle escaped from Virgil as he watched his roommate struggle to wrap his head around the statement. Logan was extremely smart, that was obvious, but watching him puzzle out modern slang and sayings struck Virgil as endearing every time. “It’s too late to change it now, you know?”

“You are correct.” Logan intoned and Virgil could already see some of the tension leaving Logan’s shoulders as he began to relax during the conversation. “Do you have a plan for drying your bedding before it is time for you to sleep?”

“Not at all.” Virgil said as he absentmindedly brought his hand to his mouth to bite his nails, but stopped as Logan let out a soft click of his tongue as a reprimand. As he lowered his hand, he absent-mindedly wondered if Logan was even aware that he had made the sound. Either way, Virgil found it incredibly sweet. “I’ll probably just sleep on the floor. My pillow is dry.”

Virgil made a show of picking up his pillow and feeling around for a dry blanket so that he could make a temporary bed on the floor, however, he was quickly interrupted.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Logan scolded lightly, “You can sleep in my bed. I will be up for a significant while longer doing work, it is no problem at all.”

Everything was falling into place for Virgil and he had to resist the urge to steeple his fingers together like a Bond villain. But his work was not finished, there was still one more task- Get Logan In The Bed.

“Dude no!” He exclaimed, “I’m not taking your bed! You’ve gotta sleep at some point!”

“Virgil,” Logan sighed, “I have a lot of work to do that I need to get done soon. I was actually planning to get up and pour myself some more coffee.”

Shit. If Logan got caffeine into his system, it was game over. His plan would fail and he would just be in Logan’s bed, and while that wouldn’t be the worst thing, it was not the plan. Panicking, he blurted out a quick “No!”

“No?” Logan said with a raised eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

‘Now or never’ Virgil thought to himself, before delivering the line that had inspired the whole plot.

“I wouldn’t feel okay with taking your bed, just in case you decided to sleep. Could we just share for the night?”

Logan looked puzzled, “I suppose, but I have already told you that I am not necessarily planning on sleeping tonight.”

“I know but.. I would feel bad.” Virgil said, his anxiety rising now that he was this far into the plan and there was truly no turning back. “Could you just… Would you just lay down for a minute? It would make me feel better.”

Judging by Logan’s expression, Virgil was convinced that he had lost Logan. His plan had failed and he felt a burn of shame in his chest, clenching his eyes shut. God he was so stupid! He should have just refused the offer to take Logan’s bed and slept on the floor! He should have not even tried this stupid plan! Virgil had not noticed his breathing picking up and his fingernails burying themselves into his palms as his thoughts spiraled into a pit of anxiety. He had not noticed until Logan’s voice washed over him.

“Virgil?” He said, somehow both softly and with authority. “Name five things you can see.” Virgil pried his eyes open, not really remembering when he had closed them. “Bed. Computer. Shoes. Water bottle. Posters.”

Logan nodded his head, with a small smile. “You are doing very well. Now four things you can touch.”

“Uhhh…” Virgil hesitated, eyes darting to Logan, “Sheets. Pants. My hair. Wet blanket.”

“Good job. Three things that you can hear now.” 

“Your voice. The air conditioner. Our obnoxious neighbors.” His breathing had started to slow and he could feel his body relaxing.

“Two things you can smell, you’re almost there.”

“Capri sun from my sheets and your disgusting coffee.”

“Last thing, one thing you can taste.” 

“Toothpaste.” With his breathing regulated and feeling calmer, Virgil smiled wryly back at Logan. “I’m sorry. That was… sudden.”

“You are perfectly fine. I have reassured you multiple times that I do not mind helping you.” Logan said soothingly. “Why don’t we go lay down? You are typically quite tired after these events.”

“Yeah… that sounds good.” Virgil said as he stood to move to Logan’s bed, straightening his sleep pants and he went. “Do… are you going to lay down too?”

Logan hummed, walking to his laptop to shut the lid, as well as flipping the main lights in the room off.  “Yes I suppose that I can for a moment. Just to assure you that I do not mind that you are in my bed.”

Virgil lifted the sheets of the bed and crawled under, scooting over so that he was next to the wall, leaving space for Logan to enter. “Alright. I promise I won’t keep you too long.”

“Well.” Logan said as he joined Virgil under the sheets, “I, in all honesty, could use the sleep.”

Virgil smiled at Logan with a soft “Good night then.”

“Good night Virgil.” Logan whispered, reaching up to turn off the light next to his bed, plunging them both into darkness.

The next time Virgil opened his eyes, the sun was shining through the window of the room and his head was resting on Logan’s shoulder. One of Logan’s strong arms was wrapped across Virgil and Virgil could hear Logan’s soft breathing against his ear.

Slowly reaching into his pocket so as to not disturb Logan, Virgil pulled out his cellphone, which was at 9%, and quickly snapped a picture before sending it to Remy with a simple caption.

“Mission accomplished.”

 (And that is the end! Feedback is very appreciated!)

[theworldbrewery]

over our last two sessions, I ran something a little different. Our cleric, Oggie, has a (complicated) relationship with this NPC, Elliot. Elliot is a gay half-elf man whose father is a politician and diplomat; Elliot’s father has decided that since Elliot has a criminal record (he was framed for treason) the best way to ensure he is provided for is to marry him off to another political family, neatly tucking him away where he can’t cause a scandal.

Now, his father isn’t too interested in Elliot’s desire for romance or attraction, so he’s arranged a marriage with a young woman from a prominent elven family. The party quickly decided that this cannot stand. They agreed to attend the wedding in order to prevent it from happening.

Upon arrival at the venue, however, a few key things were going to pop off. First, it turns out Oggie’s estranged family lives in the town. Second, the whole region is deeply haunted and extremely sinister. Third, messing up the bride’s life was a non-option, because when I introduced the character of the bride, a friend of ours came out of the bedroom where I’d stashed them and introduced themself as Gloria, the bride herself (an air genasi monk in a family of elves, another outsider).

this was already clearly a rousing success, but we still had to get through the wedding, and I had to run it in a way that felt dynamic and tense. People go from room to room and building to building, indoors and outdoors and making visits to the village. It’s the day of a wedding!

So I developed a method for running the Day of the Wedding, and I’m sharing it with you for any extended roleplay and intrigue encounters you want to tangle up in plot threads.

First things first: run it like a combat.

What I mean by that is when the party woke up on the day of the wedding, I asked them all to roll for initiative. Instead of a round taking six seconds, each round lasted one hour, enough time for a movement (go to 2 areas near one another or 1 place that’s a bit further away), an action (a primary roleplay scene or investigation), and a bonus action (a conversation with a fellow player character, a quick search of an area, etc.). As the DM, use your discretion to decide what constitutes a suitable bonus action vs action.

Now, unlike combat, this type of encounter should permit player characters to team up and act together. When a PC that is high in initiative order decides to do something, other PCs that rolled lower can opt to join them if they want to act in the same location or engage with the same NPCs. (This is a great option to keep the action moving and lets players work together more.)

In order to keep this situation rolling, I prepared a few key notes. I focused on regional effects; that is, the overall culture and vibe of the area. I decided early on that the region is haunted, and that the locals are suspicious, superstitious, and obsessed with cleanliness. These features are tied into the overall plot conflicts that would develop over time. I also chose to include the effects of the Haunted table from Tasha’s Cauldron to add some spiciness to my haunting. In essence, think of the tensions the NPCs in the region are already experiencing prior to the party getting involved. A recent assassination might make a court intrigue more complicated as they now distrust strangers, for instance, while a new trade war over tariffs can complicate a diplomatic mission.

Next, I considered my locations. In this instance, my locations included the inn where the party slept, various rooms in the manor house hosting the wedding, a handful of outdoor areas, and the chapel. I focused on creating detailed descriptions of the ambiance for each location.

Then, I wrote out a quick description of each major NPC - in this case, the wedding party, the family of the intended, and a few locals and guests. In a roleplay/intrigue scenario like this, it’s vital to include motivations, secrets, and goals for each of these NPCs, even if those goals are very simple. You’ll need them for the last step:

Create a round-by-round timeline. Write out your list of locations and pair them with the NPCs that will be there during each round (hour). In my notes, I added what the NPC was doing there or what they were thinking about--linking their motivation to their location. For example, a character in the garden was leaving an early-morning meeting with her lover, the new gardener, while the fathers of the bride and groom met in the library to discuss the cover-up they had just pulled off (a politician and wedding guest had died mysteriously at midnight, and to keep the wedding from being derailed, they had hidden the body and were intimidating the only witness).

