#they was still a paper version of them in the actual box thank god but that was still such a staggering thing to see imagine someone

[bratanimus]

33. you are such a nerd

@khaleesa, thank you for this awesome prompt! It was a lot of fun to write. And thanks to the lovely @pipergirl17 for betaing! I hope to work on the other prompts in my Ask box soon.

~*~

Hoard

Eddie sprawled on his stomach across Chrissy’s white eyelet comforter and peered over the edge of the bed, like the invisible Bilbo peeping at Smaug. All around herself, his girlfriend (someday he would stop italicizing that word in his mind, but today was not that day) had spread a veritable dragon’s hoard of paper, folders, notebooks, flashcards, pencil cases, and pens of all colors on the pink shag carpet. 

Sitting cross-legged in her running sweats, framed in a patch of afternoon sunlight, Chrissy looked luminous as she carefully pried open the lid of a box of new pencils as if it were a treasure chest.

“Tell me again,” Eddie said.

He pushed up the long sleeves of his T-shirt and rested his chin on the heels of both hands in what he hoped was a coquettish and distracting manner, his jean-clad legs bent and kicking his socked feet behind him like he was at an honest-to-god Annette Funicello pajama party. 

“Why are you doing this, exactly?”

Chrissy gave him the briefest of eye rolls, because she’d already started to explain on their way upstairs…though she’d been interrupted when they’d passed the Cunningham household’s actual dragon, who’d bellowed after them, “Door stays open!” Eddie could almost feel the mistrust billowing like acrid steam from Laura’s sewing room. Well, the old reptile would get used to him sooner or later. Or not. 

“Make fun all you want,” Chrissy huffed (oh, she was cute when she was miffed at him, and maybe he shouldn’t rile her up, but he was a dumbass still getting used to having her undivided attention, so sue him if he occasionally resorted to his old habits of poking and prodding and other sorts of ill-advised provocation, and anyway, she didn’t seem to mind). “But it’s the end of spring break.”

With that, Chrissy pinned him with a friendly glare, as if a reminder of the calendar date should’ve made everything crystal clear. 

Smirk (and dimples) still firmly in place, she broke the eraser off one of those brand new pencils, an unexpected act of violence that made Eddie’s eyebrows shoot upward. She tossed the nub into the flowery little trash can under her desk. Then she grabbed a fat, pink, arrowhead-shaped cap eraser from a pile of them and twisted it onto the top of the pencil. 

“Ah, I see,” said Eddie, not seeing at all. 

Chrissy only laughed at his confused expression, so he lay flat on his chest, chin on the bed’s edge, letting his arms dangle so he could fiddle with the felt tip pens scattered on the carpet. He stole a glance at Chrissy and pondered why one eraser might be somehow inherently better than another, so much so that she had to amputate and reattach, like some nerdy bookworm version of Mary Shelley.

“School starts back in a couple of days, right?” Chrissy went on as she attacked the next pencil.

“Uh-huh.” 

Eddie shoved aside her big green binder and slid his fingertips along the pens as he lined them up, orange and purple and red and blue—

Bonk! Another brand new nub landed in the trash can, and another cap eraser got reamed by a wooden writing instrument.

“I always reorganize my school supplies after fall break, Christmas break, and spring break. It helps me stay focused.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he bullshitted, as if he had any idea about systems for focusing.

He arranged the pens according to the colors of the rainbow, remembering Roy G. Biv, the acronym his seventh grade art teacher had taught for the progression of colors. But Chrissy owned way more than the seven basic shades here. There were at least two dozen. Did she carry these to school every day in a pencil case, a small treasure trove in her pink backpack?

“I love school supplies,” she gushed, continuing her mutilation of the pristine set of Ticonderogas, popping off a dozen heads one by one and replacing them with bloated Frankenstein ones.

He knew she had a thing about control, and Eddie had seen her do her fair share of feverish erasing in the two classes they shared this year. But were twelve cap erasers really necessary?

Messing with the felt tips on the floor, he must’ve asked that last bit out loud, because Chrissy said tightly, “Oh, you know. Just in case I need to correct a lot.”

Oops. He’d touched a nerve. He needed a distraction.

“I bet you pack five extra pairs of underwear for every overnight trip,” he mused, “just in case you have a blowout.”

“Ew!” she squealed.

An eraser nub hit him square between the eyes, which made him flinch and blink. 

“Seriously, Eddie.  Are blowouts something I should worry about?”

“Oh, I dunno. Hang around with me long enough—”

A larger arrowhead eraser smacked him on the cheek. He caught it before it fell off the bed, stuck it on his pinky, and made it speak over Chrissy’s giggles.

“Look, lady,” he Muppet-squeaked, “you have an eraser problem. And possibly an underwear problem. You need help!”

Chrissy pointed to his pinky. “Speak not to me, nor my Trapper Keeper, ever again. You’re just jealous of my loot.” 

“I have absolutely no use for dragon-guarded treasures,” Eddie murmured, quoting Tolkien as he slipped the eraser from his pinky and laid it reverently in Chrissy’s outstretched hand, “and the whole lot could stay here for ever, if only I could wake up and find this beastly tunnel was my own front-hall at home.”

Watching him, Chrissy’s eyes glimmered, prettier than any gemstones. His cheeks warmed. 

It was something to be looked at by her, wasn’t it? To be admired? He dropped his gaze back down to the pens he was arranging and hoped his face wasn’t too red.

“That’s it.” The words were barely a breath.

Eddie’s gaze rose again to find Chrissy staring down at her hoard of loot, hands upturned helplessly on her knees, the arrowhead eraser still in the center of her palm like the One Ring.

He tried to match her hushed tone. “What?”

“That’s how I feel. All the time. This house. All my things. It’s just…stuff.”

And she had no other home but this beastly one.

Eddie's heart pinched.

“Come up here,” he said.

She did, lying on her stomach next to him, chin resting on her folded arms as she watched him arrange the felt tips into different configurations with one hand. Gravity made his veins bulge a little; they looked knobbly and greenish-blue in the bright light from her window. His hand could almost be a pale dragon skittering over its mountain of treasure.

He didn’t know what to say, because he couldn’t say what he wanted to.

Come away with me. Let me be your treasure. You are already mine.

Leaning into her with one shoulder, he reached awkwardly into his front pocket and scrounged for the ever-present handful of mismatched polyhedral die, which he tossed to the floor, a field of shimmering stars around what he’d written across the landscape of her Pepto-Bismol carpet.

“Wait.” Chrissy’s head lifted from her forearms. She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Does that say—”

It did indeed. Eddie had arranged her plethora of pens to read 

NERD

“You are such a nerd,” he whispered, creasing his brow and dipping his chin for emphasis. He wondered if she could somehow read on his face what he was really thinking.

Chrissy looked back at him and smiled like he’d just placed a crown on her head. He swallowed. Maybe she could read his thoughts. Eddie tucked her lovely smile away into his own mental hoard, for safekeeping.

“Takes one to know one,” she said, cutting the inhalation for his retort short with a kiss.

He nodded his fervent agreement until her widening grin made further kissing more difficult, but not impossible.

The eraser lay forgotten on the floor with the rest of the hoard. 

[simplynotcapable]

you've mentioned a few times in s.a.m abt visenya lamenting if she were a man... are there any lives where she was born a man and/or baelon a woman?? i wonder how their respective personalities would manifest if they were a different gender (ie. baelon/baela being another "problem" daughter pfft)

i can definitely see a life where they’re born gender swapped, and i think it would be a really interesting one.

(we’re still going to refer to baelon and visenya as the names and pronouns we know them by, just to keep it from getting twisted up in my head)

honestly i think baelon born as a girl would be a lot like silver and moonstone’s version of visenya. she’s a lot angrier and more intense and more violent than the dragonglass and gold version of herself, and that’s…basically baelon. angry, intense, violent. so much of that kind of gets brushed over when he’s a man because princes kind of just blaze through life with no consequences, but princesses don’t get that same grace.

baelon channels a lot of his emotions into physical stuff—sword play, trying to best the shit out of daemon, etc etc—to work through them. as a woman, there’s just less options for that. it isn’t proper for a princess to be sword fighting or hitting her uncle in the face, so he’s just this ball of furious energy that has nowhere to go.

having to fit into that box of societal expectations for women, having to play nice and be good and stay still…he’d lose his damn mind.

also, considering they’d probably…swap faces, in a way? baelon would be the one who looks like aemma.

baelon, who is so damn angry about his mother’s death and feels all this guilt about it—which would be even worse in this life, because viserys kills aemma in the hopes of getting a second son and is faced with a daughter he has no use for instead—and has so much rage towards viserys because of it. and all he ever hears is how much he looks like his mother??? with none of the ability to be like “i’ll be the best king ever to make her death worth it” like he does in d&g because literally he was useless to viserys as a girl?? he’s going to explode.

i can definitely see him being like Saera Targaryen 2.0, except instead of taking men to bed he’s just like getting into screaming matches with random people and setting things on fire and trying to fistfight god while visenya stands behind him like “therapy hasnt been invented yet just let this happen”

and visenya, well. i’d never describe her as quiet or kind, exactly, but she’s definitely much calmer than baelon is whenever they both exist. she’s very much what anchors him to himself, and he’s what settles her, and that doesn’t change even though they uno reversed each other. largely, she’s the same except for weapons training and a much better grasp of how to run the country.

but as a man, i think visenya has a different relationship with her father. viserys largely ignores her when baelon exists, except to compare her to her mother, and he uses her as a kind of ghost crutch whenever baelon dies, but it’s just kind of different when she’s a boy. he still doesn’t really see her, who she is as a person, but he actually looks at her instead of the dead mother in her face. and visenya doesn’t have the same fixation on their mother that baelon does because, to be blunt, she didnt kill her and she wasnt the reason why she died. she never even knew the lady. it makes everything a lot smoother with viserys than it is when she’s the only surviving twin or when baelon is the son. they’re definitely not close, but visenya’s more…neutral i guess.

they don’t have kids when baelon’s a girl.

visenya as a woman is willing to risk herself and get baelon to face his fears over pregnancy, but visenya as a man is never going to tell baelon he has to risk his life just to give them heirs. baelon says “no thanks, im terrified, hell no” and visenya goes “okay <3” and sends a letter to rhaenyra’s kids telling them to play rock paper scissors for the throne.

when the maester says the twins should separate so heirs can be conceived with someone else, he still dies. visenya gives him a three strike policy though.

it’s difficult to say whether it would be better or worse than the d&g universe, but there’s this: visenya wouldnt have a dragon and so wouldnt be sent to the Stepstones, which means they’re never even separated for war. literally their entire lives just…together. these codependent weirdos have not spent a day apart in their entire lives

[nightquiet]

          @ziggytm started this thread.

     was nicky munson being a shit? yeah, he was. was that typical, though? yeah, it was. the weathered desk between himself and his ex actually belonged to the secretary, who had stepped away for a moment to handle something undoubtedly chaotic, leaving it open as the setting for nicky to be completely immature, as usual. ziggy was trying her hardest to get through the interaction without any casualties, to be as professional as possible, and down below the surface, nicky could feel his heart swelling with the love he held for her in this moment, despite all the shit between them. ziggy was trying to be the best version of herself, and nicky wasn't. god, he was such an asshole.      dressed in his usual slacks, button up and sweater vest, the french teacher actually looked a little disheveled, thanks to the fact that it was lunch period and the morning had just kicked his ass something awful. he'd been perusing the memos left in his box, which were still hanging loosely in his grasp, right hand lifting to remove his eyeglasses as he scoffed at ziggy's response. the audacity of her to think he couldn't provide assistance in this situation? completely incomprehensible. his very audible scoff had a hint of a smile attached to it, though, which showed his weakness, and he shook his head to try to hide that vulnerability away. didn't matter much, however, since ziggy could always see right through him no matter what he did.      "someone who can help you?" god forbid she get help from someone other than nicky himself. you can't pick and choose, munson. another moment passed and the muscles in his face gradually relaxed, quietly downcast, his gaze shifting down to the papers in his hand, the papers on the desk, anything but ziggy's face. nicky swallowed slowly. "you, uh..." he shook his head once more, but this time, it was an act of gathering courage - courage to speak, to relent, to not be a complete dickhead to his ex. his voice sounded incredibly small, and a gentle clearing of his throat brought it back out. "you better wait for the secretary to get back. she handles this shit." fuck. "she handles this kind of thing. besides... wouldn't want me to take your paperwork and lose it, right?" another smile curved his lips, but this time it was a bit wry, self-demeaning, full of past occurences where he was given the chance to prove himself and failed.      he used one hand to fold his eyeglasses, hooking them onto the front of his sweater vest, then used both hands to begin folding his own paperwork up. brown eyes lifted to find ziggy's own. "and i know you don't want to be stuck at the diner for the rest of your life, zig. believe it or not, i did pay attention." the chosen words he decided to leave out of that statement? during our relationship. he'd paid attention during their relationship, outside of their relationship, every waking moment ; she was the love of his life, how could he not pay attention?

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (chapter 10 - FINALE)

series masterlist

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 6k

warnings: implied smut, angst, fluff, romcom tropes, lots of swearing, pregnancy mention/minor breeding kink

note: click the asterisk for a hyperlink to a translation when the time comes

Six months later...

“It’s good!” she beamed, setting down the last chunk of pages and taking off her reading glasses. “Oh man, that ending hurt, but it’s really, really good!”

You leaned back into the plush chair and sighed with relief. “You think so?”

“It’s best-seller material,” she assured. “With some editing, of course. God, I can’t believe you were sitting on this for so long.”

“What are the biggest changes you want to make?” you asked.

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll cut the romantic subplot,” she mentioned in passing, like it was no big deal. “It’s distracting.

“Distracing?” you repeated. “Nia, it’s the story. It’s a romance.”

“I thought it was a thriller,” she frowned.

“A romance disguised as a thriller,” you corrected.

“Listen, I get what you mean, but I didn’t get this—” she tapped the nameplate on her desk: ‘NIA BROWN, HEAD PUBLISHER’ in shiny letters— “for nothing. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what your readers want. Violence, gore, drama!”

“It has all that!” you defended. “But it’s all there to talk about the real love he finds in her!”

“What do you mean ‘real love’?” she pressed flatly.

“I mean…” you pondered. “I mean love where you feel like a version of yourself that you actually like. Love where you feel unjudged, no precedents or caveats or back-up plans. Love that fucking hurts because you never wanted to rely on anything or anybody. Love that lives in silence because you don’t even need words.”

She furrowed her brow. “That… sounds nice, I guess, but I don’t think anybody really has that. Everybody needs a back-up plan. Everybody needs words— a writer should know that.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you groaned, your face falling into your hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, I’m a moron.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I had that! I had that, and I let it go! I’m the dumbest bitch on the fucking face of the Earth.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, but you were already standing up.

“No, I need to find him,” you decided as you grabbed your coat and briefcase. “I need to go back and try to fix this. I love him, I’ve never— I didn’t know I could love like that, I didn’t know I could be loved like that… oh my god, I need to find him. It isn’t over.”

“It isn’t over?” she repeated incredulously. “You said Michael signed the papers!”

“It’s not Michael,” you rolled your eyes as you stormed out of the office. “It was never Michael.”

You ran into the first telephone box you could find, slamming the door shut as you searched your purse for the business card that probably wasn't even in there.

After a moment, you gasped with delight when you pulled it from a very bottom pocket and began punching in the number as fast as possible with shivering hands, long-distance charges be damned.

“Hello?” the confused voice on the other end answered.

“Mrs. Alberti, hi— does Sebastian still work for you?” you asked hastily.

“No, dear," she sighed, apparently recognizing you by just your voice (and likely your request), "he quit recently, and moved away.”

“Moved?" you repeated with a wrinkled brow. "Where?!”

“I assume back home, sweetheart; to Bucharest.”

“Shit,” you sighed. “Shit!”

“Are you having your ‘run through the airport’ moment, sweetheart?” she realized.

“Yes, I think so— do you have his address?”

“Well, no, but I’ll see what I can find.”

You waited rather impatiently as she shuffled through papers in the background, mumbling to herself as she apparently searched for information that could help you.

“All I’ve got is the address of a previous employer… a carpenter,” she finally explained, breaking the silence. “It was his only reference when he came to work here," she explained.

"Wow, you really did just hire him for his looks," you blurted out.

"He was desperate for work, that boy had nowhere else to go,” she defended.

“Right, well, I guess if that’s my only lead then I’ve gotta go for it,” you decided. “Thank you, Mrs. Alberti.”

“I told you to call me when that book was a hit. Did it happen yet?” she piped up.

“It’s not published yet,” you explained. “It needs some more work… but I think it’s almost ready.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

Learn Romanian in 10 Weeks! A practical language guide.

Week 1, Day 1: Greetings

Hello                      Salut

Goodbye                La revedere

Thank you              Mulțumesc

You’re welcome      Cu plăcere

Good morning         Bună dimineata

Good afternoon       Bună ziua

Good evening          Bună seara

Good night               Noapte bună

You brushed your hair back out of your face with a sigh, turning the page as you mumbled the phrases to yourself. Broken Hungarian and your high school education in Latin were not getting you as far with this as you had been hoping.

How are you?          Ce mai faci

I love you                 Te iubesc

“Te iubesc, te iubesc, te iubesc,” you repeated over and over in a whisper.

Each day you had a new routine: practice Romanian for an hour, check flight prices online (or call the airline), research what you knew about Sebastian and the address Mrs. Alberti had given you, and then get back to practicing Romanian again.

Oh, and occasionally you worked on the edits Nia wanted for your manuscript. You were focusing on the minor changes— grammar errors, rearranging sentences— and putting off her big request for the removal and replacement of the romantic aspects. More than ever, they seemed like the most important thing the book had to offer.

You had a small apartment, just a place to sleep and shower really; much too small to fit everything you’d already taken from Michael’s house (you know, the one that used to be your house) along with what he’d shipped to you that you forgot before. He included a letter in the package as well. You threw it out, unopened.

Truthfully, you never really fully unpacked. As much as you realized you probably should, in order to really feel like you had a real home, you couldn’t bring yourself to empty your suitcases when you knew you’d be packing them again any day now.

You also realized how outrageous this all was. Ignoring the unlikelihood of even finding him in the first place, Sebastian probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you broke his heart, left, and then randomly tracked him down after over half a year. But to be totally transparent, you weren’t really doing this to get him back, necessarily. You knew that was probably never going to happen. You were doing this because you needed to try. You needed to go there, and get hurt, and come back knowing you did everything you could: you’d never be able to live with yourself if you did anything less than that.

You couldn’t start your new life until you had put everything else to bed. And if that meant being 100%, painfully certain that you and Sebastian could never be together, then that was just how it needed to be.

After two weeks of looking, there still weren’t any reasonable flights to Bucharest, so you booked another trip by train, figuring you could use the three day trip to brush up on the key Romanian phrases you were going to need as well as prepare your speech.

Yes, your plan was a speech. You didn’t have a back-up plan. You didn’t even have a return ticket back to London yet.

A passage by Yeats came to mind; But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

In all your life, you’d never understood before why someone would want to only have their dreams. But now, here you were… and yes, it felt terrifying and vulnerable and uncomfortably naked, but it felt pretty damn good, too.

With a sigh, you scribbled out the last sentence you’d written, tossing the trash paper aside. You looked up out the window at the scenery flying by in a blur, worried that if you didn’t look out from the train every once in a while you’d get motion sickness.

The sun was beginning to set already, the green of hills and trees tinted orange. You only indulged in it for a moment, though, before getting back to this god-forsaken speech you were deadset on finishing before you arrived in Bucharest tomorrow. At first, you’d figured the translating would be the most difficult part… but writing in English wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. You had so much to say, and suddenly so few words for any of it.

You’d probably done more editing on this than any of your novels combined; the crumpled up pages spilling out of your wastebasket were proof enough of that.

“And I’m a fucking writer!” you groaned aloud, to no one in particular. “How is anybody else supposed to be able to do this, if I can’t?”

Other people aren’t as emotionally constipated as you, the voice of your inner critic reminded you plainly, making you roll your eyes at yourself.

A rap at your door made you sit up straighter and turn around. A stewardess slid open the frosted glass slightly to give you a friendly smile. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of her accent. “Is that a Romanian accent?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded.

“So you’re fluent in Romanian and English,” you concluded.

“And Portuguese, yes ma’am,” she agreed.

“Could you come in here for a moment and help me translate something?”

She seemed slightly confused at the request but stepped forward, sliding the door most of the way shut behind her. Leaning beside you on the desk, she picked up your handwritten letter and blinked her wide, brown eyes a few times. You felt slightly embarrassed knowing she was reading such intimate thoughts, but that was how it felt the first time someone read anything you wrote so you were pretty much used to it by now.

“I usually ask the passengers what brings them to Bucharest,” she mumbled after a moment. “This is the most interesting thing so far. Am I reading this correctly, that you intend to confess your love to someone you met—” she scanned the page quickly— “during a vacation in Hungary?”

“Yup,” you smiled awkwardly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“And he doesn’t speak English?” she assumed; you nodded. “And… you don’t speak Romanian?”

You nodded again, and she breathed in and out quickly, sitting beside you as she stared at the letter.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she explained.

“Sorry for sucking you into the entropic vortex that is my life,” you chuckled.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she sighed, setting the letter down, and you laughed a little internally at the idea that she was worried about prying when she just read the most personal piece of writing you’d ever put to the page, “but do you think this is… enough? I mean, to build a relationship on?”

You just gave her a shrug. “I have no idea. But, you know, I spent my whole life worrying about stuff like that. I dated my husband for seven years before we got married, because I wanted to be sure. I was initially interested in him because he was successful and ambitious, and it made me feel like this was a really secure relationship that I could rely on. I double majored in English and Computer Science because I wanted a more stable career to fall back on in case being a writer didn’t work out, and even though it did, I’ve spent most of my career publishing what I thought people wanted to read instead of what I wanted to write, so I’d have a better shot at a good paycheck. I grew up thinking the best thing I could ever have was security. And now I’m divorced, watching my royalties shrink every month, more insecure in every way than I’ve ever been, and I’m realizing that the choices I made didn’t give me what I wanted. I gave up so much in the name of safety, and I let the one good thing I’d ever found go, so I could go back to being the same person I always was. I’m ready to settle again, if this doesn’t work… I’m ready to accept that this is just the way life goes, and be thankful that I got a taste of the kind of stuff I thought only existed in the sort of books I’d read but never write.”

She swallowed as she looked at you, and you felt your eyes water as you stared out the window towards the dimming scenery one more time, smiling at the sight of a distant village, a church with a steeple, vineyards and farms. Someone’s whole life is in that little town, you imagined, and they’re just watching your train go by like they see every other day.

“Sebastian gave me more security than I’d ever had before, even though the whole thing was such a ridiculous little whirlwind, and nothing like I ever imagined my life could be. But he made me want to be honest and raw and write sappy letters like the one you just read. He doesn’t have any money, at least as far as I know, and I haven’t known him for seven years, and on paper it makes no sense… but you would understand if you knew him. If you felt that joy that he radiates, if you saw him live his simple little life like it’s the best thing in the world. You would understand if you knew how much I needed this. You would understand if you had been just as miserable being who I’ve been for so long, and finally had a chance to be somebody you think you were maybe meant to be the whole time. So, if I never see him again, I hope I just get to thank him.”

You waited for her to say something, but furrowed your brow at the long moment of silence, looking back from the window finally and finding her staring at you with a tear running down her cheek. When you met her gaze, she quickly wiped it away with a sniffle and looked down at your desk again. “Let’s get to translating, shall we?” she announced with a half-smile.

You noticed the way the other passengers looked at you as everyone was in line to deboard from the train car; you stuck out like a sore thumb, since everybody else was carrying heavy luggage and all you had was a backpack.

In your defense, you really had no idea how to pack for a trip where you knew neither the duration nor the true final destination. So, it was mainly filled with your essentials, a few clothes for any kind of weather, and enough leu to buy anything else you needed along the way.

The stewardess was waving goodbye to everyone as they shuffled out into the train station, occasionally stopping to shake a hand or give directions to nearby destinations. When you were just about to pass by, though, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Good luck,” she whispered, holding you just a moment too long before pulling back and giving you an encouraging look. “If he doesn’t take you back, feel free to blame my translation… because if he knows what’s in your heart, I know he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part isn’t it?” you laughed weakly. “Thank you for your help. I guess if I come back alone for the return trip tonight, you’ll know how bad it went.”

“Then I hope I don’t see you again,” she winked.

It being a major train station and all, cabs were waiting around every corner so it was pretty easy to grab one and give them the address you already had written down for this exact purpose.

“This is pretty far,” the driver explained, “on the edge of town. Not a tourist spot.”

“Good, because I’m not a tourist,” you nodded, already only giving him half your attention as you pulled out the translated speech to practice.

“And you can afford this?” he pressed. You sighed and dug through your bag, pulling out a haphazard stack of bills and handing them through the plastic partition.

“Is this enough?” you asked, and he didn’t answer, just taking the money and starting the car as you smiled and leaned back in your seat.

As much as you had tried to convince yourself to not get your hopes up, the butterflies in your stomach felt more like whole birds at this point, demanding to break free as you practiced the words hand-written on the page over and over again, committing it all to memory.

“What are you reading?” the cab driver asked after several minutes.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, “sorry if I’m bothering you, you can turn on the radio.”

“No, it’s not bothering me, but what you are saying… it’s very odd. It sounds like something from a play, or movie,” he explained.

“Um, it’s not,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “But does it sound like it’s from a good movie? Like, if you heard a character say this to another character, would you think they should get together?”

“I… don’t know,” he answered, sounding confused. “I mean, it depends on what happened, right? How they met, how well they get along…”

So, you told him the whole story, as succinctly as possible (which is not very succinct at all). By the end, he was actually giving commentary as you spoke.

“Why the hell did you leave?” he interjected, clearly irritated with you. “You loved him!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough! I loved my husband too, and look how that turned out,” you defended.

“But that’s different. That was love for all the wrong reasons.”

“I promise, it felt very real at the time,” you shrugged.

“And now?” he countered. “You realize that this man— Sebastian, right?— is real.”

“I hope I’m right this time,” you offered. “But even if I am, he may not agree.”

The driver scoffed, taking a hand off the wheel to wave dismissively. “If he’s anything like you said, then he will still be completely in love with you. After all, you still feel the same way after all this time apart, don’t you?”

“If anything, I love him more every day,” you admitted, your heart beating quickly just to say it aloud.

“You know, when I met my wife, she was engaged to another man. He was rich, good-looking, and he wasn’t even a bad guy unlike this husband you describe. He was a good man, but he wasn’t right for her. They were… content together, but she wasn’t truly happy. Every night I would come to her window and beg her to marry me, because I knew that she knew we were meant for each other, but she was scared because her family wouldn’t approve and she would be a poor man’s wife.”

“How did you convince her to marry you instead?” you asked eagerly, sucked into the story already.

“I didn’t. On the day of the wedding, some people told me to go and break it up but I didn’t. I thought it would be wrong, to try to ruin her happiness and take it for myself by making a scene at the wedding. I realized she was her own woman and if she wanted to choose him, I had to let her. I had locked myself in my house, not wanting to see anyone that day, and she appeared at my door. I didn’t need to convince her because she knew the truth in her heart, and called off the wedding herself.”

“Wow,” you smiled.

“She was still in her dress!” he recalled with a hearty laugh. “She looked like an angel. We were married just a few days later. And next month will be thirty years,” he added as he lifted his left hand to show the golden band on his finger.

“Thirty years, that’s… a long time,” you sighed.

“It wasn’t always easy,” he admitted. “But it was always worth it.”

Just as you wondered what you could possibly say to that, you felt the car slow down to a stop.

“This is the address you gave me, this is it,” he explained, pointing out his passenger-side window. You leaned up against the glass and gasped in dawning fear as you saw the storefront dark and empty inside.

“No, nonono,” you whispered rapidly to yourself as you swung open the door and hopped out, pressing your face against the glass to try to get a look inside and finding what was undeniably a closed carpentry business. There was a note on the door, taped on the inside of the glass, and you knew enough Romanian to know it said something about a vacation and three months.

