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#maybe a stark!oc but i feel like that’s already so. basic.
towriteabetterlife · 27 days ago
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O Me! O Life!
Chapter 10
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A/N: i finished my finals!! can i hear a wahoo? (any good omens fans out there? no? okay) anyway, this just means i’m gonna be free and incredibly bored for the next couple of months which means more writing for all of you!
pairing(s): neil perry x fem!oc
warning(s): swearing, drinking
word count: 3334
     “You know, if you’re such a big fan of Shakespeare, you might like Molière’s plays.”
    “Hm, don’t think I’ve heard him.”
    “Really? Well, he’s basically Shakespeare’s French equivalent. I love his comedies.”
    “Huh. Maybe you’ll have to lend me his plays sometime,” Neil glanced at her from the corner of his eyes while a slight smirk played on his face.
    “Maybe I will,” Jane giggled and gently knocked her shoulder into his arm.
    They continued walking side by side on the stone path looping around the outside of their dorm until Jane felt a slight pull coming from her hand and glanced down to see Neil’s hand grasping her own. He had halted in his steps and was staring silently in the direction of one of the stone walkways that connected two of the school’s buildings.
    When she opened her mouth to speak, Neil jutted out his chin in a quick motion as if he knew that she was about to ask why they had stopped. Turning her head towards the subject of his gaze, Jane saw a lonesome Todd sitting with his knees tucked into his chest and his arms wrapped around his shins. By his feet lay some sort of package – the plastic stretched over its surface, reflecting the moon's bright light.
    “Todd? Hey.” Neil strode over to where Todd sat while Jane followed and greeted the boy with a smile.
    “Hey.”
    “What’re you doing out here? It’s almost curfew,” Jane said.
    “Nothing.”
    She and Neil locked eyes as if they were both thinking “doesn’t look like nothing” before simultaneously looking down at the plastic-wrapped bundle.
    Todd noticed and explained. “Today’s my birthday.”
    “Is today your birthday?” Neil’s voice had softened when he spoke. “Happy birthday!”
    “Yeah, happy birthday!” Jane smiled down at him. “But why didn’t you tell us? We would’ve celebrated with you.”
    “Thanks, but I, uh, don’t know if you’d call this celebrating.” He chuckled slightly like he was telling a joke.
    “What’d you get?” Neil asked, obviously trying to steer the mood of the conversation away from a dreary one.
    “My parents gave me this.” Todd motioned to the gift gleaming against the stone and Jane realized it was a desk set. Though, she could’ve sworn that she’d seen one just like it before.
    “Isn’t this the same desk set–” Neil started.
    “Yeah, yeah. They gave me the same thing as last year.”
    Jane peered at Todd’s face, hoping that he’d look up at her so that she could show some sort of comforting expression to make him feel better. Instead of meeting her eyes, he maintained steady contact with the ground.
    Jeez, she thought, he deserves better.
    “Oh,” was all Neil commented.
    “Oh.”
    Oh, indeed, supplied Jane’s mind.
    “Maybe they thought you needed another one,” Neil laughed, still giving his all in an attempt to lighten up their conversation.
    It earned a laugh from the other boy, but his next words sounded caustic. “Maybe they weren’t thinking about anything at all. Uh, the funny thing about this is I-I didn’t even like it the first time.”
    “Todd, I think you’re underestimating the value of this desk set,” Jane spoke up, leveling her hands on her hips to make it seem like she had the authoritative manner of being a know-it-all.
    Todd gaped up at her, visibly confused, but Neil caught on almost immediately as he bent down to pick up the set.
    “She’s right! I mean, who would want a football or a baseball–”
    “Or a car,” Todd added.
    “Mm, or a car! If they could have a desk set as wonderful as this one. I mean, if, if I were ever going to buy a desk set… twice, I would probably buy this one. Both times,” Neil advertised as Todd chuckled at his efforts to lift his feelings. “In fact, its–its shape is rather… aerodynamic, isn’t it?”
    “‘Tis,” Jane agreed in a most contemplative manner.
    She and Neil shared a smile as he stepped toward the ledge. Todd’s eyes trailed after him, eagerly watching to see what he’d do next.
    “I can feel it.” Neil made a whooshing sound and tossed Todd’s gift into the air just a few inches as if to demonstrate his point. “This desk set wants to fly.”
    Todd stood – every trace of devastation that had been present on his face before was now gone – and gazed at Neil expectantly, a bright grin adorning his features. Jane moved to stand near Neil’s left shoulder, prepping herself for a view of what was sure to come.
    “Todd?” Neil passed the desk set over to his roommate before announcing, “The world’s first unmanned flying desk set.”
    Todd reared back after having examined it for a few moments and launched the desk set into the air with a guttural cry. Sheets of stark white paper rained down as the set and its components clattered amongst the ground.
    A couple of students who had been walking by when Todd threw his birthday present now looked up at the three of them with agitated expressions.
    “Sorry!” Jane called out not-so-sincerely as they all tried to stifle their laughter at the students’ disgruntled passing. The group failed, though, and burst out in hysterics as soon as the boys vanished from view.
    “Oh, my!” Neil exclaimed.
    “Did you see their faces?” Jane managed to ask through gasps of giggles. “Absolutely priceless!”
    Their laughter eventually subsided and, in their place, vigorous glimmers were shined in their eyes.
    “Well, I wouldn’t worry,” Neil spoke. “You’ll get another one next year.”
    This sent them into another, though shorter, round of amused chuckling.
    “I’d, uh, better get inside,” Todd said after a while. “My parents will be expecting a letter telling them how grateful I am for their oh-so-thoughtful gift.”
    “But, of course,” Neil responded playfully and the three of them exchanged “good nights” while Neil and Jane again wished Todd a happy birthday.
    He was almost to the door of the building when Jane shouted: “Don’t forget to detail all the fun you’ve had with it already!”
    Todd rotated on his toes and called back, “I won’t!” before disappearing from the frame of the doorway.
    “He’s come so far out of his shell,” Jane remarked happily as she and Neil watched him go.
    “I know. It’s nice seeing him so… unafraid.”
    She nodded, resolute. “We need to do something for him.”
    “Already one step ahead of you.”
    “Oh, yeah?” Jane turned to face Neil, whose face was plastered with a knowing smirk. “Let’s hear it, then.”
    “Alright. Well, since we’re already having a meeting tomorrow night, I figured we could dedicate it to him. Poetry, music, even Charlie’s antics, will all be devoted to Todd. We won’t have enough time to get him a present, but I’m sure we can find him something the next time we go to town for rehearsal.”
    “Of course! The only thing we need now is a cake.”
    “Sure, but where are gonna find a cake?”
    Jane pondered for a moment, her eyes meeting Neil’s in deep contemplation when an idea struck the inside of her skull. “You know what? I think I may actually be able to take care of that little problem.”
    …
    Jane had told Neil that she was going to be a tad bit late – she was lugging extra cargo, after all – so she wasn’t surprised to see the light of the Dead Poet’s fire already flickering around the cave’s opening when she arrived.
    What she didn’t expect, however, was the unmistakable titter of feminine voices. She frowned, puzzled, but continued her descent into the rocky space.
    It took her a longer time than it usually would to maneuver down the slope of the opening. The circular pan filled with uneaten apple pie threatened to tip at any moment as she tried her best to balance it in the palm of her free hand. As she descended, though, Jane could hear the bold voice of one Charlie Dalton drifting up from inside the cave’s walls.
    “…In keeping with the spirit of passionate experimentation of the Dead Poets, I’m giving up the name ‘Charles Dalton.’ From now on, call me Nuwanda.”
    Various chuckles sounded from below, along with scattered questioning of Charlie’s newly proclaimed title. “Nuwanda?”
    “Jane?”
    The girl in question had finally – and successfully – made it onto the solid floor of the cave. Everyone’s eyes were on her and no voice volunteered to speak, filling the stuffy air with absolute silence.