Party members who arrived at each location were therefore entering existing scenes they didn’t have full context for. Each hour, the NPCs would move on to the next phase of their day, seek out other NPCs to interact with, etc. NPCs could still be influenced by the party’s actions, so each round you might adjust exactly what they’re doing or where they’ve gone--the beauty of improv!

Keep in mind that situations should still be developing when the party isn’t witnessing them. An NPC no one had spoken to yet turned out to have spent the morning searching for her missing father, which led the party to the gravesite that they’d spotted earlier in the game, while the gardener turned out to be a villain they’d met before who was acting in secret during the session! Use your best judgment, though. Just because you wrote content for an NPC doesn’t mean the party will engage with it, so follow their lead; sprinkle the clues, and then let the party’s focus drive which storylines get developed.

So long as every NPC has a goal or secret to influence their opinions and decisions, they will feel like nuanced actors within the roleplay scenario; the timeline you lay out in advance gives them a sort of “Artificial Intelligence” that can be influenced by the player’s actions.

Personally, I also recommend setting a natural deadline for the party. If my players didn’t stop the wedding by 1pm, for instance, the ceremony would go forward and they would either be forced to object in public or let the marriage take place. Thus, they only had 5 total “rounds” to disrupt things enough that the wedding would be called off.

You can create similar deadlines depending on the central goal of the party. A vote on whether to pass a controversial law could serve as one for a court intrigue arc, while a crime-solving arc might have a threatened time when a kidnapping victim will be murdered (”You have 24 hours to deliver the ransom”, for example). The sense of a ticking time-bomb gives the players a much-needed urgency. The round-by-round timeline also helps to ensure that you won’t have to continue prepping rounds ad infinitum; instead, you need only prepare up until shit pops off and the deadline is reached.

You may find you won’t reach the deadline, though. In this arc, the party discovered the corpse of a major politician who had died in the night and was secretly buried by the gardener. They used the cover-up as leverage to blackmail the parents of the bride and groom into calling off the marriage, which was helped along by the ranger revealing that Elliot’s father was concealing Elliot’s criminal record to keep the marriage arrangement intact. They managed to prevent the wedding with an hour to spare.

However, as Alice the sorcerer went downstairs to announce the cancellation, she spotted a person who looked just like her weaving through the crowd to leave the manor. She followed, and discovered that she was tracking the semi-villainous NPC who had crossed paths with the party a few times before, disguised as Alice. The NPC, Florian, had been playing the role of the gardener, and blackmailed the bride’s father into giving up a precious family heirloom in exchange for concealing the body; now that the cover-up has been revealed, they’re getting out of Dodge with their prize. This revelation serves as the plot hook for the next dungeon!

[randomshyperson]

Attraction and Reaction - Wanda Maximoff x Dom!Reader - Part 2

Prompt based “ WandaXReader where they're always arguing and being sarcastic to eachother but it's just sexual tension. Maybe smth with the lines "why are u laghing did I tell a joke?" "why don't u look inside my head and find out". I think it would be pretty cool. It doesn't have to be smutt though, only If u fell like it (also a dom!reader would be nice)" > Link for part One

Notes: Some people asked me to write a part 2 of this one, and i took me a while but I finally did it. Nobody specified whether they wanted part two for the smut or for the story so I put a little of both.

Warnings>  18+, Smut, language, mentions of past abuse.

Words:  6.243 (Complete)

Marks (I keep forgetting to put this but hope people don’t hate me haha) > @mionemymind​ @wandamaximoffpuppy​

AO3 (Complete / Two Parts)

Maybe you guys had been in the room for a long time.

But you didn't care about the time as you had Wanda riding on your face, and you were licking and sucking her, while she moaned loudly with her mouth open as she forced her hips down and held on to the headboard.

- Fuck! Right there. - She said breathlessly - Don't stop.

A few strokes later and she came apart in your mouth, for the fourth time in a row. The taste only seemed to get better.

And then she was throwing herself on the bed trying to normalize her breathing, and you leaned over to rest your head on her belly while your fingers trailed up her thigh.

But a knock at the door caught your attention next.

- Wanda, is everything all right? - That was Bucky on the other end. - I made dinner, I was wondering if you would like some.

- No, Bucky, thank you. - Wanda shouted back a moment later, disguising her current state well. You let out a giggle, and ran your fingers down her skin, penetrating her pussy afterwards, and she bit back a sigh.

- That's fine. Do you know where Y/N is? I haven't seen her since this morning, and she's not in her room. - He then said and you chuckled softly, as Wanda held back a moan at having you inside her.

- No. - She answered half breathlessly, and forced herself to sound less affected in the next sentence. - I have no idea.

But then you began to rotate your finger against her clit and she sank her face into the bed, gasping for breath. It took a moment, then Bucky spoke again.

- You guys are fucking, aren't you?

- Trying to! - you retorted impatiently, beginning to kiss Wanda's skin.

You can hear Bucky let out a chuckle before his footsteps move away. But your attention was focused on Wanda, coming on your fingers again.

- Fuck. - She mumbled breathlessly, running her hands through her hair. - I don't think I can go on. - She commented with a smile, her gaze lazing on you.

You smiled as you lifted your face to meet hers, and kissed her slowly and sensually, but she really looked tired, even though her hips moved toward you.

- Get some sleep, dear. - You whispered to her, trying not to be startled by how easily the nickname slipped out of your mouth. Wanda smiled, closing her eyes. When her breathing became deep, you pulled back the blankets to cover her naked body, then stood up.

You picked up your clothes from the floor, and when you finished dressing, you left the room.

Bucky was reading something when you entered the room, and you went around the counter to get some coffee.

- Sorry for getting in the way of your conflict resolution. - He said ironically, his eyes still on the paper. You giggled.

- No problem, Barnes. - You replied before taking a sip of coffee.

You walked over to the couch where Bucky was sitting and looked curiously at the papers on the table as you sat down in the armchair next to him.

- What are you working on anyway? - you asked, crossing your legs. Bucky let out a sigh.

- On you guys, actually. - He said, and you frowned in confusion. But he didn't look angry, just busy. - Steve worries that the team works as a whole. He asked me to study your training results and try to find a way to solve your problems.

- I think that's been taken care of. - You sneer, but Bucky keeps a serious expression.

- Sex doesn't solve your problems. - He says and you blink in surprise. - It's just an escape valve.

You laugh ruefully, putting your coffee cup on the table.

- What are you talking about? Wanda and I just needed to vent our anger somehow. There is nothing to work out.

Bucky shook his head in denial, placing the pages he had in his hand on the table.

- Look, do you remember how it used to be with me and Sam? - He asked, and you rolled your eyes, nodding in agreement.

- We're not like....

- Listen first. - he asked with a smile, and you sighed, nodding. - Sam and I used to fight because we couldn't accept the nature of our relationship. - He explains. - And we both looked up to Steve and wanted him to be proud of us. And then we would fight to see who got his attention.

- That's very gay. - You comment humorously and Bucky chuckles lightly before continuing.

- The relevant thing is that when Sam and I first started having sex, we weren't communicating. - He says and you blink in surprise. - Angry sex is no substitute for conversation. It took a while, but we managed to talk about how we really felt, and now we are doing just fine. 

You sighed thoughtfully, leaning your back against the chair as you entwined your hands in your lap.

- I don't know what to tell you, comrade. - You say. - I have no quarrel with Wanda. We're fine. 

Bucky looked at you for a few seconds, and then shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to his papers. You began to think that you were repeating that things were fine for yourself and not for him.

//-//

Everything was fine.

The day after the events of the past morning and afternoon, you only met Wanda over breakfast. She smiled and waved you good morning, and you did the same.

And when you two got up to leave the dishes in the sink, she enjoyed being put on the countertop while you stayed on your knees with your head between her legs. Or at least you understood that she did, when she came in your mouth and moaned your name.

Everything was fine. Until it wasn't.

Bucky requested another therapy session with you two, and at the moment you were sitting in an armchair facing Wanda in an empty room, waiting for the soldier.

You were trying not to let your mind wander to the image of the redhead squirming with pleasure beneath you as you looked at her but you were failing miserably.

You cleared your throat, looking away and then Bucky entered, apologizing for the delay and saying that the rest of the team should be back in the tower soon.

- Can we try talking today, girls? - He said as he sat down, and you crossed your arms, shrugging. Wanda twiddled her fingers slightly. - I'd like to try the questions again.