“Shit!” you yelped, holding your face in your hands, wondering if your journey had come to an end before it really began.

“Are you alright?” the driver asked, rolling down his window to speak to you.

“This was my only lead, I don’t have his real address,” you explained. “He used to work here, I thought maybe someone would know him…”

He sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “Get back in, we can search nearby. You came too far to give in yet.”

But getting back in the car felt like giving in, too, which you realized as you looked back at the note taped to the carpenter's door. This was the closest you'd gotten, and it felt wasteful to leave with nothing.

Just as you were ready to hop in the passenger seat and start searching aimlessly through suburban Bucharest, or maybe look around for a Romanian yellow pages, you heard a noise from behind you, across the street; a laugh. His laugh. But it couldn’t be because it was too good to be true… and yet you found yourself whipping your head around and hoping beyond all reason that it was Sebastian.

Across the street was a restaurant, with a large patio where patrons were dining and chatting as they sat at wrought iron tables, and your eyes searched the crowd for any signs of him.

And then your gaze landed on a head of thick brunette hair, red and gold highlights so obvious now when the sunlight hit it this way. Broad shoulders wrapped in a white button-up shirt. He was facing away from you but he was looking to the side so you could see his face; he was smiling, laughing at something someone had said. And it was his smile that you recognized; it was like everything else faded away, and in that moment you thought maybe you could almost be happy with just this, just seeing him be happy even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Sebastian,” you called out to him, but he didn’t react. “Sebastian!”

His whole body turned, his eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but let the tears well in your eyes as you ran across the road to him.

He looked, understandably, stunned, and you realized he was actually waiting on a table at the moment; he said something to them, apparently excusing himself, and stepped closer to you.

But he stopped walking, not coming any closer, not exactly dragging you into his arms like you might've preferred, but with a breath to try to soothe your racing mind, you summoned your memories of the practiced letter and began. *

“Când am venit în Ungaria…” you started slowly, doing your best to remember the words and hoping your pronunciation wasn’t too awful, “nu căutam dragoste. Căutam spațiu, claritate și poate o idee de carte de un milion de dolari. În schimb, am găsit tot ce am căutat toată viața mea…”

You did your best to bite back tears, especially when his expression was nearly unreadable and you had no idea how well this was going.

“Ești tu, Sebastian, bineînțeles că ești tu,” you sighed, laughing slightly. “Ai fost acolo pentru mine când nici nu știam ce vreau de la nimeni. Ai fost prietenul meu fără să spui vreodată un cuvânt - cel puțin nu un cuvânt pe care l-am înțeles. M-ai iubit și nu știam ce să fac cu asta, pentru că uitasem cu mult timp în urmă cum se simțea să fii iubit. Și ce simțeai să iubești cu adevărat pe cineva. Dar te iubesc. Și am fost prost să te las să pleci, atât de neconceput de prost. Vreau să fim noi, Sebastian. Lasă-mă să te iubesc, mai dă-mi o șansă și îți promit că nu te voi mai lăsa să pleci niciodată.

The first thing he said was your name, and just the way he said it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“I… I dream that you would come back,” he shakily replied. “But now I cannot believe. You are my dream.”

Tears were openly flowing at this point and you wanted to run into his arms, but you tried to stay calm and hear him out. He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like you would run away if he got too close too fast.

“I love you, very much that I am sure I am insane person,” he explained with a grin, and you giggled. “We will live anywhere, do anything you would like— be my wife.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him, gripping your arms tightly as his desperation became apparent.

“Marry me?” he asked softly.

“Da,” you nodded, “yes, of course, anything—”

He kissed you suddenly, but gently, and it said more than any words in any language could.

It was a small wedding, in the Hungarian countryside by the lake. You could remember diving into that lake for lost pages of your manuscript; you could remember looking out over the water and dreaming of this moment you were living right now, thinking it was impossible.

He didn’t have much family, but they welcomed you with open arms.

Your family, well, they were too busy with planning another wedding, for your ex-husband and your ex-sister. A few of them sent cards but the rest were suspiciously quiet. You honestly didn’t even notice… you had a new family to attend to, anyhow. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any guests, since you were able to track down and invite a stewardess named Maria, and a cab driver named Andrei and his wife, Paola.

Sebastian’s cousins weaved flowers into your hair and his grandmother tailored her dress to fit you like a glove. A picture of his parents was hung nearby in tribute; he told you they would’ve wanted to see him get married but that he felt, in some way, they were able to even if they had passed away quite some time ago.

You realized you’d never seen him in anything even mildly formal before; in fact, the suit he wore was rather casual, all things considered, but he looked so painfully cute in it. Sometimes you thought he actually looked a bit out of place wearing a shirt, though, especially one that was buttoned up all the way.

Luckily, the shirt was halfway unbuttoned about ten minutes into the reception.

Mrs. Alberti cooked a massive dinner for everyone, and even grew the flowers that you carried down the cobblestone aisle.

And wow, can Romanians drink. You had to be careful not to try to keep up with them, because if you had you would’ve been blacked out halfway into the night and the last thing you wanted was to forget even a moment of this.

As the night started to wind down to a close, you and your new husband retired to the lakehouse, running up the stairs and finding them as creaky as always.

He wrapped his arms around you in the hall and kissed you eagerly as you stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over the doorway and falling onto the bed together.

It felt so right to have his weight on top of you, to feel his smile against your lips, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“This room,” he mumbled into the kiss. “Do you remember first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “da, I remember, how could I forget?”

He grinned and moved his lips down to your neck. "I thought of you every day… I love you,” he whispered.

“Te iubesc,” you whispered back.

It was almost like the first time in so many ways: passionate, yet oddly hesitant as you rediscovered each other. It was comfortable, though… you couldn’t think of any other person you felt so comfortable with, somebody who finally got you out of your own head and who made you want to experience everything life had to offer.

You were sure you’d never gone so long without worrying about something in all your life.

“My wife,” he whispered against your skin. “This is all I had wanted… from seeing you in very beginning.”

“You’re all I ever wanted,” you sighed in return, “ești tot ce mi-am dorit vreodată, Sebastian.”

Life with Sebastian was beautifully simple. You spent most of the day writing, usually, while he built furniture to sell and occasionally gardened with his spare time. You could always tell how busy you’d been with a new novel lately by how perfectly groomed the hydrangea bushes were.

You’d told him once that you’d come to Hungary looking for a million-dollar book idea. A Killer in Disguise performed alright, but not anywhere near that. The Language of Love, on the other hand, was definitely a million-dollar idea… about eleven times over. Sebastian didn’t seem to worry too much about how much money you made, though; he was just proud to say that he was the inspiration for your hit novel. You secretly suspected that he was more proud of your work reaching enough international notoriety to be translated into Romanian.

His English still needed some work, but you found it endearing. He was determined to get better and spent at least a half-hour each day practicing, but you hoped he wouldn’t get too perfect because you would miss the silly little mistakes he made. At least you could be sure he’d keep the accent forever… damn, that accent; and he knew exactly what it did to you, too.

In fact, you were crossing through the hall in your robe one evening when your husband’s voice stopped you.

“Darling wife,” you heard Sebastian call from the bedroom in a playful sing-song.

“What is it, Seba?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come in here, please…”

You opened the bedroom door to find most of the room covered in rose petals: most of all the bed, which was surrounded by candles, and topped with a shirtless (as per usual) Sebastian, laid on his side seductively with a long-stemmed rose (one you recognized from his very own garden) between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. “Is this some sort of special occasion I’ve forgotten?”

You were already searching your mind for what it could be, but your two-year anniversary had passed a few months ago already and since it was spring it couldn’t be the anniversary of when you first met since that was late in the summer.

“Iss not quite a thpecial occathion yeth,” he answered before taking the rose from his mouth so he actually made sense. “I was considering it could be a special occasion, when we’re done…”

You smirked and climbed over the candles and into bed with him, taking the opportunity to run your hands over his chest. “And what occasion would that be?”

“A year from now, it could be the anniversary of when our child was conceived,” he answered.

Your breath caught in your throat, your voice reduced to a whisper of surprise. “Seba—”

“If you’re not ready, I will be understand,” he instantly added, stern yet soft. “Only if you want this, I just thought that maybe—”

You silenced him with a kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair and letting him roll you onto your back. He pulled back just enough to let you answer, but your noses were still bumping into each other and you smiled.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. More than ready,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed you again, deeper and slower as he held your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you were interrupted with one pressing thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

He popped up and looked down at you with a smile. “Sure!”

“Why are you wearing ratty old jeans?” you laughed.

“Hey, these worked on you the first time,” he defended.

You gasped. “You don’t mean those are the jeans—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the jeans that I had been wearing when I was working on Mrs. Alberti’s cottage. And, truly, when I was finding an excuse to work outside your window.”

“Wait,” you sat up, “did you actually work outside my window on purpose?”

He laughed, hanging his head quickly before looking back at you again with a sparkle in his eye. “You are very smart, my love, except for those times when you are— how do you say? Oblivious.”

You chuckled, unfortunately very aware that he was right.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was building a window frame, nearly a dozen metres away from the window it was for?”

You thought for a moment before dropping your face into your hands and laughing. “No, I didn’t notice that. I was too busy giving you a thorough eye-fuck,” you recalled.

“Yes, because I was not wearing a shirt and this distracted you,” he pondered, sounding suddenly like a scientist explaining a theorem or something. “See, that’s the beauty of wearing the jeans and no shirt. The body distracts you while the jeans seduce you.”

“How about you take the jeans off and put that body on me, capisce?” you pleaded; not that you didn’t love his humor or anything, but maybe his funny bone wasn’t exactly the bone you were interested in at the moment.

He grinned devilishly and suddenly pulled your legs apart, settling his body between them as he kissed your neck again, nipping at your jawline and ear. “You’re being impatient, dragă,” he purred. “You want to have my baby that badly?”

You whined involuntarily, arching your back as his hands roamed your body and finally began to untie your robe and push the silk out of the way. “Yes, Sebastian, please—”

“Let’s just say, theoretically, I wanted to have more than one? Would you have another of my children?” he asked softly as he reached up and palmed at your breasts, teasing your nipples which were already much too hard and sensitive for how little he’d touched you. The rough denim rubbing against the inside of your thighs was oddly arousing— maybe it was the sensation itself, or maybe it was just that this was almost like the first thing you imagined when you saw Sebastian all those years ago.

“Yes,” you moaned out your answer, “yes, you know I’d do anything for you.”

“What if I wanted a big family?” he pressed. “Really big? Like, Catholic big?”

“We can have our own fuckin’ Brady Bunch, Seb, I just need you right now,” you begged, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hot and desperate kiss.

He decided to wait until afterwards to ask what a ‘Brady Bunch’ was. You decided to wait until afterwards to ask when he’d learned how to use the word ‘theoretically’.

sfarsit; the end

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇

pairing: dylan o’brien x best friend fem!reader

summary: in which dylan has been your best friend for as long as you could remember. your busy lives and schedules may have pushed both of your lives in vastly different directions as you’d gotten older, but somehow you two would always be led back to your hometown, and each other, during the holidays. however, one moment causes all of that to change. 

warnings: angst (what else is new), some fluffiness, mentions of past trauma (the maze runner incident), existential crises, explicit language

word count: 3.6k words

author’s note: idk why i decided to write something christmas related in the summer but it happened lmao (also i feel like it’s slightly important to mention that this takes place in 2016)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The rocks being thrown at your window were not what woke you up. Instead, you had been lying awake for hours; getting little to no sleep was something that you had become used to at this point.

However, on this specific night— or morning, depending on how one looked at it— you were glad that your sleep had been restless once again because it made it easy for you to get out of bed and walk to your window when the rocks began hitting it.

There was really no need for you to push open the curtains and check who was doing the throwing because, of course, it was Dylan. Ever since he moved onto your street in Hermosa Beach in middle school and the two of you easily became friends, he was the only person that would ever wake you up in the middle of the night with the soft pings of rocks, especially on this specific day at this specific time.

You waved at him and gestured that you would be down in a moment. You slipped on a random pair of sweatpants along with a hoodie and then placed the Christmas gift that you bought for him in the pocket. The item was small enough to fit in the not too big pocket of your hoodie; however, it did awkwardly protrude a bit.

All of this was a sort of unspoken tradition that the pair of you had developed over the many years you’d known each other. Meeting at five in the morning on Christmas day, walking to the beach that was only a few blocks away from your respective childhood homes, and exchanging Christmas gifts with each other as you both watched the sunrise. It started when you were in ninth grade, and you hadn't missed a year since, not even when the ending of high school pushed your lives in vastly different directions, especially since Dylan graduated a year before you and was almost immediately thrust into his acting career.

But, it didn't matter that Dylan's career took off, and you eventually decided to go to college in Santa Barbara, because, no matter what, you both would always come back for the holidays.

When you opened your front door and saw Dylan lingering by the sidewalk no more than ten feet away, you were quick to go toward him and pull him in for a tight embrace. It actually hadn't been too long since you’d last seen him, maybe only five or six months, but for some reason, it still felt as if the last time he was in front of you was last December.

"Hey," Dylan breathed out in a short greeting, his arms wounding around your waist.

“Hey to you too," You responded, a small smile gracing your features when you both pulled away, and you looked up at him. "How have you been?"

It was quiet for a few moments as you waited for him to answer the question, but eventually, you were met with no verbal response, and instead, Dylan simply shrugged. The short action made your heart constrict in the most painful way, and it was then that you noticed the light remnants of a scar peeking out from behind his dark hair that covered the majority of his forehead. You were quick to peel your eyes away from the scar and instead cast them down at your Converse-covered feet, but that didn't stop the memories from quickly coming back.

The Maze Runner accident had happened back in March, but to you, and you knew to Dylan as well, it felt as if it was just yesterday, especially considering the fact that he was still dealing with the unavoidable repercussions from it.

"Wanna walk?" You asked, finally looking up at him once again.

Dylan nodded. "Yeah."

A silence that could only be deemed as comfortable lingered between them as the two of you took the five-minute walk to the beach and sat down side by side on one of the random empty benches.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," Dylan said as he handed a present over to you. The present was messily wrapped, something that was not at all uncommon when receiving gifts from Dylan, and the sight of it made you smile.

Before you unwrapped the gift, you pulled out the one you had for him and handed it over. "Merry Christmas, Dyl."

The nostalgic sound of wrapping paper ripping could be heard as you tore into your gift. A simultaneous shocked and happy yelp emitted from your lips when you held up a Harry Potter t-shirt. But, it wasn't just any Harry Potter t-shirt; it was one with a version of the Goblet of Fire movie poster on it, which was your all-time favorite movie in the series.

"Holy shit."

"It's the original merch that was sold when the movie came out," Dylan told you. He hadn't opened his gift yet, and instead, he was playing with the green bow placed on top of it; he always liked to see your reaction first.

You looked at Dylan and then back down at the shirt as you processed his words. "Wow, double holy shit. I would put it on if it wasn't freezing right now."

Dylan laughed a bit. "Very understandable."

“Why haven't you opened yours yet? I'm dying to see what you think of it," You said. You were now holding the t-shirt to your chest, genuinely feeling like a little kid on Christmas morning again.

Dylan finally began unwrapping your gift to him, and when all of the paper was peeled off, there was a square box. "Aw, a plain white box. Thank you so much. This is what I've always wanted."

You rolled your eyes and playfully bumped him with your shoulder. "Ha ha. Please save all of these bad jokes for your stand-up act; I can't wait to boo you off the stage along with everyone else."

"So, what I'm hearing is you don't think that becoming a comedian is going to be the next best career move for me?" Dylan asked. He attempted to make the question sound as serious as possible, but there was a joking undertone to his words.

You bit back your laughter. "Please just open the box already so I don't have to hurt your feelings by truthfully answering that question."

"Okay, we'll circle back to that topic later," Dylan smiled and then finally opened the white box to reveal a slightly faded baseball. When he picked it up, he ran his thumb over the black signature written on it. "Now it's my turn to say holy shit."

You could feel yourself smiling at his awestruck reaction, and you wondered if that was what you looked like when you saw the Harry Potter shirt. The baseball was signed by one of the players of the New York Mets that had been Dylan's favorite player when he was younger, and he'd even caught a ball hit by him when he went to a game before he moved to California.

"I've had this idea for years, but I could never find a baseball signed by him," You began explaining, the excitement clear in your voice. "But, last month, someone named Paul Todd posted this on eBay and I immediately bought it. God bless that old man. It's completely authentic and everything."

Dylan was quiet for a few moments as he simply looked at the baseball in his hands, a small joyful smile on his face, and it made you happy to see him so genuinely elated with the present.

"This just made my gift look like shit," He finally said, a light laugh falling from his lips.

"I have always been the superior gift giver. I think that's my hidden talent," You responded with a playful smirk.

Dylan placed the baseball back in its box and then looked at you. "Next year you will receive the best gift ever from me. It will completely top everything that you have ever given me."

"You're saying that as if I should feel upset about receiving a trip to Italy as a Christmas gift."

"A trip to Italy?"

"In my strong opinion, that would be the best gift ever," You said with a smile and then looked down at the t-shirt, which was now in your lap. "But, anyway, I don't think this gift is shit. I'm in love with this shirt already."

Dylan let out a joking, overexaggerated sigh in relief. "Phew, okay, since you think this gift is great, that means I don't have to do the trip to Italy next year."

"What? Did I say I like this t-shirt? I hate it! Harry Potter actually su— Fuck, I can't say this with a straight face," You laughed, and Dylan was quick to join in with you.

The joking statements leading up to the laughter hadn't even been the funniest things ever, but it didn't matter because this was probably the hardest you had laughed in a while, and you were both glad and unsurprised that it was with one of your favorite people in the entire world.

You missed joking around and laughing with him. You missed simply being with him.

Eventually, the laughter died off, but there was still a smile planted firmly on your face. You looked ahead at the darkness in front of you and the ocean that looked completely black; it was still kind of early, so the sun hadn't begun to rise just yet. Your back pressed against the wooden bench, and you let out a small sigh, your head finding Dylan's shoulder as you leaned against him.

"How have you been?" You asked him, your words coming out both soft and slightly quiet, and before the mood became too serious with your question that was nothing but serious, you attempted to lighten it. "And please no shrugs as a response this time. I don't wanna get a headache due to my head bouncing off your shoulder."

Dylan let out a breath of a laugh at your final statements but refrained from answering the question for a few moments.  

After what felt like forever, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I honestly don't know. My mind has felt so fucked lately, thinking about everything. I swear I've been feeling every feeling known to man these past months."

"What are you feeling right now? In this moment?"

"I'm really happy with you. This is probably the only normal and familiar thing I've experienced in a while. But, of course, there's still that confused feeling in the back of my mind revolving around everything else." He paused for a brief moment before continuing, his next words came out quieter. "I don't even know if I want to go back to acting."

You lifted your head off his shoulder and looked at him as you pulled his hand into yours and gave it a light, reassuring squeeze.

"No matter what you decide. I'll be right there to support you," You told him and then added a "bro" at the end of her sentence along with a small smile. Whenever things became too deep in a conversation you two were having, one of you would always throw a "bro" or "dude" in there to bring some playfulness to the mood.

The corners of Dylan's perked up a bit. "So, you'll support me when I decide to become a comedian?"

You were unable to stifle your light laughter. "Yes, fine, fuck it. I'll be the loudest one laughing at all of your shows."

Dylan squeezed your hand back because he knew exactly how reluctantly true your words were. "Don't worry, I promise not to put you through that."

"Thank you."

"So, how have you been?"

"No."

"Oh, come on," Dylan said as he playfully poked your side. "I'm not gonna be the only one exposing my feelings."

You sighed and then hesitantly nodded. "Okay, okay."

The truth was you had been far from good lately. Your life was moving, but for some reason, you felt like you weren’t moving with it.

You felt stuck.

Stuck in a confusing mindset where you had absolutely no idea what you wanted to do with your life. You thought that identity crises usually happened in high school, but apparently, yours had come five years late. But, you knew that this delayed identity crisis had been your own doing because you had convinced herself that you would figure everything out once you were in college; and you were both lucky and smart enough to receive a full ride to UCSB.

And although you were finishing up your Master's degree in Creative Writing and had a TA job at the university with the department, which was the reason behind why you could even pay for the Master's program, something in your "should be great" life simply did not feel right.

However, you felt absolutely terrified to say any of that out loud because admitting it would only finally make that statement a wholehearted truth, instead of just a spiraling thought in your mind. And even though Dylan was your best friend and you knew you could tell him anything and not receive any sort of judgment, it still felt hard to let the words leave your lips.

You thought about the way to perfectly word everything, but nothing felt right. You pulled your hand away from Dylan's and covered your face as you let out an exasperated breath. "I can't figure how to say it all."

Dylan placed an arm around you and then mimicked the same question you had asked him not too long ago. "What are you feeling right now? In this moment?"

You would have both laughed and smiled at the fact that he was using your exact words if the current circumstances were different.

"Scared," You finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what the fuck I wanna do anymore, and actually, I don't think I really ever did. I only went to college because of the scholarship, and I convinced myself that I would figure my life out when I got there. And for a while, things felt right because I found creative writing and genuinely enjoyed it, but something doesn't feel right anymore. And I actually do like school. Because it's stable, and I am doing things, even if it's taking a dumbass test. But, it's about to be over soon, and I have no idea what I'm gonna do."

Your words were coming out like vomit, and nothing could stop it because finally, everything you had been feeling for so long was out of your head and put into the open.

"And don't get me wrong, I do love to write, but I don't know, I just can't see myself doing it for the rest of my life," You admitted and then let your next words come out quietly. "Honestly, I can't see myself doing anything. I'm so unhappy here."

You did not say it aloud, but you didn't think you were ever fully content there. Aside from Dylan and your parents, you never truly liked California. You had grown up there all your life, and although there were millions of people that adored the state, you felt the exact way someone from a state like Wyoming probably felt.

Dylan did not verbally respond to your long confession at first; instead, he simply pulled your confused and stressed self in for a hug, and you let out the simultaneous sigh and breath that you had been metaphorically holding in for years at this point.

"Maybe you should take a break," Dylan finally said; his arms were still around you, an action that made you feel completely comforted. "Right after high school, you went straight to college, and I don't think you've ever really taken a break to really think about what you actually want. Like, maybe, it's becoming a zookeeper."

Your laugh was slightly muffled by the fact that your face was pressed into the warmth of Dylan's chest. "Zookeeper?"

"I don't know," He laughed too. "You said you would support me in whatever the fuck I decide to do, and I'll do the exact same for you."

Somehow a smile found its way on your face. "A zookeeper and a comedian. What a fucking dream team."

Another laugh fell from Dylan's lips. "The best fucking dream team."

"But, honestly, I wish I could've known sooner that this is how you've been feeling. I would've been telling you to slow down so long ago, but you seemed content with everything," Dylan told you and gave you another light squeeze. "Please take a break and don't stress yourself out over the future when your next semester is over. Just relax for the first time. You can even come stay with me in LA for a little bit if that's where you wanna take your break. I'll be here for you, Y/N. Always."

Something about his words hit you hard. The wholehearted honesty and sincerity behind his statement shouldn't have surprised you, but it did. And the worry he had for you resembled the same concern you had for him when the accident happened. You two were best friends, so it should not have been a shock that you would worry about each other, but still, in that moment and for you, it was shocking because it felt like so much more than just that.

"Me too," You whispered, finally responding to his previous statement.

The long embrace came to an end with you being the one to pull away; however, you did not pull away far enough for you both to become completely detached from one another. Dylan's arms were still around your waist, and yours were still around the nape of his neck, and your faces were dangerously close. Your hand somehow took on a mind of its own as it reached around and cupped Dylan's cheek. The miniscule confusion and tickle of panic that began to prick at the back of your mind because of the action were not enough to make you pull away.

The slight way that Dylan leaned into your soft touch was the catalyst for you to take the leap and lean in the tiniest bit to close the small distance between the two of you, your lips almost too easily finding his. The inward sigh of contentment you emitted when Dylan almost immediately kissed you back made you realize that kissing him was the one thing currently happening in your life that actually felt right.

Later, when thinking back to that specific moment, you would wonder if that "rightness" had always been there between you both.

However, that right feeling, which was both comfortable and familiar, was quickly replaced with dread and angst, at least on your part. Your mind was beginning to fully catch up with your actions, and it immediately told you that the current action was both bad and stupid, and there were many, many reasons that proved that.

Maybe there were moments where a younger, and even present-day, you did want more to happen between you and Dylan, but you would always push that thought away because you knew that your and Dylan's friendship was so much more valuable.

And then it was the fact that your lives were nothing alike. Even though you were immensely confused about where your life was going, you could say for certain that it wasn't going in the same direction as Dylan's; an acting career that he genuinely loved and enjoyed too much to truly give up. Something deep down told you that, and you could feel the truthfulness behind the thought. The holidays were the only time your lives would truly intersect.

You abruptly pulled away, not just from the kiss but from Dylan's body entirely, moving to the edge of the bench you were on. Your hands covered your face in nothing but pure embarrassment and regret, and you wished that you could take back the last minute and a half of your life. And you also absolutely hated that you couldn't help but notice how much colder your body felt now that it was away from Dylan's.

"Oh my God. I'm sorry. Fuck. That kiss— it was a mistake. I'm really sorry." Your words came out rushed and fumbled, and it probably did not make much sense, but you just hoped that there was at least a little bit of coherency with them.

As much as you wanted to look at Dylan, you refused to do so because you knew that you would only see the regret you were feeling written clear across his face.

"Hey, it's okay, Y/N. Everything's fine. Don't worry," You heard him say but could hear the uncertainty in his voice as if he really didn't know if everything truly was fine. And you knew that it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

The holidays were the only time your lives would truly intersect, and you had just completely ruined that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know your thoughts <3

((((already potentially thinking about doing a part 2 to this….. but idk…))))

[aetheternity]

I'll admit it's exciting. (Armin x reader)

Synopsis: Being your professor's dirty little secret. His pet.. Sounded too good to refuse.

Warning: Smut in the later chapters! 18+ only

"Good girl.." Your lip tucked itself beneath your tooth. Spine tingling at the intoxicating scent surrounding you.

You coaxed a breath off your lips as the almost inaudible creak of the desk under your professors weight made you sit up straight. His arms locking you in place.

You looked into his soft blue eyes feeling a tinge of entrapment at the way he had you locked in.

"Do you understand now?" His surprisingly large hands caressed your shoulder.

"Y-yeah." If you could see your own face you'd probably be embarrassed but you were currently helpless to the tiny bits of touch he allowed you.

Your elbows pushed you up just a little bit closer to his chest. His touch disappearing too soon.