    She glanced from eye to eye, meeting the gaze of each Dead Poet, as well as observing the spirited face of Charlie, whose cheeks were painted with some sort of red substance – lipstick, maybe? But, where would he have gotten that?
    Everyone except Knox, who she remembered had prior engagements to attend Chris’s party, was present. In his place, however, were the dumbfounded stares of two girls. Both had curled blonde hairdos and heavily layered make-up surrounding their scrutinizing eyes.
    “Uh…” Jane muttered, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.
    “You actually did it! How the hell did you manage to get that?” Neil bounced forward, completely disregarding the tense atmosphere. Jane was glad for his enthusiasm, though, and welcomed his astonished appreciation of her efforts. She’d do anything to capture that feeling of instant gratification that his gaze filled her with.
    “Mr. Nolan’s wife dropped off a pie the other day and I saw him hand it off to one of the kitchen’s staff so I figured they were storing it in there. Thankfully, I had dish-washing duty today and managed to sneak it past everyone on my way out.”
    “Never thought I’d hear anyone be thankful for having to wash dishes. You’re incredible,” he said, the corners of his lips raised in an amazed smile.
    Jane blushed and examined her shoes, too overwhelmed with Neil’s praise that she was unable to meet his eyes.
    “Pretty gutsy, Janie,” Charlie interjected with evident approval. “Now, why don’t we dive in? Wouldn’t want your efforts to go to waste.”
    “Yeah, I’m starving,” added one of the girls who, at the same time, made a grab for the dessert in Jane’s hand.
    “It’s not for you,” she responded, shifting the pie away so that it was out of reach from the girl’s hand.
    The culprit appeared affronted, her mouth agape and eyes wide. But then her friend leaned over and a derisive grin replaced her previously confounded expression.
    “If she’s a prude about sharing, then imagine what else she’s a prude about.”
    Jane gasped and jerked her hand back as if gearing up to hurl the pie right at their glossy red lips. Besides, mouths weren’t called pie-holes for nothing…
    Except, Neil’s hand laid a firm grip on her wrist, preventing her from painting their features with the gooey sweetness of cinnamon-baked apples. She thought about struggling for a second or two, but backed down, figuring it wasn’t worth it to squander her precious loot on a couple of vapid schoolgirls. Her lack of resistance allowed Neil to carefully spin her body towards him so that their noses were only inches from touching.
    “It’s for Todd, remember?”
    Jane peered into his eyes and nodded wordlessly, knowing he was right. She released a deep breath as he trailed his fingers up across her wrist and onto the round foil tray holding the pie. His light touch lingered as he removed the dessert from her hand and presented it to Todd.
    “Bet your parents didn’t get you that last year,” she said, trying for a joke despite the strained air of their surroundings.
    He beamed at her from his crouched position on the ground. “No, they didn’t.”
    “Good,” she affirmed and moved to sit on a ledge to his right, taking care to ruffle his hair in a sisterly fashion as she did so.
    “We gonna have a meeting, or what?” Charlie said as he brought a cigarette to his mouth.
    “Yeah, if you guys don’t have a meeting,” one of the girls piped in, “how do we know if we wanna join?”
    Jane couldn’t believe her ears and fixed a livid stare in her direction.
    “Join?” Neil repeated before shaking his head, also obviously taken aback.
    Several scoffs arose from the boys around her and Jane even released one of her own. Out of the corner of her eye, Cameron lifted his arms in an “I told you so” sort of gesture.
    Charlie paid no attention to the group’s dissent, though, and strided over to the other girl who had been standing next to Neil, steadily sipping from a bottle of what Jane presumed to be alcohol.
    “‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”
    “That’s so sweet!” she doted.
    “I made that up just for you.”
    “You did?”
    Cue more scoffs and shaking of the heads from the rest of the Dead Poets. Jane met the firelit irises of Neil and they shared a look of exasperation. Todd chuckled beside her, amused that the blonde had really believed that Charlie made up such a couplet on the spot.
    Well, Jane thought, at least Shakespeare would’ve been proud knowing that his words were being used to fool somebody.
    “I’ll write one for you, too, Gloria!” Charlie said as he relaxed onto the spot next to, as Jane now knew, Gloria. “‘She walks in beauty like the night…
    She walks in beauty like the night
    Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
    And all that’s best of dark and bright
    Meet in her aspect and her eyes…”
    “That’s beautiful.”
    “There’s plenty more where that came from,” he responded while meeting the stares of each of the Poets with a mischievous glint twinkling in his eyes.
    The other girl whom Jane still didn’t know the name of took one last swig and passed the small bottle to Neil. He looked unsure as he accepted it and cast a wary glance to his right. Jane caught a glimpse of Cameron motioning a finger across his neck as if telling him not to obey her orders, but Neil peered at Jane for an answer, instead. She only shrugged, also cautionary concerning the alcohol, but still not entirely opposed to the idea of having a drink given the circumstances.
    Neil brought the glass to his lips and directed his eyes across the cave at Charlie, sharing a daring smirk with the boy before taking a sip. He passed the bottle to her after he’d done so and Jane felt her fingertips graze Neil’s knuckles, spreading light tingles on the pads of her fingers.
    A different sort of tingling ignited down her throat as she raised the liquid to her lips. She could feel a warmth burning along the inside of her throat as she swallowed and, almost immediately, Jane felt a sensation of calm groundedness sweep through her body.
    A few seconds of awkward silence had passed when Meeks spoke up. “Me and Pitts are working on a hi-fi system. It shouldn’t be that hard to, uh, put together.”
    As he was speaking, Jane stole a glance at Neil’s upright form beside her. She couldn’t help but do this every so often; whether she was in class or eating dinner in the dining hall, Jane just couldn’t keep her eyes away from the boy. Though he had caught her doing this a few times, she continued with the habit, constantly hoping to once again see Neil’s eyes already observing her as she looked over.
    Jane was let down, however, when she spotted that another someone had stolen Neil’s attention. His chin was turned away from her and was instead facing the countenance of the, so far, unnamed girl, who wasn’t even aware of the boy’s obvious ogling.
    Jane’s brows furrowed of their own accord as she rotated her head away from the scene and towards the two boys who were still explaining their latest project. She would be lying if she had said that a slight pang hadn’t shot through her chest at the envious sight.
    “Yeah, uh, I might be going to Yale,” Pitts added, unsure of himself, “uh, but, I-I might not.”
    “Don’t you guys miss having girls around here?” Gloria inquired.
    Both Meeks and Pitts smiled goofily and laughed. “Yeah.”
    Jane rolled her eyes at their eagerness to agree with the pretty girl. Dorks.
    “That’s part of what this club is about,” Charlie interjected. “In fact, I’d like to announce: I published an article in the school paper in the name of the Dead Poets…”
    “What?” Cameron hissed.
    “…demanding girls be admitted to Welton,” — he paused to whisper to Meeks — “so we can all stop beating off.”
    Her mouth opened in a gape, but she stayed silent, nonetheless – too flabbergasted to make a response.
    “How did you do that?” Neil asked, voicing what Jane couldn’t.
    “I’m one of the proofers. I slipped the article in.”
    “It-It’s over now,” Meeks blurted.
    “Why? Nobody knows who we are.”
    “Well, don’t you think they’re gonna figure out who wrote it?” Cameron reasoned, and, for once, Jane supported his argument. “They’re gonna come to you and ask to know what the Dead Poets Society is. Charlie, you had no right to do something like that!”
    The person responsible yanked the alcohol from Jane’s hand. “It’s Nuwanda, Cameron.”
    He then took a gulp from the bottle’s contents and exhaled. Jane vaguely wondered if he’d had anything else to drink earlier that night. Perhaps the alcohol was to blame for his carelessness.
    “That’s right, it’s Nuwanda,” Gloria concurred.