You and Wanda exchanged a look before nodding, and Bucky smiled, pulling his small notepad from his pocket and reading briefly before speaking.

- Y/N let's start with you today. - He says. - Can you tell me something you like about Wanda?

You bite your lip.

- The way she moans my name.

Bucky blinks in surprise and discomfort but lets out a giggle, Wanda blushes softly looking away.

- Great, we've gone from immense hatred to unrestrained horniness. - He wryly chuckles. - Please girls, let's try to make this work.

You let out a sigh, getting thoughtful for a moment. 

- All right, Bucky. - You say. - I... I like how caring Wanda always is.

Wanda blinks in surprise, and Bucky looks happy. 

- That's nice. - He comments with a smile. - And you Wanda, can you tell us what you like about Y/N?

Wanda looks at you for a moment, and then looks away from you to Bucky.

- I like how protective she is of everyone here. - She confesses and you look at her attentively. - Even with me, and even when we are fighting, when we are in the field, she cares about everyone.

You swallow dryly as you look away from Wanda, wanting to ignore the feeling in your stomach.

- That's great, girls. - Bucky comments and you almost forget that he was there. - I would like to ask how this conflict started.

And then you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Because you remember it so well. Clearing your throat, you stand up.

- I don't want to do this anymore. - You say, looking at Bucky, who looks very surprised. He closes his notepad, but before he can say anything, Wanda says.

- So you're just going to run away again?

- Yeah, Wanda, I'm just going to run away. - You retort angrily as you move your feet out of the room, slamming the door on your way out.

//-//

You had been training for a few hours, your muscles ached and your body begged for a rest, but you kept punching the bag in front of you.

- Someone is angry. - sneered Natasha as you entered the gym. You blinked in surprise.

- I didn't know you were back. - You retorted without stopping your punching.

And then Natasha was climbing onto the mat, smiling at you.

- A little bird told me that you resolved your conflicts in the best possible way. - She teased, coming closer and tapping your fists to make you stop. You sighed breathlessly, your body reacting immediately to the lack of movement.

- I don't want to talk about it. - You retorted as you took off your boxing gloves, and walked away. 

- I figured as much. - She said, following you around the gym as you left the ring and looked for a bottle of water. - But you need it, so we''ll talk.

You let out an impatient grumble, and then Nat was touching your shoulder and you turned away abruptly.

- No. - You warned with clenched fists, but Nat was not intimidated.

- I know what happened to you. - She said and you closed your eyes tightly, trying to control the boiling anger rising in your chest. - I know because I saw the red room when she was in my head. But you have to understand that Wanda is on our side now and…

- I know that! - you retorted angrily. - I know that she's just a victim in this whole thing, okay? I just... I don't... - You paused, trying to normalize your breathing, and control your tears. - I haven't seen my family in twenty years. And I don't think about them, I can't remember their faces. I wasn't ready to see them that day, and I can hardly breathe when I remember. I just need time.

- You can't take out on Wanda the anger you had for them. - Nat replies seriously, and you sigh, sitting down on the bench next to you, your face buried in your hands.

- I know. - You say. - I just... God, she is probably the only person who knows everything. I wasn't ready to tell anyone, or deal with it alone, and she just came in and she just knows everything.

Nat sat down next to you and put her hand on your thigh.

- You need to talk to someone about this. - She said. - Not with me, not with Wanda. With a professional who can help you.

You nod, squeezing her hand. 

- I know. - You say with a sad smile. - I will, I just... It all seems so recent.

- You've been burying your traumas pretty well, that's all. - She jokes, and you laugh weakly.

You stood for a moment in silence before standing up. Nat let go of your hand to give your shoulder a squeeze before she left the gym. You sighed, deciding that you should call that contact Sam had told you about.

//-//

When you returned to your room, you had an appointment. You went into the shower, and took too long, trying to calm your nerves under the hot water. 

And then you were startled to get out and find Wanda waiting for you.

- I want to talk to you. - She declared as soon as you came out of the bathroom, sitting on your bed.

You let out a sigh, moving toward your closet. You didn't mind being naked in front of Wanda, it was nothing she hadn't seen before. And then you threw the towel on the bed and put on a loose T-shirt.

- You can talk. - You retorted, turning to her, and bit your lip when you noticed Wanda's gaze and flushed cheeks. - Earth to Wanda? 

Wanda grumbled at your teasing and looked away, you smiled as you picked up the towel from the bed to take it to dry off.

- I don't know what's bothering you. - She says after a moment, and you swallow the discomfort in the pit of your stomach. - But I've talked to Bucky, and he doesn't think it's healthy for us to continue with, well, whatever it is, before you can talk about your feelings.

You hang up your towel and then turn to Wanda with an impassive face.

- Okay, then. Good night. - You tell her sharply, and Wanda blinks in confusion.

- That's all you're going to say? - she asks incredulously, and you let out a dry laugh.

- You're the one who came here to say that you don't want us to happen anymore. 

- I didn't say that.

- What difference does it make? - You retort. - It's not going anywhere anyway.

Your statement leaves your mouth bitter, and Wanda stares at you for a long second before turning and leaving the room. You feel your body boil with anger, but you're tired. So you just throw yourself on the bed and hope to sleep soon.

//-//

Your fights with Wanda stop, mostly because you just don't talk to each other anymore. But Bucky seems to accept this as progress, and releases you from the sessions. And then you are seeing the psychologist that Sam recommended, and things are getting better for you.

She asks about your family, and teaches you to control your anger attacks with breathing exercises and focus. It is enough for weeks, until you have to really face your memories as you use Tony's technology to remember what your parents did to you. Of how they gave you your abilities. 

It is suffocating, and painful, but you survive. And it feels good to breathe normally again. 

You want to ignore the feeling that there is something missing, mainly because you believed that once you were healing, you wouldn't think about Wanda anymore. But now that the anger is gone, you just miss her.

Many weeks after your discussion, you are in the Caribbean, trying to investigate an abandoned Hydra base, and you have Wanda as an exploration partner.

- Did you find anything? - you asked as you two walked together into yet another empty room of an abandoned compound. Wanda was going through some drawers, going through their contents.

- Nothing that Tony hasn't already hacked. - She said, and then you turned around when you heard a noise at the door behind you. Raising your pistol in the direction of the sound, you let out an exclamation of surprise when the door suddenly opened, and a man jumped at you. Clearly a soldier, judging by his clothing. You fought back his blows, and were ready to fight, but Wanda simply used her magic to throw him across the room and he blacked out. You looked at her, and she shrugged. - Sorry, did I step on your moment?

- That sentence is mine. - You heard Natasha's voice interrupt, probably joining you as soon as she heard the sound of conflict. You shook your head, laughing lightly as you stood up. - I'm taking our friend in for interrogation, so finish up here. - She said before dragging the man across the room and out. You were dusting off your clothes as you walked toward Wanda.

- Since we can't find anything around here, I guess we can go. - You grumble, and then let out an exclamation of discomfort, which attracts the attention of Wanda, who raises her eyes in your direction.

- Are you all right? - She asked, coming closer and raising her hands to where you were pressing yours, above your shoulder.

- Yes. - You retorted with mild surprise at her concern. - It was just the impact. 

You watched as Wanda's eyes ran quickly to your mouth, and you felt your heart race in anticipation. 

- Okay, then. - She grumbled, lowering her hands and placing them behind her back, looking everywhere but at you. You bit your lip, bringing your bodies closer together, as Wanda attempted to move away, but slammed her back against a cabinet, and let out a gasp.

- Are you nervous? - you ask quietly as you approach, watching Wanda's chest rise and fall out of rhythm. - I just want to thank you for helping me in the fight. - You whisper as you lift a finger to caress her cheek, Wanda holds her breath. Then you let your mouth come up to her ear. - Thank you, Wanda. You've been a good girl.

Wanda closes her eyes tightly, and her hips thrust forward. You smile smugly, as you turn your face to kiss her deeply. She moans against your tongue, and you push your body against her, pressing her into the cabinets.

Your hands move down her thighs, and as you kiss her hard, you push up the fabric of her skirt, and let your fingers run over her skin.  When you push the fabric of her panties aside and penetrate her, she breaks the kiss with a loud moan, and you sigh as you feel her all wet.

- Wanda, you're dripping, baby. - You whisper against her lips as you move your fingers across her swollen clitoris. - How long have you been waiting for me to touch you?

Wanda whimpers, burying her head in your neck. You swallow dryly, trying not to be carried away by the feeling of having her so hot, and concentrate on keeping the movements steady. And then you pull out of her only to insert another finger, and she bites your shoulder.