"I think you'll be ready for the test in a couple days." And suddenly every bit of him was walking away and back to sit at his desk. "You should still study though. This stuff has been difficult for you."

~~~~

"Y/N."

The tip of your nail stayed fidgeting between your lips.

"Y/N."

Words flew through your brain but it all continued to just be flushed straight out again.

"Y/N!" The book flew from your grasp landing with a clatter that attracted glances from all angles.

"Are you alright Y/N?" Eren asked, concern etched into his deep sapphire eyes.

You let out a harsh exhale. "I was, until Sasha stopped my heart." You held a palm up to your chest, glaring over at Sasha.

Mikasa blinked boredom sunk into her features. Her cheeks forced into the palms of her hands as her elbows stayed firmly planted into the table. "New class?"

You nodded, shutting your binder before promptly flipping it open again.

"You'll be fine." She muttered, staring at you with her own version of concern.

"How can you say that? I had to transfer from a different class a month after the semester already started. You know how much stuff I've already missed! Not to mention I had originally thought this class was gonna be next semester me's problem." With a groan you let your head flop harshly onto the mildly sticky table in front of you.

"I think what Mikasa was trying to suggest was that Mr. Arlert has always been said to be a very gentle and caring professor." Sasha said

"You can always take office hours if you really have a hard time." Eren suggested

"Thanks Eren, but I think you're forgetting that I hate doing anything outside of class that won't immediately get me a passing grade."

Eren just shrugged, moving to stuff his notebooks into his own bag. All of them genuinely looking as though he'd just reused them from high school. Each one with a rip in the first page or the spiral unraveling.

"Welp it's 2:00." Sasha reminded you. And you groaned so loud you could practically feel the stares from other tables touching your soul.

"Maybe I'll fall down the stairs and break my ankle before I get up there." You slung your bag onto your shoulder hanging your head as you walked off.

"I'll have your favorite donuts in my room after you get out!" Sasha called

"You should've started with that!"

You made the walk so much longer by dragging your feet up every stair individually and rubbing a finger to your temple. So much so that it surprised you when you walked into the classroom and no one was in there except..

"Oh hello."

Hot..

So so very hot..

His smile sparkled only futher brightened by his deep blue eyes. His short blond hair parted slightly over his forehead. His blue button up was cuffed up against his forearms revealing a very slender but still fairly muscular set of hands. He probably had a nice chest too.

"You must be Y/N." He chuckled and before you could reassociate he was giving you a whole new list of things to think about as he bent over his desk to retrieve a piece of paper.

"Here's the syllabus. You're starting kinda late so it will be helpful to you to come to office hours. My office hours are at the bottom here." When he reached forward to point his scent caught you by surprise. A sweet almost fruit like smell wafted up your nose. "I hope you'll catch on quickly. Sit wherever you'd like."

His remark barely registered in your mind, your mouth hung open immediately slamming shut as the class quickly began to fill.

Before you could get swept up by the people flooding into the room you made your way to the front plopping down into the seat closest to the window. When you looked up again from where you'd yanked your binder almost haphazardly out of your bag, you caught the quickest wink you'd ever seen in your entire life.

Or maybe it was your imagination.

But the way he leaned a little closer when he approached you wasn't.

"Front row? Good choice."

Regardless of the heart problems he'd recently caused you he was moving on. Quickly silencing the class and starting the lesson.

Hot.

The only thought racing through your head.

Hot. Hot. Hot..

He was pretty! When he turned off the light his eyes didn't dull in the almost blinding way in which they shone. His hair fluttered over his forehead and ears and his shirt seemed to hug his chest tighter every time he reached up to turn off the projector or even just to reach a high spot on the board.

You already knew everything from today was going in one ear and out the other but it was really hard to give a damn when your professor's pants cupped his ass they way they did. His dark shoes clicked across the floor and-

"Do you understand any of it? I know it's your first day."

You blinked up at him hoping your eyes weren't as wide as they felt or that you weren't popping your mouth open and close like a suffocating fish.

He smiled, flipping the paper on the desk around till it faced him. "Can I?" He reached for the tip of your pen and as you let it go your fingers brushed in probably the strongest current of static that had ever touched your body.

"Don't worry ok this is just a practice test I wanna see what you know." He said, leaving a couple marks on the paper. He then pointed to the two empty test questions. "Don't leave anything blank ok."

This time when he walked away you were without a doubt certain he'd winked. When you looked down at your paper again you could see 3 checks on the paper in the light blue ink you were using and a little smiley face in the corner.

Your chest honestly had no right fluttering the way it did over something so trivial.

The class was only an hour and forty minutes but when it was over you felt like you'd only been seated there for ten minutes. When you handed the test paper back he sent you one final wink that made your knees buckle.

"See you next time." He said and you had to forcibly stop yourself from shuttering.

You half speed walked half ran out of there as soon as his classroom door had shut behind you. All the way to Sasha's dorm room.

You slammed it open already knowing Sasha only kept it locked when she wasn't in there. Your chest was heaving and you held onto the door frame for support. Noticing the immediate and visible flinch from Eren and Sasha.

"He's. Hot!!" You gasped for air before walking in and sinking to the floor in front of Sasha. She didn't budge as you fell against her shoulder just wrapped an arm around your shoulders hugging your back. "Oh god he's so hot.." You breathed into Sasha's collarbone.

"Looks like she did learn something." Eren muttered

"No! You don't understand he's like so pretty!"

Mikasa didn't even try to hide the way she rolled her eyes and Eren just sighed.

"Aww you've got a crush on your professor that's adorable." Sasha said, reaching into the box next to her, grabbing your favorite donut she pushed it into your open mouth pulling it back slightly to allow you to chew.

You sobbed a little before sighing and falling back into Sasha's neck. "What the hell am I gonna do?" You sighed

"Focus on passing the class is probably the first step." Eren replied

"Now you're just being silly." You replied, rubbing your fingers into the floor.

Sasha brought the donut back up to your lips smiling as you took another bite. "I wanna see him now! Isn't he the really young professor? Like he's supposedly only twenty five as of recently and got hired less than a year ago."

"Yeah.." You quickly put your password into your phone, turning the screen so Sasha could see.

Mikasa and Eren scooted closer as Sasha took a closer look. "He is pretty." Mikasa was the first to speak.

"Why do you just have his picture pulled up? How're you already being creepy?" Eren questioned

You scoffed, "I just happened to be looking on Instagram during a quick bathroom trip.. and I just so happened to look for him.. it's his fault for making it easy." You snatched the donut from Sasha taking a bigger bite.

"Yeah no I agree with Eren this is cree- AW HE HAS A DOG!" Sasha snatched the phone zooming in on the puppy in his lap.

"Actually it's his family's dog. Her name's Pumpkin and he goes home as often as possible to see her. A small two hour train ride to be exact." You sigh briefly "I've never really liked Terriers as a dog breed but that one's so cute.."

"Is the dog cute or is it the guy holding her?" Mikasa questioned with a little smirk.

"Not helping Mikasa.." Eren interjected "What are you even thinking? No matter if you like professor Arlert or not he has to keep it professional and so do you."

"Eren, look at the puppy." You took your phone from Sasha turning the screen back to face him.

He glanced down at the image then back into your eyes with a raised eyebrow.

"Puppy!"

"Creepy!" He pressed the power button on your phone and you deflated against Sasha's legs letting your phone turn over onto its face.

"I'll never understand why you don't go for a degree in hacking or something the way you always manage to pull up information on people." Mikasa shook her head.

"Probably going to be stuck with more math classes for one and secondly when I become a supervillain I don't need everyone knowing it was apart of my major." You replied, with an exaggerated eye roll.

Sasha shrugged, "If it was your major I'm pretty sure everyone would understand your descent into madness."

"I can't believe you just said that.." Eren groaned, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

"Me or her?" You asked

"Yes!"

~~~~

Thursday came too soon. Or maybe you should say, finally Thursday is here! You jumped back and forth between the two but by the time you slid into the honestly uncomfortable classroom seat and placed your bag between your legs you knew exactly what you felt.

"Professor!" A female's voice caught your attention and you turned slightly to see a short brown haired girl running into the classroom.

"You were right about what I was missing! Once I applied what we talked about in office hours it became so simple."

"That's what I like to hear Petra." He winked as he flipped through a stack of papers on his desk.

Wait, had he always done that to all the students or had you just not noticed last time? You felt your shoulders hunch but they were instantly picking back up again as he slid a piece of paper onto your desk.

"You did pretty well on that practice test. Seems like you'll be up to speed in no time." He smiled, a deep warm smile that made your stomach squeeze.

Your lips curled upwards and you quickly moved to hide it behind your paper as he walked away.

"You too huh?"

You felt your skin practically vibrate but you hoped and prayed it wasn't too noticeable.

"Wh-what?" You glanced over at the girl Petra who sat only one desk away from you. Her features flat and her eyes dark in the middle an almost scary contrast from earlier.

"You're into him too?" She muttered

Was it that obvious? Stupid question. How could you be so obvious?

"I don't think you'll win out." She continued and before you could question it, she pointed to the back row.

It seemed almost like a tussle as Mr. Arlert was being held hostage by another young female holding his hand. He smiled mildly awkwardly as he spoke with her, nodding his head to everything her and the other girls surrounding her said. The first girl running a thumb over the back of his hand.

You felt your skin prickle and you exhaled loudly. "So.. I'm guessing you too.."

Petra blinked at you then quickly shifted around in her seat. Mr. Arlert quickly approached the front of the room clapping to get the classes attention. And with that the lesson was beginning.

You noticed from the clap at the beginning of class to the last word uttered that not one word in Mr. Arlert's lesson had actually registered in your mind. Your thoughts too full of Petra's words, her blank almost villainous expression as she'd talked.

And that girl's hand. That annoying girl in the back row. You peeked your head back there looking at the now empty chair. In fact the entire classroom was empty and had been for at least 15 minutes since you continued to struggle with stuffing your binder back into your apparently shrunken bag.

"Need help?"

You bit your lip and looked away as he came closer. You weren't really standing up straight but you immediately noticed the way he towered over you. His fingers so delicate in the way they brushed over yours sliding the irritating object into the confines of your bag.

"Thank you.." You whispered

He chuckled, "No problem, happy to help."

His eyes didn't leave yours for an almost uncomfortable amount of time so you shifted your feet backing away a little. He seemed to notice and placed a hand on the back of his neck, backing up himself.

Oh no. Now he was getting uncomfortable.

He made his way back over to his desk but not before you'd slipped in something to ease the tension. "Sorry for over staying my welcome.."

He let out a soft chuckle. "You're not bothering me plus there are no classes in here for two hours after mine on Thursday. You can stay as long as you'd like."

"O-oh." You face palmed internally at your stupid reply. "So.." You began again. "Do you mind if I asked you how you're such a young professor.."

His eyes flickered up from the work he'd been filling out. "Well, I skipped a couple grades and I was in college by 15. I'm actually still in college now but I was an assistant teacher at 18 for about three years for a high school a couple blocks from here before I became a full fledged teacher and then I worked at the same school as a teacher for three more years before I finally left and started teaching here."

It should've been obvious from the start that he'd worked tireless hours of school to get here at such a young age. Not to mention probably having worked just as hard in the gym. He'd only leaned back a little bit in his chair but it was enough for you to have a perfect mental image.

Your eyes flicked up to his much softer more.. Arlert like smile? Maybe? It just felt like the kind of smile he'd give a friend and less like the smile he used in the classroom. Not that that one felt fake, just.. different.

"Do you.. I mean.. have you always had girls?.." His eyebrows scrunched as you spoke. You pointed to the back of the classroom. "You're young I mean, do girls always touch you like that?"

He blinked up at the ceiling then back down to you. Your breath hitched as he pulled himself up from the desk walking closer to you.

"As soon as they find out I'm not that much older than them? Yeah."

You probably should've stopped but your brain was suddenly working independently. "Does it?.. Do you like that kind of attention?"

He sat down on the desk crossing his arms over his chest and his leg over his knee. He spoke his head. "Not normally no."

"Normally?"

He stood again but this time he stopped directly in front of you. Sharp blue eyes cold and yet warm and vibrant. The desk creaked under your weight as you leaned back into it. His hands at your sides, his breath tickling your upper lip.

His thumb came up to graze your cheek but was quickly removed and planted back on the desk. "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded way too eagerly and-

So so so much softer than you'd even thought imaginable. His nose rubbed against yours and he was pulling away. Too soon.

You grabbed the back of his neck, yanking him back to you. Immediately delighted by the warm touch of his pretty pink lips.

He pulled back and you yanked him forward. Over and over again with soft peppered kisses. And then one slightly longer one where he was comfortably mushing his lips against yours.

[jovnie]

Artificial Intelligence | Namjoon

Summary

Namjoon after wondering the internet, came across a website Ad for a personalized A.I made for him and only for his viewing pleasure.

Words 3k

Cyber namjoon au! College namjoon! A.i reader!

Warnings: smut, masturbation, virtual reality, moaning and heavily, medium amount of plot, kind of vanilla, riding, dirty talk, muscular joon. Oral (f), heavy whining, begging, dom joon, verbal joon.

With his eyes glued tiredly to the computer, his hand moved the curser to press play. This was his third year in college, being who knew what at the end. After years of tiredness from research papers to fieldwork, being a chemistry major wasn’t paying off one bit. Not his student debt either. Yawning, his arms stretched up and then out before returning them back to the slightly chipped computer to type the URL in.

With each little tap and click, he answered the questions before being brought back to the previous page. Groaning in utter frustration, he closed his computer and put his head on the computer before meantly screaming. He was half way through the questions and it took him out and how knows if he had 200+ more to do. Sighing, he lifted his head uttering, “at least its not the actual test”

With slight relief, he lifted the mac screen and saw he exited everything on accident. Giving up, he searched for a virtual teacher. With no luck, he stumbled across and Ad for an A.I. with an obvious lack of how the cyber world was or knowledge on A.I, he opened a new tab. With searching the key word. ‘A.I’ a small little text box appeared.

A.I ( Artificial Intelligence )

is an intelligence demonstrated by machines, as opposed to the natural intelligence displayed by humans or animals

After looking up the word and its definition, he thought he had a solid idea of what it was. Therefore he exited the tab and searched the subject and then Ai. After doing so he scrolled and clicked what he assumed to be a cite and looked at what it had to offer.

“This is neat. Ah, Let’s see where this goes! Maybe if I do this I can study with a human, I think?” He spoke aloud, looking at the options. Waking up a bit from the sudden excitement, he stretched his body and looked around for a notepad and pen. While doing so, a pop up appeared.

Stacy is single and is 65 miles away from you, wanna interact

Once namjoon returned, he saw the women and clicked off. He figured this wasn’t an appropriate or free ran website. Itching the back of his head, he continued until another pop up this time an ad appeared.

Create your own human A.I with unlimited uses here

Curiously he clicked the ad and saw you had to buy it, immediately he got up from his desk. Legs numb a bit from the lack of moment, he grabbed his wallet and took out his student card. Shopping he looked at the computer than a card. “Yeah no,” he laughed to himself, knowing he could catch a case he didn’t want so he grabbed his credit card before swiveling the chair to sit down. After blindly trusting the site, he was taken to the tutorial and saw a fully naked man on the screen. In shock, he shut the computer down to realize it wasn’t that A. I he needed. Sighing, he flipped the top back up and immediately felt hopeless with the exam. Seeing there’s a female version, he looked around to make sure none on the body was there. He knew he had the room to himself, but it’s still worth it. You never knew, who could be watching.

From there he closed his blinds, turned off the lights, and got back to the computer. He started to create your body down to the smallest detail. He had time as his classes for the week were canceled for finals and other school-related activities like college tours etc.

“Finally, you’re done and now we give you a name!” he smirked softly, rubbing his palm over his jeans on accident. With a few glances and searches, he named you y/n. Smiling, he pressed continue and saw there was an outfit room and spent a few more moments picking something cute, casual and sexy for your body frame. After that was done, he pressed continue. Suddenly there was timer and another pop up.

TIME REMAINING: 23hours 59mins and 23seconds

Thank you for ordering “Y/n” the A.I, everything is processing as you read. While you wait, please pick from the available voices and chose which one suits your needs “Namjoon!”

He had no clue what to expect, but it was worth the wait. Meanwhile, he spent an hour going through the types of voices he wanted you to have, till he could find your voice a perfect match for his needs. After pressing finish, he plugged his computer in and left his computer on as he got out of the chair and brought himself to his bed to sleep. Thankfully, he took a shower hours ago and was already more steps to sleeping than ever. Soon after, his head laid softly on the white pillow and his eyes began to close asleep.

The next day, around 5minuets, until it was time to see what he had gotten himself into. He moved his viewing location to his bed as it was simply more comfortable. Beforehand, he ate and cleaned out items he thought might me helpful with what he thought he’d get into in any minute now. While waiting with pain, he watched the minutes drop one by one until it was less than a minute and he grabbed his seanna drift, a virtual reality set made for his computer and recommended from an email sent to him earlier. He figured it came with more than just the yearly plan he paid for.

As his wallet cried, he read the direction of the screen ok how to connect the device to the website and began following the video instructions. As they told him where to find things and hook it up, he saw that it needed to charge and groaned loudly in annoyance. So he spent that saddened hour, cleaning his room till he saw green and followed the instructions once again.

“Okay ready!” he said, as the Vr headset and earbuds sat softly on his head. With wow and o’s he saw you in this basic room with the lights off and sudden shoe-making noises. Turning his head, he saw you turn on the lights and sat on the bed in front of him. Looking around he took note of his virtual surroundings before grabbing his flashlight and pouring lube he had trouble finding on the table and poor it inside the toy.

Waiting for you to make a move, he got up and placed his computer on the bedside table, and laid on his back. As shirtless and gray sweatpants he was, he still felt clothed. In that moment he took off his sweats, leaving his boxers on he noticed the screen changed onto the bed and it spoked him slowly. With you laying on his chest, he grabbed a free pillow and hugged it as if you were there.

“You feel warm” you chuckled, as namjoon blushed in the shock.

“Thanks, I guess you can see and hear me?” He asked, rubbing you “the pillow softly”

“I can, my system works like an actual person” you mentioned look g him in the eyes. Confused, he hummed in agreement. Whining, he was very pleased with how human you were and a bit concerned as well. He was amused and amazed at how advanced society had become.

After small talk, he warmed up to your very realistic body, voice and actions. Not to mention his hands moving slowly up and down his length as he watched you shower and how cute you looked when you did. Moving a bit faster, you looked and the system told you he was jerking off.

In a surprise you turned around and looked at him, covering your body. With him in tune with idea, he smirked. “what’s wrong baby? You don’t like when I view your body like this?” He asked, grinding his hips against the pillow.

“Well, um I do. Its just new to me okay” your system lies, as it registered grunts from namjoon.

“Well can you turn around for me?” He adds, taking his toy and liking it up to his actual length. Nodding, you turned around and bent over. As namjoon said his movements as listed in the tutorial earlier, you opened your legs as if he was spreading them for you. Holding onto the wall, he said more commands, and eventually, it looked like he was fucking you and it caused an involuntary grunt from his mouth.

“Fuck!” He cursed, sliding the toy up and down in a slow pace as he watched how his camera was moving. Looking at you he got up from a lying position, to his knees and moved the pillow into a u shape and placed his toy so it could feel more real to him.

Hearing your soft moans and a good view of your ass, he began to thrust faster into the toy, holding the pillow down as if he was your back and began moaning curse words. Luckley his head gear caught that and made your moans shift to match his rhythm.

“Ah! Ah! Please don’t stop!” You moaned, griping the shower walls looking back as his eyes wondered your body and all heard from him were grunts. Keeping your ask, he tried pacing himself so he wouldn’t cum too soon as the feeling was slowly building the more he got more into it.

“God! Fuck” he cursed again, as his head went back imaging you bounce back on him. Moving the toy to the desired speed, he kept going closing his eyes and listening to your moans as he reached his end. Jerking forward once more, his cock twitched as his cum spilled inside the toy. After coming down from the slight high, he looked at you who was hard breathing, body slightly shaking and a stream of cum laced your ass with grace.

After today’s use of the A.I he unplugged the device and let it charge. Shortly after, he exited the screen you were on and went to take a shower. Reflecting and thinking how could he make this experience even better and with that thought, he googled the company and saw they made Bluetooth connected toys. Browsing he found a torso toy and paid the extra $15 for the next day delivery. Smiling, he closed his computer and went to beg shortly after.

The next night, he had the box that contained the sex toy. He took it out and realized he picked the right color and body for you. As he read the directions he plugged it to charge and went to do some light reading verire coming back. Seeing the full bars on the side of the torso toy, he grabbed his headset and plugged everything in and made sure the section was secured.

You have connected toy 1251819, your system will now function off of movements from the toy and vr audio. Please speak select the place you wish to be in

After reading namjoon said “library” soon after, you showed up in the same outfit as he picked, sitting in the chair.

“Oh hi namjoon! What are you doing here?” You asked, smiling and putting the book down?

“Well I’m light studying for our test, mind if I join you?* he tells, as the vr moves his view next to you. While he looks around in his vr set, he notices your in a secluded area. As his hands move around the half thigh it registers and you blush slight.

"Sorry” he apologized, looking you up and down. As you told him it was okay, the screen of consent popped up and he knew it was okay to touch you. In that moment, he got on his knees again this time with a body like toy underneath. He instructed you to strip and as he watched you take off your clothes he rubbed his length in his bare hands.

“Good girl now gets on your back for me on the table,” he praised, watching you as your legs reminded closed. Opening them on the toy, you followed. He rubbed his hands around your thigh and rubbed around your lips till he found your clit and gently rubbed you in circles as you began moaning for him.

“You want me to stop?” He smirked, nodding no he stopped.

“Then tell me what you want” he adds, rubbing and teasing the area slowly. After explaining that you want him badly and would do anything, he removed his hand and rubbed his tip around your entrance.

“Please, please namjoon. I want it badly. You felt so good the last time” you told whining softly.

“Oh, you liked that?” He smirked chuckling softly under his breath. Nodding, he lubed you up hearing you moan to his touched, and soon began softly thrusting into you. Griping your shoulder softly, he stuped down your breast. As he began sucking on them soft, he moved in deeper feeling the toy clench on him. Surprised he jerked forward and went faster. It really felt similar to phaycal and actual human body. He continued thrusting, leaning over the you and the sting harder as grunts and your moaning filled his ear.

“S-so big namjoon, it feels-” you interrupted with a moan and he groaned feeling the toys warmness and the wetness of the amount of lube in you.

“Mm keep talking baby, tell me how good it feels!” He demanded, groaning and curing as he went harder. After a few words, his body started going faster as it started to feel too good on him. He told you to just moan and take him as he began chasing his high, which was beyond what he knew. As you moaned his name and reacted to his length and speed, namjoons grunts turned into soft whines and moans as he enjoyed himself with you.

“Oh you feel so good baby” he breathed out heavily. “Ah don’t stop cumming for me” he added, as the system didn’t stop cumming on him causing namjoon to thrust harder as the machine started releasing water already put in the toy on him. Feeling even more organic, he rubbed your clit getting you to choke on your moan as he went harder. Groaning deep and now at an animalistic speed the bed started speaking and his body kept going as he became more vocal with the feeling.

“OH GOD IN CUMMING!” he announced yelling, cumming so hard he started feeling sick and breathing so deep it made the feeling even more unbearable. Coming once more, he fell on top of the toy and laid there till he was able to come down from his high and plug his stuff back up. Looking he saw that not only did his toy break, but his computer was also malfunction with errors on the screen.

With not a lot of energy, he closed his computer and sat the now broken toy beside him as he breathed heavily. Not to mentioned the multiple knocks at his door, he assumed where from one of his neighbors.

“Just his luck” he whispered as he softly passed out sleep.

[nyx-aira]

Allie's Birthday Gift

A/N: It's my friends birthday and I wanted to do something special for her.

Birthday message: Happy birthday, you're one of my closest friends on here and I'm so glad were mutuals (thank god I didn't know shit about masterlists) I hope you have a beautiful birthday and I wish you all the best.

Taglist: @escapetodreamworld @midnight-lestrange @ynscrazylife @ycfwmalise14 @procrastinatingsapphictrash @ineffablebean @legolas-with-hearing-aids @wlwlovesreading @satxnsupreme @teenwonder

Natasha looked at her phone, 2AM, time to get started. She snuck out of bed, making sure not to wake you and went on her way to the communal kitchen. Grabbing the recipe she stole from your favourite cooking book she got to work, thanking Tony that he made the walls soundproof.

Now Nat wouldn't consider herself a master at baking but she had picked up a couple skills from Steve and surprisingly from Thor. That's how she managed to actually make a decent cake. Sure she could have simply bought one but she wanted to make something special.

Waiting for the cake to cool down she went to the living room and started decorating. Banners, balloons, confetti, the whole nine yards. After she was finished it looked like a confetti storm had swept through the tower. Perfect.

Looking at the clock she realised it was already 4AM. Getting back to the kitchen she started frosting and decorating the cake in your favourite colours. After that was finished she cleaned up and crawled into the vents where she had Clint hide your presents.

After what felt like an eternity she finally found the archer, sitting at the corner and handing her the presents like it was a drug exchange. Shaking her head at Clint's dramatics she crawled back while making a small detour to see if you were still asleep.

Getting all the presents ready and wrapping everything took its time so when Nat was finally finished it was shortly after 6 in the morning. Exhausted she crawled into bed again and fell asleep immediately.

When she woke up again the sun was shining through the window, casting the room in a warm glow. She gently woke you up and smiled as she saw you throw the covers over your head.

"Wake up babe, it's your birthday and I've got a surprise for you."

That seemed to do the trick as you shot up and looked at the redhead with big eyes. She whistled three times and after a short while you could her footsteps and Steve entered the room, wishing you a happy birthday and placing a tray with the most deliciously smelling breakfast on the table.

That was only the start though. When you finished eating you both went to the living room where the whole team was waiting for you, singing their own version of happy birthday and scrambling over each other to hug you first.

They sat in silence as you opened their presents, one better than the next. Art supplies from Steve, some of the books you wanted from Bruce, Asgardian trinkets from Thor, a basket of you favourite snacks from Clint and an intelligent football from Tony so you could practice without needing another player.

You all looked at Nat as she gave you her present. It was a small box, wrapped in red wrapping paper with a black bow. You took it from her and gently opened it. Inside was a thin silver bracelet with only one pendant attached. It was a small ballerina. You looked up at Nat, noticing the blush that was setting on her cheeks.

"It's a memory bracelet, you add a charm for every important memory you share with the people you love. The ballerina is supposed to represent our first meeting. Do you like it?"

You just wrapped your arms around her as you whispered a thank you into her neck. As you looked up you could see every member of the team holding something in their hands.

Steve's pendant was a small butterfly. You remembered the day you two went out for a walk and a swarm of butterflies came over to you, settling on both of you, making the day a day you wouldn't forget so fast.

Thor's was a miniature version of Asgards Palace. You and the team had visited once and he had showed you the place, playing a few pranks on your friends and teammates.

Bruce held a tiny teacup in his hand. It represented your weekly tea dates where you would catch up with each other and talk about anything and everything.

Clint's pendant was a dog, lucky. You two had found him in an ally as you went home from shopping and had decided to adopt him, making him part of your big family.

Lastly Tony held up a tiny arc reactor, reminding you of the times you had helped him overcome his fears and helped him out of darker episodes.

You accepted them all with tears in your eyes and added them to your bracelet, tackling them all in a group hug.

You spent the rest of the day laughing and having fun together. Ending the day with a movie night, all pressed together on the tiny could, holding Nat in your arms. There couldn't be a better way to celebrate your birthday.

[discoscoob]

New York | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

The TARDIS lands in New York City, leaving you and Loki to worry how the citizens might react to seeing the God wandering around the city he once attacked.

Part Seven | Part Nine | Chapter Index

Words: 5.1k

Warnings: angst and injury

Read on AO3

You had just finished getting dressed for the day, when you fell back into your bed, which Loki had yet to leave. You rested your head on his naked chest and listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, as you basked in the heat of the warm morning sun which radiated through your artificial window. 

 Your arm wrapped around his stomach, which gently rose and fell with each breath and it fascinated you that this extraordinary, immortal being, who was resting in your bed, inhaled air through his lungs and had a regular heartbeat just like you or anyone else. 

 You picked up his hand and he let you examine it as you held it in the air with your own. He had four slender fingers and a thumb, his nails were neatly trimmed and his palm was scattered with creased lines, which you traced with the tip of your pointer finger, Loki’s hand twitched slightly at the ticklish feeling. You trailed your finger all the way down to the back of his narrow wrist and over the blue and purple lines of his veins, which decorated his pale skin in the shape of lightning bolts.

“You’re so... ordinary.” You softly thought out loud.

 “Thanks?” Loki answered, his tone dripped with offence and sarcasm but you could tell it was lighthearted.

 “No, wait. That came out wrong. I don’t mean it in a bad way,” you reassured him, “It’s just... fascinating.”

 Loki hummed in acknowledgment and you intertwined your fingers and let your hands rest over his stomach.

 Ever since your recent trip to the 1920s, one specific thought had occupied your mind. The Reverend’s transformation into his true form had reminded you that, despite how ordinary Loki may have appeared to look, there was another version of him being suppressed by magic, his Jotun form and true identity. 

 “Loki, can I ask you something?” You tentatively questioned.

 “Mhm... anything.”

 “What do you really look like?” 

 “What do you mean?”