    “And are we just playing around out here, or do we mean what we say? If all we do is come together and read a bunch of poems to each other, what the hell are we doing?”
    “All right, but you still shouldn’t have done it, Charlie,” Neil burst forward. “This could mean trouble. You don’t speak for the club!”
    “Hey, would you not worry about your precious little neck? If they catch me, I’ll tell them I made it up.”
    Jane shook her head and peeked at Todd. She knew he enjoyed the poetry the most out of all of them and, after all, this night was supposed to be for him. So seeing his downcast expression, almost as if he were guilty and was actively trying to disappear, made her realize that she had to say something.
    “Neil’s right, Charlie. There are other ways to invoke change without putting other people’s well-being at stake.”
    “Of course you take his side,” he wheeled on her. “I would’ve thought that you of all people would see where I was coming from, being the only girl at Welton and all. But I guess you just adore all of the special attention you get, don’t you?”
    Jane could feel the rising tide of anger coursing through her veins. All of the outrage at his words prompted her to relinquish control of her actions and, the next thing she knew, the round pan of crisp apple pie was rushing towards the stupid red symbols adorning Charlie’s cheeks with her palm spread firmly behind the silver bottom.
    She felt a satisfying squish as all of the dessert’s sugary filling leaked onto his astonished features. Everyone in the cave stood in stunned silence as Jane’s chest heaved with adrenaline.
    “Sorry, Todd,” she remarked and, without waiting for an answer, marched out into the brisk chill of the late autumn night.
    “Jane! Jane, wait up,” Neil called out as she stormed away from the light streaming from the cave’s opening.
    She didn’t turn around, though, and continued to place heavy footstep after heavy footstep. He caught hold of her wrist for the second time that night and once again spun her to face him.
    “I’m sure he’ll take care of it,” he assured, staring deep into her eyes so that she had no choice but to focus on him.
    Jane only shook her head. “He ruined it, Neil. And he’s gonna regret it. We all are.”
-
taglist: @thenewdaysalreadyhere @hyperactiveravenclaw @f-b-a-w-t-f-t
plus a bunch of other people who i thought might enjoy this!: @deadpoetsmuses @ughgclden @neilsemeraldsweater @galaxyrhymes @catflowerbean @neilfuckingperrydeservedbetter @deadpoetsgayvodka @nananostalgic @tmbm123 @classic80sand90smovieloves2 @girloncorneliastreet @turtlelover59 @moncheriemoony (also: let me know if you don’t want to be tagged. i don’t wanna bother anyone)
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novantinuum · 2 months ago
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No Escaping the Weather (SU one-shot)
Fandom: Steven Universe
Rating: Teen Audiences
Words: 5.7K~
Summary: Amidst an unusually stormy late summer’s day, Steven finally amasses the courage to confide in his dad about one of his greatest traumas.
This is a gift for my friend Cynthi, who is the creator of the lovely Steven Universe: New Beginnings comic! I wrote it with the intention of it happening at some point between chapter 8 and 9 of her story, (woo, fic of a fic!), but in my mind it easily stands on its own as well. Dr. Flowers, as mentioned in this one-shot, is her OC.
If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Link in reblogs. Thank you! <3
____
No Escaping the Weather
The wind howls as it thrashes against the side of the nearby cliff. Admittedly, that, and the precipitation angrily colliding against the windows in thick sheets are somewhat nerve-wracking, causing his muscles to seize tight as if suffering under the effect of a destabilizer at every stilted groan and creak of this house. He never did like thunderstorms. That’s okay, though. Really, it is! He just has to push down his fear and try and think logically. And logically, he knows he’ll be safe and dry in here, huddled on the couch with his dad near the fireplace. This late summer storm pelting the ocean’s restless surface with torrents of rainfall may show no sign of lightening up any time soon, but they have no plans on venturing outside into the heart of the tempest this afternoon.
Instead, they have a cheesy sci-fi B movie running— Galaxy Crusaders 4, one of their old favorites— and a half empty bowl of greasy buttered popcorn nestled between them. When the time comes for dinner, he’ll probably attempt to muster up the energy to cook some canned soup. Maybe that hearty wild rice and vegetables one. Goodness knows they need to start working through their reserves instead of ordering takeout every other night. Plus, it’d probably be healthier, too. Self care, and all that therapy jazz, right?
Steven grabs a fistful of kernels and focuses his scattered attention back on the current events of the film, familiar scenes he’s probably watched dozens of times in his early childhood. The band of heroes are trapped on a badly damaged ship, their nemesis Lord Xander quick in route. They have no chance of barring him from boarding their craft, minimal firepower, and no known means of resisting Xander’s powerful dark cosmic influences. The situation truly appears hopeless. And yet despite all that, the leader of their band of mismatched rebels stands confident, strong, masking any external signs of despair. Somehow, she’s got a plan.
“Good. Let him come,” the teen silently mouths right alongside main character Jarynn, stalwart galactic warrior.
Stars, it’s been ages since he and his dad have watched this together, huh? Let alone any other movie. Heh, he’s kinda impressed he remembers any dialogue to begin with. In all seriousness, though... reinstating periodical movie nights was his dad’s idea, and probably a beneficial one. Long before he started therapy with Dr. Flowers— before, uh... The Incident that alerted his family to the fact that he needed any extra care to begin with— he’d been so bogged down with acting as prime ambassador to Homeworld, or running Little Homeschool, or distracting himself from the unbearable void of purposelessness invading his life that he barely made room in his schedule for bonding time with his dad at all. Perhaps if he had, his battered mental state would’ve been identified far earlier. And with that extra early support, perhaps then he would’ve never—
A mighty ream of thunder claps directly above the peninsula, causing both him and his dad to flinch. His breath hitching on automatic, he clutches his arms around his chest, instinctively feeling for the rough scar tissue situated at the back of his elbows, something constant and grounding.
“Wow, that’s quite a storm we got overhead, huh?” Dad murmurs conversationally over the low din of the movie, grabbing another bountiful handful of popcorn.
“Y-yeah,” he says with a tight smile, working to obscure the tremble of his voice in fake cheeriness. “It sure is!” Internally though, he wants to smack himself.
Push down your fear, you dummy- remember?
His dad thinks he’s come so far in the past few months, that his anxiety and mood have improved by leaps and bounds through his months of bi-weekly therapy sessions. But honestly, he’s not sure if he can claim the same, and he’d hate to break his heart with that news. In many ways, he still feels exactly like he did back in March— tense, hyper-vigilant, and numb— only now, he’s burdened with knowing the proper language for what he’s slogging through. Generalized Anxiety Disorder. C-PTSD. Major Depression. All of them fancy, clinically detached ways to say that there’s something seriously messed up about his brain. It’s not like he ever needed a therapist to tell him that, though.
Nah, he’d solved that puzzle eons back.
He supposes it’s true he hasn’t lapsed and glowed pink for a good week now, and that rolling out of bed and taking basic care of himself feels far more attainable lately. So, that’s at least one small victory. But to be fair, he’s had his guardians nudging him along all the way. Pearl makes certain to wake him up at eight AM each morning and open his slider door to let in some fresh air. (Whether or not he’s able to get dressed at that time.) Garnet always sets up a music player and some small weights on the beach at eleven AM for their daily workout routine. (And he feels awful leaving her hanging, especially when he knows she’s only trying to help provide him with structure.) Amethyst’s hanging around the temple more often lately, openly offering to play video games or wrestle or take a walk around the boardwalk, if he wants. (He’s not sure who would feel more upset if he declined... him or her.) And of course there’s his dad, who comes over almost every night to spend time with him, who he’s overheard sobbing to one of the Gems on a few occasions about his deep worries for him, who for whatever reason never chooses to share those thoughts to his face directly. 