She is making delicious sounds as her hips push against your fingers, and you want to kiss her again, so you use your free hand to hold her neck and make her look at you. Wanda gasps in surprise, but matches your tongue in her mouth, moaning against you.

A moment later, she begins to quiver in spasms against you, whimpering as she tries to stand upright. You take your hand from her neck to hold her waist and keep her steady as you increase the speed of your fingers, and then Wanda comes, a loud moan with her mouth open as she digs her nails into your arm.

- What the hell is taking you guys so long? - You hear Steve's question on your communicator, and let out an impatient grumble. 

- We're coming. - You say raising your hand to the device in your ear and look at Wanda trying to normalize her breathing. - Wanda already did actually.

Wanda slaps your arm as you laugh lightly, but Steve doesn't seem to understand. And then you are hurrying out of the room. You like it when she kisses you deeply on the stairs, before you join the team.

//-//

When you all return home, Steve requests a meeting with you. After showering and putting on comfortable clothes, you go to the room where he is waiting.

- Hey, Y/N, what's up? - he asks, sitting in one of the chairs. You smile, nodding.

- Why did you want to talk to me? - You ask, and he lets out a chuckle at your impatience.

- I'd like to know how your appointments have been. - he says after a moment. - You have shown progress in your training. And it's been over two months since you've had any anger episodes.

You shift the weight on your feet, slightly embarrassed.

- It's all right, I guess. - You say. - I've learned to deal with things in a healthier way.

- I'm glad to hear that. - He smiles, and then he hesitates for the next second. - And how is your relationship with Wanda?

- We don't have a relationship. - You retorted snidely, your heart racing slightly. But Steve let out a little laugh.

- Bucky told me that you two have found a way to resolve your conflicts. - He said, getting up. - And you two are not fighting anymore.

- That's what you wanted, isn't it? - You say impatiently and Steve frowns at your hostility. - I don't know what else you want us to do.

- What's going on anyway? - he asks tenderly. - You seem upset about something.

You let out a humorless laugh, running your hands through your hair.

- I am great! Fucking spectacular. - You retort impatiently.

- Y/N...

- Can I go now, Rogers? - You interrupt and he sighs, nodding, and you turn, quickly leaving the room.

As you are crossing the hallway, you bump into Wanda. She looks at you in surprise, ready to apologize, but then you are moving forward and kissing her hard.

Wanda sighs, responding as you press her to the wall. But you slow the kiss and let your foreheads rest against each other.

- I'm sorry. - You say breathlessly. - I can't keep doing this.

And then you pull away, and Wanda calls out to you as you walk away, trying to breathe. 

//-//

Wanda catches up with you outside. You are trying not to punch anything, while focusing on your breathing. 

- Why won't you talk to me? - she shouts as she reaches you. - Tell me what's going on.

You let out a dry laugh, and turn sharply and walk toward her.

- Do you want to know what is going on? Great! - you retort angrily. - This is all happening because of you!

Wanda has a confused expression when you stop in front of her. 

- If you had just stayed out of my head, I would be fine! - You accuse angrily, but don't let her interrupt. - And if you'd stayed out of my bed, I wouldn't be in love with you!

You sigh breathlessly as you sit on the floor, your face wet with tears. Wanda is in shock, and remains standing. You feel terrible.

- Damn it, Wanda, I'm sorry! - you mumble, wiping away your tears, trying to remember your breathing exercises. - It's not your fault what happened to me. I'm being an idiot.

- You are in love with me? - She repeats, staring straight ahead without moving. She seems to be talking more to herself than to you. You let out a humorless laugh.

- Yeah, I... I have been for a while actually. - You tell. - I guess I didn't want it to be true.

But then Wanda is kneeling beside you, and she looks at you with watery eyes. 

- You are a stubborn idiot. - She says, laughing lightly, and you frown. But then she moves in and kisses you on the mouth, and you think nothing more of it. When she separates your mouths, she's as breathless as you are. - We'll make it work, okay? I'm in love with you too.

You smile, and then you are hugging each other. It takes a moment for the rest of the team to get to you two.

- Does this mean we will now hear them having sex instead of fighting? - Tony comments wryly, and you watch as Wanda raises her fingers and casts magic at him that pushes him back slightly.

You laugh, letting your happiness replace your anger completely.

[katyasrussianaccent]

symptom of your touch (natasha romanoff x reader)

Author's note: This is my first natasha smut fic, been writing it in my head for so long. Hopefully you enjoy this piece of self-indulgent smut!

Summary: You're Tony's personal assistant with a crush on Black Widow. Could it be possible that she might feel the same?

Warnings: Bathroom sex, bottom! Nat.

The first time you met Natasha was in the meeting room at Stark tower. You’d been working as Tony’s personal assistant for about two months now; a job that was both unexpected but incredibly appreciated - the daily bills through your letterbox were getting more and more threatening, red words in large letters demanding money you didn’t have.

You were a friend of Sam’s; you used to jog together before you were replaced by Captain America. You didn’t mind, not really, because well, it was Captain America. You couldn’t compete with that ass. And while you didn’t jog as much, Sam always made sure you were okay.

Like most people; you were a fan of the Avengers. If you had to pick a favourite, it would have been Black Widow. Maybe it was because she was the only woman, but there was something about her that you just really liked. And it wasn’t just because she’s really fucking hot and you’re really gay.

You had walked into the meeting room; your hands full with various drinks. For superheroes, the Avengers were really particular about their drink orders; for instance Thor gets really annoyed if they forget the whipped cream on his hot chocolate. You walked round the room, handing each drink out and trying to not look so obvious as you eavesdropped. You handed Clint his drink and turned towards Natasha. You assumed she had been away on a mission, because she hadn’t been around until now. You swallowed a little; the object of your affections was literally sitting right in front of you.

“Agent Romanoff,” you said, holding out her drink; a matcha green tea latte. She looked at you for a second, a thoughtful look on her face as she cocked her head towards Tony.

“What happened to…..?” Natasha trailed off, looking at Tony expectantly.

“Shannon. Pregnant,” Tony answered, putting his hands out over his abdomen to mimic a pregnant stomach. “She was two seconds away from turning the floor into a slip and slide.”

Natasha scrunched her nose up before looking back at you. She took the drink from your hand, a small smile on her face before she turned back to the team. And it was in that brief moment, that you knew that she was going to be a big problem for you.

It’s a while before you see Natasha again; not that you were keeping check. You’re in the meeting room cleaning up; humming a song as you pick up pieces of paper. The door opens and you look behind to see Natasha standing in the doorway.

“Oh. Good afternoon Agent Romanoff,” you say, smiling. She was in her civilian clothes; a simple tank top and dark jeans. The jeans are practically molded to her shape, and it takes every ounce of willpower to not stare at her ass as she passes behind you. You aren’t sure how someone could make such a simple outfit look so amazing. “Did you need something?”

“Clint, he forgot his phone,” she replies, walking behind you and grabbing the cell phone that lay on the table. “I swear he would forget his head if it wasn’t attached.”

“Good thing he has you to keep him in check.”

She smiles politely in reply but doesn’t respond as she walks towards the door. Your mouth opens slightly to say something, anything, to make her stay just a little bit longer. You fail to do so in time, and you sigh as the door closes and the room is empty again. You aren’t sure what makes Natasha so fascinating, you’ve spoken to her literally twice, but there’s just something about her that makes her so enigmatic. Though you suppose it’s literally her job to be like that, and you briefly think of the people that have fallen under her spell.

It’s strange, how although she’s incredibly dangerous, she feels just like a normal person, a person that could kill you in one move, but a normal person nonetheless.

You’re chopping tomatoes in the kitchen, your mind starting to zone out as you watch the knife slice through with ease. It’s been a long day; while working for Tony has been a lifeline that you desperately needed, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so tired. The fridge door beside you closes, and you startle at the sudden noise, the knife moves from the tomato to your finger, the pain sharp as blood begins to pool in the cut.

“Fuck,” you say, hissing as you press you other hand against the cut, moving to the sink to run it under water.

“I am so sorry,” a voice says behind you, and you turn your head to see Natasha at your side. “Are you okay?”

You sigh a little, “I’m fine, but the tomatoes are ruined.”

Natasha moves nearer to you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from her body and any previous pain you felt has suddenly disappeared at the mere proximity of her. “It’s okay, Stark can afford a few tomatoes.”

You giggle before reaching over to get a paper towel, but Natasha beats you to it, pressing the towel onto your wound wordlessly.