 “When we were inside the volcano in Pompeii, the Doctor scanned you with his sonic and said that magic was suppressing your true form.” You explained and you felt Loki’s body stiffen ever so slightly beneath you and from under you ear, you could hear that his heartbeat had increased its pace.

 “Why... would you want to see that?” Loki slowly asked, he didn’t understand what desire you would have to see that part of him.

 You propped yourself up on your elbow and looked down at him.

 “Wouldn’t you want to see my true form if our roles were reversed?” You asked him, you don’t doubt if you had another form, Loki would wish to see it and if he imagined that, maybe it would help him understand your interest in his.

 “That would be different.” Loki decided after thinking about it.

 “How so?”

 “Your true form wouldn’t be...” Loki’s eyes drifted off with his words as his face twisted in disgust.

 “Wouldn’t be what?” You nudged him.

 “It’s just not something you would want to see, trust me.” He tried to gently explain.

 “I’m sure that’s not true–“

 Loki cut you off by snapping your name and your lips immediately fell into a straight line as you stiffened, “just- just leave it.”

 You tilted your head downwards and let your eyelids cast over your eyes as the tension left your body with a sigh. You rolled off the bed, muttering something about how the Doctor would be landing the TARDIS somewhere soon and you would meet Loki in the control room after he got dressed, before you swiftly slipped out of the room.

 Loki brought his palms up to his face and let out a groan of frustration as soon as the door shut behind you, immediately regretting how he handled the situation.

 Meanwhile on the other side of the wall, in the corridor, you were mentally beating yourself up. You should have noticed that he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of showing you his true form and respected his boundaries. 

 You already knew that no matter whether Loki was in his Asgardian or Jotun form, you would not see him any differently and you wanted him to understand that but you didn’t want him to feel forced to show you a part of himself he obviously had trouble accepting.

 With your head hung regretfully, you pushed yourself off the corridor wall and made your way to the control room.

 ***

 Your auntie called your name as soon as she saw you enter the control room, you looked up and saw her face splitting grin as she approached you.

 “The Doctor is going to let me fly the TARDIS!” She told you, barely containing her excitement.

 “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, he barely even knows how to fly this thing, never mind you.” You worried.

 “Hey!” The Doctor poked his head up from behind the console, clearly offended. 

 “It’s a health and safety hazard that this thing doesn’t have seat belts.” You continued.

 “Well, there’s a rail,” the Doctor nodded his head to the rail that surrounded the centre controls, “and there’s handles around the console.” He demonstrated their sturdiness by pulling on one of them only for it to snap off and send him stumbling into the rail, which he managed to catch himself on. “As I was saying... there’s a rail,” he patted it, “very sturdy.”

 “This thing is falling apart.” The Doctor commented to himself as he threw the broken handle over his shoulder, you heard the sound of metal clink as it landed somewhere beneath the platform which the console was on. 

 “Right, Donna, over here then” He called her over and she clapped her hands with excitement as she jogged around the console to where the Doctor instructed her to stand. 

 As he began muttering instructions to her, you decided to grab a tight hold of the rail, not trusting the handles on the console.

 “I can’t believe I’m doing this!” Donna stated, the pitch of her voice rose with her enthusiasm and disbelief.

 So far there had been minimal turbulence and you were beginning to think she might actually be a better pilot than the Doctor.

 “Oh- oh, careful.” You heard the Doctor mutter as he pulled out a small hammer and hit it against the console before he switched a leaver, which caused the TARDIS to let out a whirling sound.

 “Left hand down. Left hand down!” He urgently instructed your auntie, as soon as she pulled down the leaver in her left hand the TARDIS jerked harshly, if it weren’t for your tight hold on the rail it would’ve knocked you off balance. 

 “You’re getting a bit close to the 1980s!” The Doctor fretted as he watched the monitor.

 “What am I gonna do, put a dent in them?” Donna rolled her eyes.

 “Now, pull that down gently. Gently!” The Doctor stressed and the TARDIS shook violently as the sound of wheezing filled the room, which informed you it was landing, but rather harshly due to Donna’s amateur piloting.

 “I did it! Did I do it? I did it, right? I landed the TARDIS?” Donna cheered joyously.

 “You did it!” The Doctor confirmed, looking just as surprised.

 “Doctor, that was a bad landing, even for you.” Loki critiqued the Doctor as he entered the control room, dressed in a navy blue button down with the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tucked into some dark suit trousers.

 “It was me.” Donna proudly corrected him, despite his negative criticism, and he raised his eyebrows, forming slight creases below his hairline.

 “Well, Doctor, if you’re going to let anyone fly this thing it should be me. I can be a very skilled pilot.” Loki suggested.

 The Doctor shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. You can have a go on our next trip. Then maybe you could have a go.” He looked at you and your eyes widened like saucers.

 “Oh, no. No, thank you. No, I don’t trust putting all your lives in my hands.” You swiftly declined. 

 “Fair enough.” The Doctor grabbed his long brown trench coat off the seats next to the console and pulled it on. “Let’s go see where Donna crash landed.”  

 ***

 “No! No way! I landed in New York City?” Donna span around and looked up in awe at the skyscrapers that reached beyond the point her eye could see. “Doctor, we’re in New York City!”

 “Yup, I can see that.” The Doctor remarked as he followed behind her with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets, he glanced around the busy street which was filled with people who were far too busy to even take a second glance at the blue police box which had materialised out of nowhere.

 You and Loki shared a nervous glance as you stepped out last, both knowing what the other was thinking without even saying it. You weren’t sure what year it was, although you could already guess it was the modern day from the fashion and the vehicles which were stuck in traffic on the road nearby. 

 If it was any time after Loki’s attack, he might be easily recognisable and goodness knows the kind of panic it might cause if he is seen wandering around the streets of New York. On top of that, Donna and the Doctor still weren’t aware of Loki’s past and this would not be the most ideal way for them to find out. 

 Loki kept his head down, hoping that if the commuters didn’t notice the TARDIS, they wouldn’t notice him as the pair of you caught up with Donna and the Doctor, who by the sounds of it were already planning a trip on one of the topless tourist buses, dread filled you at the mere thought.

 “That would be lovely, but we don’t have any money, do we?” You reminded them, feigning disappointment. 

 “Not to worry, I have the psychic paper, remember?” The Doctor pulled his wallet from his suit pocket and waved it in front of you and you had to quickly turn your glare into a smile.

 “Yeah but, buses give me motion sickness.” Loki quickly interjected. 

 “You never get motion sickness on the TARDIS.” Donna looked at him sceptically. “If anything’s gonna give you motion sickness it’d be that thing.” 

 “Funny that, isn’t it.” Loki shrugged, pretending to be as baffled by it as she was.

 “How about the observation deck of the Empire State Building instead.” The Doctor offered.

 “I don’t really feel like doing touristy things. Why don’t we head back to the TARDIS and go somewhere else? We have the whole universe to explore.” You suggested.

 “Are you all right?” Donna squinted her eyes at you. “You want to go back in the TARDIS and likely end up getting chased around by aliens? After the last few trips we’ve had, don’t you just wanna have some fun? This is New York City, what’s the worst that could happen here?” 

 As if on cue, the sound of a sonic boom carried through the streets and from the top of one of the buildings, that towered above the rest, an electric blue beam shot directly to the sky and parted it to form a worm hole which revealed the depths of outer space. 

 Like an endless swarm of flies, dark figures which you could not identify, flew out of the portal in all directions. There appeared to be another figure already combating the invasion, as it launched tiny missiles at the hostile threat, resulting in several explosive clouds to form midair but more creatures continued to arrive.

 “You’ve got to me kidding me.” Donna groaned. “Can’t we go anywhere, just once, without either an alien invasion or someone getting possessed?”

 Around you, people either stopped and stared at the battle in the sky above them or were already running in the opposite direction, some people were exiting their cars which were caught in the traffic jam and abandoning them without a second thought as they ran away in search of safety.

 “Is that...” You spoke low enough just for Loki to hear and when you looked at him he appeared as though he was about to be sick as he nodded in confirmation.

 You flinched with a yelp as one of the creatures crashed landed on top of one of the abandoned yellow taxi’s, crushing it beneath its weight. The sound of the car alarm echoed off the surrounding skyscrapers as the onlookers who hadn’t immediately ran, screamed with terror as they trampled down the street in a crowded herd, while you were glued to the spot alongside your auntie, Loki and the Doctor. 

 “What is that thing?” Donna’s face twisted with horror as she looked upon the motionless creature on the dinted roof of the taxi.

 “Chitauri.” Loki answered as he began backing away. “We must leave. It’s not safe. More will come.” 

 The Doctor looked conflicted, as though he didn’t want to abandon the city without trying to help but with another glance up to the worm hole, he seemed to realise that the situation was out of his depth.

 “Loki is right, return to the TARDIS!” The Doctor raised his arms to his sides and encouraged you all to start running, not that you needed to be told twice. 

 Loki grabbed your hand and lead the way, it wasn’t far, the blue box was in sight just at the very end of the now empty street which you were running down.

 The sound of emergency sirens, car alarms, distant screams and explosions surrounded you and heightened your distress, but you tried to block it all out and remain focused on the TARDIS, which grew closer with every step, and the feeling of Loki’s hand secure in yours.

 Every few seconds you glanced behind you, just to ensure that your auntie and the Doctor were safe and keeping up. 

 You were barely a few meters away from the TARDIS when one of the Chitauri landed in front of it, blocking your path, the concrete beneath its feet cracked from the impact of its land and you and Loki slid to a halt as it pointed its weapon at the pair of you. 

 Without hesitation Loki shot a burst of magic at the creature out of the palm of his hand and sent it flying straight into the doors of the TARDIS, where it slumped lifelessly to the floor. 

 You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding as you let your tense muscles slightly relax, unfortunately you couldn’t enjoy the feeling of relief for long as Loki’s magic had attracted more of the Chitauri. 

 You couldn’t get into the TARDIS without moving the body in front of the doors and with the Chitauri beginning to surround you, pausing to drag the body out of the way would only make yourselves easy targets. 

 “Run!” You heard the Doctor shout above the noises of a city and you all retreated as the Chitauri shot lethal lasers towards you. Loki pulsated a wave of his harlequin magic towards the vicious aliens, knocking several of them into the walls of the surrounding buildings with so much force, the brick crumbled against their back as they flopped to the floor. 

 In the next street you ran into, several police cars gathered in the middle of the road, the officers crouched behind the open doors of their cars and pointed their handguns to the sky and shot aimlessly at the army overhead, needless to say, they weren’t providing much help.

 The Doctor paused in the middle of the road, civilians were running in all directions. Some ran into buildings in search of safety, others ran out of buildings in fear of getting trapped. The Doctors eyes were wide beneath his wild eyebrows as he looked up and down the street. 

 “We need to find a subway! Get underground!” The Doctor shouted.

 Your eyes caught sight of three pods which were flying in a V like formation as they began swooping down towards the street. You started backing away, until you realised that the one front and centre wasn’t being rode by a Chitauri. The person dressed in golden armour with an emerald green cape which screamed for your attention as it fanned out behind him and wearing a helmet designed with large horns, was Loki. 

 Your Loki’s eyes filled with terror as soon as he realised his past self was heading straight for you and he immediately began running towards you. While for you, it was as if time moved in slow motion, as you swear that the God flying above you looked you dead in the eye, sinister chills shot down your spine as his stare lacked any of the softness, care and adoration which it usually overflowed with whenever your Loki looked upon you. Before your eyes could even catch sight of it, a laser beam from his pod was shot directly at where you stood. 

 Your Loki reached you just in time to push you out of the way of the explosion it caused upon impact with the ground and the force of the blast launched both your bodies across the street. 

 You were the first to crash against the concrete and Loki landed after you. He had managed to prepare for the fall with his arms braced in front of him so when he landed above you, his hands were on either side of your shoulders, holding up his upper body so he didn’t crash down straight on top of you.

 He heard your auntie cry your name, as she rushed to your side and Loki hesitantly repeated it as he gently nudged your shoulder, you were curled up on your side, next to the curb and your face was hidden from view by your hair. 

 Loki’s stomach filled with nerves so strong they caused nausea, at the thought of how you might look at him once you turned over onto your back. He would never forgive himself if your eyes widened with fright as they looked upon him, since you had just witnessed his past self shoot a lethal blast directly at you, he feared it might permanently damage your perception of him.

 Guilt was already drowning his heart in his chest and it floated in the rising levels up to his throat which choked around it as he struggled to pull air into his lungs. 

 He was already remorseful of his actions on this day but now he had just witnessed himself attempt to hurt– or rather, kill you. The thought of you coming in harms way had bile rising from Loki’s stomach, the thought of himself being the one responsible for you getting hurt caused an unbearable amount of guilt to stab through his heart so hard it caused physical pain.

 “Why isn’t she moving?” Donna’s voice pulled him back to reality.

 He had saved you, he pushed you out of harms way. You were just scared and you needed to be reassured that you were out of danger. Loki gently nudged you again, softly calling your name.

 “I’m so sorry. You’re safe now, my love. I won’t hurt you, I promise. Please forgive me.” Loki whispered to you. 

 “Loki, she’s not moving.” Donna repeated, the panic was evident in her voice as she called the Doctor over.

 “Darling, please open your eyes for me.” Loki had been so concerned by the thought of how you might look at him once you laid your eyes on him, but now he realised he didn’t care at all how you looked at him he just wanted to see you open your eyes. He didn’t understand why you weren’t. He had saved you from the explosion, he had protected you from harm.

 “Loki,” He felt the Doctors hand rest on his shoulder and he shrugged it off, “let me look over her, I want to help.”

 Hesitantly Loki shifted so he was no longer leaning over you and instead kneeling by your side.

 “Oh my god.” Loki heard Donna gasp, as a sob crawled from her throat. He looked up at her, where she stood by your feet and then back down to where her eyes were fixated.

 There was blood smeared on the edge of the curb just above your head, Loki hadn’t noticed it before, since his eyes were only focused on you and Donna hadn’t seen it either because Loki had been blocking her view. 

 The Doctor cautiously rolled you onto your back and that’s when Loki saw the right side of your face. You had graze marks across your chin and cheekbones but what pierced ice cold panic straight through his bloodstream was the large injury on your temple. 

 The Doctor began sliding his arms under your back and your legs. 

 “What are you doing?” Loki worried and the Doctor paused his movements and nodded to a deserted alleyway that was just across from them.

 “I’m going to move her off the street, it will be safer there.” He explained and Loki nodded in agreement and let the Doctor scoop you up. Loki wanted to be the one to carry you, but he wasn’t sure you would appreciate that since the only reason you were in this state in the first place was because of him.

 “Will she be okay? How bad is it? Can you fix it?” Donna fretted, her eyes were brimming with tears as she tenderly placed her palm on the crown of your head as she walked beside the Doctor. He remained silent, not answering any of her questions, he wasn’t going to promise her anything until he could properly examine you. 

 The Doctor carefully placed you back on the ground, once you were in the safety of the secluded alley. He reached into his coat pocket as he knelt beside you and pulled out his sonic screwdriver, he scanned it over you to get a diagnostic of the damage caused to your body. 

 As he did this Donna knelt on your other side, holding your hand and whispering to you that everything would be okay, although it was mainly to comfort herself. Loki kept his distance and watched on with tear filled eyes, constantly playing back in his mind how he could’ve saved you differently so that you wouldn’t have suffered a head injury as the blast launched you to the floor. 

 “She’s alive.” The Doctor confirmed and Donna sobbed with relief as she whispered to you that she knew you would be okay and praised how strong you were but the Doctor’s face remained solemn and it didn’t take long for Donna to pick up on it.

 “What’s wrong? You said she’s alive, that means she’s okay, right? She’s going to wake up.” Donna looked at the Doctor with so much hope, just wanting to hear him reassure her that you were going to come around but he remained silent. “Doctor, tell me she’s going to be okay.” She demanded.

 “She has a subdural haematoma.” The Doctor explained grimly.

 “What...” Donna’s voice trembled with the force of her cries.

 “There is a bleed on her brain, it would require emergency surgery to fix it.” 

 “Then what are we doing in an alley?” Donna gulped back her sobs. “We have to get her to a hospital!” 

 Loki sniffed back his tears and harshly wiped his eyes with the back of his wrists, realising that wallowing in his own guilt wasn’t going to fix anything. 

 He approached your unconscious body and knelt above your head, as he reached both his hands out to place them over your scalp, Donna reached out her own hand to stop him.

 “What are you doing?” She worried. 

 “I can heal her.” Loki promised and Donna’s eyes swam with hope as she retracted her hand with a nod and let him continue.

 She went back to whispering words of reassurance to you and herself as she cradled your hand to her chest, while Loki cradled your head. 

 Slowly a green essence surrounded his fingers and began to sink into your skull, Loki closed his eyes to concentrate on where he was focusing his energy. It was a very tricky and delicate task, he was used to his magic being more chaotic rather than gentle and precise, so it required a lot of focus. He blocked out the sounds of the battle taking place beyond the alley, he blocked out the sirens and alarms and he blocked out Donna’s whispers until he was surrounded by silence and it was just you, him and his magic.

 Once he was certain he had removed the bleed from your brain, repaired the rupture and fixed any damages he could find, he placed a sleeping spell over you in order for you to recover. He was carefully withdrawing his magic from your skull when a force hit him hard in the centre of his chest, at first he just jerked but he managed to maintain control over his magic and was able to carefully retract it from your mind.

 Once the green essence had absorbed back into his own fingertips, he opened his eyes and tuned back into reality. Donna was panicking as her eyes bounced between his wounded chest and the opening to the alley, while the Doctor was trying to help her remain calm.

 Loki looked down at his chest and saw an arrow imbedded in it, nothing that could cause him any severe damage, but he vigilantly watched the rooftops which were visible to him from his position, searching for a particular archer. He was about to pull the sharp weapon from his chest when his limbs began to feel limp and heavier than usual. 

 Suddenly he was no longer able to sit up and his back collided with the rough ground and he quickly realised that the arrow must have been coated in a toxin which entered his bloodstream and rendered him immobile, as much as he tried to fight it, it were as if his bones were made of mjölnir.

 “Loki, did you truly believe that changing your attire and hiding in a dark alley would make you unnoticeable?” A deep voice caught the attention of Loki, Donna and the Doctor.

 “Thor, you are astoundingly boneheaded.” Loki groaned from the ground.

 “Now, now, brother. No need to insult my intellect just because you’re wounded by the fact I outwitted you.” Thor spoke in a condescending manner.

 “I hate to be the bearer of bad news but you have not outwitted me, not even close.” Loki boredly replied.

 “My Lady, I assure you’re safe now. What did Loki do to your friend?” Thor ignored his brother and addressed Donna who had been staring at him with a slack jaw ever since he had made his presence known. 

 “He uh... He healed her.” Donna answered in a dumbfounded state.

 “Healed?” Thor slowly repeated with a tilt of his head. 

 Before he could ask any further questions, his attention was stolen by a doorway shaped portal which materialised near the back of they alley. A man wearing a brown suit stepped through it, followed by two armed officers dressed in black combat uniforms.

 The Doctor glanced over his shoulder once he heard the sound of footsteps echoing off the narrow walls and immediately recognised the man. 

 “Oh, Loki,” Mobius sighed as he stood over him. “What did I tell you about using your magic? I suppose I should be grateful as it has made my job a lot easier, the boss has been on my case all week about finding you. I was this close,” he held up his pointer finger and thumb a hairline away from each other, “to getting fired. So honestly, I’ve never been more glad to see your face. That injury isn’t fatal is it?” He pointed to the arrow in Loki’s chest. 

 “I am beginning to wish it was.” Loki groaned as he stared up at the fair haired man who stood over him before the two officers grabbed each of his arms and dragged him to his feet.

 Once he was stood to his full height, Mobius walked up in front of him and secured a collar with a small red light on it, around his neck. Loki growled and used what little strength he had to try and shake it off, but it proved useless.

 “Hey!” The Doctor and Thor shouted towards Mobius at the same time.

 “What authority do you have to arrest my brother.” Thor demanded.

 “Let him go!” The Doctor ordered.

 As soon as Mobius saw the Doctor again, his face paled and he commanded the officers to swiftly move Loki through the portal, as they did the God growled and yelled threats the entire way, trying to conjure his usual strength back into his bones and muscles.

 “I don’t want any trouble, I’m just doing my job.” Mobius held up his hands as he looked between the Time Lord and the mighty, armour clad warrior wielding a large hammer.

 “I can’t let you do that.” Thor said as he began swinging the hammer in his fist like a helicopter propeller, which caused his crimson cape to wave majestically behind him.

 Mobius’ eyes widened with fright as he muttered something about how he doesn’t get paid enough for this, before he leapt through the portal and it vanished behind him just before Thor’s hammer could reach it and instead it went crashing through a brick wall and into the building behind the alley. 

 “Loki has been taken.” Thor suddenly spoke and for a moment Donna and the Doctor stared at each other as they wondered who he was talking to, until they saw his face twist with confusion and realised he was listening to someone through a discreet communication device. “Stark tower... but he was just here... damn it, Loki.” He cursed as he held out his hand with an open palm, Donna and the Doctor flinched as his hammer came flying back to him, smashing another hole into the brick building it previously went crashing through.

 “Oi watch it! You nearly knocked my block off!” Donna complained. 

 “Apologies, my Lady.” Thor distractedly expressed his remorse as he once again began propelling his hammer, Donna ducked down, leaning her upper body over your sleeping form in an effort to protect both you and herself, while the Doctor stepped backwards with his arm raised in front of his face.

 All of a sudden, Thor shot off the ground and into the air like a rocket and Donna and the Doctor craned their necks to follow him with their eyes until they could no longer see him. 

 “I just wanted a nice, normal trip for once.” Donna sighed before she looked down at you, “She’s going to be devastated when she wakes up and realises Loki has gone.”

 “We’ll get him back.” The Doctor said determinedly.

[hockeyboysiguess]

dear winter | c. parakyo

a/n: this one was entirely inspired by and written to dear winter by ajr. highly recommend listening to this while you read. this is your reminder that vince dunn isn’t the only player on the blues. enjoy!

warnings: a little swearing. otherwise, alllllll fluff. 

word count: 6K

You sighed as you felt a firm kick to your bladder. You had to give it to her, your baby had great aim, something she’s definitely inherited from her dad since you couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a baseball even if you were being coached through each movement. You rubbed your growing bump softly, a vain attempt to get her to relax, before you grabbed the full file box. Colton would be upset if he knew you were moving boxes without him. You loved Colton, god, did you ever love your husband, but he was treating you like you were going to break any second. He had as soon as you’d told him you were pregnant. You tried to fight him on it, but if Colton wanted something to go a specific way, there was pretty much nothing you could physically do about it. He was a physical immovable force. You settled for doing things when he wasn’t home.

You huffed out a loud breath as you sat down on the couch with what would be your fourth box of the day. You had been trying to go through everything in the room that was going to become “Little P’s” nursery, as Colton called her. You were also using it as an excuse to actually clean out your catch-all spare bedroom instead of just moving the problem of having too much stuff from the bedroom to the attic.

You sucked in a deep breath before blowing off the layer of dust from the top of the box. You lifted the lid and sighed. It was absolutely packed with papers and notebooks, Colton’s notebooks. He religiously kept notebooks, not a diary, not a journal. He rolled his eyes whenever you called them that, telling you that they weren’t diaries or journals because he wrote anything in them, from grocery lists, to hockey plays he thought of, gift ideas for you, anything. He also refused to get rid of a single one, much to your chagrin, but the least you could do was label them with the dates they contained to organize them. Thank god you’d pulled the label maker out for the last box so you didn’t have to get up. Getting up wasn’t your specialty anymore, thanks to Little P being a little less little since her father was a large human being.

You cracked open the first notebook after shaking off more dust, flipping to the first page to grab the date and the last page for the final one. Colton’s notebooks had never been any of your business. You thought he had every right to his private thoughts, something that had absolutely floored him when you started dating. Every other girl had tried to read over his shoulders, sneak a peak when he wasn’t around, but you trusted Colton, which is what you’d told him then and still told him now every time he picked up another notebook. The next notebook opened with a silly drawing, it made you giggle, but you didn’t pry further, simply adding your label and moving on to the next one.

Your brows furrowed when you came to a notebook toward the bottom. Unlike the rest, which were heavily worn in, the pages wrinkled and fanning out, making them appear thicker, this one was only partially started. The wear stopped about three-quarters of the way through it. You found it odd. Colton always finished everything he started, even if it was virtually impossible for him to do so. He was the least wasteful person you’d ever met. You shook off your thoughts. His notebooks were his business, not yours.

Still, regardless of you trying otherwise, your eyes flitted to the first entry in this notebook. The start of it pulled your eyes in unwillingly. It was a letter, a letter to someone else. Your heart sank and you slammed the notebook shut. No, you thought. Colton would never, but then who was he writing to? Your heart was aching in your chest. You trusted and loved your husband more than you ever thought possible for yourself, but your mind was running through possibilities and you needed to know. When your eyed scanned the first words, the tears started to slip out even though you willed them not to.

Dear Winter, I hope you like your name I hope they don't make fun of you When you grow up and go to school, okay? 'Cause Winter is a badass name

Colton’s words continued and your tears kept flowing.

Sorry if you don’t love it, baby girl, but I do and unfortunately for you, one me and one other person get to vote on it and I’m all in for it. Also, I’m not really sure where I got the idea to start this, but I’m two sentences in and I hope one day you think this is as cool as I do right now.

Anyway, I wanted to start by telling you what made me think of your name. I was walking through Forest Park (I’m playing for the Blues right now, in case that ever changes, so I’m in St. Louis) because I was having a pretty terrible day. I botched something at practice, couldn’t get the play right, and coach got angry at me. You probably know I don’t handle people being angry with me well because I doubt that’s ever going to go away. I found out the woman I was seeing actually cheated on me (I know, weird to read from me, but I hope you stick through this one) and I’m missing my family a lot today. (Side note: please come home more, Winter. I love you.)

So I was having a terrible day and decided to take a walk. It was chilly, but sort of comforting. It smelled like it was about to snow. I really hope you know that smell too, sort of like Christmas Eve, my favorite day of the year, as I also assume you know. Then, it started to snow. It was that beautiful, promising fluffy snow that makes me think of hot chocolate and peppermint and family. That’s when I really thought about you for the first time, Winter. I thought about us outside in our front yard, your mom on the front steps, and you catching snowflakes on your tongue. I thought about how you’d ask me to build a snowman with you, even though the snow wasn’t even sticking to the ground. I thought about you, Win. Winter. Some people hate winter. Some people love it. That’s also why it’s your name, Win. You might not be everyone’s cup of tea, Winnie, but that’s okay. You’re not meant to be for everyone. You’re meant to be exactly who are you as you’re reading this. 

I'm hoping that some day, I can meet you on this Earth But shit, I gotta meet your mom first

Love, Dad :) 

You placed your hand gingerly on your swollen stomach as the tears flowed freely. Colton wrote the first letter in the notebook seven and a half years before today. He’d been writing to her, the little girl still growing in your belly, for years, before you’d even moved to St. Louis let alone met Colton for the first time. Of course Winter would take that moment to kick you in the stomach. Winter. You loved her name too. You’d been racking your brain all day since you’d found out that Little P was a girl, not the boy you were convinced you were having based on your apparently flawed mother’s intuition, so when you found out Little P was a girl, you’d be wracking your brain all day for both a way to tell Colton and what you might name her. Somehow, even though he didn’t know yet, Colton had already taken care of another worry of yours, a man who didn’t know how to love you wrong. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from turning to the next page to read the next entry. Unlike his notebook he used every day, the next entry picked up a few weeks later.

Dear Winter, I hope you talk to girls Or boys or anyone you like

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written to you, but I heard something out a bar that made me come home and immediately grab this notebook. Sorry if this is a little unclear. Dad’s just a little drunk right now, but I want you to know how important this is and I wanted to tell you as soon as possible.