With all that in mind, it’s easy for him to question if any of this ‘recovery’ is real, or if it’s simply a brand new facade he’s donned for his family’s benefit. If he were on his own, would he still feel the same? Or would he feel even worse? He genuinely doesn’t know. And thus, for the sake of his loved ones, he at least tries to act like he’s in a better place. Maybe one day, if he practices at it enough, he truly will be. After all, isn’t there some scientific evidence proving that smiling for a certain amount of time can single handedly work to improve one’s mood? He’s pretty sure he remembers Connie telling him that, once. It’s like... something to do with endorphins in the brain, or whatever.
Sighing under his breath, he reaches to stuff his face with popcorn once more. What’s happened in the movie since he last paid attention to it? 
As he realigns himself with the plot of their cheesy sci-fi film, it suddenly occurs to him that a good ten or so minutes have probably passed, having slipped right away while he was blindly wandering in circles inside his own head. He missed a huge fight scene. Jarynn has already been taken prisoner on the enemy’s ship. He pales, recalling the therapy session he had a few weeks ago where he learned this was referred to as ‘dissociation.’ A common coping tactic, Dr. Flowers said. Something the body often triggers on automatic. But what on earth could be triggering this now? He’s safe, isn’t he? The storm’s outside— but he’s not. He’s cuddled up on the couch with his dad. He’s watching a fun movie. His world has literally never been as secure and peaceful in his life. So why can’t he just enjoy this? Why does his mind always have to be on high alert? 
It’s not fair.
Thunder continues to rumble in the distance, causing his muscles to seize. It seems closer, this time. He glances through the window with a pensive frown, watching the precipitation pelt their porch. Huh. When did the rain turn to hail? 
“You okay, Schtu-ball?” Dad asks, unmasked concern painting his tone.
Embarrassingly, he fails to stop his voice from cracking with buried emotion.
“I’m fine,” he insists externally, desperately clawing at one of his elbows— repeatedly scouring his fingernail across the stark boundary between smooth skin and scar tissue on automatic— but to no relief. The ambient sounds of the storm echo deep within his bones, corrupting into a battlefield of nightmare and memory against his will. His jaw clenches tight as the brassy soundtrack of their film blossoms to a melodramatic crescendo. If he were alone, he might just slam his hands over his ears. All this unwanted noise... it’s just too much.
And then one more memory layers in. The memory, the one he’s never found the strength to put to words beyond the occasional poorly timed ‘joke.’ The one he’s never fully admitted to any of his family, its intimate and horrifying details reserved for Connie’s audience only.
On the screen, Lord Zander grips the protagonist by her neck, gingerly lifting her off the ground until she chokes in his grasp and her legs helplessly dangle. She He can’t even talk, can’t manage to utter a single cry while tangled within the roots of a primal fear as those long, black talons reach closer and closer and—
His head grows woozy upon this remembrance, and a wave of discomfort surges upwards from his stomach. Part of him almost wants to throw up.
“Dad... can you stop the movie for a bit?” he whispers, not even trying to hide his distress anymore. “Please?”
His dad acquiesces to his request immediately, grabbing the remote off the living room table and quickly jabbing his thumb down on the pause button. The house falls silent, the storm roaring outside the only remaining auditory stimuli. Steven inhales unevenly, shifting his arms so that he’s nearly hugging himself. (Though he knows by this point it’s nothing more but irrational paranoia, anxious fingertips reach for his gem, tracing its central facet through the fabric of his shirt. He’s whole. He’s here, for better or for worse.)
A deadened chill suddenly falls upon the room as he considers the numb void of existence both halves of him experienced, that day he was torn apart... a void that, now that he thinks about it, he’s genuinely not sure he’s ever escaped. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? No matter how many strides he takes in his recovery, a core part of him will always be that shattered little boy desperately crawling across the cold white stone, yearning to be whole again.
“Is something on your mind, bud?” his dad asks, his focus snapping back to the present like a rubber band.
He swallows hard.
“I—“
(I... I need— I need it—)
His hands fidgeting in his lap, he takes a deep breath and resolves to begin anew. Briefly lowers his facade. “I... I’m just thinking about how there’s still a lot of stuff I never told you. Gem stuff, from when I was a kid,” he hastily clarifies, worrying that his initial statement might only inspire further stress without context.
Dad shifts his position on the couch so that he can face him, and nods in silent support.
He begins to open his mouth, his tongue curling in preparation for the first syllable of a pre-scripted conversation he once doubted he’d ever get to have...
And then he makes a rookie’s mistake. He hesitates. He freezes. The jumbled words crowding his mind crumble and die under the pressure before they can ever hope to be spoken aloud. His bottom lip starts to quiver, and after that it’s all over. The surrounding room is bathed in a faint pink glow as his normally neutral expression collapses into vulnerability and he begins to cry.
“I’m so stupid,” he hisses through lukewarm tears, suddenly more angry at himself than anything. “I- I should’ve told you this years ago! A-and maybe then, if I... if you knew everything that happened before, maybe then I wouldn’t have—“
“Whoa, whoa... Steven, listen, it’s okay,” his dad leaps in, planting sturdy, grounding hands on his shoulders. The pink illuminating his cheeks slowly fades. “Look at me, all right? I’m not upset with you for not telling me things sooner. I’m sure you had your reasons.”
“They weren’t exactly good reasons,” he mumbles in shame, rhythmically knocking his bare feet against the legs of the coffee table. 
He frowns in response, the faint lines creasing the edges of his eyes almost growing starker amongst the sudden shift of his features.
“Hey. Don’t worry about it,” he says, and reaches towards the center of the table to grab him a tissue, apparently the last in the box. “The past is the past. And if you’d ever like to share your thoughts in the future... I’m here to listen, y’hear?”
Sighing heavily, Steven accepts his gift and gently clears the damp from around his eyes. Outside, the hail seems to have lightened up for a moment. A true blessing, really, given that its constant clattering noise had him sitting on pins and needles before. He was beginning to irrationally worry that the icy precipitation might grow large enough to break through the roof, or at least damage the porch. Perhaps this change means the tide of this storm is finally turning. Perhaps this means he should follow its example, that he should do the same. He’s obfuscated this particular trauma to silence for so long, thinking it the wisest choice in a once-fraught political atmosphere, but what good has that ever done? In the end, it’s only rendered him supportless.
His gaze absentmindedly drifts towards the window, to the stretch of beach lying right outside his doorstep. The landscape finds itself radically transformed today at the storm’s hands, great swaths of the shoreline drowned in water. He thinks of the wedding he once officiated on that shore, and of the battle that happened afterward... leaving Blue and Yellow Diamond’s ships lying fragmented in the water. A pink leg ship en-route for Homeworld, rising tall above them. (A monster, rising even taller still. A near relapse, happening mere feet from the stretch of beach where he fully transformed the first time.)
He fidgets with the damp tissue in his lap, simultaneously nibbling at the inside of his cheek.
“What do you remember hearing about the second time I went to Homeworld?” he asks quietly, not yet able to make full eye contact. “After Garnet’s wedding.”
Dad raps his fingers against his leg, considering. “Well, um... I know there was a big fight, against all the Diamond ships, or something? You said that you, Amethyst, Garnet, and Pearl had to fuse to climb up its side.”
“Obsidian, yeah,” he nods.
“Obsidian. Gotcha. Anyways, I don’t actually know too much about that trip besides that. I mean, I do know y’all were in trouble at some point, and had to call for help, but you clearly managed to get the Diamonds on your side by the end— so that’s good.”
Steven’s heart fragments into pieces upon this report. Is that really all he ever told him? His own father? His blood nearly boils at the foolishness of his younger self. And it’s not like he can blame the Gems for not bringing any of this up either, because they weren’t even conscious for most of it. Thus, they don’t have any clue that the Diamonds threw Connie and him into space jail, or that White nearly ki— 
His chest painfully seizes up at the mere thought, leaving him unable to take in air for a moment.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope— he’ll get to that mess when he gets there. No use dwelling on it now. 