“Baby,” she mutters as you wince and you look at her, mouth agape in shock. She ignores you, and you take this opportunity to look at her as she tends to the small cut on your finger. She must have been somewhere hot on her last mission; from this close you can see the slight colour on her nose and cheekbones where she’s caught the sun. As she moves out of your personal space, the scent of her invades your nostrils and you’re surprised that she smells so delicate and floral.

“I think you’ll live” she says, jutting her chin out to point to the small band aid on your finger.

“Have you ever thought about being a doctor?”

“Why? My bedside manner not appealing to you?” she asks, and you look down to hide the blush on your face as you think briefly about what Natasha’s bedside manner could entail.

“Uh, not at all, it’s very appealing. I mean, not very appealing -”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she says as she leaves the kitchen, leaving you with a bandaid on your finger and a warmth between your thighs.

--

The first thing you notice about the party is how loud it is. It’s Tony’s birthday, so Stark tower has been transformed into a full on party tower. The room is crammed with people, and you take a moment to look around to see if you can find someone you know to attach yourself to. It wasn’t that you disliked parties, you just weren’t the type to spark a conversation with strangers. You can see Thor in the middle of the room, holding a keg as Steve is on the floor chugging from it. Guess even Captain America needs to let loose sometimes.

You bite your lip as you scan the people near you, your eyes zeroing in Natasha. You take the opportunity to watch her briefly from a distance. She looks amazing, a simple black dress that has a slit to the upper thigh that shows a delicious amount of leg when she moves. You haven’t spoken since she called you cute, and the more you thought about it, the more confused you were. While cute was a compliment, you weren’t sure if she meant it in a puppy kind of way. Sexy wasn’t the first thing you thought about yourself, but you kind of wish that she had picked a better word. Maybe you were just imagining tension that wasn’t there because you hoped it was there.

You exhale any nervousness and plaster a smile on your face as you walk towards her. She raises an eyebrow in greeting and you wave at her, immediately regretting it.

“Hi,” you greet and she smiles a little.

“You look nice,” she says, her eyes roaming over your body. Okay, maybe you weren’t imagining things.

You blush, your face feeling warm as you mutter a quiet thanks. “It has pockets,” you respond lamely, putting your hands in them and pulling the dress out, like she needs to be shown what pockets were.

“Drink?” Natasha asks, cocking her head towards the bar. You shake your head. “You don’t drink?”

“I do, just not here. I don’t want to make an idiot of myself in front of my boss,” you answer. You don’t have a problem with alcohol per se, you just never know when to call it quits. And while drunk you is fun, you really want to make a good impression.

Natasha nods in understanding but walks off towards the bar anyway, and you stand there for a second confused before following.

“Two virgin daiquiris,” you hear her say as you get to her. You can see the bartender pull a face at the request, but it quickly disappears when he sees who’s ordering.

“Coming up,” he mumbles, his eyes glued to anywhere but Natasha as he moves with haste.

“I think you scared him,” you comment and Natasha smiles a little, a smug smile that shouldn’t be so sexy, but it really is.

“I get that a lot,” she replies and you hum in acknowledgement. “Do I scare you?”

The question takes you aback and you ponder a moment before answering. “Do you want me to be scared of you?”

“Answer the question,” she says, a little firm in her tone.

“No. No you don’t scare me.”

She purses her lips. “I think you might be one of the only ones not scared of me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” you ask and she closes her eyes for a second, sighing.

“Fear is a very powerful thing. I like the way it feels,” she says, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen her look so vulnerable.

“There are other powerful emotions other than fear,” you reply. You aren’t sure how to respond to her, serious conversation was not your strong suit.

“Like?”

“Lust. Love. Anger.”

There’s a beat of silence between you as you look at each other, your eyes reading over her unreadable face, nothing on her features to give away what she's thinking.

“So you aren’t scared of me. What emotion do you feel?” Natasha asks, causing you to splutter as you take a sip of you drink and you’re suddenly wishing your drink had alcohol in it.

“Out of the three I just gave?” you ask and she nods. “Uh well, I hadn’t um really thought about it.”

It’s stupid of you, to lie to a literal spy and you know for a fact she know’s you’re lying.

“That’s not true,” she replies and you take a sideways glance at her. “You think I haven’t noticed you looking at me?”

Your heartbeat quickens and you start to stammer an apology. “I - “

“I know, because I’ve been looking at you too.”

“Wait what?” you ask incredulously. “Are you sure there’s no booze in this drink?”

Natasha laughs and you smile at the sight of her. “Very sure. You’re very cute, did you know that?”

“I did not, but now I do. I’ll be honest, this doesn’t happen to me a lot, so I’m not really sure what to say or do.”

She slides closer to you, a smirk on her face as she leans close, her breath warm on your cheek. “Well there’s a bathroom over there.”

It takes a minute for you to register what she means, and you can see her wait patiently as you look at the bathroom door across the room and then back at her. The blood is rushing in your ears as you grab her hand and pull her across the room, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

The bathroom is luckily empty when you both enter, and your hands don’t leave hers as you push her into the stall furthest away from the door. You open your mouth to speak but it’s interrupted as she surges forward, her lips on yours. She tastes like strawberries with a slight hint of booze, and you wonder how many drinks she’s had before you arrived. You find yourself not really caring as her hands move to your neck, yours follow down to her hips, your fingertips ghosting her back.

You’ve kissed before, but this is different, like fireworks and gunpowder in a small room; every nerve in your body alight with hot, searing fire. You switch her round so her back is against the door, your hands roaming ever inch of her body, tight muscle beneath your fingertips. Part of you wants to take your time, explore every part of her, but the greedy part of your brain wins out and it’s not long before you’ve got one hand moving in between her thighs.

Your mouth is on her neck, licking and sucking at the hollow of her collarbone, a small moan falling from her lips and you want to hear that sound again and again. She opens her legs and you cup her above her panties before going underneath them, your fingers moving past soft curls and into the warm, wetness of her pussy.

You curl your fingers up, and she gasps, her breath hot and fast against your skin. You move them inside her, pumping in and out slowly as her hand grips at your hip. It feels powerful; to have the great Black Widow fucking herself on your fingers in an act of desperation.

“Please,” she whispers as you continue to slowly move.

“Please what?” you ask, stopping completely causing a small whine to escape her lips.

“Please fuck me,” Natasha replies, rolling her hips against your fingers.

“Okay,” you say simply. You press a kiss to her cheek before sinking to your knees. A brief thought about gross bathroom floors crosses your mind, but you push it away as her hand strokes your hair. She takes the hint and pulls her dress up around her hips. Your hands move up her thighs, nudging them apart so you can pull down the lacy underwear she wears; shoving them into your bag. Pressing kisses up her thigh, her breath hitches as your mouth ghosts against her clit. She sighs as your tongue swipes at her once before moving in to circle at her clit with your tongue.

She moans, a low, quiet moan that ends quickly as you both hear the bathroom door open, the chatter of two women filling the once silent room. You look up at her, raising an eyebrow in question. Natasha looks down at you, a slight flush on her cheeks as she nods. You place a finger to your lips, before moving back between her thighs. She tastes sweet, sweeter than you imagined, but there’s something there, a slight tang that makes your tongue tingle. Of course she would taste fucking perfect; everything about her is perfect, and you can’t stop yourself from tasting her more and more, drinking her in.

Your fingers join your mouth and she’s warm as she clenches with every movement inside her. She’s jutting her hips against your mouth, and you can feel your wrist start to cramp as you fuck her roughly, but you know she’s close, the grip in your hair getting harder. It’s starting to get uncomfortable, your knees are starting to hurt, but you want to make her come undone, to fall apart.

You hook her leg over your shoulder to get deeper, never stopping the pace as you fuck her. Her body begins to shudder, and you look up to see her shove a fist in her mouth at the exact moment the toilet next to you flushes. A moan escapes her but neither of you seem to care as she rides the wave of her orgasm. Her chest has a sheen of sweat, and you want to run your tongue over it, taste the salt of her skin. But that’s for another time.

Natasha looks down at you as she tries to catch her breath, and you get to your feet ungracefully, wincing as your knees twinge. There’s uncertainty in your stomach as you look at her. What does this mean, does it mean anything to her? You had just made her cum in a bathroom stall, but maybe that was normal. It wasn’t to you, but normality was subjective.

“This party’s kind of boring, do you want to get something to eat?” Natasha asks, breaking you from your inner turmoil. You blink at her as your brain registers what she’s saying. The once uncertain voice in your head is screaming at you to say yes.