This guy at the bar was being... absolutely awful, Win. This girl was just trying to have a good time with her friends. She was wearing a pin on her jacket with the pride flag on it. This guy started asking her about it. She shrugged, said she was bi, and she moved on. Except he didn’t move on. I heard him talking to his friends, talking terribly about her. He was talking about her sexuality and what it could do for him, how good it would be for him that she was bi. It didn’t sit with me right, so I warned her what he said and she said something that stuck with me so I wanted to tell it to you. She said, “God, thank you for telling me. I’m so fucking tired of guys sexualizing my sexuality for their own sexual gratification. It has nothing to do with them, you know? It’s my sexuality. It’s for me and me alone. I thought it got through all of the bad stuff when my parents kicked me out for it. It just keeps on coming, you know? Fucking sucks.”

Winnie, whoever you like, boys, girls, both, neither, people who don’t identify any particular way, if you know deep down you’re not my little girl, but you’re my son, I’m always, always, always, always going to love you. I will always be in your corner, Win. My love for you will never change. My support for you with never waiver. I will stand with you a pride parades. I will advocate for you. I will do anything I can to make sure you know you are loved and supported and that you can always come to me. I will always protect you, Winter. I will always love you.

If you’re reading this and you haven’t come out yet, the door is open, Win. And I’m standing right there, arms wide open, ready to love the truest version of you, the version of you that makes you feel like your most authentic, happy self. Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.

Love, Dad

You felt your heart pound hard in your chest. Colton had never wavered on loving whoever your baby was going to be, but this, this was something special. You took a deep breath and looked down at your bump again.

“He loves you so much,” you told her softly as you gently rubbed your bump. “You have the best dad in the entire world. I just hope my genes don’t screw you up too much.”

You flipped to the next entry, laughing to yourself at how it was filled with entirely with car buying advice. Apparently, Colton has just bought a car the day he wrote it and he was keen on sharing his newfound wisdom with Winter. He also talked about how he was going to help Winter buy her first car and exactly what that would entail. It was such dad advice, but somehow it was perfect and it was Colton.

You kept reading, an entry an unknown amount of dates deep, caught your eye. You weren’t sure how deep into this you really were. You were flying through entries, Colton’s loving words pulling you through each page at a lightening pace. This one caught you eye though.

It really doesn't seem like there's anyone for me But dear Winter, I hope you like your name You know I cannot wait to teach you how to curse But shit, I gotta meet your mom first

You think your mom is going to like that I’m cursing in these letters? Probably not. But hopefully she’ll deal. I mean, I play hockey. Cursing is part of the game basically. I hope I teach you well. :)

You know, Win, I saw a couple out at a restaurant today and they were so in love. I, on the other hand, got stood up on a date today. Super fun, right? And super weird to hear from your dad, but it’s the truth. As smooth as I’ve tried to make myself look your whole life, Dad’s not really all that fucking smooth, Winnie.

But anyway, I wanted to tell you that it doesn’t matter if you ever find someone, Win. I wanted to tell you this because I need to hear it right now and even if when you first read this, you don’t need to hear it, I’m betting at some point in your life you will need it. You can achieve every single dream you have without a partner. You can have the life you want. You can have a family. You can make a beautiful life for yourself all on your own. Because you aren’t looking for your other half. You’re a goddamn full, beautiful, powerful person all by yourself. You are complete just as you are and that’s fucking amazing, Winnie.

Am I writing this for you in the future or me now? That’s debatable, but someday you’re going to need a reminder that you are a galaxy of beautiful, stunning possibilities. You are the sun, moon, stars, planets, and everything in between. A galaxy doesn’t need anyone or anything else. Always remember that anyone you let into your life should be in wonder at the galaxy that is you.

Sorry, Dad’s going to get off his weird soapbox now and go to bed. I’ll write you soon. Pinky promise :)

Love always, Dad

You gripped the notebook tightly in your hands, careful not to wrinkle the pages. You briefly thought about how you’d never read one of his notebooks before so maybe pregnancy hormones weren’t the best time to start, but this notebook was for someone. It was for the baby in your belly, so you kept reading. 

Dear Winter, 

I met someone today. I don’t want to say too much, in case it doesn’t work out. It never really works out for me, does it, Winnie? I hope a) that your mom has much better luck with men than I do with women and b) that you inherit her luck. At least I got her phone number, right? Maybe I can figure out how to sounds less like a guy that really like writing in notebooks and puzzles and more like a guy who is all about parties and adventure?

Actually, no, Win. No. Don’t listen to that. Be whoever you want to be, whatever that looks like. If some guy doesn’t like you because you’re a homebody, reject him and toss him out in the street. He’s clearly no good. Be whoever you want to be, Win. A homebody, a busy body, whoever that is, I’ve got your back for the rest of my life. 

(Side note: this girl is super, super pretty and she’s wicked smart with an incredible sense of humor. Kind of hoping this one works out? If not, then I guess on to the next one, right? If not, I’ve got to meet your mom one day, Win. We’ll see when it happens, I guess.)

Love, Dad

Your eyes scanned back up the page to the date. You breath hitched it your throat when you saw it and your hand came over your mouth as your eyes started to fill with tears again. It was about you. That was the day you met Colton for the first time. That memory was burned into your brain forever because it was honestly one of the worst days of your life, until Colton walked in.

You were about to give up. Four cups of coffee at varying degrees of strength had done nothing to stimulate an idea in your brain. Well, it would have been five cups of coffee if you hadn’t spilled the third cup down yourself and stained your favorite sweatshirt that was now a crumpled mess in your backpack. Despite that, you were still face to face with a blank Word document that needed to be six pages long by midnight tonight, which was less than twelve hours away. Procrastination always got the better of you. Today was no exception.

You had opened your day with a trip to the dentist and of course, you had a cavity. You didn’t realize until you got back to your car that your house key wasn’t on your key ring, so you couldn’t go home and your roommate was going to be out all day, so you’d had to post up in your fourth favorite local coffee shop as shops one through three were completely packed. You’d had to park six blocks over because you couldn’t find a spot. All of this chaos had wasted almost two hours you were supposed to be working. Then there was the spilled coffee, which you spilled because your terrible ex-boyfriend had shown up and tried to talk to you. In an effect to escape, the coffee had gotten spilled. To boot, after actually drank coffee number three, your mom had called you and told you your childhood dog had cancer. It was just one of those days. She was fifteen, so you couldn’t say she didn’t live a good, long life. Still, it was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

Your music was blaring in your eyes. You were rapidly flipping through Spotify trying to find something that might provide some inspiration. You sighed and rested against the back of the chair as your head fell back. You let out a long sigh and carded your fingers through your hair. Ideas or not, you needed to get started. That went out the window when you saw a large man standing next to your table when you lifted your head. He gave you a sweet smile and a small wave. Your eyes rolled up and down him quickly. He was massive, broader and taller than most people you knew. His size could make him intimidating, but there was something cautious and nervous about the way he moved. One of his large hands was shifting around his iced coffee. The other was fidgeting in his pocket. His smile was kind and inviting. His shoulder were low, hunkering down as if to try and look smaller than he was. It was his eyes that took your breath away for a second, a pair of beautiful baby blues framed by dark glasses.

You yanked one of your headphones out of your ears and raised your eyebrows at him.

“Hi,” he said softly. “Um, all the other tables are full. Do you mind if it sit? I’ve got an appointment in half an hour, so I won’t be in your hair for too long.”

You almost stuttered, but pulled yourself together in time to say, “Oh, yeah, sure.”

He thanked you with a sweeter, wider smile as he dropped down into the chair opposite you. He dwarfed it, and the small table you had stationed yourself at. He was just slightly too big for everything around him, but he didn’t seem to mind much. 

“I’m Colton, by the way,” he told you as he opened up a book you hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. 

You told him your name softly before you tried to get back to work. Every minute you had was precious at this point to meeting your deadline. Beautiful man or not, you had to get this done. Except he seemed to have other ideas. 

“What are you working on?” he asked you after a few minutes. You’d caught him eyeing you as you finally got some sort of an idea, so your fingers were blazing across your keyboard.

“Oh, just this project for work,” you answered flatly, not even looking up from your screen or pausing your furious typing to answer. “I got into this fight with my boss about it because I think her premise is wrong, so I’ve been having some issues trying to write this condensed summary of her position considering I disagree with it. But, hey, a job’s a job, right? At least I’m employed enough to keep my cat fed, the hungry bastard, and support my own coffee habits without a sugar daddy.” 

Colton laughed and like your life had sudden become a movie, the sound took your breath away. You couldn’t stop a smile from pulling up the corners of your lips as he laughed. His laugh sort of made you forget how embarrassing what you’d just said was. 

“Is he fat?” Colton asked before quickly adding. “Your hungry cat, is he a fat bastard as well as a hungry one?” 

“The fattest bastard of them all,” you laughed as grabbed your phone from next to your laptop to show him a photo. 

Colton whistled when he saw the photo and nodded softly. 

“Put a ribbon on him and you could enter him as a prized heifer in the county fair,” Colton joked, making you smile widely, your first genuinely thrilled smile all day. 

“I got him fat from the shelter,” you tried to explain. “I’m trying to put him on a diet, but he’s just not having it. Honestly can’t blame him. Diets are dumb. But the fatso won’t exercise. I got him one of those cat wheels, like a giant hamster wheel but for cats. He barely fits on it and even on the days he finds his balance enough to fit on it, he won’t use it. I’ve sort of thrown in the towel.” 

“I think he’s decided how he wants to be in life and you might just have to accept it,” Colton told you. “I’ll stop bugging you, sorry. I said I wouldn’t.” 

With that, he turned his attention to his book and you went back to your paper. You sat across from him for the next thirty minutes, occasionally taking glances over at him. You found out later on that he keep looking up at you over the top edge of his book the whole time. You somehow just never caught each other.  

As Colton got up to leave, he paused for a second with his phone in his hand, spinning it nervously. 

“Um, I know this is probably sort of random and you’re probably not interested, but would you maybe want to get coffee again sometime you don’t have to do work?” Colton asked you, stumbling over practically ever other word on his way to asking you on a date.

You smiled softly as the memory faded out. You placed your hand on your bump again. Thank god the first three coffee shops had been full that day. You gently turned to the next page then the next one and the next one, stopping when the start of another grabbed you. 

Dear Winter, don't move too far away And please don't say I'm hovering When I text you to ask about your day I wanna hear about your day Will we still hang out and talk when I'm no longer in charge?

I’m sorry if you ever think I’m hovering, Win, but I promise you, I just want to hear about your day, every single day. Sorry if you move far away for some incredible opportunity and I don’t handle it super well. You know me, your old man, I just want you to be able to catch up with you whenever I want to. I’m a little selfish that way, I guess. 

Who knows? Maybe by the time you move, teleportation will be real :)

But if you can, Winter, try and stay close to home. I miss my parents a lot, more than I can properly explain. I know you’re going to be so cool and smart and amazing and you won’t need me someday, but I hope you want me around anyway, even though I’m a lot sometimes. 

(Side note: That girl I talked about a while ago, she’s the one who made me think of this letter. I told her I was scared I was hovering too much, that I was smothering her, and she told me she wanted me around even more. I think you’d like her, Win.)

Hold on for someone who cares about you exactly as you are and loves the way you care about people. You shouldn’t have to change the way you care for someone. They should just feel it. 

Love, Dad

(P.S. Whenever you read this, please come home for a visit, even if you were here yesterday. I’ve definitely missed you since then.)

Your mind flashed back to Colton’s first road trip a few months after you started dating. You had a busy day, absolutely packed with meetings and work, so you’d barely had any time to glance at your phone all day. When you finally had a second to glance at it on the way to your car, you groaned. Two missed calls and four texts from Colton. Of course, the day he managed to find some time away from the guys to call you when you were supposed to be done with work, you had been kept late and missed him. 

You were already dialing his number as you dropped into your driver’s seat to begin the traffic-filled journey home. Colton answered on the second ring. 

“Hey.”

Your brows furrowed at his tone. He was trying hard to sound calm, but you could hear the nerves edging at each letter. He swallowed hard, hard enough you could hear it over the phone. 

“What’s up, babe?” you asked him as you slowly backed out of your parking space. “Is something wrong?” 

“No, nothing,” he said too quickly. He knew he’d said it too quickly the second it had left his mouth. He sighed and you heard some rustling on his end of the phone, following by a door being shut. “I’m sorry I bugged you today.”

“What?” you asked, even more confused than you had been previously as you turned on your right blinker. “You didn’t bug me, Colt. I asked you to call if you were free anytime outside my work hours. I just ended up working late today, that’s all.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

You could tell there was still something bothering him. His pitch was too high, responses too short. He was still on edge, something bigger dancing on the tip of his tongue. He knew you knew. You could read him like an open book even through the phone and he knew better than to not tell you when he was upset. “Relationships thrive with windows and doors open,” was what you always told him, and it takes two people to keep them open all the time.

“Am I hovering?” he blurted out. “Am I bothering you? I just, when I called you again, the guys started-”

“Those idiots that couldn’t keep a girl if they had a carefully curated list of instructions from the girl they liked to tell them how to keep her? They don’t know anything,” you jumped in. “You’re not bothering me, Colt. You never bother me. I want as much of you as I can get. If my life was you just and me, having our favorite lazy Saturday where we go to the farmer’s market, play Scrabble, make bad cocktails, and cook unnecessarily complex dinners before we watch some niche movie practically no one else on the planet has ever seen, I’d be so unbelievably happy. I want as much of you as I can have, Colt, and sometimes I feel like I’m asking for too much. You’re not hovering. I want you right here.”

“You’re not asking for too much,” he replied. Of course, Colton would ignore everything you had said to comfort him in favor of comforting you. “You’re sure I’m not too much? I can do less, if that would be better for you. I can, fuck, I don’t know, whatever you need.” 

“Colton, I love you,” you sighed. “That’s the easiest thing in the world to say to you. I love you, Colton. I love loving you. I love being loved by you. At least, god, I hope you love me back because now I’m realizing we’ve never actually said that and I’m sort of freaking out, but I love learning to love you better and I love finding new ways to show you I love you. Today’s way is actually telling you I do, I guess.” 

“Of course I love you too.”

Colton’s words had reminded you of a prayer, a prayer of a grateful man whose longing, desperate words to something out there that he’d whispered ages ago had finally been answered. You didn’t know how long he’d felt it, definitely longer than you, but love wasn’t a competition. There wasn’t a yardstick, a to-do list, or a formula. Love was whatever you made it to be. You loved Colton, and finally told him, and he loved you, and finally told you. That day, that was all either of you needed.

That day was so clear in your mind. It was the day that set your life on the path it was on, the day that really had started the path that ended up with little Winter being more than a figment in Colton’s mind when he wrote these letters. She was real and you were going to meet her in just a few short months. Your mind wandered forward, seeing Winter’s wide baby blue eyes, you imagined she’d look like Colton as well, hoping your genes didn’t taint his too much to ruin her, as Colton had her sitting on his broad shoulders, securing her safely to him with hands around her ankles as you walked through the zoo. She would be pointing at each animal, tugging on his hair, making sure he saw each and every one. He would be patient, kind, and caring, matching Winter’s excitement in kind with each animal. You would catch him on Google the night before, making sure he knew at least one random, uncommon fact about each one for her, just to make her day. That was the kind of thing Colton said he would do for her to you when you’d shown him the positive pregnancy test, and one of an ever-expanding, never finished lists of reason you wanted to have kids with him. 

You sighed as you felt her flip over in your stomach. She was constantly in motion, something that brought you peace because it told you she was healthy, but as much comfort as it brought you, it brought you more discomfort at the very feeling. You shifted on the couch as you turned to the next entry.

Dear Winter, I hope you like your name I hope you let me take a shot with you on your twenty-first But shit, you gotta ask your mom first

I really hope you let me take a shot with you on your birthday. I’m asking because I was at a restaurant early today and saw the dad order two shots of tequila at a five star restaurant for him and his daughter, who had to be about twenty-one when her birthday dessert came out. She thought it was hilarious and you could tell she she did the shot with him that she loved her dad a ton. So naturally I thought of doing it with you. I know you’re definitely not going to think I’m cool by then, and you could be living in Canada instead where the drinking age is lower, but either way, I hope you don’t mind taking a shot with your old man. 

But, even if you don’t think I’m cool, even if we have to do the shot together over Facetime, even if Facetime doesn’t exist and you have to text me to ask me what it means when you read this, I hope we do one together. I promise, your old man could drink once, Win!

So, go ask your mom and I’ll break out the good tequila for you! :)

Love, Dad

You would definitely have to approve of the aforementioned tequila shot now that he’d been planning it for almost twenty-five years based on when this was written and when Winter would be twenty-one base on her estimated birthday. You laughed lightly and shook your head. Colton was already winning parenting debates with you and he didn’t even know it. Actually, maybe he did. It would be Colton to have planned this all out just so. You smiled as you flipped to the next entry. 

Dear Winter, I'm looking for your mom I gotta find a girl that doesn't mind that I'm inside my head a lot Winter, it won't be too long First, I just gotta find your mom

This whole writing to you as I’ve looked for your mom is how this whole notebook started. 

And Winter, boy do I have some good news about your existence for you. 

That girl I mentioned a while back? I asked her to marry me today. And somehow, she said yes. 

I found her, Win. I found your mom. She’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met in my entire like, that is, until I meet you. And, Winnie, she’s so excited to meet you too someday. 

Here’s hoping she likes your name :) 

Love, Dad

Your eyes were filled with tears again and you were so caught up in the moment, you missed the sound of Colton fusing with the lock on the front door as he entered the house.

“Baby? Why are you crying? Is everything okay? Is Little P okay? How was the appointment?”

Colton’s questions were flying out of his mouth almost faster than you could understand. You heard his gym bag hit the floor and his feet hit heavy on the hardwood as he rushed over to you. Colton rounded the back of the couch and stopped when he saw what was in your hands. You closed the notebook gently in your hands, careful with the soft leather binding, before pulling the elastic over to keep it closed. You turned your head toward your husband. He was white as a sheet, nervousness coating his features. His baby blue eyes were jumping between your puffy eyes, your stomach, and the notebook in your hands impossibly fast. He swallowed hard, waiting for you to say something because his mind was running too fast toward the brick wall of having to ask you what you thought about what was in your hands to actually speak. 

“Colt,” you breathed out softly before placing a hand on your stomach again, “Little P is a girl.” 

“A girl? Really? I’m going to be a girl dad? Really?” 

Colton’s voice cracked with each word and tears began to spill over almost instantly as he sank onto the couch beside you. Hesitantly, as if he didn’t know if he was still allowed to, he reached a hand out toward your stomach. You grabbed his large hand with both of yours and placed it on your swollen belly. 

“Do you want to tell her what her name is?” you asked him softly. 

His eyes snapped up to meet yours. He took his bottom lip between his teeth and looked at with cautious, hesitant joy. 

“You like it?” Colton asked you, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I love her name, Colton, and since you came up with it, I think she should hear her for the first time from her incredible dad who already loves her more than she can possibly understand.” 

You reached a hand out to cup Colton’s face as you spoke. He leaned softly into your hand, his free hand cupping over yours, completely dwarfing it. He smiled at you softly before he placed a gentle kiss onto your palm, a silent way of telling you he loved you. His fingers wrapped around your hand, pulling it down to your belly along with his as his eyes shifted to it. 

“Hey, Winter, it’s me, your dad.”

[jadedxrealityw]

-Mind Stone- Peter Parker x Female Reader Part 1

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody: Awkward Peter Parker for the win. By the way both Peter and you will be 17 in this fic. K, thanks. Also reminder that Engame is set in 2023

   Movie/Show: After Endgame, but no one died because ignorance is bliss. 

   Summary: In the attack of 2012, you were given powers that you couldn’t understand at such a young age. 

   Possible Triggers / Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of blood and harm, Loki having a Thanos moment, Vision and Wanda being your new parents- but not really, slight OP reader- but only because i am dumb

    ☼-☪-☼

   highschool sucked, well that’s a given but what sucked even more was going to highschool in New York where the Avengers usually fought their battles. In 2012 when the first major attack happened. When Loki, the god of mischief used the tesseract to bring the Chitauri to Earth.

    you remember it vividly for a 6 year old child. Your mother and you had decided to go school shopping since you’d be starting kindergarten. You would have gone when you turned five, but you had a late birthday. After shopping for nearly an hour your mother decided to get you a donut from a local bakery.

   you had both walked in and your mother sat you at a booth with your bag of supplies. She walked to the counter and began to order what she wanted along with your favorite kind of donut. The shop had a glass wall in the front so you could see outside, you thought it looked pretty cool.

   at one point you looked up from the piece of paper you had been drawing on and towards your mother. She had just turned around holding a paper bag and a cup of coffee. She gave you a warm smile as she walked towards you. She looked at the window behind you and her face suddenly turned pale.

   she dropped the cup and bag onto the ground. You watched as coffee spilled all over the tile floor, but had no time to say something as your mother ran over to you and grabbed you from the seat. She held you close to her chest and ran out the store, not bothering to grab the items she left. 

   you were so confused on what was happening until you saw a tall unhuman like creature with grey skin and gold headpieces. The Chitauri. Your mother ran down the sidewalk as large ships flew through the sky. Buildings were being shot through and debris was falling from above.

   being just a little girl made the whole ordeal much worse. Your mother ended up running into an alleyway. She went behind a dumpster and crouched down, placing you on the ground. “Alright- it’s going to be alright” she grabbed your face and planted a kiss on your forehead. 

   the dumpster that you both were behind flew into the air and you were face to face with a Chitauri. It raised it’s gun and shot at your mother. It hit her in the middle of the back, causing her to fall to the ground. You watched as your mom fell to the ground and blood began to pour from her back.

   she slowly lifted her head and reached to touch your face “You have to run Y/n! Go!” she yelled as the Chitauri drew closer. You turned to look behind you. Run. That’s what she wanted you to do, but you didn’t want to leave your mom. She was hurt and was the only family you had. 

   ever watch those youtube videos of children trying to be protective and everyone finding it cute? Yeah those. Well this would have been cuter if you weren’t facing an alien that could shoot you in the face with it’s out of world technology. 

   your tiny 6 year old hands lifted up a piece of plywood from the ground and began to swing it around yelling at them to “Get away from my mom!” thinking back on it, you thought the Chitauri was more confused than threatened. It still walked towards you, raising it’s weapon. 

   that’s when something- someone dropped in the middle of both you and the Chitauri. It was a man with shoulder length black hair that was slicked back. He was wearing strange clothing that was dark green and black with some gold lining. 

   he turned to the Chitauri and waved his hand “Run along creature” he said in a formal tone. You kept the plywood in your hands as you didn’t know if this strange man was a threat or not. The Chitauri nods to him once before turning away and running out the alley, probably to terrorize other people. 

   the man turned on his heels and faced you. You had now noticed the golden scepter in his hands. It was curved at the top which was silver with a sharp edge and bottom and hand a bright blue stone in the middle, encased within the gold. He stalked towards you with an overly sweet grin.

   (cue Thanos moment) 

   “You’re just adorable aren’t you?” he spoke, mostly to himself rather than you. He crouched down to meet your gaze, his eyes an icy blue color. “Were you just about to challenge that Chitauri?” he asked, a slightly amused tone lacing within his words. You nod once, being the shy kid you were and stranger danger. duh

   he nods along with you before looking behind you to see your mother unconscious and on the floor. He doesn’t say anything involving her and looks back towards you “How old are you?” he questions. Your hesitant at first, but tell him “6...and a half” one of his eyebrows go up slightly in shock. 

   “Children who are willing to stand up to a creature much bigger than them are what we call little warriors. It’s honorable. If only you weren’t a mortal, so feeble and fragile” he spoke so formaly that your child mind was finding it hard to keep up with him. 

   his icy blue eyes slowly moved away from you at at his scepter “Hm” he hums before holding his staff up to you. You take a small step back, reasonably scared of the silver blade it had. How else did he think a kid would react. You weren’t quite sure why you hadn’t run away by now honestly.

   “Do not show fear. That is what will get you killed. Now little warrior. If you wish to protect the ones you care most for. Place your hand on the stone” he spoke, pointing towards the blue gem on his scepter. In other circumstances you would have ran away, but your eager child mild thought about your mother. 

   so you touched it

   you felt a swirling and painful feeling shooting through every inch of your body, causing you to left out a harsh scream. Your vision was covered in a blue like storm. Like a tornado that formed around you. You could no longer see the mystery man and could no longer feel your feet on the ground. 

   but just as fast as the feeling came it left and began to see black spots cloud every inch of your vision. You felt yourself drift out of consciousness and you black out. The man- Loki watched as you fell to the ground. He reached down and felt for a pulse. Still alive. 

   he got up and walked over to your mother, waving his hand over her wound and watched it disappear. He places a illusion and a type of force field over the alleyway and leaves to be his freaky weird self at Stark tower. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   2023 

   (Aka Kody’s version of Endgame that makes no logical sense)

   after being ‘blipped’ out of existence for five years you were still adjusting to the change. Your school- Midtown High School had created a program for kids how still needed to finish there senior year. You were placed in a new classroom with a couple of kids you knew and didn’t

   the only names you could remember was Ned, Mj, Flash- he was a dick, Betty, Liz, Brad, and Peter. You didn’t know any of them personally but had heard thee names enough to look at their faces and remember them. You all were in a class together all day except for lunch and a free period. 

   you didn’t really care much for making friends because you never had the time. After being blipped back you found out your mother wasn’t and she had been put in a home. You took care of her for a couple years until she died in her sleep from a stroke. 

   once you got back you took on a couple jobs to try and raise enough money to buy a small apartment for you. One job was a checking books for damages at a library and the other was stocking shelves at a supermarket along with the occasional dog walking and errand running.

   needless to say you were busy and guilty for what had happen that day to your mother. You tried telling her about the man that had talked to you which you later found out was Loki the god of mischief and he wasn’t the greatest of people, but he hadn’t been back to earth since. 

   the powers he gave you were more of a burden then blessing at most times. With the ability you could now throw energy projectile blasts, manipulate others minds, use telepathy, astral project and teleport. It was a lot for a six year old so you ended up never using it.

   that was until you were thirteen and walking to school. You saw a cat in the road laying down. The worst part was a car was coming quickly, speeding actually down the road and the cat was not moving. Your poor animal heart couldn’t take it and in an instant you teleported in front of the cat. 

   you picked it up and teleported back on the sidewalk. You weren’t quite sure how you did it, so chalked it up to spur of the moment thing. You ended up keeping the all black cat and naming it Snape. He turned out to be a little shit so it fits.

   after that you started practicing and developing your abilities. Your logic was if you have them at least learn how to use them even if you don’t want them. You had refused to use them unless absolutely necessary though. You didn’t want to draw attention towards yourself. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   6 months later

   outfit

   you pushed open the door to the classroom with one hand and a box of donuts in the other. “Is Mr. Harrington here yet?” you ask out loud earning a couple no’s in return from what you assumed was Mj and Betty. You nod once and shut the door. You look up and walk towards the table your friends were at

   yeah yeah, you decided to finally get close to these people you were stuck with. Some a bit more than others....Anyway, you took a seat next to Mj and place the box on the table “All your guys favorites. I know i’m amazing- hold your applause please” you say, holding up your hand.

   Mj rolls her eyes and slides a coffee cup towards you “Here, since you got donuts” she shrugs before reaching into the box. You smile and grab the cup. It was still hot. You hear the door open again and turn your head to see Peter and Ned walking “Hey guys! Y/n got us donuts!” Betty exclaimed. 

   they both look up. Peter looks at you and you both lock eyes for a moment before he adverts his gaze quickly. Imagine having a crush on a guy who is a nervous wreck? You found it cute though- in a non weird way. “Oh! cool. Thanks Y/n” Ned says and takes a seat next to Betty

   you give him a half smile as Peter takes a seat next to him. All of you grab a donut and begin to eat. After a couple minutes you hear Peter yelp and look towards him. He reached under the table and rubbed his leg, giving Mj a glare, who gave him one right back. 

   “So Y/n. Since midterms is coming up and we've all stuck together this year Peter was thinking of having a small get together at his house while his Aunt is out of town” Ned suddenly spoke up, taking your attention away from Peter and Mj’s death stares. Your face twinges a bit “When is it?” you ask. 