When he finally manages to properly breathe again, steadily inhaling in and out until his heart rate settles like he was advised to do in therapy, he initiates his recounting of the past, marked hesitance clinging to his voice. Specifically, he makes the decision to begin his story from the very beginning, from the moment they set foot on the Gems’ home planet. His dad’s context is limited, after all. So he really has no choice but to fill in some of the blanks.
He tells him about their bizarre arrival on that world, how a huge crowd of Gems was cheering for them as the ship touched down. Next, his first meeting with White, blinding, colossal— and her staunch refusal to let him slip a word in edgewise. He briefly mentions the pebbles in Mom’s old room and the outfit they made him, an exact replica of Pink Diamond’s. He gives a watery smile at the memory, and at their kindness. If it weren’t for that outfit’s burdened history, he honestly would’ve kept it. It was super comfortable and pretty, and fit like a glove.
“The Era 3 ball came next,” he says, distantly acknowledging that he’s probably skipping a few pertinent details, but oh well. He’s only giving the highlights, not a full dossier. “Basically, it was a disaster.”
“Was that when you had to call for help?”
“Pretty much. I, uh... I fused with Connie in the middle of the ballroom. Yellow didn’t take too kindly to it. The Gems tried to defend me, but they were quickly struck down. Poofed.”
“Huh,” his dad muses out loud, his hand pressed to his chin. “I was always wondering why they came back with new digs. That sure explains it.”
Steven sighs, and leans his head back on the couch. “Yup,” he mutters, popping the ‘p.’ “It was awful to watch, at the time. She poofed them like they were nothing.”
He swallows hard, trying to rid his voice of its pathetic waver. A fool’s errand, really. Stars knows he’s only one traumatic remembrance away from crying again.
“And then they threw Stevonnie into this dark tower, and they didn’t check on us for a day and a half. W-we genuinely weren’t sure that, um... we weren’t sure if we’d ever get out of there,” he whispers, strained.
Another thick roll of thunder chooses then to announce its presence, swiftly and startlingly dotting the end of his sentence. He flinches. Breathing shallow, he hugs his arms tight to his chest, wrapping them around himself like his own weighted blanket. The hail starts ramping up again, deluging their side of the peninsula in thick sheets. His dad scoots closer, and— likely sensing the weight of his internal distress— pulls him against his side. They sit there in near silence amidst the empty rage of the storm for a few minutes, Steven’s cheek resting over the steady beat of heart.
“I’m so sorry that happened to both of you,” Dad says eventually, rubbing gentle circles on one of his arms. “Connie, her parents- do you think they know?”
He gives a stiff shrug, suddenly feeling miserable. “I didn’t tell her to keep everything secret, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
“Steven... now, you know that’s not what I meant,” he frowns, a sudden burst of parental annoyance creeping into his tone.
“Anyways,” he continues, vouching to ignore Dad’s last statement lest they slip into a silly argument he’s not in the mood for, “I have no idea what she did or didn’t tell them. We don’t really like talking about it, much. In fact... you’re actually the first person beyond her I’ve said anything to.”
Dad’s brow creases with noted concern. “Not even your therapist?”
He shakes his head, and suddenly it feels impossibly heavy, as if every single empty fold and crevice has been filled in with sand. “Not yet,” he says, hoarse.
“There’s still more to this story, isn’t there?”
He offers a solitary nod in response, burning tears already budding at the corners of his eyes. A reassuring warmth settles over his hand, then. Dad’s palm, protecting his. Sniffling, he finally turns to look at him, instantly greeted by swirls of sorrow and muted anger in his eyes. (Not anger directed at him, of course— but at Them. The Diamonds. At their wretched old regime.)
“If it’s too much, you don’t have to—“
“No, I- I want to,” he interjects. “I want you to know.”
And I don’t want to have to carry this alone anymore, he thinks, reflecting on how ultimately detrimental that decision probably was for his mental health. He loves Connie, and is forever glad he wasn’t companionless during that awful trip, but... there’s a good reason why they don’t discuss these matters much. What happened in White’s head, it was horrendous. Life shatteringly traumatic. He’d never dream of forcing her to relive all that for his own benefit, even if processing it might’ve provided him a greater sense of mental stability. 
After all, she’s his girlfriend, not his therapist.
“The whole fight you know about happened soon after the tower,” he continues, choosing his words carefully as he edges ever closer to the prime source of his nightmares. “Connie and I managed to convince Blue to let us out, and we found the Gems, but... Yellow was really upset about that.”
He paints as vivid a picture as he can manage of the events leading up to Bismuth, Lapis, and Peridot’s arrival: about Yellow’s tussle with Blue, her eventual acceptance of Homeworld’s unhappiness, and White’s untimely entrance to the scene in the head of the massive diamond ship. Following that, he moves on to discuss the gang’s first attempt at getting through to her.
“We only wanted to change her mind,” he explains, “to show her that her strict rules were only hurting the Gems she created, but she refused to listen. She, um— she refused to even let the other Diamonds speak for themselves. It was like... she possessed them, almost. She’d speak, and her words would come out of their mouths.”
His dad pales as he drinks in the horror of this concept, seemingly beginning to piece together scattered sources of context he’s gleaned throughout the years to recognize who the prime source of most of his trauma is. “Is that... is that what she did to you?”
“No,” he mumbles with a subtle wince, sudden phantom pains shooting through the bundles of nerves surrounding his gemstone like sheet lightning. “But I almost wish it was.”
(It certainly would’ve been easier, having no memory of her abuse of him. Instead, cruel as his past is, whenever his mind decides it’s time to embark on an internal re-enactment he’s left with almost picture perfect recollections, vivid enough to drown within.)
Desiring to distract himself for the moment, he swiftly moves on to the part of the story where the Gems reform. Where they fuse into Obsidian, and win a temporary victory over White’s colossal mecha. He doesn’t dwell on these details for too long, though— after all, it’s the segment Dad already knows. His younger self must have been so excited about all the fusions that he couldn’t help but break his self-imposed silence to gush about it. Bless. What he would give to consistently feel that level of genuine enthusiasm about life again. Maybe one day.
But not right now. Not while he’s here.
Because he’s finally arrived at the storm’s core.
This is no hurricane. There’s no eye at the center, no chance for emotional respite. This is a massive cumulonimbus cell, stretching miles high and as wide as the ocean horizon. There’s no escaping the weather once he’s crossed the threshold and passed into its waiting arms, no reliable method by which to soften the blow. If his desire is to finally be an open book, to permit his dad access to the knowledge of his most wounding experience, then he must understand what he’s walking into. No matter the company, reliving this moment won’t be pleasant.
The Steven in his story enters through the chute in White’s eye.
Like one of his favorite comic book superheroes, he effortlessly lands on the cold white stone, bracing himself in his kneel with an open palm. All three diamonds stand before them, arms extended outwards, Yellow and Blue’s otherwise expressionless features moving in sync as White speaks. Her form glows as bright as a star, as blinding as lightning. The wispy hair at the nape of his neck stands on end within her commanding presence, any confident, rebellious words once budding on his tongue suddenly consigned to oblivion.
“Oh Starlight, what are you doing crawling in here?”
Their one-sided conversation wraps around on itself in his memory, tangling into a crown of knots. Impurities, repression, every color of the light...
“Your new friends are so funny,” White says in that effortlessly patronizing way of hers, narrowing her eyes as she gazes down upon them. “Is that what they’re supposed to be? Funny?”
Warped screams echo across the flat, staticky plane of this ship’s interior as White hijacks their gemstones, each and every one, sucking the color right out of them as they writhe in her clutches, powerless to resist. Reduced to mere puppets. Amethyst, Garnet, Pearl... His palms grow clammy and cold as the truth of his newfound isolation sinks in, as he side steps away from the horrifyingly uncanny imitations of his family. Blood pounds in his ears. This is wrong. Seeing the Gems, but hearing her voice passing through their lips... feels so, so wrong, in a manner that far exceeds mere discomfort. In his book, it’s an outright violation of autonomy.