“Sure,” you reply simply.

“Cool,” she says, nodding, her face still slightly flushed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say she felt a little awkward.

“I’m not getting those panties back am I?” she asks as you walk towards the bathroom door and head back into the party.

“Nope,” you say, patting your bag for good measure. “Besides, you might not need them.”

--

[fruitcoops]

Accidental Family

Hey folks! This is one of two fics for the six month celebration of this blog! Woohoo! Blood on the Ice is one of the most popular series I've written, and expanding it into Josie’s (@prohibitionincurls ) Winging It world with her was unbelievably fun. Disclaimer: one of the OCs has ADHD and it is a central theme of the story--while Josie based some of his characteristics on her own experience, we both recognize that this is not a one-size-fits-all situation. Thank you again for six amazing months, and I hope you enjoy!

Lots of love,

Eve <3

TW for mentioned injury

“Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me,” the kid whispered in a wavering voice, sounding much younger than he actually was as he left the penalty box.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Bowie soothed, still watching the tunnel where Remus had disappeared mere minutes earlier. From what he saw, there had been a bit of blood, but the bruising didn’t look too bad. Then again, there had barely been enough time for anything to visibly swell before he was whisked away.

“Can I just stay in the box?” Felix cast a look toward the Lions bench and his voice cracked. “They can’t yell at me in the box, right?”

“Hey. Look at me, Marty.” Bowie took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “The Lions are good guys. They’re not going to hurt you, but you did just fuck up one of their best friends. What would you do if someone hit me in the face?”

“Come on, man, I’m a terrible fighter. I don’t know how well I’d be able to defend your honor after something like that. It was an accident. Do you think they know it was an accident? Should I go tell them?”

“I know. They know. Loops definitely knows. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little cold at first.” He ruffled the rookie’s hair and turned back to the game; the Lions were moving fast and brutal, slicing right through their defense for yet another goal. Shit. Felix clearly felt bad enough already--losing the game wouldn’t make him feel any better. 

They ended up losing the game.

Bowie had figured it might happen; he would have had the same fire if it had been his teammate that got clocked like that. Hell, he used to have the same fire when he and Remus had played together, so he completely understood. 

That did not change the fact that once they got home, Felix was still borderline inconsolable. The 18-year-old wasn’t technically billeting with them, but the apartment he was renting just so happened to be in the same building, on the same floor, and right across the hall from his and Simon’s. This led to an informal adoption of the rookie and he was around their house at least five times a week, if not more. 

Felix Martin was a good kid, and that idea was confirmed when Kronk immediately took a liking to him; the cat loved nobody but the three of them. Bowie was grateful that he and Simon were there to quell some of the homesickness that came from moving out to a new city on his own for the first time. The transition was always tough, but they could provide a little support.

They parted ways from the team when the bus got back from the rink and drove to their building in silence. Once they made their way up the stairs and down the hall, Felix moved to go back to his apartment. 

“Nope,” Bowie said immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him through the door to his and Simon’s place. It wasn’t a good idea for Felix to be alone right now--there was nothing to do alone after a loss aside from beat himself up about it, and Bowie would be damned before he let that happen. 

Simon and Kronk were perched on the couch, but they both moved into the kitchen as soon as the door clicked closed. Simon took one look at the pair and carefully wrapped his arms around Felix; the kid practically melted. The three of them stood there for a moment until Simon pulled back a bit and tilted his head toward the living room. Felix nodded and Bowie followed the two, sharing the couch with Simon while the rookie curled up in the large armchair diagonal to them. 

He...well, if Bowie was being honest, Felix looked like hell. He chewed his lower lip like an anxious beaver and fiddled with the loose threads of the closest armrest; everything about him screamed discomfort. Bowie caught Simon’s worried glance in his periphery and let out a slow breath, trying to relieve at least a little of the tension in the room.

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to. I saw the game. But if you want to talk about it…” Simon trailed off with a significant look.

Felix sighed and his shoulders caved in a bit. “It was just one of those moments. All of a sudden, I didn’t really have a grasp on what was going on, which feels like shit because I’ve been doing pretty well so far. I dunno. It was just...bad.” 

That was it. Bowie knew Felix had seemed a little off. When Felix mentioned he had ADHD at the start of the season during one of their ‘getting to know your neighbor’ chats, Bowie hadn’t thought much of it. But as they grew closer, he began to notice when Felix forgot to eat or drink, or got overwhelmingly excited about something, or when he suddenly spaced out. It wasn’t just Felix being Felix.

The whole team stepped up and became intensely protective, of course. They not only helped him remember meal times, but also scheduling, directions, and everything in between. Bowie felt especially responsible for reasons he didn’t entirely understand--there was just something about the kid’s sweet heart that struck a chord.

He also knew that Felix was highly emotionally intelligent, but had no concept of whether people liked him or not. He was someone who assumed the worst, all the time. So, Bowie decided to do the only thing he knew would work: after a few more beats of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his phone out, tapped a few buttons, and pressed ‘call’.

“Hey, Remus, are you alive?” 

An amused snort came from the speaker even as Felix blanched. “Hello to you, too, Bowie. Jeez, you’re worse than Sirius.  I’m one hundred percent alive, just a little swollen. Your rookie’s got a helluva shot, but maybe tell the kid to hit the puck and not my face next time.” 

Felix flushed red and put his face between his knees, though hearing the laughter in Remus’s voice and knowing that he was okay clearly took some of the weight off his shoulders. Bowie whooped internally and shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, the kid’s got spirit, but he’s also got ADHD. He’s great most of the time, but sometimes under extreme pressure he can’t figure out where the fuck he--or anything else around him--is. Something about focusing or neurons firing the wrong way, maybe? Either way, it’s why he’s a terrible fuckin’ driver.”

Felix flopped back against the chair with a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to know how far away the cars around me are based on the mirrors? And how am I supposed to park?!” 

Remus’s laugh echoed once again. “Don’t ask me, kid, I’m not allowed to drive, either. Not because I’m ADHD, but because I’m terrible at it.” 

“You can say that again!” a muffled voice called from behind Remus. 

“Please excuse my fiance,” Remus said politely. “He’s a jackass who’s trying to make me lay down again.”

Felix smiled, though it was a bit pained. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize earlier. That stick was totally on me. And--I mean, I heard some of the guys talking afterward and it sounded like you got pretty banged up, so I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry.”

“Hey, woah, you’re fine,” Remus soothed. Bowie recognized his ‘talking to newbies’ voice and hid a smile in the cuff of his hoodie. “It’s the name of the game, after all. Did Bowie ever tell you about the time I accidentally checked him into a wall? Or when I broke his visor with a puck? For context, this was when we were on the same team.”

“Or that time you kicked my legs out from under me and sent me sprawling across the ice during practice.”

“That one was on purpose.” 

Bowie glared at the phone, but Felix was snickering and his grin was genuine. It calmed him a bit. “Thanks, Loops.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Remus paused for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible to someone in the background before clearing his throat. “Bowie.”

“Yes?” Remus had never been a wild card, per se, but he certainly had a knack for asking strange questions out of the blue.

“Did you accidentally adopt a child or do my ears deceive me?”

Bowie was about to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he took a moment to think, looking back and forth between Simon and Felix. “Fuckin’--maybe I did, Re, but he’s ours now. And if that’s the case, I’m going to formally request that you tell your fiance to quit being mean to my son.”

Remus laughed on the other end of the line. “Will do. Felix seems like a sweetheart, I’m glad he’s got you two.” 

Bowie nodded with a slight smile, even though Remus couldn’t see him. “So are we. I can practically sense Sirius hovering, so go let your boyfriend fuss over you for a little while.” 

An offended noise came from Remus’s side, followed by a lower laugh and the click of the call ending. 

Simon looked Felix dead in the eyes. “I’m seconding the ‘kid’ thing. You may just barely be a legal adult, but it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt you. Congrats on your new gay dads.” 

Felix’s bright laugh sent a wave of relief through Bowie. “You guys are only, like, eight years older than me.”

“Silence, spawn,” Simon said, pointing a playful finger at him as his grin widened into something sweet and lopsided. “Now both of you need to come eat something. I made cookies while you were getting pushed around for a living.”

Bowie was still worried about Remus’ face--he made a mental note to call the next day to check in--but all his concerns disappeared as Felix scooped the cat up for a snuggle and followed Simon into the kitchen. They may have lost the game, but he would lose a million Cups to keep that moment forever: his Simon fussing over them both, his cat purring in pure bliss, and his kid settling into place at last.