   “This Tomorrow” he says. You had always turn down offers like this because you feel guilty going out while your mother was stuck in a home unable to walk even though she told you to be a teenager multiple times and to stop worrying over her so much, but alas you were a stubborn one. 

   “I’m working that day-”

   “No your not. I have your work schedule, both of them” Mj cut in with her emotionless smile as she took a bite of her donut. How did she know your work- nevermind. You forgot Mj was a genius sometimes and a class A weirdo, but she was your weirdo. “I have to ask Nancy then-”

   “I called her. She said it was okay”

   you blink mindlessly for a moment before Betty spoke up “You have Nancy’s number?” she asked, leaning into the table. Mj shrugs her shoulders “She’s a nice conversationalist” she says vaguely. You all stare at her for a couple seconds before you think of another excuse. 

   “It’s Peters party thing.” You say and looked towards the brown haired boy who had been just listening to the chaos “Do you even want me there?” you ask him. Peter’s eyes widen briefly “Of course i want you there!- I- uh i mean yeah your my friend” he sputters slightly, Ned facepalming behind him.

   Mj grins as she finished her nice fried treat “I win” she says and you exhale “Fine i’ll go. It would actually be nice to get out the girls home” you admit, leaning back into the chair “Nancy still a raging bitch?” Ned said, making Peter and Betty chuckle. His laugh was nice- so was Betty’s of course eh ha. 

   “Mr. harrington is coming! Hide the box!” Brad yells as he peaks out the door. You all quickly scramble to shove the box in your bag.

   ☼-☪-☼

   at the end of class while you were packing your things when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You place your notebook back down and  turn behind you. There stood Peter Parker staring back at you nervously “Um- Hi” he says and you smile lightly “Hi” you say back to him.

   he reached behind and scratched the back of his neck “So uh- about my party thing tonight” he starts. You nod slowly “Yeah the party thing” you repeat. “Ned’s thinking about bringing Betty as his date” Peter sputters out. You purse your lips together into an emotionless smile.

   “Okay...” you trail before going to grab your notebook again when Peter slides it off the table and into his hand. You slowly turn and raise a brow “Thank you?” you say and hold out your hand. “Would you like to be my Betty?- Date! i mean date. Would you, Y/n be my date to my party thing”

   a smile formed on your lips. Not in a million years did you think Peter Parker would break from his shell to finally say something to you. In all honestly you would have made the first move if he didn’t make it so damn hard to figure out if he actually liked you. 

   “I’d like that very much. As long as i get to see your lego death star” you say. His face goes from nervous and fearing rejection to slight confusion. He lets out a small laugh “Are you using me for my death star?” he asked, his tone a bit more confident than before.

   you gasp, your mouth agape in mock offense “How dare you accuse me of such things Peter Parker- but yeah your right.” you say jokingly. His smile turns into a wide grin that he is unable to control. You held out your hand again and Peter gives you the notebook.

   “I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he asked as you open your bag to place the notebook next to your folder before zipping it up. You look at him and nod “Yeah you will. Who knows, maybe i’ll wear something nice” shrugging, you turn around and head out the door. 

   as soon as you walk out all of that cool and collected confidence melted away and you were left smiling and laughing like a giddy school girl all by yourself. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   Peter Parker asked you out. Peter Parker asked you out

   you were walking home, humming along to the music blasting through your earbuds. You couldn’t hear any of the loud ass lovely sounds of Queens. You reach into your jeans back pocket to grab your phone when someone shoulder checks you hard. 

   you went to curse out this rude stranger when you realize they were running with a worried look. You take out the earbuds and your ears are instantly filled with cracking noises and peoples screaming. You look up and the building next to the one you were standing next to was on fire. 

   it was an apartment building and the top floors were engulfed in flames. You saw a crowd forming outside of the lobby and cue into there conversation. A woman was crying on the ground while another woman held her “Our sons are still in there! There on the top floor! Please you have to get them!”

   the woman seemed to be pleading to a officer who was keeping people from going inside along with multiple other police men and woman. “Ma’am the fire department is on there way. There is a delay due to traffic. You’ll just have to wait” he says which just makes her cry out, her wife grabbing her tighter. 

   “Where’s Spiderman!”

   “Spiderman isn’t fireproof!”

   you felt your hands shake a bit. Those boys were stuck up there and you could do something. So why were you standing still? You could help, but you were so scared of losing control and causing more harm then good. All reasoning went out the window when you heard a boy cry for his mom.

   you duck into an alleyway and dig through your bag. You grab your black hoodie and face mask you had always carried for some reason. You just needed something to cover your skin. You take off your flannel sweater and shove it in your bag before slipping the hoodie on. 

   you take the face mask and put the elastic bands behind your ears and press the metal bar against your nose so it molds against your face. You take a deep breath and pull the hood over your head. Inhaling deeply, you thought about being on the floor and in a blink of an eye, you were gone. 

   once you open your eyes you see flames licking up the walls and it instantly feels a million times hotter. “So this is what a rotisserie chicken feels like” you mumble. “Mommy!” a boy yells and a cry of another one follows. You walk down the hall avoiding the wall with flames.

   you make it down the hall and go to reach for the door handle. As soon as your palm touched it, it seared your skin. You hiss and pull back your hand quickly. Looking at your palm you saw the red skin. “Shit. Why didn’t i just teleport in?” you thought aloud before poof you were in. You see two boys huddled together.

   you walk towards them “Hey! Are you two okay?!” you call out. The older one, around ten maybe looks away from his younger brother who looked a little over three and at you “Help please. My brother fell asleep and woke wake up!” he cried before bursting into a coughing fit. 

   “I’m here to help. Just be calm okay? I’ll get you both out of here” you say to try and sooth the boy. He nods and tries to stand up with his brother. You step towards him and lift the little boy in your arms. You use your free hand to take the mask off your face and hand it to the boy “Put this on”

   he takes it from your hands and puts it on his face. You hold out your hand and he grabs it. You give him a quick smile beforeing teleporting back onto the sidewalk. The fire department and paramedics were already at the lobby, getting ready to go in. 

   the boy lets go of your hand and runs towards his mothers “Mommy!” he yells and the two woman look up. “Georgie?!” the crying woman yells before they both run towards him. You look at the crowd and realize that people had just saw you poof into existence. You quickly look down before anyone can see your face. 

   shit shit shit shit 

   in a haste you walk over to the paramedics who were already walking towards you and hand them the little boy “he inhaled to much smoke” you spit out and turn around. Before you could take another step fucking Spiderman just drops down. This couldn’t get any worse.

   “Hey- person! How did you do that!?” he yells but you teleport into the ally. You lift the hoodie from your body and drop it into your bag. You needed to go home before anyone came around. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   the next day

   Peter had dealt with the situation and avoided press about who the mysterious teleporter was. Mostly because he didn’t know and didn’t want to spread panic amongst the public. So he decided to contact Tony the next day out of all people, cause duh. He was driven by Happy to the Avengers base.

   once he got out he was waiting in the main area where they had there meetings, which is where we start off. Tony walks through the door followed by Natasha and Steve. Clint was with family at the moment and Tony just gathered who was here at the moment. 

   “So kid. No pressure, but if this isn’t serious as you say i will revoke your suit privileges for a week” Tony threatens making Peter smile nervously. “It is i swear. So i was walking home from school right? Yeah and this building was on fire so of course i’m the friendly neighborhood Spiderman so i went to go save them-”

   “-skip ahead” Tony cuts in, Natasha rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest. Peter nods fast and coughs a bit before continuing “Anyway this random person in a hoodie like pops out of nowhere- like teleported into the building and saved these two kids and-” 

   Natasha raises her hand “This person you say saved kids? Why are we talking about this again?” she asked. Suddenly the door opens again revealing Wanda and Vision “Well this place needs tighter security” Steve says. Tony sighs and looks at them “No please come in were not busy or anything”

   Vision steps towards the group along with Wanda “There’s an infinity stone on earth” he spoke rather vaguely. “Yeah it’s in your head and the other is with the Wizard- We’ve gone over this people! You need to read your debriefings” Tony points at Vision before leaning against the long table. 

   Peter just sighed as he knew he would be ignored for the next few minutes “I am aware of the of the Time and Mind stone location. There is something with the same signature as the mind stone on earth. Like Wanda’s but weaker and more docile.” he explains. 

   both Steve and Natasha give him terrified looks “Could it be a mishap from the time traveling? Wanda was anyone else given powers like you?” Steve asked. Wanda shook her head “Me and Pietro were the only people who survived, but they could have continued there experiments?” she suggests. 

   Tony shakes his head “Strucker was killed by Ultron and anyone who knew about it is the same way or locked up in federal prison. This is something different- wait kid” he says and turns to Peter “You said you saw somebody with powers today right?” 

   Peter nods to Tony “Yeah- i couldn’t really tell there face, but i’m pretty sure it was a girl?” he said, quite unsure of his own words. Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a dry erase market before walking over to the clear board that was set up in the room. 

   he uses his mouth to bite off the cap of the marker and turns to Steve to spit it out at him. The cap bounces of...well cap. His chest to be more specific and drops to the ground. Steve narrows his eyes, shaking his head slightly at Tony’s behaviour, but that was normal. 

   Tony draws a quick messed up bean shape and labels it the Mind Stone “So what we know is that the mind stone is stuck in ‘Not Jarvis’ over there” he says and draws a short line from the stone drawing to the words ‘Not Jarvis’ “Now for the people with the mind stone power. Go!” he points randomly behind him.

   Wanda spoke up “Pietro and i” she says, her expression faltering a bit. Vision wraps his arm around her side and pulls her into him. He looked down at her and gave her a loving smile, one that she returned. Peter watched them for a moment. They had such natural love for two unnatural people. 

   he wondered if he would ever find something similar to what they had. When he thought about it hard enough his mind went to you. You had both gone to school together since you were kids, but were never close or talked in general. That was until junior year when you were placed in his english class.

   Peter took into the fact that you were much quieter then you had been before. You would gaze off into the window and go unnoticed by anyone. You were never really there, just existing in the background. No romantic feelings were involved at the point just curiosity. 

   then both of you were placed in the program and he got to finally talk to you. Or so he thought. You were still the same, sat in the back, dozing off, but still managing to pass every paper with a C or higher. Peter found it strange that you had not changed one bit.

   ever since the population was ‘blipped’ back people had been more daring and taking risks, claiming it was there second chance at doing what you really dreamed of and such, but you were just there....existence again. Still the same old girl.

   could you be so content with your life that you would make no change? or was there something in your way, stopping from evolving in life? As you can imagine these thoughts filled Peter’s brain to the point that it physically hurt. Still no feelings at this point, just frustration. 

   that’s when Mj noticed his infatuation with you and she decided to take matters into her own hands, per usual. She talked to you after class and invited you to sit with them at their table. Peter thought there was no way you’d take the offer, but you did? Mj was either really convincing or God

   the world will never know

   that’s when romantic feelings were involved. Peter thought that you would act the same, but just around a group of people but he was so wrong. You actually engaged in conversation. Maybe that’s what was keeping you from making friends, being scared of making the first move.

   he would always remember the day he saw you smile. It was like it lit up the whole room. All his senses were heightened- more then they already were as Spiderman and it was so weird. Everytime he was around you he felt euphoric in a way.

   he fell hard

   the next six months were spent obsessing over what to say, do, wear, even eat around you even though he knew you weren't the judgy kind of person. It wasn’t long until everyone around him except for you knew he had a crush on you, but you just thought he was a nervous guy. 

    oh god- he asked you out and you said yes. It was almost like he couldn’t believe you had actually said yes. Peter didn’t think he was a bad looking guy, just that you were so out of his league it was almost comical. What should he wear? What if you both got alone at some point during the party thing?

   “Kid!”

   Peter’s eyes averted from the floor and towards the small group. All of them were looking at him with concerned expressions He smiled sheepishly, reaching behind to scratch the back of his neck “Sorry- sir” he says. Tony exhales dramatically “Oh i’m sorry are we boring you?” 

   Steve shakes his head “He’s probably thinking about school or something. He’s still a kid Tony” he says giving Peter a nod- yeah school. Totally. Tony waves him away “Whatever. Now that your back on planet earth kid go suit up. Not Jarvis over her can track our mystery chick”

   Peter’s face lights up “Yes Mr. Stark- i can use the bathroom first right?” he says. Tony blinked mindlessly for a couple seconds “Yes.....go” he waved him away. Peter smiles before waving to the rest of them politely. Natasha gave him a warm smile along with Vision and Wanda. Steve was scolding Tony.

    ☼-☪-☼

   Peter had his suit on and made his way to the front where Wanda, Vision, and, Tony. “Where’s everyone else?” Peter asked, walking towards them “We want to keep a low radar” Tony said, adjusting some tech on his arm. Peter tilts his head and points at Vision “but he’s red- no offense!” he says. 

   Vision looked at his body for a moment “Oh yes. One moment please” he spoke and in a way of yellow magic his body switched from it’s natural red form to a human one. Peter’s eyes widened under his mask, taking a step forward “That. Is. So. Cool!” he shouts going over to spoke Vision’s arm.

   Vision lifted his arm out for Peter to touch, finding it amusing. Wanda snickered to herself at Peter’s child like wonder. “Alright let's head out before the Kid starts drooling” Tony interrupts as Happy pulls up in front of the base. Peter quickly snapped his head towards Tony’s direction. 

   “If were trying to keep a low profile. Why am i here in my suit?” Peter questions, crossing his arms. “You are going to be on a building watching and observing. I signal you if i need you” Tony explains. Peter sighs in defeat, he was backup....again. At least it was something.

   “Okay” Peter says. Vision faces Wanda and opens his mouth to speak, but before he could Wanda does “I know, you want me to stay here in case it’s dangerous” she spoke. Vision let out a small snort, holding back a smile. Did she know him that well?

   duh. I want what they have

   “Actually, quite the opposite. I think you coming is a great idea” he said, stunning Wanda into silence for a couple seconds “What?-” she looks up at him. Vision reaches down and takes his hand into hers. Peter watched, wonderly if he should give them a moment or not.

   “If this person really has the same powers you then they are just as scared and confused as you were. They might find comfort in knowing they are not alone” Vision spoke, Wanda nodding along with him. She understood what he meant and she was glad to help them- the stranger. 

   “Okay”

   “Already love birds and backup into the car. No flying or swinging today. Good old fashion driving” Tony ushered everyone out the building. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   outfit

   you were holding a white tote bag full of groceries since you didn’t like the plastic ones, walking to the group home. You usually bought non-refrigeratable items every week to keep in your room since the other girls in the home like to steal food that wasn’t there's. It sucked, but you had no other options. 

   turning the corner, you started to walk down a pretty empty backway street. One hand on your bag and another on a switchblade in your brown jacket. A girl needs to protect herself in this day and age with perverted super straight men. More like super small. 

   you feel your phone buzz in your back pocket and reach behind to grab it. You tap the screen and notice a familiar contact ‘My Wife’ oh it was Mj. She had sent a text ‘Yo, for the thing tomorrow can you bring me that bread from the corner store around your place?’

   did she just text you....for bread? My kind of woman. 

   you snicker to yourself and drop the handle down your arm and so you could use both hands to text her back ‘Yeah sure. I think you have a problem though. This is your fourth loaf this month’ you sent the text and shove your phone into your pocket. 

   looking up you see a woman with long reddish brown hair and a tall man with blond hair. They looked like a couple and were walking towards you. Out of pure social anxiety you were going to put your head down, but were stopped when the man spoke.

   “Excuse me miss” he spoke, very formally and had an accent of some sorts. You stop a few feet in front of the couple. They probably wanted directions. They didn’t really look like new yorkers in your opinion. “Um yes?” you say with a polite smile. 

   in an instant a yellow color enveloped his body and he switched from the normal man to- to- The Vision!? You took a step back The Vision calling out to you “Please wait!”, turning on your heels to run away. You instantly hit some kind of hard metal, causing you to fall back onto your butt.

   “Not so fast kid”

   once you look up you see the one and only Tony Stark in his suit- so Iron Man actually. What the fuck was happening? Your heart rate began to speed up. Shit. “I haven’t done anything” you say quickly. This time the woman with reddish hair spoke- oh shit isn’t that the war criminal turned hero?

    “We know you have some kind of ability, correct?” she asked. She had a slovakian accent. How did they know? Should you tell the truth? You didn’t like that Stark was in his suit, it just had ‘i already see you as a threat’ written all over it, but the woman seemed so kind and gentle with her words. 

   looking up at her, you nod slowly. The woman offers her hand for you to take and you do. She pulls you off the ground. Once your up she seems to study you “I’m Wanda, you are so young. How old are you?” you look down for a second before back at her. She was so nice “I’m 17″

   The Vision- or just Vision stood next to Wanda “How long have you had these abilities?” he asked you, gesturing for you to walk with them “Since i was six, it happened in the 2012 attack” you explained. Wanda’s eyes widen a bit “Six years old? What monster would give a child that power?” 

   “Were walking now, great” Stark says and is ignored

   you gulp as you walked alongside them, gathering up your courage to speak. It was still a touchy subject “The mind stone was in Loki, the god of mischiefs possession at the time, but i cannot see him sharing power with another person let alone a human” Vision but in. 

   “It’s a long story” you say, your face cringing slightly as the memories flooded “Do you wish to speak with us in a more private place?” Vision asked. Wanda gave you a warm smile as well. You nod once “Yeah that be great.” you say.

   “Alright let’s roll out. The kid is dealing with a bank robbery a couple blocks away, but he’ll meet up with us once he’s finished. You two take her back i have to pick up Morgan from school or Pepper is putting me in the doghouse” Stark said before he flies up into the air.  

    ☼-☪-☼

   Peter had just swung down into the base through the opening in a skylight that Tony installed for quick access. Once he landed on the ground he pulled his mask off and pat the metal spider symbol on his chest. The suit folded into itself until all was left was the metal spider. 

   he turns into the hallway and makes his way to lab, figuring Tony would have resided there after there encounter with the person. As he walked he felt the hair on his arms and neck stand up in attention. Peter tingle. Peter reached behind him a grabbed an arrow mid air, turning on heels. 

   he turns around and sees Morgan with her training bow, giggling to herself “Hi” she says with a small smile. Peter smiled and looked at the arrow, the tip was dull so it wouldn’t have done any damage “Hi” he says back to her “Nice shot by the way” he adds.

   Morgan giggles, pushing some of her brown hair from her face. Peter crouches down and hands her the arrow. She doesn’t take it and turns around so he could place it in her quiver. It was clearly made my Tony and had her name in red rhinestones. Super techy and cute. 

   Peter place the arrow in with the rest of them and Morgan turns back around “Do you know where your dad is?” Peter asked and she nods, not saying anything “What do you want for the information?” he questions with a mock serious tone. 

   Morgan’s face scrunched up, trying to make it look like she was thinking. After half a second shes smiling brightly again “Up!” she exclaims. Peter chuckles to himself before scooping Morgan up in his arms. He lifts her up and she points down the hall. “To the lab!” she shouts.

   “Yes ma’am” he replies and began to walk down with her. While they walked Morgan began to tell Peter about her day at school and how Tony picked her up in his suit and everyone thought it was super cool. Seems like something Tony would do. 

   when he made it towards the lab entrance he spotted Wanda and Vision staring into the window that looked into the lab. Peter places Morgan down and she fists bump him before running into the lab. That seemed safe. “Peter your back, are you alright?” Wanda spoke. Peter looked away from Morgan.

   Peter nods “Yeah nothing i can handle. Sorry i wasn’t there” he apologized. Wanda shook her head with a smile “The situation never escalated. We were able to take her in willingly. Mr. Stark is with her now” Vision explained. Peter raised a brow “So it was a girl?” 

   “She’s only 17. She got her powers when she was only 6. We haven’t noticed her because she never uses them” Wanda says. Peter’s brown eyes widen in size “Six years old?” he mumbled to himself. Wanda gestures to the window they were looking out of.

   Peter steps towards them and turns his head to look into the window. He spots a girl propped up in a tube and unconscious. H/L H/c hair and- oh shit. Peter’s mouth fell open as he now processed what he was seeing in all of it’s reality. “Y/n?” he said to himself. 

   both Wanda and Vision look at Peter “Do you know her?” Wanda asked since before you went into the lab you told them your name and Tony had yet to pull up your name in the database. Peter nods and just watches in shock as Tony stands in front of the tube analyzing your DNA. 

   “Yeah- she’s in my class. I’ve known her a long time, but we only got close like 6 months ago” he explains, reaching up to run a hand through his hair “Shit” he huffs out. Wanda looked confused “How close?” she asked, sensing they were a bit closer then he said. 

   “i asked her out yesterday. I planned it for weeks just for this to happen” Peter sighs. Wanda places a hand on his shoulder “Does the fact that she has powers change the way you feel about her?” she asked. Peter shook his head “No- i just wish she told me”

   “Fear takes over the mind. As well as rejection over something you cannot control” Vision says, tilting his head slightly “But sometimes you have to take risks. I was made without emotion, but i grew to love” he explains. “Her having such abilities should only bring you closer”

   “but she doesn’t know i’m spiderman” Peter says with a nervous laugh “Well i think it’s time you tell her, but i can not tell you what to do just advise” Vision smiles politely and takes Wanda’s hand into his, placing a kiss on her knuckles. Peter watched for a moment before sighing.

   what to do

    ☼-☪-☼

   after tony took all the tests he could do he called up Strange to contact Thor since the god of thunder did not have a phone. They needed to get Loki to earth to explain how he gave a child such powers and/or kill him. That was mostly Tony’s idea. 

   Tony got real sensitive when he figured out a child- a girl his daughters age was given such an ability and it suddenly got personal. You were put into a guest room so when you woke up it wouldn’t be such a surprise and more cozy then a hospital bed. 

   your eyes open slowly and your met with a ceiling fan, which is slightly strange. Your room didn’t have a fan? You slowly sat up. “I wouldn’t move much” your head snaps in the direction of the voice and you see..Peter?! sitting in a loveseat next to the bed you were laying on. 

   “Peter? What are you?- Oh your internship right. I-” shit how were you going to explain to him why you were there. Peter shakes his head “I know why your here” he says. This whole demour was different. He didn’t seem nervous at all. You exhale deeply “Well shit”

   “Yeah-” Peter raises his arm and a web shoots out from his wrist, grabbing onto the glass of water that was on the nightstand. He pulls it into his hand and hands it to you “Oh shit” you repeated “Your um- What!?” you were in complete shock. Why did he have to this after you just woke up?

   he nods “Yeah- i’m Spiderman” he says, looking down for a moment before back at you. "You aren’t weirded out?” he asked. Your face dropped to a deadpan look “I can create portals and teleport. I’m surprised your not weirded out” you say back. 

   “You can teleport that’s like- so cool!” and there goes the geek in him. You chuckle to yourself as you take the water from his hand, taking a sip “Yeah” you say. “You don’t seem to like it do you? Wanda told me what happened” he asked. You shake your head.

   “I never have. I thought i was weird. I never even told my mom” you say. Peter looked like he didn’t know what to say for a moment “Yeah i didn’t tell anyone either. Then Ned caught me, then May. Mj kinda found out on her own actually” he says, looking like he was thinking back on it. 

   “They all know!” you exclaim and he looked taken aback “They caught me when i flew into my window! Mj is just- Mj” he throws his hands in the air for a moment. You stifle laughter at his reaction “Okay okay. So the Stark internship is like a coverup?” you ask.

   “Yeah. He tracked me down when i first started being Spiderman. Gave me a cool suit- multiple cool suits in exchange that i fight with him against Captain America. That was so long ago now that i think about it” he says. You nod along. Jeez this was a lot. 

   once he finished speaking you both sat there in silence for a minute or so “So-“ you start, putting the glass down “I might not be able to go to the party thing.” you say with a laugh. Peter laughs as well “Yeah i figured you couldn’t. Mr. Stark wants to keep you overnight” 

   you sigh. You didn’t really want to be stuck in a random place at night with being you didn’t know. Even if they were nice, they were still strangers. Peter notices the change in your expression and reaches to grab your hand. You feel your heart race abit as he does. 

   “I already cancelled the party. I told Ned and Mj the truth, minus the you part and they made up some excuse on how they would move it somewhere else and i wouldn’t be coming” he rubs his thumb over your hand. You look up at him “You didn’t- why would you do that?”

   Peter inhales before speaking “Because you shouldn’t be alone right now and- and because i really like you Y/n. Like a lot- i have for awhile” he says. Is he confessing right now? Weird timing, but you’ll roll with it. “I really like you too Peter”

   his face lit up like fireworks, you swore you could see an actual sparkle in his eye. He goes quiet again as his eyes slowly move down to your lips. He doesn’t say anything, but it is very obvious of what he wants “Peter” you say and he breaks out of his trance “huh?- yeah!?” he says with a nervous laugh. 

   “Kiss me”

   he froze for a second before sputtering “Really?! because i don’t want to make you uncomfortable because i really like you and Steve said i should always respect women and their decisions ‘cause-” you grab the collar of his sweater and plant your lips on his. 

   you thought he wasn’t going to kiss back since he was just frozen. So, you went to pull away but were pleasantly surprised when he grabbed the side of your face, pulling you into a deeper kiss. Holy shit- the nerd had game. Peter must have been really into the kiss because he forgot that air was a thing. 

   you pulled away and he rests his forehead on yours, smiling like an idiot “I’m sorry i just-” “It’s okay Peter” you say before he could stumble over his words more. He smiles again and goes to kiss you again but as you go to lean in yo see a little girl in the doorway.

   “Shit!” you jump back and Peter looks at you weirdly before you point at the doorway. Peter turns around and his face drops “Morgan. Shouldn’t you be waiting in the conference room for Pepper to pick you up?” he says. Morgan giggles and walks over to the bed.

   she looks at you then Peter “She’s pretty” she says making you smile a little. Peter chuckles to himself “Yeah i know” Morgan giggles again before nodding “I approve” and with that she walked out the room, shutting it behind her. You blinked mindlessly for a couple seconds 

   “I feel honored” you say and Peter chuckles 

    ☼-☪-☼

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    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody- there will be a part two to this story if it is so desired.

[random-imagines-blog]

Perfect {Christian Bale x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 1838 Summary: Christian proves time and time again how much he loves you. Song: Perfect by Ed Sheeran

Although you had been married for five years now, Christian kept finding ways to surprise you. He never stopped trying to woo you, although he had put both the engagement and wedding rings upon your finger. When you got home from filming, after a good four months abroad, you had expected to see him sitting on the couch, anticipating your arrival, but that wasn’t what you got. What you had come home to was candlelight from different parts of the house, rose petals strewn down the hallway, and a note upon the table where you often set your keys, hand written with your name on it. You picked it up and read it outloud in a whisper.

‘Y/N,

Darling, I’ve had the last four months to think about what I was going to do when you finally came back home to me. You know me, I couldn’t just sit around and wait, I had to think up something. Do something. A balloon and a banner wouldn’t have been enough, so I had to use my imagination. I came up with a thousand different things, and made a hundred different plans but this is the one that I settled on. This is what you inspired me to do. So follow the path, and meet me where I’m waiting for you.

Yours forever,

Christian.’

You pressed the piece of paper up to your face, and could smell his cologne. He must have been wearing it when he wrote this. And he had used his best handwriting too, not the scribbles that he usually did when he was jotting down notes or taking a message. You set the paper back down carefully, for you wanted to save this note. You kept every love note that he had ever written for you, even the first one that he had slipped under the door of your dressing room after you first met and had a connection on a film that you worked on together. You had a metal, fireproof box of them in your closet. It was worth the investment. You didn’t want anything to happen to them, and planned to show them to your children one day to prove that your husband, their father, was a romantic. Okay, maybe not all of them. There were a few that were for your eyes only.

You took off your shoes and left your luggage by the door, following the rose petals in your bare feet. The carpet felt soft and familiar after spending so long in your trailer, which was not nearly as nice as this house. You blew out the candles as you went on, noticing that there wasn’t much wax dripping so he must have lit them right before you came in. Still - you didn’t want to cause a fire for the sake of romance.