And then, the gaslighting begins.
“S-she... she kept saying I was Mom,” he explains, his dad clasping one of his quivering hands in his. “That I was Pink Diamond. That I was always her.”
“It feels good, doesn’t it, Pink?” she drones in that calm, insufferably melodious lilt. “Dulling your power, hiding your face, blaming everything on someone else...”
Reflecting on his past through the more distant perspective he has now, that belief of hers was perhaps the most insidious, tricky little lie anyone’s ever attempted to convince him of, because it almost worked. Her tortuous words hit at every last insecurity and flicker of doubt he once harbored with such pinpoint accuracy that by the end of her unsettlingly calm tirade he was left questioning his own understanding of reality. Every single flash of Pink’s memory his mind bequeathed him... the haunting familiarity of the palace, as if emerging from a very long dream... How tempting it was back then, to acquiesce to her will. To give in. To finally ease those thousands of years of needless suffering and be welcomed home with open arms. To accept that of course White is right, and he she’s simply been playing another ridiculous game with one of his her worthless organics, silly, silly Pink! A few minutes more, and he genuinely might’ve submitted under the pressure, convinced himself of her falsehoods if only to survive.
“Stop cowering inside your gem,” she commands, her will rippling across the vast curved walls of her ship’s interior. “You can hide from yourself, but you can't hide from me, Pink...”
She He’s grinding her his jaw as she he attempts to block out White’s rhetoric, desperately clutching at her his hair, trembling fingers sinking deep into her his tangled mess of curls. It’s Connie’s voice that finally offers an anchor amidst his spiraling doubt. Somehow managing to pry the hijacked Pearl’s hand off of her mouth, she addresses him by name, reframes White’s words as the vile lies they are. H-he... he’s Steven. He’s Steven. He’s always been Steven, right?
And then, while he’s still cycling through endless waves of disbelief, a monstrously large hand plucks him off the ground. At this point he’s too mentally exhausted to fight back, limbs falling utterly slack in White’s grasp. His stomach flips as Connie and the Gems all but disappear beneath him in his swift ascent, becoming mere specks. (Is that how she sees everyone else, as high as she towers above them all? As nothing but meaningless specks?)
“Now, Starlight... this has gone on long enough,” she says, her features twisted into the most deranged, terrifying expression he’s ever seen another living being present.
The visceral reality of what she plans to do doesn’t hit him until she hooks one of her glossy black nails on the underside of his shirt, and pulls it up to expose his belly. His gem. He struggles to take in full breaths in his shock— to even produce a sound louder than a pathetically hoarse gasp— as those sharp talons creep ever closer to his vulnerable flesh.
“It’s time to come out, Pink...”
Searing pain slices through the skin surrounding his gemstone, a sensation so vivid and lifelike to what he experienced in White’s clutches that his body immediately reacts in defense.
“Get away from me!” he screams through hot, sloppy tears, throwing a protective hand over his gem and scrambling clear to the other end of the couch, away from the oppressive presence looming far too close to his core, away from White, away from—
His chest irregularly heaving for breath, he blinks to clear his field of vision, his eyelids suddenly feeling insufferably heavy. H-he... he’s at home. He’s not there, not on Homeworld anymore. 
(She can’t touch him anymore.) 
There’s three details about his current surroundings that his wandering mind latches onto first. One, he’s glowing again. That’s not exactly a surprise, given he’s pretty sure he’s having a mild panic attack, but it does come as a disappointment. After all, he hadn’t turned pink for a good week or so before today. Two, the bowl of popcorn he and his dad were sharing during the movie now lays upside down on the floor, its contents spilled underfoot. And three, poor Dad appears thoroughly startled, with a flicker of hurt mixed in. His hands are outstretched, only wishing to embrace him, and yet—
He irrationally yelled at him, pushed him away. Again.
Upon this realization, he crumples under the weight of his embarrassment and breaks down into a mass of pathetic, mewling sobs. The shifting winds beyond the confines of home howl in sympathy as he curls his legs to his chest and drowns in his own shame. His own failure. 
He has no way of comprehending how many seconds pass before his dad finally attempts to approach, calling his name. Predictably, his tone resembles that of a zookeeper approaching a perturbed animal. Finding it difficult not to feel mildly offended, he tips his head up, peering at him from behind his knees.
“Steven,” he says again, freely offering his hand. “Listen to me. You’re safe. You’re at home, okay? We don’t have to talk about this anymore if you don’t want to, in fact, maybe it’s best if you—“
“She took my gem,” he blurts out between stilted, shallow gasps for air, no longer able to tolerate a world where he’s condemned to hold these words in eternal silence. “She, she dug her nails under my skin and... a-and tore it out of my body!”
The remaining dams shatter at this admission. Now weeping without restraint, he throws himself into his father’s embrace, likely smearing his messy tears and snot all over the front of his shirt. Blessedly, Dad doesn’t say anything at first— instead rocking him back and forth in his arms like he always did when he was just a child, just an innocent little boy whose only true fear was thunderstorms. All in all, it’s a fitting reminder; he may not be able to entirely escape the weather’s wrath, but he can find temporary solace in the comfort of others.
Minutes pass. By now his hiccuping sobs have softened into the occasional sniffle. That eerie pink glow has finally faded from under his skin, leaving him pale and shivering from the wasted adrenaline. All in all, he’s spent. Both physically, and spiritually. Part of him can’t help but obsess over the fact that he still hasn’t finished his story, hasn’t told his dad the happy ending about how his halves joined back together again, but does that really matter right now? It should be obvious that his life didn’t end at fourteen, in the throes of a tragedy. Anyways, he doubts he has the strength to share that part today.
“I hate her,” he whispers against his chest, another fact he’s never shared out loud to another living being. “I hate her so much. Every time I have to be anywhere near her I feel sick.”
Clearing his throat, his dad finally speaks. “Steven, I- I’m so sorry. She had zero right to treat you that way. And if— going forward— you feel you need to set strict boundaries with her for your own well-being, I’ll be there to support you, one hundred percent.”
Sitting back on the couch, he roughly rubs the corners of his eyes with the backs of his knuckles. “Thank you,” he says, the tired voice coming from his lips sounding as hollow as his battered soul feels right now. Then, with a slight laugh mixed in with his understandably morose mood: “Geeze, I probably need to unpack this in therapy at some point, don’t I?”
“That might be beneficial, yes,” Dad nods, with the hint of a smile teasing the edge of his mouth. He leans down, and after placing their old popcorn bowl right-side-up on the coffee table again, begins to clean up scattered pieces of food from the floor. “I’m sure a therapist could provide a lot more structured support with stuff like this than your ol’ dad, anyways.”
Steven quietly watches his progress for a moment, absentmindedly tussling with his own fingers in his lap. If anything else, he’s thankful that the only thing he’s ruined with his outburst this time around is a simple bowl of popcorn. Still, the severity of his response to reminders of this particular trauma worries him. How is he ever supposed to ‘unpack’ this in Dr. Flowers’ office if he can’t even explain what happened to his own dad without snapping pink and freaking out? 
“I guess... when it comes to the whole therapy thing,” he mumbles, lifting one of his hands to his head, “My problem’s that I don’t know how to start with this. It’s just—“ he nervously threads his fingers through his curls— “so much.”
Dad deposits a few more buttery crumbs in the bowl before pausing in his work. Turning to face him, he rests a strong, guiding hand on his shoulder, his expression filled with nothing but encouragement and love.
“You just gotta trust yourself. When you feel the time is right, you tell her everything, Schtu-ball, like you told me. Don’t hold back.”
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mylittlenovathings · 4 months ago
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𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓷'𝓼 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓕𝓾𝓷 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓨𝓸𝓾
Sam Alexander x OC
TW: Slight swearing(less than ten, more than one)
(one shot for upcoming fic. First time, don’t judge)
Summary: Basically Sam/Nova is trick-or-treating with his sister and Jade(OC) comes to embarrass him but they just have a lot of fun together.