[bellakitse]

Nothing ever stays the same

Farmer's Market redux.

A few days after running into his parents at the farmer's market, Carlos and TK run into them again. This time Carlos tells them who TK really is to him.

Spoilers for 2.04

They give the farmer’s market another try. TK suggests it since they didn’t get a chance to explore all of it the last time. Carlos agrees, even though he’s a little tentative about it.

TK swears up and down they’re okay and spends the rest of the week at his place. Carlos thinks it’s both to reassure him they’re fine and because Owen and Gwyneth are acting weirder than ever around everyone.

“They’re both jumpy as hell and secretive,” TK mentions as they walk around the market hand in hand, stopping here and there at different stalls. He smiles sweetly at the old lady that offers him to try one of her organic strawberries. Carlos watches him as he bites into it, smiling as TK’s smile grows at the taste. He opens his mouth when TK turns to him, offering him a piece, and nods when he asks if they should get a pound of the berries.

“What do you think is up with them?” he asks curiously after paying the woman.

“Oh god, who even knows with those two,” TK answers with exasperated fondness. It’s a familiar tone for TK when talking about his parents and their weird relationship. “I rather not speculate, to be honest. I don’t need any more parental trauma,” he says with a dry smile that says he’s only half-joking.

Carlos lets out a sympathetic sound before touching his shoulder, tugging him gently towards him. He’s relieved when TK comes into his space without hesitation. Even though TK has repeatedly told him everything is okay between them and understands his situation, Carlos can’t help but be unsure. He knows he really hurt TK just a few days ago in this very place, and the thought has been plaguing him since. He can’t stop thinking of when they first began and how TK’s reluctance to define them hurt him. But back then, they weren’t in love. If TK denied them now, he’d be heartbroken.

It kills Carlos that he did that, allowing his fears to take over, hurting the man he loves.

“Hey,” TK questions quietly, his green eyes soft and loving. “Where did you go? You were a million miles away just now.”

He shakes his head and forces a smile on his face hoping it’s enough to distract TK. The sad, knowing look on TK’s face tells Carlos it isn’t. He winces at the loud sigh he lets out.

TK reaches out, touching his thumb to his brow, smoothing it over, and Carlos can’t help a sound of his own at the gentle touch. He closes his eyes as TK leans in, pressing his lips to his temple as he hugs Carlos to his side.

“Stop feeling guilty already,” he murmurs against his skin, huffing out a dry laugh when Carlos tries to deny it. He gives Carlos a look as he pulls back. “It’s like you think I can’t read you like a book by now. I see every worried look you send my way. It looks like you’ve had a stomach ache for days now, enough, baby,” TK lightly scolds him, his affection for him shining through it. “We’re moving past it, okay?” he finishes in a serious tone.

Carlos looks at him and finds nothing hidden behind his eyes he doesn’t mean. He opens his mouth to say yes, that he’ll listen this time and move on from their fight when he stops short, the reason for their argument standing by the cheese stall a few feet away from them. “You gotta be kidding me,” he whispers, honestly shocked at the chances. Since when do his parents visit the farmer’s market so damn much?

TK turns his neck to follow his line of sight; he tenses against him when he finds what he’s looking at. “Damn, what are the odds,” he says under his breath. He turns back towards him with a smile so forced on his face, Carlos thinks he actually hears his heart break from seeing it. “I’m going to take a walk around the corner before they see me. You go say hi.”

TK takes a step away from him without waiting for an answer, and Carlos realizes he’s serious; he’s really willing to hide to make sure he’s comfortable. Carlos has never loved and hurt more for someone in his life. He sticks out his hand, taking TK’s before he can take another step away from him.

“No,” he says softly but firm even as his heart pounds like a jackrabbit against his ribcage as he comes to a decision. He’s scared, he can hear his pulse roaring in his ears, but he refuses to let TK feel like he did days ago; he won’t let them go through that again. “No,” he repeats once more as he gives TK’s hand a squeeze. “Nothing ever stays the same,” he reminds him of his comment from the other night, getting a quirk of TK’s lips in return. “And I don’t want it to.”

TK’s eyes widen as he gets his meaning; they stray to Carlos’ parents. They still haven’t noticed them but probably will in a matter of seconds. “Are you sure?” he asks, concerned. “This doesn’t have to happen now, I meant what I said.”

“I know,” Carlos cuts him off, knowing TK has been nothing but sincere since their talk. TK is more than willing to let him set the pace to this, and Carlos couldn’t possibly love him more for it, which is why he can’t hide him from the people he loves. “Come on,” he whispers, tugging on his hand as he starts to walk towards his parents. He feels TK give it a squeeze of his own.

“Mami, Dad,” he calls out to them, getting surprised smiles in return as they turn towards him.

“Carlitos!” his mother says happily, as his dad lets out a chuckle.

“Twice in one week at the same place,” he says with a grin. “Is the farmer’s market where first responders hang out these days? In my days, we’d just hit a bar,” he teases.

Carlos tries to smile at the joke, but his focus is on his mom, who has quickly zeroed in on his and TK’s clasped hands. She looks up at him with wide, surprised eyes.

She stares at him for a moment more, understanding entering her brown eyes. “Oh,” she says softly.

“Yeah,” he whispers back with his heart in his throat. “Mami, Dad – this is TK,” he says before looking back at him, not at all surprised at the love and support he finds in his gaze. “He’s my boyfriend, and the man I’m madly in love with.”

He turns back to them, finding their attention on him, though they both stray a look at TK once more. “I lied the other day because I was scared,” he tells them, answering their silent question. “You guys and I don’t talk about me being gay, and for years that has worked out fine,” he says, holding up a hand when his father opens his mouth to speak. “I know you guys love and accept me, but it’s been easier all these years to just ignore the elephant in the room because there was never anyone that really mattered to me.”

Carlos turns to look at TK once more, smiling at him as his heartbeat settles into a peaceful rhythm. He knows, no matter what happens next, everything will be fine because he has TK.

“That’s changed now,” he finishes knowing how true it is.

There is silence between the four of them for a moment before his father clears his throat. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, TK,” he says with a small but sincere smile.

“Yes,” his mother follows gently. “Very nice to meet you.”

TK swallows first before giving them a smile of his own; it’s nervous at the edges but beautiful. “It’s very nice to meet you too.”

His mother smiles at TK the same smile she usually reserves for him, it’s welcoming and kind, and it loosens the tension in Carlos’ shoulders. Proving she misses nothing, she instantly catches it, her expression changing once more as she looks back at him.

“You were scared to tell us about your relationship,” she comments quietly, looking sad when he gives her a shaky nod. “Oh, Carlitos,” she lets out a sigh before taking a step towards him.

Carlos swallows hard as she looks up at him, holding his breath when she reaches out, touching his cheek. “Tu sabes que te amamos, no importar qué, si? Siempre mijo, we love you,” she says sternly with tears in her eyes.

Carlos looks over at his dad, who looks affected by her words too. “Listen to her, son,” he says gruffly. “Your mother is always right.”

“That’s right,” his mother answers smugly, as she gives him a  watery smile. She pats his cheek lovingly before she looks over at TK again.

“You have a kind face,” she tells him, chuckling when TK blushes a bit. “Sweet boy,” she grins. “I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

“Maybe Carlos can bring him to Tia Lucy’s,” his father suggests suddenly, and Carlos lets out a startled laugh at the way his mother lights up.

“Yes,” she says enthusiastically. “Oh, you have to, Carlitos. You know how Tia Lucy loves pretty boys. She’ll adore him.”

“I would love to take him,” he says after clearing his throat, still a little shell-shocked at the turn of events. “That is if TK is okay with it.”

TK nods quickly as a bright smile takes over his face, and Carlos has to hide his own as his mother’s eyes widen in response; he understands her reaction perfectly. It’s taken months to not be completely overwhelmed by TK’s beauty.

“Okay, then,” his father says with a clap of his hands. “That’s settled then, we’ll see you both on Sunday. TK – “ he continues as he holds out his hand to him. “It was nice to officially meet you. You’re okay for a firefighter.”

“Thank you, sir,” TK chuckles as he shakes his hand.

Carlos is pulled into a hug by his mother and then his father, both of them squeezing him tight. His mother surprises both him and TK by pulling him into his own hug. She whispers something into his ear that causes TK to smile again as he nods at her.

They watch them leave, rounding the corner before TK turns to him with the gentlest smile he’s ever seen.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around him before the first tear falls down Carlos’ face.