The petals lead you to the French doors which opened up to the backyard. The doors were open, a breeze coming through, ruffling at the tied-off curtains. Outside, strung up amongst the patio and the backyard, were paper lanterns. They were usually only used for parties and entertaining, but there didn’t appear to be anyone else out there but Christian.

When he saw you, he lifted his phone and pressed a button. A song started to come through the speakers. You recognized it from the radio, but you couldn’t claim to know it well. It was sweet, and it was warm, very much like the air out here tonight. You even noticed that he had put on the candles which acted as mosquito repellant, which you were very thankful for in these hot and muggy months. You walked down the stairs to the grass below, raising an eyebrow at him as the blades tickled at your toes.

“What’s all this?” You asked.

“A little welcome home,” He said, taking your hand giving you a spin. You giggled, and finished it by spinning right into his chest. Now you were understanding the meaning of the music, because he began to sway with you. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. You didn’t realize how much you had missed the little things. The feeling of his hand against yours. The way that he dressed up for tonight, wearing a button up and nice trousers, just to see you. You were flattered, and honored as always.

The song seemed to know exactly how you were feeling. The lyrics were describing what was happening, right around you, and it made your heart shoot higher. God, you loved this man.

“I missed you,” He said softly into your ear. His breath tickled against your skin, and it sent a shiver up your spine. You smiled against him, your eyes drooping closed to fully take in the moment.

“I missed you too,” You admitted, humming contently. “But you didn’t have to go through all of this. I would have been happy with the banner and the balloons.”

“I know,” Christian chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “And that’s why I knew I had to do this. Because you’re deserving of so much more than a banner and some balloons.”

“You did bring balloons though right? You know I love those things,” You joked. Everything was absolutely perfect so far. A homecoming that you didn’t think that you deserved, but one that you sorely needed. He always went above and beyond for you - so you knew that you had to start planning what you were going to do for his next homecoming. He was always working on some project or other, so he was bound to be leaving your side soon. But now wasn’t the time to think about such negative things.

As the song came to an end, Christian’s lips finally met yours in a kiss that more than made up for being gone for so long. You pressed yourself against his body, trying to make it last longer, but he pulled away much too soon. You pouted at him, wondering what was going on.

“This wasn’t it,” He said, squeezing your hand. He lead you through the grass, over towards the pool house. There was a light breeze over the clear water, which looked enticing enough to jump in now. Perhaps before the night was over. You did get some sleep on the plane, and were feeling pretty well rested. A little skinny dipping adventure sounded like the perfect way to end the night.

The lights were on inside of the little structure. You never actually spent that much time in it, using it as storage, so you were eagerly looking forward to seeing what was in there which Christian thought so important. He opened the door for you, and when you stepped inside, you saw that everything had changed. There weren’t any boxes piled up or pool toys or Christian’s tools anymore. All of that stuff had been unpacked, put away and then buried behind a fresh coat of paint and new floors.

Not only that, but a table and two chairs were set inside, and the smell of your favorite dish came wafting over as you stepped inside. By now your cheeks were starting to hurt from having to support your smile for so long. “How did you know I was starving?” You chuckled, stepping further inside to see the candlelight had spread from the house to the poolhouse as well. Long, tall candles were on the table, sitting on either side of a vase with a couple of your favorite flowers, freshly picked.

“I know you,” Christian said with a grin. You slapped his arm playfully, but he didn’t stay by your side long to take the abuse. He moved past you to the chair, pulling it out for you, the part of the perfect gentleman. You took the seat, feeling like a pile of honey from how sweet he was being to you. “And I know you hate airplane food.” He added on, taking his own seat.

“Very true,” You admitted. The man really did know you better than anyone. You really didn’t think that you would ever love another human being this much, but he blew your expectations of romance right out of the water. “So, you redid the pool house,” You noted, cutting into your food.

“I thought it was about time,” Christian said, looking away from you for the first time of the night to take in his own handiwork. “I was thinking about adding more to it - making it like a playhouse.”

“A playhouse?” You asked, putting your fork down in surprise. “For who?”

“No one we know ... yet,” He said, a coy expression on his face. You knew exactly what he had meant though - you’d had these conversations before. Before you even got engaged, you wanted to be on the same page about having children one day. You wanted to share everything with him. Not just your heart, your career or your house - but the experience of parenthood as well. Thinking about a couple of little Christian’s running around, with big sweet versions of his eyes - it was almost too cute to bare. But the time had never seemed right, not with the fame and your constant projects. But he hadn’t taken on a job in six months, you realized. It made you wonder if he was serious about settling down for a while.

“Do you really mean that?” You asked, your own schedule wide open. Now was actually the perfect time if you were going to try for kids. You were financial steady, the house was paid off, you didn’t have to rush off for work anytime soon. And Christian could be there for you throughout all of it.

“What better time than now?” Christian asked, continuing to eat like he hadn’t just dropped that bombshell on you. You picked your fork back up and continued to eat, imagining throughout what could be done with this place. You’d need many more shelves for the plethora of toys that your children were going to have.

“Could you be any more perfect?” You asked, sliding your foot up his thigh as a little tease of what was to come later.

“Is that a challenge?” Christian asked, raising an eyebrow at you from across the table. “What if I told you that I planned to also clean the dishes tonight, and be the one that picks up all of the rose petals. You don’t even have to lift a finger.”

“Then I’d say yes, you can be more perfect,” You said, giggling. You hadn’t even thought about how annoying it could be to pick up each individual rose petal.

No matter how much you felt like you didn’t deserve all this, he had a way of making you feel perfect in return.

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 18

i'm sorry this is a few days late!! it's been real Headless Chicken time around here for a number of reasons, but, here you go!

this chapter is also known as, "LUKANETTE SHIPPERS COME GET Y'ALL JUICE: Part 1"

to: Marinette hey… um. hey. just. checking if you’re okay. those postcards came out beautiful.

from: Marinette shouldn’t i be asking you that?

to: Marinette i’ll live. i’m a Couffaine, “chaos” is practically my middle name. …so… how can i pay you? cash? one of those money apps?

from: Marinette just get better 😊 that’s all.

Getting better shouldn’t feel like such a tall order. But like with other affairs, Luka will just say it’s his fault and call it a night.

It only takes a few days for his knee to go from “bulging, throbbing mess” to “sort of tolerable,” and he doesn’t understand how the time is so annoying and yet so relieving. He has to call out of work because there’s no way they—or Juleka— will let him bike or even hobble around Paris with an injury like that. But it opens up his schedule for more band practice. And more chances to talk to Bubbles. Or, more accurately, convince Bubbles that he can still hold his own and shred the setlist to pieces.

And yeah, he tries his hand at perfecting Marinette’s song, but it barely comes out any better. Whatever melody is swirling in his head sounds wrong on paper, and even worse on guitar. Checking the posts of his drafts doesn’t help, either; the likes and comments and reposts have mostly come to a halt, no matter how many times he bumps the latest version to the top of his profile.

He thinks, for the most part, that it’s doomed to live in his head forever. And he hates it. Hates that it doesn’t sound right or good. Hates that he’ll never get to share what he really hears, what he really feels... with anyone.

The best he can manage is hopping on the metro, with his guitar and his amp and his busking license tied around the belt loop of his jeans, and finding just the right stone ledge or just the right bench at the bridge with the padlocks. Sometimes he doodles, strums out whatever comes to mind and hopes it resonates with someone. Some then he takes requests or plays fan favorites, the kind that earns him a smile or even an extra euro in his case.

He’s got to make the money somehow.

One time, he plays by the fountain at the Place des Vosges. For the parents who need something to tide them over while their children ask for balloons and skin their elbows and ride the carousel one too many times. He thinks about angles, and hearing colors, and pear tarts fresh from the oven, and business cards that look like flyers. He thinks about the color blue, too. Ocean blue. But he doesn’t play it. He’ll save it for a better occasion, when he’s not weighed down with cutting deals and combing through backstory that he’s not quite sure he’ll ever earn. When he’s not thinking about Marinette dropping a few coins in his case at the padlock bridge and almost looking guilty about it.

He shakes his head and gathers his paltry earnings for the day into the side pocket of his gig bag, stretches his leg to see if it’s worth putting weight on again. It doesn’t protest too much, thank God; at least he’ll be home before it gets too dark. But the sound of music stops him once he crosses the street. A radio. And it’s playing outside.

And it’s just over his head.

It takes him one moment to realize he’s stopped in front of Tom & Sabine’s, and another to look up. There is Marinette, watering some flowers in a box and resting her chin in her hand. Humming along to the music. when she meets his eyes, it sounds like her. Like exactly what he’s been looking for. Good, and right, and perfect.

And... sad.

The one thing Luka’s grateful for is that he wasn’t standing there long. Instead of fear or panic, he’s only caught up in mild surprise, and to his relief, so is Marinette. He readjusts his weight on his good leg, and he manages a wave with his free hand. “You know,” he says with a weak laugh, “we really gotta stop meeting like this.”

The smile Marinette gives him in return is just as sad as her humming, but harder to read. He doesn’t know if it’s telling her she agrees or disagrees, or if she doesn’t want him to go. Or if it’s something else entirely, something he’s not a part of. “Hey,” she says, leaning over the balcony to get a better look at him. Or maybe just at his leg.

He glances down at it, gives it a little shake, and shrugs in the face of the urge to wince. “It’ll be fine,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. “I’ll be back at work in a day or two. But, y’know... let me know if you’d rather I go busk somewhere else.”

Which, he’ll admit, is code for, let me know if you don’t want to see me anymore. He’s given her enough reasons for her to feel that way.

If Marinette’s somehow waded through to the real meaning of it, she doesn’t show it, and Luka doesn’t know if that’s a good thing. Instead, she leans over to pause her music, brushes her hair out of her eyes, and says, “Do you... wanna come upstairs?”

Well.

He wasn’t expecting that.

Luka can’t get any words out, so all he does is nod dumbly and limp toward the side door. On a better day, he might have been able to scale the bakery and hop over the balcony railing, if all his work on the Liberty is anything to go by. But maybe his guitar wouldn’t necessarily appreciate that. And neither would Mr. Dupain or Mrs. Cheng; he’d probably scare them half to death. Not to mention that maybe this is the sort of stunt reserved for Actually Cool People, and Luka is only ever Actually Cool in the recesses of his imagination or with a guitar in his hands.

Marinette meets him by the side door and lets him in with barely a sound. It doesn’t seem like she’s trying to sneak him in, the way she might have if they were in high school. If she might have even pulled off something like that in high school. But they slip into the apartment with Marinette’s whispered explanation that her father’s closing up shop and her mother’s getting ready for a dinner date. It reminds him, as they head to her room and she shows him how to hoist up onto the balcony, of all the dates his ma tried to go on. And how one day, she just stopped trying, and didn’t shed a tear over it.

Maybe, he thinks as he leaps up on the weight of one leg, he’s built for something like that. Or should be.

Marinette lets him take the deck chair so he can rest his leg, despite his weak insistence that he’s fine. She doesn’t go back to watering the flowers, or even leaning on the railing and giving the city that wistful look he thought was only reserved for Adrien Agreste. Instead, she sits cross-legged on the floor, and she watches him, never lingering on one part of him for too long. Like she’s expecting him to say something. Maybe it’s payback, in the end, for all the times she must have caught him.

“Hey,” he finally says to break through the quiet. “That song you were listening to... Can you play it again?”

She jolts to attention then, nods without a word, makes a grab for her phone. With a few taps, the song bleeds to life with a few piano notes, the rise of a few violins, the thrum of a cello. Luka thinks he’s heard this before, once. The words are all in English, so he doesn’t quite know what they’re saying. All he knows is the blue. It’s electric, it’s swelling in his chest, buzzing under his skin, closing his eyes. It sounds...

Like the ocean.

Like a world Marinette’s pulling him into. Her world. And he’s stepping into it. Just for a while. Or like, perhaps, just for that while, they’re meeting in the middle.

She must know what the song is about. She can wade through the colors and the sound, right to the words, as she sings to herself in accented English, as her voice dips low but not quite low enough, as her breath snags on the notes it can’t hold for very long. Maybe that’s why she seems so sad. Or maybe it’s something else.

“That song sounds like your eyes,” he says once the violins fade. It sounds like what I’ve been looking for.

Marinette looks at him like he’s lost his mind, and maybe he has. But there’s a softness to it. Like maybe no one’s ever said anything like that to her before. Like, secretly, she’d spent years wishing someone would. “What?”

“Oh, uh. It’s...” He can’t tell if it’s the music, or the evening sky, or Marinette that’s making it hard to snap back to himself. Maybe it’s all three. “It’s... that sound-color thing I told you about—”

“No, I—I figured.” Marinette fumbles as she turns down the volume. He hardly thought her the type, but she does it like it’s something she’s done for ages. Like she’s tapping into someone she used to be. “You... think about my eyes?”

Luka can feel his face burning, his stomach lurching. He’s overthinking, he knows it, but somehow it doesn’t feel wrong for him to say, “I’ve been trying to get them right for a long time.”

She gives him a confused look at first, but understanding cracks across her face once he unzips his gig bag, sets up the amp, and sets his guitar in his lap.

“Can you play it again?” he asks. It’s quiet, and unsure, but there’s a tinge of hope to it. “I want to get it right.”

Marinette’s eyes go wide, and her cheeks turn pink under the delicate string lights. It seems like she holds onto her breath for longer than she means to, but she nods, and she does that fumbling thing again as she reaches for her phone. Once those first piano notes trickle out, she looks to him expectantly. That’s all it takes for his fingers to find the strings. For his heart to find that ocean blue. He doesn’t quite copy the melody note for note; instead, he finds the little pockets where his music fits, and he makes it sound a little fuller. A little more like her.

Maybe it’s not perfect. But it’s good enough.

Somewhere along the way, Luka closed his eyes, and when he opens them again, he finds Marinette sitting closer—just across from him, in fact. She’s huddled up with her chin on her knees, all but marveling at him in silence. When she finally speaks, it’s after she’s paused the next song, and it’s only to breathe, “Wow.”

Luka’s not feeling particularly flirtatious; actually, the most he does is laugh sheepishly and rub the back of his neck. “I’m not so good with words,” he says. “But music gets me pretty close to what I want to say. So… maybe I was wrong about not having an angle. Maybe my thing is playing people.”

Marinette snaps out of it long enough to laugh, all breath, and say, “Where I’ve been, that sounds an awful lot like you’re a con man.”

“I’m not a con man, I mean... what people sound like. Their hearts, or... the parts of them that are most beautiful. That sound like that”— he gestures toward the speaker, and then up to the sky—”or remind us that... whatever we’re made of, it came from up there. Somewhere. That’s what I wanna think about, when I play…”

He catches himself and goes silent, but Marinette’s already giving him a meaningful look, teeth sinking into her lip. Somewhere along the line, her face went right to scarlet.

“Me,” she says. “That’s what you were playing in the park. Me.”

Luka doesn’t know how much of him has been discovered, but he keeps quiet all the same. He won’t give any more of himself away. It’s only as he’s about to apologize—for what, he’s not entirely sure—that Marinette cuts him off.

“Look, I… I need to tell you about something.”

He grips his guitar more tightly, because his phone is too far out of reach, and all the alarm bells go off.

[darkpoisonouslove]

Sparks of Life Opera Edition

I am still not over Singing a New Tune so I am going to recap for you the experience of writing that fic because there were many interesting moments over the course of those three days. Lemme start from the beginning.

- So I’m writing a fic that mostly focuses on sexual stuff but it is also mainly happening in an opera so my first order of business is to figure out what that opera is. Both the building itself and the show they’ll be watching. Because that is of utmost importance.

- I have already mentioned that SoL is located in New York so I looked up New York operas. I do not vibe with research most of the time but I vibe even less with having to come up with names for any kind of thing so research was definitely the choice here.

- I somehow get results about operas that are in the other end of the USA. That was not great. I get to the Metropolitan Opera House at last (which I might have known existed if I cared about opera in any way, shape or form) which is great! I am so close to starting the fic! Just need to figure out what opera they’re watching. Because I need that for reasons.

- I end up downloading a PDF with the seatings inside the Met Opera so that I can figure out where the hell they will be seating. But I leave that for later. I look through the actual plays that they’re having while absolutely failing with the navigation of their site. I find a show that catches my eye. It’s called The Magic Flute. I have zero idea what it’s about so I read the Wikipedia summary just to be aware. It mentions that a character has a moment when he’s singing about his search for a wife and I think “Perfect! Foreshadowing!” (since this is set pretty early on in Griffin and Valtor’s relationship).

- I decide to look up the opera and see if I can find a part of it on youtube to figure out how it will sound. I am pretty sold on it already because of the summary I read and also because it implies there is magic as a subject in it which would call back to canon. Still, I look it up. I find a full version of it on the internet with English subtitles... It is 2 hours and 35 minutes:

- “Wow, okay... that’s a bit much. But hey, it has got subtitles in English. Maybe I’d actually watch that... once I’m done with the fic. I’m just gonna listen to a little bit while I finish my research, though, so I can have an idea of what it sounds like.”

- Now it’s time to open the engagement fic - Enough to Be Yours - because I don’t remember what year they got engaged in and I need that to reverse engineer the year in which this fic is taking place so that I can make sure that The Magic Flute was being performed back then. I don’t have an year stated in the engagement fic, though. I have a date - 9th October which is Friday and that means the year is 2015. Great! So I need to figure out if they were performing The Magic Flute back in 2010. Great.

- That takes a shit ton of time and nerves as it turns out. I spent over 4 hours just researching the logistics for this fic and a lot of that was unnecessary but I’m getting ahead of myself.

- I cannot find out whether they were performing the Magic Flute in 2010. I get results of it being broadcast in English (for the first time, I believe) in 2012 but that is way too late for this fic to be happening. Also, they are speaking of a broadcast which just doesn’t work for me. So I am having a hard time over here.

- I find a list of the new titles in 2011 but nothing mentions The Magic Flute as far as I can see.

- I am now considering switching to another opera. I see an opera that is based on events from The Song of the Nibelungs (I cannot be assed to go back and check what the actual title was). That catches my eye because I have read a book that was titled The Ring of the Nibelungs, I believe, and I kinda remember stuff from it... which is what makes me hesitate because that was a big tragedy.

- Meanwhile, I have stumbled upon a trailer for The Magic Flute:

MY GOD IS THAT BEAUTIFUL! THOSE PROPS ARE FUCKING GORGEOUS! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN THAT YOU GET TO GO AND SEE THAT LIVE? THAT IS NUTS! (Also, when I mentioned paper birds (I think they are) in the fic, I meant the ones shown in 0:13, not the big one in the beginning but HOLY SHIT, DID YOU SEE THAT THING????? HOW IS THAT REAL?!?!?!?! IT IS SO FUCKING AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN’T. I AM DYING. THIS IS JUST TOO BEAUTIFUL.)

- I somehow happen upon an old archive of the opera (idk how I did that but I bookmarked it in case I’ll need it again) that has information about plays going back as far as the year 1900. This is nuts! I am in too deep but I can’t pull myself away. I’ve gotten this far, I will see it through.

- I search for keyword “flute” and I get results. Some of them are pretty old but I finally find what I need. Performances of the Magic Flute in 2010! Bingo!

-  ...Oh, wait, they’re all around Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Hmm... when will it be okay for them to go? I mean, Valtor has been established to have zero free time around that time of the year and I can’t see them going on the 24th or the 31st... Oh, those are matinees. Definitely no! I need them to go in the evening. And some of these are broadcasts which doesn’t work for me either.

- I looked up earlier years as well. I considered another opera again. I decided to switch up the timeline a little. It makes sense if it’s in 2009. I think they had spring performances of The Magic Flute then. Or was it 2008? Anyway, I finally settle on an early April date in 2009 (I think). Now that that’s settled, let’s go back to the seats.

- First I need to figure out what floor (let’s say) of the opera they’re on. I was thinking of the last one first (family circle) but the boxes (I figure those seats will be safest for their activities) look like this:

which isn’t vibing with me because they would be in the front row and it seems more visible. So I relocate to the previous floor (balcony) that looks like this:

That works a little better although there’s the danger of having more people in their box. But they’re sitting in box 14, seats 5 (Griffin) and 6 (Valtor) (where the arrow is pointing) and there’s only one man in seat 4 in front of them. So that is the best I can do.

- Wow, all that’s finally figured out. I decide to do all the rest of the research up front in order to be able to just write after that and not stop for another 4 hours. More on those other things later BUT I get to the part where I need to pick a vibrator and... well, I done fucked up.

- First thing that comes up for a remote controlled vibrator is Lush, of course. And I am immediately sold because it has a sound activated setting which Valtor will definitely love to utilize while in the opera.

BUT

Lush 2 (which is the first one to have the sound activated setting, I believe) came out in 2018. Even if we accept that Lush also has it, that came out in 2015. My fic is set in 2009. Searching for 2009 vibrators literally went no where so in the end I decided that the SoL verse is actually set in a parallel universe where time is a little warped so the Lush 2 is out in 2009. Plus, that way there isn’t going to be a pandemic in future installments. Overall, that works. Except that I needn’t have been so thorough with my opera research beforehand. Oh, well. It’s finally time to start writing.

- How do you write? How do you start a fic? One word in front of the other? Oh, okay, never mind. Lipstick is a girl’s best friend. Let’s start from there. And a kiss that leads to the discussion of lipstick... Damn, I forgot to spend one more hour on researching what kind of lipstick Griffin would have worn. Shame! You don’t get that detail now. I believe I didn’t even mention a shade.

- Oh, wait. Need for his breath to taste like something. Hmm, let’s see. Tonic water? Yeah, that sounds about right. Never mind that he should have probably drunk it right before getting out of the car to kiss her if it was still lingering on his breath. I mean, that’s not impossible. Just improbable.

- He’s also wearing cologne, right? Gotta research that too. How else would I get this:

and zero idea what it actually smells like despite the description. Also, did not check if that was a thing in 2009 but the story now exists in a vacuum so who cares.

- Apparently, Griffin doesn’t own any golden bracelets even though she does have a golden necklace? Or she could have a golden bracelet, just not one she likes for the current situation? Anyway, I wanted to mention Ediltrude as well because the twins always go together and that was the best I came up with. (That said, I didn’t need to put the mentions of them one sentence apart.)

- My god, I used a semicolon! That feels illegal. I sure hope I used that bitch correctly.

- Okay, I absolutely love all the banter and just flow in the car. Idk how I did that since it’s such a constricted space but I am really proud of it. However, the logistics were sometimes hard to logic my way through. I mean, Valtor doesn’t get to look at her a lot and I had to employ a red traffic light to give him the chance to do so.

- I hit a wall about three paragraphs later. Things started going in a weird direction. I was considering even deleting the last two lines but then I managed to get back on track thanks to having figured out how they met and I decided to write a little bit about that without spoiling it (that will be a fic of its own some day). Suffice it to say it was a meet-very-ugly. But it bailed me out. Also, they got over it so it’s all good.

- And now... that paragraph. You know which one I’m talking about. It stands out with the locations I’ve given. That paragraph required 30 minutes of looking at Google Earth to figure it out and I still nearly got it wrong. At that point it occurred to me that they’ll need a place to park. I mean, idk how parking is in NYC but it’s probably not the way it is in Bulgaria especially on small neighborhood streets where it’s just... park wherever (even in front of a garage if you’re brazen enough and don’t fear having your tires slashed). So first, I was going to have them coming down Tenth Avenue and passing by the backside of the Opera which is not ideal for me because I needed Griffin to figure out they’re going to the opera so that they can have the following dialogue. But there is the New York Public Library of the Performing Arts right next door so I figure Griffin will recognize the area if it’s next to a library. And I have them almost at the garage but... that’s not looking right. This garage is on 65th Street and mine is on 62nd... I have been looking at the wrong garage for the past hour. Now that I have caught that mistake, things get easier. They just drive right past the facade of the opera, take a right turn and then enter the garage. Easy peasy. For whoever’s actually paying attention to the map.

- They’re in the garage now and I have to write another kiss. Shoot! I do not vibe with writing kisses. Writing sex scenes is much easier. But I’ll try my best because this is a little bit necessary if we’re dealing with an insertion of a vibrator in a public bathroom one minute from now. (Again, logistics!) I actually went back to add in a little discomfort during the kiss (but not too much because they’re consumed with each other anyway and probably missed something) just to make it more realistic. They can’t be comfortable in the car. Also, you have got to love how I never even thought of what make the car is. But I did stop to research the tinting of the car windows.

- Now this is extremely funny but I would have had zero idea that there are different laws about how tinted your car windows can be in the USA if I hadn’t read a very extensive critique of Fifty Shades (whichever part it was that had that info). So I look up the VLT for New York and it says 70%. Great! Then it won’t be that visible through the windows what they’re doing inside. Oh, wait! VLT means Visible Light Transmission aka 70% of the light should be passing through the window. Aka it is only tinted on 30%. This much:

That’s practically nothing. You can see everything through it. Welp, then someone’s gonna see, I guess.

- Can’t believe I didn’t stop to look up clutches either. (Lmao, I was calling it a purse instead of a clutch at first even though I definitely meant a clutch. And then I remembered that clutch existed as a word. Who would’ve thought?) It’s baffling trying to figure out why my brain was prioritizing some details over others and I just genuinely have no idea what was going on.

- Griffin is blushing a lot in this. Can you tell I have no idea how else to convey Valtor giving her feelings through body language?

- I first envisioned the box being opened by the hair pin by turning it like a key. Only later did I realize that that wouldn’t be possible because the pin has two parts (whatever they’re called) and that would make turning it impossible unless all of the base fits into one hole in the lid of the box. So I had to adapt my vision to using the extensions at the ends of the hair pin like a hook that pulls the lid up once it’s clicked free. I have zero idea how that would be done but I’m sure it can be done. So yeah, anyway, the pin looks like this but with attachments at the ends to open the box:

- I might have gone a little overboard with Griffin’s reaction to having the vibrator inside her. I might have made her a bit too embarrassed but I still think that she simply wouldn’t appreciate someone knowing about what she considers a private experience (despite the very public setting).

- And I am being overly specific again with the seats but I worked for that information so you’re getting it against your will!

- Speaking of, that man in their box was pretty ignored throughout the fic. But then again Griffin wasn’t overflowing with lucidity. She is sure to have missed... A Lot, actually.

- My apologies (once again) to @her-majesty-wears-jeans​ for not letting Griffin punch Valtor in the face for the terrible pun he was about to make but I thought that that would ruin the mood so I had to skip it.

- I might have imagined things a little differently but then consent factored in and I had to change things up so that Griffin is clearly on board with everything. I hope it came through that way at least. She is on board even if she is very, very frustrated. She would never throw the bet just because it’s difficult for her. Though, I’m taking note for future fics of maybe being a little bit more explicit about the enjoyment of all parties involved. I just couldn’t really think of a way to convey it better back then and I am coming up with several ideas now and I will try to keep them in mind for future fics.

- I keep going back and forth on just how far into their relationship this is. Sometimes it feels like it’s not enough time for them to get this familiar with each other and sometimes it feels like too much for them to still be skirting their feelings for each other like that. Will update when I make up my mind about how long exactly it has been.

- In retrospect, probably should have picked up an opera that people would be less likely to bring their children to (as brought to my attention by @her-majesty-wears-jeans​). I apologize for this. Did not consider it at all.

- A wild tangent about Griffin’s sexual experiences before Valtor popped up (for the second time now). This is giving me thoughts and I am not even sure if I’ll manage to get them all out in the bachelorette party fic. Oh, no, I am getting ideas again.

- God, I had to mention those paper birds because I adore them. Also, needed to do a time skip somehow (sure hope they don’t show up at the very end or the very beginning).

- So there are some things about the whole thing with the suit jacket that if you squint, you’ll miss the very far-fetched and convoluted ways in which I could make them make sense but again, it isn’t impossible to make them operate according to logic so good enough.

- And now for the dress:

I thought it would be reasonable for Griffin to own something like that. It doesn’t look overly expensive or dramatic.