Jade’s POV.
IT IS SPOOPY DAY! I’m probably gonna go try and scare the A-Team later. I can’t wait. FINALLY THE DAY I CAN PUT MY HAIR IN FULL BLUE and no one will stare. Well, they always do. I’m Tony Stark’s daughter. Maybe I could get Danny into this. He probably would say no. Eh,I’ll go see Kamala first. Or text her. She doesn’t really celebrate Halloween.
The A-Team Chat
Jade:ANyone Trick-or-Treating tonight?
Sam: Thanks for reminding me, Stark
Sam: You wanna join, Jay?
Peter:( ͡• ͜ʖ ͡• )
Luke:( ͡• ͜ʖ ͡• )
Jade: Luke and Peter out here on the same wavelength.
Sam: I forgot I was supposed to chaperone my sister
Jade: Such a big word.(¬_¬ )
Sam: So I’ve gone out in my onesie. Honestly, Jade, please come embarrass me loudly. Everyone is staring.
Jade:Give me a sec
I laughed and threw on my uniform. It’s Halloween! I ran out and jumped into the night sky. Oh god. I was supposed to scare people not embarrass Sam today but hey, I get to embarrass my boyfriend. That’s fun. IN FRONT OF HIS SISTER! Holy-this is gonna be fun.
I landed behind a bush to catch my breath but laugh at the same time.Sam’s head popped out. He was wearing a multi-coloured unicorn onesie. He looked pretty cute in it.
“Lazy ass costume.” He rolled his eyes.
“Better than yours.”
“Just embarrass me please.”
We popped out of the buch while I was openly laughing at him. Kaelynn smiled and wrapped her arms around me. Kaelynn is the sweetest. I heard our friend, Peter behind us.
“Hey.” I waved.
“Hey Jade.” He nodded. 
He was wearing an Iron Man hoodie. I laughed really loudly. Sam rolled his eyes. I laughed and set my head on his shoulder. Peter made a fake gagging noise while I didn’t care. We were fine like this. We kept walking as some of our other friends joined. We were all laughing loudly at him. All of a sudden, he intertwined his fingers with mine. No one noticed but he smiled at me like asking me if it was okay. The fucker knows I’m okay with him. He’s the only one I fully trust. Well, we thought no one noticed.
“Sam and Jade are holding hands.” Kaelynn said.
Sam glared at her but still firmly gripped my hand. I frowned mockingly at her. I rolled my eyes and kissed Sam. Full on. Kaelynn looked away, almost traumatised. The A Team gasped. I smiled and I could feel Sam grin too. I giggled like a little girl. I never was allowed to be a little girl. My face apparently visibly darkened because Sam stroked my nose. I scrunched up my nose. I did that and Sam does the nose thing cause...I don’t know. It was a weird thing. 
After a while, we dispersed. Sam and I dropped Kae at home and we just walked around without the costumes. “Nice night, huh?” He smiled.
“Full moon, full moon!” I pointed at the sky.
He laughed at my child-like wonder.I never saw the moon until I was ten. It was Nova who showed me the planets in depth. I laughed and started waving my hands up and down. He just smiled. Then sighed.
“What’s up?” I put my hand on his.
“I don’t know.”
“I’m guessing you don’t want a two-faced assassin who is liable to suddenly turn into a killing machine as your girlfriend, huh?”
“What?! No! Well, yeah. But not for that reason. It’s...that place. They’re gonna come for you. I might lose you. I don’t want to.” 
I nodded. “I-ok. Sure. I know. But I'm much stronger than any of them have ever trained for. Sam, I won’t die in that battle. They would.”
He sighed and took me by the hand.I got up and spun him. Whenever no one was looking or listening, Bucky(or Dad, as he is apparently my dad)would quietly speak in English. I was raised in German and Russian but was made to understand any language with the add-ons of mythical languages for other reasons. He would remember vaguely whatever was happening. Kinda hurt though. I don’t know. I suddenly felt my phone vibrate. 
INHABITANTS OF AVENGERS TOWER
Tin Man: Midnight kid.
Patriotic Pants: Yeah, where are you?
Tin Many:Kid. Where are you?
Aunt Nat🖤: She’s with Sam.
Patriotic Pants: Kid, it’s midnight.
Dad: Yeah, Halloween is basically over, doll.
I yawned and looked at Sam. “I need to go now.” He smiled and put on his helmet. Was that even there in the first place? We were still holding hands amazingly. OH AND SHOULD I MENTION THAT THEY STILL THINK SAM IS JUST MY FRIEND NOT MY BOYFRIEND?
Jade: Don’t worry, I’m on my way.
Patriotic Pants: You’d better, your dad is pacing the floor.
I sighed before taking off with Sam. No one could see us. “Are you fine with me introducing you as my boyfriend to my family?” I looked at him.
He looked kinda shocked. I stopped in the middle of the New York sky. He looked so scared. 
“You don’t have to!” I replied.
Sam nodded. “Get it done and over with right?” He sighed.
I tilted his chin up. Being an inch taller than him was an advantage. You know that moment when your heart starts swelling up and your face gets all red and-just AAAAAHHHHHH.That? It was that moment. We were about to kiss but we both started laughing and just couldn’t actually do it. I don’t know. I wasn’t very sure what we were laughing about exactly. I think it was the fact that what we were doing was awfully cheesy and we weren’t the overtly romantic type of couple. The only people who know we’re dating are the A-Team and the Secret Warriors. The Secret Warriors don’t even know I’m Jade Stark! I’m surprised Doreen doesn’t know yet. I mean, she knows about Kamala but not me? Dammit Doreen,get your head in the game. 
After the whole laughing thing was over and we both fell a few times, we reached the Tower, and guess what? THE AVENGERS WHO WERE AWAKE WERE THERE.Nat, Dad, Steve and Tony.
“Henlo!” I exclaimed.
“Doll…” Bucky took on the edge of cautious anger in his voice.
“Hi.” Sam gripped my shoulder.
“You’re Sam, huh?” Steve asked.
“You’re the one my daughter’s dating.” Dad said with a hint of realisation.
“YOU KNEW?!” I yelled.
“It was obvious, kid. The way you light up when you talk about that specific member of your team, how you want to beat him up yet wanna hug him. You speak differently about him. Also when you talk to him, you get all silly and bump into stuff.When you first introduced us to your team, you explained the rest haphazardly while you gave us a full damn case file about Sam. Pretty obvious” Dad shrugged.
The rest of the Avengers just got it. Steve looked embarrassed by not realising it. Aunt Nat’s smile definitely said that she wasn’t expecting me dating. Tony was clapping. Sam was blushing and laughing because NOW HE KNOWS HOW I TALK ABOUT HIM, GODDAMNIT DAD.
“Doll, besides from that, can you come with me for a bit?” Dad nodded towards the entrance into the main building.
“Oh,ok.” I walked towards him.
He put his metal arm around me.
“Kid?”
“Mhm.” I was already worried.
“Sam’s a good kid. I like him. Only doll,you know what happens…”
“Of course, I know. But Sam knows everything about me. I know everything about him. I know he isn't lying. Even if he is,I can just y’know...scare him.” I pushed my hands in front of me, making an explosion sign.
Dad smiled. “Course you can doll. Now let’s go see if the rest have killed Sam yet.”
“When did you realise I was with Sam?” We walked back to the “balcony”.
“I mean, probably the day you let him lift you up.” 
I nodded, remembering that day. We walked through the door and Sam looked tad bit terrified and Tony was laughing.
“You good Sam?” I asked while keeping a laugh quiet.
“Yeah. I’m gonna head home now Jay. I’ll see you tomorrow? For training?” He smiled.
“Duh.” I rolled my eyes.