He shakes, but TK just holds him tighter, running his hands up and down his back. Whispering that he’s there, and he has him until Carlos can take a steady breath. When he pulls back to look at him again, TK is ready, wiping the tears off his cheeks.

“What did my mother say to you?” he asks, holding his breath at the bright smile TK gives him.

“She thanked me for loving you,” he tells him, causing Carlos to swallow around another lump of emotion forming in his throat.

“She’s right,” he whispers as he leans in, pressing his forehead against TK’s. They stay like that, blind to the world around them. Right now, there is nothing but TK and his love in Carlos’ world. “Thank you for loving me.”

TK closes his eyes, his adoring smile firmly in place. “Loving you, Carlos, is the easiest thing I have ever done.”

translation for what Carlos' mother says to him: You know we love you, no matter what, right? Always, son

[45percenterthen]

Belated bday fic for bearer of cursed fruit facts @seraphlm and thee plant dad cas truther @cactuscas !! Love u guys v much, happy bday <3 (ao3 link here)

“Fuck’s a horoscope again? It’s like, stars and shit, right?”

He bumps Cas’ elbow, who’s squinting at one of his fern-looking-things like he’s experimenting with horticultural telepathy. The saga of the fern-thing has been turbulent, to say the least. It’s wilting a bit, leaves curling in on themselves like tiny fists. Cas has spent the past few days carting it from one window ledge to another, muttering to himself about humidity levels with a familiar air of irritated devotion. Dean reckons the whole underground bunker situation probably isn’t helping. It’s well travelled, though, for a plant. Dean thinks it should be more grateful.

Cas nods, releasing a leaf with a sigh and sitting down next to Jack. “Indeed. Stars and shit.”

Jack’s engrossed in some magazine, finger tracing the words as he reads. Cas reaches for the edge of the page to hold it taut for him, and Dean can practically see his other hand itching for his phone. Diagnosis time for the fern-thing. Dean’s never seen a favorites bar so wholly taken up by gardening websites. Dean’s pretty sure the definition of true love is pausing Die Hard to read an article about potting soil drainage.

“Do you want to hear yours, Dean? It’s for this week.”

“Sure, kiddo.” To be honest, Dean thinks the concept of fate can very much, actually, go fuck itself. Jack looks delighted though, so he keeps it to himself. He stirs a bit of extra butter into the eggs because that’s the way Jack likes them, dutifully not looking at Cas to avoid a depressing conversation about his cholesterol levels.

“Oh! It says you’re lucky this week, Dean!”

“Awesome, bud! Time to stock up on the scratch cards, eh?”

Sam chooses that moment to come lumbering in. The state of his hair suggests a sleepless night, or that a recent localized hurricane that targeted his bedroom only.

“Hi Sam! We’re reading horoscopes. Dean’s an Aquarius.”

“Oh, cool.” Eileen had been delayed on a salt and burn with some of the new-hunter-network people. Sam looks suitably mopey about it, forlorn housewife that he is. “Mercury’s in marmalade, and all that.”

“Aquarius is ruled by Uranus,” Jack continues, and Sam instantly chokes. On air, apparently. Bastard.

“One more time, Jack? Dean’s ruled by his –”

“You’re a child, Samantha.” Dean looks around for the nearest something-painful-not-fatal to throw at him. Plant’s a no. Instant divorce. He glances at the eggs, but decides he doesn’t want to spend his morning getting egg yolk outta the tile grouting.

“Dude, oh my – I should’ve just checked your horoscope,” Sam walks over to the fridge, catching the Mary Berry’s Baking Bible that Jody sent them for Christmas in mid-air. “Would’ve saved us a talk.”

“Eat your pineapple and shut up, man.”

“Did you know that pineapples are technically berries?” Jack says. Dean wonders if Cas introduced him to WebMD-for-plants. Or maybe this is just a side effect of being The New God on the block. Berry omniscience. “Well. The outside bit is. Bananas are berries too.”

“That’s weird,” Sam closes the fridge door. Stares into his bowl like he’s offended. Dean’s offended Sam eats nothing but fruit in the morning. “After the heaven rebuild. You should, like, fix berries.”

Jack turns to Cas solemnly. “Should I fix berries?”

“Perhaps you should concentrate on heaven, first. Then we can see about berries.”

“I don’t want to ruin the fabric of our established universe,” Jack says, and Dean’s struck, once again, with the sudden realisation that he’s making eggs for the most powerful entity in Creation. Mondays, man.

“I don’t think Chuck had any such purity of intent in mind,” Cas says darkly, pouring more milk into God’s glass for strong bones and teeth, and yeah, Dean’s pretty keen to steer Cas away from that particular line of conversation.

“Hey, what’s Cas’ horo-whatever?” He takes the eggs off the heat and walks over to the table, leaning over to see what the hell magazine this is, actually. Looks Rowena-y. Is the Queen of Hell sending his son-God care packages? That’s one way to establish diplomatic relations.

He rests his hands on Cas’ shoulders, stroking his thumbs at the neckline of his t-shirt when he feels tension. He decides against pressing a kiss to Cas’s hair. Just ‘cause he’s with a dude now, doesn’t mean he’s gonna be all gay about it. Cas’ left hand comes up to cover his own. Their rings clink.

“Cas doesn’t have a birthday, though.” Jack frowns at the page slightly, apparently looking for the section on fallen angel anomalies.

“Then we’ll have to pick one –” Dean starts, just as Cas says, “September eighteenth.”

Cas tips his head back against Dean’s chest, peers up at him. He’s got dried toothpaste at the corner of his mouth. Dean grins stupidly at his upside-down face. “September eighteenth, yeah.” Something swoops in his chest. Cas is earnest, and it’s unbearable. He loves at full volume, and Dean’s as grateful as he is undeserving. He squeezes Cas’ shoulder. Tradition, and all that.

Jack taps the page. “It says you’re a Virgo, Cas!”

They’re still staring at each other as Jack starts reading aloud. Dean brushes hair off Cas’ forehead and thinks, for once, he’s landed himself the permanent kind of happy. Dean’s pretty sure he’s loved him for years and years, quietly, achingly.

There’s the sound of cutlery against ceramic, and Dean looks up to check Sammy’s not weeping into his fruit bowl out of sheer girlish pride or whatever. He’d made it six words into his best man speech before the waterworks. Dean’s never letting him live it down.

⁂

“So,” Dean says later, after Sam’s gone to collect Eileen from town, and Jack’s off on heavenly refurb duty. “My lucky week, huh?”

Dean circles his arms round Cas’ midriff. Lets his chin rest on his shoulder, because he can, and also to check Cas isn’t half-assing the washing up.

“Apparently so.”

Dean hums. It’s funny. They’re married. And yet moments like these, the big ones, still manage to make him a bit nervous. It’s stupid. He’s hardly gonna say no. But Dean supposes they’ve never managed to get anything in the right order. Two deathbed confessions amidst a decade of friendship. An ‘I love you too’ echoing off brick in an empty room. Two kids co-parented before they even kissed, and they were already living together when they started dating. Someone get Nicholas Sparks on the phone.

“Perfect week to put an offer down on a house then, right? That one on the lake?”

Cas drops a fork into the bubbles. He turns his head to reply and Dean takes it as an opportunity to kiss what’s within reach. The smile lines around his eye, his temple greying with the proof that Cas loves him. He’s all in. Dean is too, terrifyingly.

“Really?”

“Yeah, dude.” Dean nods at the fern guy. “Your plants would appreciate the sunlight, right? And there’s a room for Jack.”

Cas spins in his arms, leaning against the sink to look Dean in the eye. Dean grabs at his soapy palm, intertwining their fingers, confident in his sappiness when no one’s watching.

“I know I always say Sammy didn’t make the most of his college experience, but dorming in my forties isn’t exactly what I meant –”

“You’ll miss him, though.”

“Of course, man. Lived with Sam my whole life. But,” Dean relinquishes the hand to cup Cas’ face, “I kinda wanna do my own thing now. With you. So, move in with me, Mr. Winchester? Somewhere… overground?”

It’s so off-your-feet sweepingly romantic Dean feels like he deserves a medal. Maybe this is their karmic justice after the proposal debacle.

Cas is smiling at him, soft and sweet. “Okay, Dean.” He puts wet hands around his waist and Dean doesn’t even care that it’s seeping through his t-shirt. “Lake house it is.”

Dean leans in, kisses him three times in response. He lingers on the last one, smiling against Cas’ mouth. Cas knows what he means.