- I swear that most of the 2% angst was an accident. Griffin was supposed to say the “You paid how much for tickets exactly just so you could fool around?” line but the following few paragraphs sprang on me out of nowhere. That was where I left it off the first day I was working on it and I wasn’t sure how to continue it. Then the angst happened.

- I do not believe the retaliation part was planned but would it really be a Griffin x Valtor story if something like that hadn’t happened? XD

- “reverberated”, “multitudinous” and “unobtainable” are probably not words that Griffin’s muddled mind would go to in that precise moment but everything else I came up with for them just did not sound right.

- I completely forgot the word for neckline and was so mad at myself for that but, luckily, I managed to remember it before posting the fic. I believe the original read “he slipped a finger under the fabric of her dress, running it over the top of her breast” which is not incorrect but just not precise enough for my liking.

- Sure hope the shortened version of the opera did not cut out the ending musical sequence. But that seems unlikely.

- The idea was running overly long in my head by having them going back to the penthouse so that I could have the scene where he picked her up so I decided to move things around and have him carry her bridal style on their way from the opera to the car. It’s not like she didn’t earn it.

- Pretty sure I had planned something a little different for the last several lines of dialogue but I couldn’t remember what so we get this. Which isn’t a disadvantage. I mean, Griffin is already thinking of marrying him. XD (That’s probably a bit of a stretch at the current status of their relationship but then again, she was thinking of a wedding, not necessarily of their wedding even though I’m clearly a little romance gargoyle that meant exactly that.)

- Originally, Valtor was supposed to floor the brakes while they were out in the NYC traffic but then I decided that doing it while still in the garage with only one car behind them and both vehicles driving at a very slow speed was a lot safer so I switched to that. It also saved me writing more words which was appreciated. I thought this fic would be a bit shorter.

- I was at a loss for how many orgasms Griffin should want from him but then the commitment line happened and that was all avoided.

[buckysgoldenheart]

Safe House: August Walker x Reader

Summary: Someone threatens you and so your boyfriend, August, must take you to his safe house.

Words: 3463

Following part: Part 2 (One Year Later)

Note: Not AU really, but doesn’t follow Mission Impossible at all. This is just how I picture a fluffy August who loves his woman.

P.S. This was not edited phenomenally. I have no excuses to feed you. I was just tired ;)

(There are not enough August Walker gifs in this world)

Safe House:

On the days he told you he would hopefully be coming home to you, you stayed up all night, always, until sunrise. And if he didn’t come home that night, then you worried until the next night. Night after night after night until he walked through that door and you could finally breathe again.

It was an entire week this time, that August left you wondering. More days had gone by past the day he promised you than ever before. He had sent no note delivered by a random man with a riddle only you and August knew the answer to. And that was only in the most extreme of cases. More often there was a phone call, quick but reassuring. Not this time, and images of him being tortured or dying flashed through your mind, consuming you, as your fingers trembled around your coffee mug.

Just as the tears began to stream down your paling cheeks, the multiple locks August demanded you have on your door turned and opened one by one until he could freely walk inside. The weight on your chest lifted and you let out a tiny cry of relief, but August, your boyfriend you went a month and a half without seeing, stormed right passed you into the bedroom.

You sat up sharply and put the mug on the table, following him into the bedroom you shared. He hadn’t bothered to turn on one of the lamps, so all you could really see was his form grab a suitcase from the closet, throw it on the bed, wide open, and begin to shove as much clothing inside it as he could.

You stood in the doorway, your eyes adjusting to the darkness and pushing through the tears clouding them. “August,” you spoke softly, thankful he was alive, but heartbroken he had ignored you on his way in. “August,” you tried a little louder. “What is happening? Are you leaving again?”

“Not me,” he said, pausing for a moment to meet your stare. “We.” Then he turned back to his task of throwing things into a suitcase. “Are ten shirts, seven pairs of pants, two dresses, and four pairs of shoes enough for you?”

“Enough for what?” You asked. “August, you’re scaring me.” You walked in the room and touched his arm, stilling his movements so he would look at you. “What is happening?” His eyes, sadder than you had seen them before, roamed over every inch of your face as if he would never get to see it again. You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion. “August—”

“Do you love me?”

“W-What?”

“You do, don’t you?” He lightly pleaded.

“Of course, I love you, August, but I still do not understand what is going on.”

He sighed in relief, but you didn’t miss the uneasy look on his face. “I’m…fuck…I’m a bit more…higher up than I told you.”

“In…what? Work?”

“Yes.”

You crossed your arms over your middle and swallowed. “What does that mean?”

“I kill more important people than I told you: prime ministers, presidents, royalty, people with families; all of them bad people, but important. I place bombs, I dismantle bombs, both that could and have destroyed half a city.”

“So…was last month in Istanbul—"

“Yes.” He walked over to your dresser and shoved it aside with ease, unlocked the small vault behind it with the pass-code only the two of you knew, and pulled out three guns before placing them between piles of folded clothes in the suitcase. “I have a safe house,” He said. “One even Hunt doesn’t know about.”

“Dad?”

Your eyes widened and he hummed in acknowledgement.

“Dad is with Ilsa, isn’t he? Something about Morocco. That’s all he could say.”

“Yea, he’s been assigned there for a bit. That’s where I am supposed to be, too; right now interrogating the head of the Crown Prince of Morocco’s security because of—” He met your eyes and paused, then shook his head slightly, always unsure of what information could put you in danger, “…certain reasons.”

“I thought you were in London.”

“Yea, I was. Morocco was next. I was going to call you as soon as I could, but…things got complicated.” August quickly walked to the kitchen and returned with a plastic sandwich bag and paper towel, then went to your jewelry box and pulled out two necklaces: one that was your mother’s, and one that he had bought for you when he told you he loved you for the first time. ‘Just in case you were on the fence about me, I thought this might sway you,’ he had said. You laughed, he clasped the necklace around your neck, and you made love over and over, exchanging ‘I love yous” the entire night. Since then, you wore the one he had given you when he moved into your place with the promise that he would never leave you.

You watched as he carefully wrapped up the jewelry in the paper towel, put them in the baggie and zip them safely into a side pocket of the case. “August, please, please tell me that ‘things got complicated’ does not mean that something got fucked up and now my father is supposed to kill you…again.”

“What?” August stopped in his tracks, noticing how every inch of you tensed with stress. “No, baby. No.” He glanced around the room for anything he might have missed. “Anything else you want to take with us?”

You looked around too, not seeing a thing, but then ran into the hallway and took a photo of the both of you off the wall: you and him kissing at your friend’s wedding, both of you completely unaware of the camera man behind you. It clearly showed your love for him and his for you, and so it became, and remained, your favorite.

Back in the room, you placed it on top of everything else in the suitcase, keeping it in the frame to protect it. August smiled at seeing the picture, grabbed your waist, and pulled you close. “I love you,” He whispered, his lips brushing over yours. You smiled slightly and fully placed your mouth to his. All it took was a moment before his hand began to slide around your waist to cup your ass. Then, you reached your arms up and began to twine your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, knowing fully well how that turned him on. You had missed his touch so bad, and he yours, so it took no time to feel him hard, pressed against you.

He pulled back fast, huffing out breaths as you chuckled. “We can’t do this now. We really need to get going.”

Your smile fell. “You still haven’t explained.”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” He said, closing the suitcase.

“Give me the short version.”

“Short version,” He mumbled to himself as he pulled the bag off the bed, a small smile on his face at your persistence. “Ok, short version: a guy that I really would rather not know about you, now knows about you.”

“What? Like, a bad guy?”

“Not a super bad one, but…yea.” He cringed as he said the last word. This whole thing was one giant nightmare; his worst, actually. How you weren’t panicking he didn’t know. Maybe it was because you were Hunt’s daughter, but August seemed to feel much more stressed about this than you.

“How? Dad changed me in the system. No one knows my real name but you, him, and the team.”

“I know. We don’t know how. But this guy had your picture and your name, and that was enough for Hunt…and me. Hunt has the guy, but you never know what could happen. He might have people to get him out, he might not, but he made some serious threats and we aren’t risking it, so Hunt and I agreed. I come home, get you and take you somewhere safe that no one else knows about and stay there until further notice.”

You crossed your arms. “And dad is just fine with a man he practically cannot stand coming and taking his daughter away to some random location he can’t track down?”

“Right,” August walked towards you, bag in hand, and motioned you out the door. “Well, he kind of knows about the two of us and figured out of anyone, I’d do the best at protecting you.”

You turned fast with a death glare in your eye and placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “What do you mean he knows about us?”

August sighed knowing now was not the time to do this, but well aware that fighting your stubbornness was a losing game. He ran his free hand through his dark curls. “You said he can’t stand me, right?”

“Yes.”

“He ever tell you why?”

“Not specifically.”

“Well, this is why. He does not like that I assassinate by day and sleep with his daughter by night.”

“Oh my God, August!” Both of your hands shoved at his chest, but the brick wall that was your boyfriend did not move an inch.

“Hey, it’s not all me, ok? After we met, he noticed that I asked about you all the time, but apparently you asked about me all the time, too, so you were no sneakier than I was.” He raised a hand in an ‘oh well’ gesture and stepped around you back into the kitchen.

“Oh God,” You groaned and your head fell back. “…Fine.”

“Peanut butter?” He called.

Annoyed, you said, “Yea.”

Arms crossed again, you rounded the corner and watched the muscles of his shoulders shift a little under his shirt as he took a knife full of peanut butter and slathered it on the bread. “We have an eight-hour drive to the helicopter, three hours flying to the boat, and then it’s just an hour on the boat to the house. How many do you want?”

“Eight. Six for me, two for you.”

August whipped around with a pained expression “Cold.”

“Fine. Five for me, three for you.”

“Better, but still chilly.”

You walked up wrapped your arms around his waist. “You keep it up, I’ll make it seven for me, one for you.”

“You do not know where my safe house is, I do. Choose your words wisely, miss,” he said, then dabbed a bit of the peanut-y goodness on the tip of your nose. “Are you going to eat that, or do I need to lick it off?”

You pretended to think for a moment. “Lick it off.”

He did, and your eyes and nose scrunched as you giggled. “Fuck, I’m just going to bring the jar.”

“Why?”

“You’ll find out later.” He smiled seductively and finished spreading the peanut butter on the bread. “Jam for some, honey for the others?”

“Yea.” He knew you too well.

“You have everything you want?”

You took one last look at the house you and August had secretly—or thought, secretly—shared, not knowing when, or if, you would be back. “I think so.”

When you turned back to him, he was shoving the last of the sandwiches in a paper bag. With his free hand he touched your cheek lovingly. “Baby, I’m so sorry about this. I never wanted to have to take you away from our home.”

“It’s ok.” You placed your hand on his. “You are home.”

August smiled sadly, still feeling guilty, but leaned down to kiss you. “You are home,” He sighed as he touched his forehead to yours. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------

With a guiding hand on your back, August led you through the front door of the house no one else had seen before. “Sorry, it’s probably dusty.”

Once inside, he set the suitcase down and flipped a switch that had the lights above flickering before settling into a soft glow. You looked around the small place that was fully and completely him. It was not a perfect place; shabbier and creakier like an old cabin, which it basically was, but it was your boyfriend. His things were scattered around the place, left over from when he probably had to leave quick. It smelled like him. A manly, piney, citrus scent still lingered even though he had mentioned the last time he stepped foot in the place was three years ago, nine months before he met you. You could practically see ghosts of him from the many times he had been there before. You pictured him making the cans of soup you could see in the cupboard from the wide open doors; or reading the book on the small table by a large chair, the spine cracked from where it split to the page he left off on.

“I don’t care.” You smiled. “I like it.”

Though you couldn’t see it, August smiled too and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind to pull your body against his. He placed a long kiss on your shoulder, then your neck, then your cheek, then his fingers slowly tilted your head to the side so he could kiss your lips.

“I’m glad you like it. You’ll be safe here, Y/N. I promise.”

You chuckled. “If you’re the one watching me, I’m pretty sure I’d be safe anywhere.”

“You know it,” He said, placing another kiss on your neck before releasing you and giving your ass a gentle swat. He picked up the bag and took it to what you could only assume was the bedroom.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------

One Month Later

You woke up to the sunlight streaming through a window and turned to find your boyfriend absent from his side of the bed. It was five thirty in the morning when you glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand; way too early to be awake, and you certainly felt the exhaustion from the three rounds you went with August the night before.

You stood and groaned. Your bones seemed to creak along with the bed, but your mood instantly perked up when you heard August’s voice just outside the bedroom door. It was open just a crack and with an attentive ear you could make out his words as he stood tall in the living room.

“He’s permanently locked up then?” He asked the person on the other end of the phone he had in his hand. He listened and nodded a few times, before saying “She is good, I promise.”

…

“No, she’s still asleep,”

August ran fingers through his hair and pressed a button on the phone he had made sure was untraceable. He set the phone down on the counter so he could start a pot of coffee. Then your fathers deep tone came through clear.

“Look, Walker, I know we don’t always see eye-to-eye, but thank you…for protecting her,” He said, and you smiled at the rare kindness he directed towards your boyfriend.

August poured a few cups of water into the pot and pressed ‘start.’ “You don’t have to thank me, Hunt. You know I love her.” He cleared his throat and ran fingers through his hair again; an action you knew he usually made when his anxiety spiked. “Hunt, about what I asked you before Morocco…”

“I know what I said,” Your father interrupted. “But after all of this…I honestly think you’re the only man for the job.”

And audible sigh of relief slipped passed August’s full lips. “You changed your mind?”

“After I thought about what you said you’re willing to give up, I realized you are serious about this.”

“I am,” August said, a certain determination in his voice.

“You would have to…” Your father paused, ensuring August understood. He had used that tone on you many times as a child. “…you know…give it up.”

August poured a cup of coffee for himself and turned to lean against the counter. You quickly ducked away from the door for fear he could see your eyes spying on him through the small crack, but when you chanced a look back, he seemed to be staring into space, shuffling through his thoughts. “It would be worth it. More than worth it.” August gave a close-lipped smile. “I never really enjoyed this anyway.

You father sighed through the speaker. “None of us really do.”

“That is true.” August’s chest puffed for a second in a silent laugh and took another sip of coffee. “I have to go. Your daughter is spying on me.”

Fuck, you thought. Completely busted. You inched the door open with a guilty look as your boyfriend eyed you and ended the call with a click. After setting the coffee cup on the counter, he crossed his arms and rose an eyebrow at you.

“Not the stealthiest, huh?” You chuckled nervously.

“You might have been had you not been spying on a man in the CIA.”

“Sorry, baby.” August snickered as he reached out a hand. You walked to him and he pulled you in close with a kiss to your forehead. “What were you talking about? It was very cryptic.”

He hummed. “Maybe it’s too dangerous for you to know.”

You looked up and met bright blue eyes. “Is it?”

“…No.”

“Well,” You began, drawing out the word with an innocent smile. “If it wasn’t about a mission, why can’t I know? A civil conversation with my dad is a little suspicious, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No, babe. We are the best of pals when we are on assignment.”

August’s eyes lit up as you let out a loud laugh. “Bullshit. Stop delaying and spill it, Mister.”

He swayed you back and forth in his arms, taking some time to think about how to say what you were demanding he tell you. “I plan to take a demotion…of sorts,” He said, way too casually for you.

You pulled out of his arms and your eyebrows knitted together. “What? August—”

“I want to do it.”

“Why? What does it mean for you if you do?” Slowly, he stepped to you and led you to the couch in the room. When you sat, he lifted your legs, laid them across his thick thighs, and placed a hand on your knee. “August…” You said, pulling his attention away from your legs.

His lips quirked up at the ends. “It means that I will be home more. Much more. It means that I won’t be putting myself in as dangerous of situations. It means you’ll be safer.” He raised a calloused hand to cup your cheek and stroked the corner of your lips with his thumb. Your eyes closed as you settled into his touch. “It means I can marry you.”

Immediately, your eyelids shot back open and as your lips parted, August took the opportunity to run that thumb once over your bottom lip before his fingers left your face. “What?”

“When Hunt tells me we are good to leave here, which should be in about a week, it means it’s over. I’m done. I won’t have to go back in the game if I don’t put myself there.”

“Can you do that? Sloane—”

He shook his head. “Won’t be a problem.”

“How?”

“I made a deal with Sloane a few years ago, when you and I started dating. When the time is right, if I take a step down, I’ll do what she asks, train five new recruits to be even better than I am, and…” He paused, “I won’t reveal certain information about her husband.”

Your hand covered your smile of awe for a moment. “You’re actually doing all of this just so you can marry me?”

“Of course, I am. Marriage doesn’t exactly work well when people do what I do. Hunt had to go through losing Julia for the job, but I don’t want to. Especially not with you.” A tear trailed down your cheek that August immediately swiped away. “Don’t cry.”

You moved to straddle him on the couch. Your arms linked behind his neck, and his hands fell to your waist, rubbing up and down your sides until he wrapped them around to settle on your ass. “I love you,” You sobbed. “I can’t believe you are willing to blackmail your boss for me.”

August beamed up at you and brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “I wouldn’t blackmail her for anyone but you.” Then he reached a hand to the back of your neck and pulled down until your lips connected with his.

[yelena-bellova]

Winter Song

Plot: Y/n finds that her favorite time of year is much less enjoyable without Steve.

Warnings: Christmas angst, fluff, but mostly angst

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I got this idea a few weeks ago and couldn’t wait to post it. It’s based on Leslie Odom Jr. and Cynthia Erivo’s version of the song, I highly recommend listening to it ❄️ I definitely didn’t proofread this enough and I’m posting it at almost midnight so it’s probably riddled with mistakes 🙈

*Flashbacks are in italics

————

This is my winter song to you

The storm is coming soon

It rolls in from the sea

It was well known among the compound that Christmas was my absolute favorite time of year.

There was no competition in the state of New York, nay, the entirety of the East Coast that rivaled my love of the season. On November 1st I would have the pumpkins and fake cobwebs boxed back up and be stringing lights and hanging wreaths before anyone else in the compound was awake. They’d tease me about it but by the time December actually rolled around, you could hear the toughest of heroes humming ‘Sleigh Ride’ to themselves. Still, no one could measure up to my enthusiasm for Christmas…

Except Steve.

He’d be the one handing me decorations as I stood on a ladder positioning them perfectly. He’d watch every movie and special with me tucked into his side. We’d bake batch after batch of cookies because while they had no problem teasing us, Rhodey and Sam would come through like a tornado and eat all of them. And gift shopping was a day long event that tested the how the super soldier’s strength held up when carrying 10+ bags and boxes.

All of it occurred before the Accords, of course. The storm that rolled in, placed an unmovable divide between Steve and I and left me at the compound and him as far from beside me as could be.

I was halfheartedly stringing lights around the living room, unable to think of anything but Steve. It was snowing heavily outside, the kind of weather that practically demanded all plans to be cancelled for hot chocolate and warm blankets. It was those types of memories that hurt the worst…

————

Is love alive?

Is love alive?

Is love

“It’s a Wonderful Life, hands down the best Christmas movie of all time.”

“But it’s so sad,” I argued, “And the last thing you’re supposed to be during the season is sad.”

Steve looked over at me from his slumped position on the couch of the common room. I’d pulled out my fluffiest flannel blanket and even though the man was his own furnace, he loved me too much to object when I’d laid it over us. I was sitting up gesturing towards the tv as I tried to convince him that whiles his favorite movie was cute, it was too depressing for Christmas.

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” Steve relented a little, “But what about that ending? You can’t argue that it’s not heartwarming.”

I rolled my eyes, “Okay, I’ll give you that one but I don’t like how we get there. I don’t even like thinking about my life without any of you guys in it.”

Steve cleared his throat and I twisted to see his blonde eyebrows raised.

“Especially my number one elf,” I smiled as I sat back against the couch and shifted closer to him, “You’re the only person who doesn’t think I’m insane this time of year.”

“I’d never let you do Christmas by yourself,” he said, reaching under the blanket to take my hand in his.

It was moments like these that I questioned Steve and I. It was just enough of a picture perfect domestic moment that if anyone stumbled upon us, they’d raise eyebrows and ask if they were intruding. With his affectionate gaze focused on me, our shoulders rubbing together and the unexplainable feeling that behind our time spent together there was…something. If I was being completely honest with myself, I wanted there to be something.

Unfortunately, I could summon enough courage to battle aliens and assassins but not to confess my feelings. “Um, what’s next on the list?” I asked, awkwardly fidgeting with my free hand, “I need to finish making my gift list for when we go shopping if you want to help.”

“Yeah, but can we just…”

“Just what?” I asked with a furrowed brow.

Steve scratched the back of his neck before turning back to me, “Can we just sit here for a minute longer? It’s nice.”

My face probably gave away my enthusiasm for the suggestion, but I still tried to conceal it with a close lipped smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Without needing any further agreement, Steve moved an arm around my shoulders and brought me closer to him. While my mind had drawn a blank, my body knew what to do and nestled itself into his side. I laid my head against his chest and wrapped an arm around his torso, giving me the perfect view of the snowstorm outside. Steve rested his chin on the top of my head and continuously ran his hand up and down my back. The moment was perfect and if I’d had the power to stop time, I’d have been happy to stay in Steve’s arms forever.

Yeah, there was definitely something.

————

They say we're buried far

Just like a distant star

I simply cannot hold

I knew it was a huge mistake to enter Steve’s room, but that still didn’t stop me from twisting the doorknob.

It was exactly as he’d left it five months ago when he left for London to attend Peggy’s funeral. All that had been added was a thin layer of dust across every surface. I dragged myself over to his bed and carefully sat down on the edge of it. The part of me that was still in denial about the entire situation didn’t want to mess up the sheets in case he made a sudden return. I reached over to his nightstand and grabbed the picture frame that had sat on it ever since last Christmas. I had jokingly bought Steve and I matching sweaters with hideous festive designs. The entire team howled with laughter as he opened the gift up on Christmas morning. God bless the man and his inability to deny me anything during the holiday season…He’d put it on without so much as an eye roll and Tony had practically tripped over himself trying to get photographic proof of it.

“You are such a simp, Rogers, and I could not be more thankful for it,” Tony grinned, holding up his phone towards us, “Say hello to next year’s Avengers Christmas card.”

Steve locked his arms around my waist and with no warning, lifted me up in the air. I squealed and rushed to hold on to him, the both of us laughing as Tony won his latest way to blackmail us.

The joy that the photo captured seemed like it had occurred years ago. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been that happy or carefree but it had probably involved Steve.

“It’s just not the same without you,” I whispered as I stroked a finger through the dust that covered his face.


This is my winter song

December never felt so wrong

Cause you’re not where you belong

Inside my arms

I wrapped my sweater around my body as I made me way back out to the common room. I didn’t expect to find Tony rifling through one of the many decoration boxes I had set out. While I’d been moping in Steve’s room, he’d taken the initiative in decorating.

“Stark Industries branching out into the holiday business?” I asked with as much of a laugh as I could muster, which wasn’t much.

He was nailing a wreath to the wall when I walked in, “It’s called extreme boredom and this is what it looks like.”

I smiled softly as he turned around to face me, trying to appreciate his efforts. If I was missing Steve, Tony was most certainly missing Pepper. He was trying to keep busy in an effort to not dwell on her obvious absence. “You’re lucky I’m not standing next to you right now.”

“Huh?”

Tony smirked and gestured with his hammer to the space above me. I looked up to see the familiar plastic piece of mistletoe I’d hoped we’d lost dangling on a string. My stomach clenched at the memories the item and the particular archway brought back.

————

“You got that video of Tony tonight right?” Steve asked as he stuffed another wad of wrapping paper into a trash bag,

“Oh yeah,” I laughed, “Drunkenly singing ‘Last Christmas’ to Rhodey wearing a Macy’s box on his head definitely tops our sweaters.”

It was late on Christmas Day, everyone had gone to bed except for Steve and I. We were finishing cleaning and wrapping up leftovers from dinner. It also gave us much needed quiet after such a loud evening.

“I think that’s the last of everything,” I said, admiring the clean kitchen.

“Same here,” he replied as he set the last trash bag off to the side of the room, “You look sad.”

I shrugged and crossed my arms, “I’m always sad when Christmas is over. It makes everyday life seem so mundane.”

“Only you would think that the life of an Avenger is mundane,” Steve chuckled from the archway he was standing under.

“Please, no bows or lights or festiveness of any kind?” I teased as I crossed the room to stand next to him, “Boring.”

We shared a laugh and leaned against our separate walls, savoring the last few moments before the day changed to the 26th.

“Thank you for helping me do all this,” I said, gesturing around us, “I couldn’t have pulled it off without you.”

“Like I said, I’d never let you do Christmas by yourself,” Steve smiled before his eyes drifted up, “Oh…”

I tilted my head to see whatever had caught his eye and caused his cheeks to turn so red. “Oh…”

The mistletoe I’d hung as a joke, hanging above and taunting us. Tony had camped under it several times and refused to budge until Pepper would oblige. Wanda and Vision had found themselves under it and she’d nervously pecked his cheek. It was all in good fun until this moment where I was cursing myself for ever hanging it.

“We don’t…I mean, we didn’t realize that it was…” I verbally stumbled, “It’s not like we knew it was there.”

“Right,” Steve nodded, “We didn’t know. But…isn’t it kind of a rule that we…have to?”

My mouth stupidly opened and closed, “I-I think so. And what kind of people would we be if we broke a Christmas rule?”

“Exactly,” Steve agreed, “So it’s not a big deal.”

“Not at all.”

“Good,” he said quietly before pushing off the wall and taking a step to the middle of the archway. I came to meet him and dropped my arms at their sides, his hands carefully reached for mine till they’d taken hold of them. The awkwardness was quickly melting away and being replaced by an urgency to make the inevitable happen. Steve’s fingers traced over the pulse points of my wrists and his lips curled up as he felt the goosebumps break out across my skin. We both leaned in at the same time, not giving the other a chance to back out because we both knew how badly we wanted to get on with it. Our lips met and all the hesitation and second guessing we’d done in the seconds before vanished. Every time I’d questioned whether or not my feelings were true suddenly turned to a resounding ‘YES’ for an answer. Our mouths moved together as if it was a dance we’d done a thousand times. As much as I wanted to pull him closer, my body was paralyzed by the shock and the only thing I felt able to do was lace my fingers with Steve’s.

It ended all too soon, the both of us pulling away in need of oxygen. Steve pressed his forehead to mine and sighed, he squeezed my hands and brushed his nose against mine.

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” I whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Y/n,” he replied softly.

————

“Take it down,” I strained, trying to keep the sobs from escaping my lips.

“Huh?”

“Take it down, Tony. All of it.”


“Y/n, what are you talking about? You love all this crap,” Tony gestured to the room.

The tears were getting harder to try and hide, so I didn’t bother. “Not anymore. If you want to hire someone to decorate, fine, but I can’t look at any of our stuff,” I snapped before dropping my tone to a whine, “Just take it down.”

I fled before he could ask any more questions that I couldn’t bear to answer. I retreated to my room, quickly locking the door and allowing my cries to be released. I curled into myself with my back against the door and let myself fall apart, knowing that the one person who could piece me back together was unreachable.

————

Is love alive?
Is love alive?
Is love alive?

Despite my ignoring the calendar and anything that had to do with the season, Christmas Day had arrived. Tony had indeed paid a team to decorate the compound, it was too minimalistic for my taste but I was the whole reason for it so I couldn’t complain.

Tony, Rhodey, Vision and I plus Peter and his Aunt May were seated at the dining room table attempting to make cheerful conversation. Peter was telling us about some recent adventure he’d had patrolling his neighborhood. I tried to pay attention but all I really cared about was how quickly I could escape to my room and put an end to the day. At some point in the evening I feigned a headache, halfheartedly wished the group a merry Christmas and trudged down the halls to my safe haven. I was pulling out a set of pajamas to change into when a muffled ringtone emerged from one of my dresser drawers. While I hadn’t heard it play ever, I knew exactly what it belonged to. I flung the drawer open and dug the phone out from under my clothes. However impossible, there was only one person who could be on the other end of the call.

With shaking hands, I flipped the top of the device up and raised it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

My lips quirked upwards in a watery smile as the voice I’d longed to hear for months washed over me. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”