He laughed. I smiled. The adults all signaled to each other to leave. I pulled my hoodie over my head. He just stood there. It was those awkward bits in movies where the two protagonists realised they liked each other all over again and one side of the relationship just told their family about the secret things they’ve been doing.Suddenly, warmth splashed over me. Sam kissed me. Of course he had. I smiled.
 “Good night, Jay.” He put his helmet back on before jumping back into the sky.
I sighed. I’m so fucking lucky to have Sam.
                           THE END I posted this on my main but decided to repost it here
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wrctings · 5 months ago
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2020 favourites
Thank you so much for tagging me @musicallisto, I absolutely love your writing  <3
Without further ado, here are my favourites among the pieces that I’ve written in 2020:
I. To Start Over (Steve Rogers fanfiction)
“He finally felt like himself. He was ready to never let go, to fight until the very end for the scraps of  happiness that he could still extract from this existence, which had thrown him into its deepest precipices and had made him climb its steepest summits. But Bucky and Peggy were right — he deserved a second chance.”
I started this fanfiction in 2019 but wrote most of it in 2020 and finished it this year, so this really is the piece of writing I’m most proud of this year 🥺 It is extremely special for me because I got back to it at a difficult time in my life, and as always, found comfort in Steve
This fanfiction was a way for me to explore Captain America’s character beyond what is shown in the movies, I wanted to pay tribute to his kindness and courage, but also make come to life what Endgame didn’t give us: Steve finding his peace in the modern world and his arc getting a satisfactory ending. And I just wanted anyone who came across it to also feel like they could someday find their peace. To me that’s the essence of who Cap is: he’s that kid from Brooklyn who never ran away from a fight and who never lost hope; who faced an entire army with nothing but a broken shield because that’s what he does. He does the right thing even if it may seem like all hope should be lost, and he remained compassionate in spite of everything he went through
And of course writing Cap’s found family brought me a lot of joy, I just love these characters endlessly <3 I also loved developing Steve’s relationship with France, my OC, whose story combines themes that are really important to me (e.g. war, her family’s story, the meaning behind her name…)
Speaking of which, you may notice that this fanfiction is brimming with the themes of time and war, and I also wanted to explore what Chris meant when he said that he always portrayed Cap with a sense of loneliness to him
Anyways this is a lot of rambling to say that this fanfiction is basically a way to express all my love for Steve Rogers and everything he stands for, and I hope that anyone who reads this story will come out of this experience a bit more hopeful and with the idea that being kind is a form of strength that shouldn’t be underestimated 🥰
I also wrote a bonus chapter for this a few days ago because what better way to put yourself in a festive mood than write about your favourite characters celebrating Christmas?
Bonus: I sent my best friend the chapters as I wrote them and whenever we would chat on Skype the day I sent him a new one he would read it out loud while making it funny (for instance he would call France England or Germany, or call Bucky Bucket while Sam was therefore KFC). This fic is linked with such happy memories! ❤️
II. The Way Back (original story)
“ Whatever the future held, he would have plenty of time to worry about later — in this moment, nothing mattered but the present.”
The Way Back is also a story I started writing last year but completed this year, it’s my very first completed original story since a long while and writing it filled with me with a lot of joy
It symbolises the summer of 2019 (which to me is the summer of Rocketman and one of the happiest periods of my life) because Lewis, the main character, is embodied by Taron Egerton and another one of them would be played by Richard Madden
It also involves a ghost (Henry, played by Colin Firth), Scotland, a road trip through England
Unsurprisingly, this also deals with the theme of time, writing from the perspective of a college student allowed me to reflect upon a lot of my own fears and reflections
Lewis, Henry, Mia and Isaac are such a lovely friend group, their dynamics and supportiveness warm my heart
LGBTQ+ rights!
Basically just me living vicariously through Lewis since I should’ve travelled to Edinburgh this spring but couldn’t because of COVID  
Happy endings coming true at the very end of a story hit particularly hard
A wholesome celebration of friendship and love <3
III. Breathe out (Stony fanfiction)
“Even though it would probably take much longer than a mere evening, they would form a family little by little, together. Tony, Steve and Morgan all wished for it.”  
I’ve written a lot of Stevetony this year, I love them both so much, my heart still hasn’t healed from CA:CW
I feel so strongly about their relationship, whether as friends or as a ship, but for this story I wanted to write an AU to make it more light-hearted
The writers of Avengers Assemble ship it and that’s where I draw my inspiration from
Endgame gave us Tony and Morgan then ripped them away from us and I refuse to be deprived of them. Tony and Morgan are everything, Tony deserved to live his happily ever after with his daughter 🥺
Tony falling for Steve is something that can feel so personal
Also subtitled: Tony Stark is an amazing dad but a complete mess of a person
IV. Into the Snows of Bastogne (Band of Brothers)
““It’s a shame it’s not your butt that got wounded, sir,” Toye added. “I was told it’s a tradition ‘round here to get shot in the butt, sir.”
A smile spread across Lipton’s face, the Sergeant looking down in embarrassment mixed with mirth, while Bill and Luz could not refrain from laughing and Nixon shot an amused glance at his friend. Dick chuckled, shaking his head as fondness for the men surrounding him surged inside his chest.
“Maybe next time, boys.””
This actually might be one of my favourite dialogues I’ve ever written, my heart is so full of love for all these characters
Writing this was very comforting in spite of how dramatic most of this one shot is, especially the part where everyone reunites in Winters and Nixon’s foxhole  
My heart is so soft for Winters and Nixon’s relationship, I couldn’t not write about them
And of course honouring our best Cajun boy Doc Roe, who’s always trying to do his best and deserves a break
Thank you so much to everyone who sent me kind comments regarding this piece, writing it has been an amazing experience because it was my first BoB piece 🥺
V. Autumnal morning (Dick Winter imagine)
“You were enveloped in Dick’s embrace after he placed himself behind your back, the warmth of his body immediately submersing you as he held you pressed against his chest. Running his hands up and down your arms to warm you up, his chin brushed your shoulder and he planted a soft kiss in the crook of your neck. “Better?” You could hear the tenderness in his voice as he inquired about your wellbeing again.”
Combining two of my favourite things in the world: autumn and Dick Winters 🧡
Can you tell I’m really soft for him?
I wrote this while listening to Fall by Ed Sheeran on repeat and delighting in a cosy sunny autumnal morning
VI. Happy Halloween (Bill Guarnere imagine)
“The sun had already almost set, only remnants of fading warm light rippling upon the ginger and brown leaves that rustled on the trees all around, but most of the houses’ porches were alit with lanterns or lights, some of them even placed inside of carved pumpkins used as decorations. You were not the only ones to have gone out on that evening, meeting some your neighbours whom you greeted before your daughter energetically shot the decisive question: trick or treat? Even without approaching the houses, your pumpkin already filled with a few pieces of candy, which your daughter counted before urging you to go up to the first front door.”
Another autumnal piece, this time for Halloween and involving my favourite angry Italian Bill Guarnere
It has a lot of domesticity and Bill’s softer side 🎃❤️
Although I’m not at all fond of horror, I’m always excited for Halloween and this was a way to get festive and celebrate it
VII. All will come (poem)
“Young and breathless from passion, I look upon the road ahead
Already, its earthy pathway invites to take another step,
Surrounded by the greens of nature, under an everlasting sky
I ask myself whether it’s best to go or just stop by
There used to be another road, the one less travelled by
But years have passed and now I know I left that one behind
The shimmer of a light draws me, I wonder — should I go?
Is there a future there somewhere, where happiness will flow?
And, hesitantly, I set a foot upon the road
The wind is quick to hurl there, it rustles and it blows
The leaves are turning crispy as I progress through the woods
The distant light is flickering, I find myself bemused
Should I have really tried to follow this path I thought I knew?
There is no turning back around, and everything is new
But there is something that my heart clings onto as I stroll
Maybe somewhere upon the road, someone will hear my call
I’m young and passionate and life has yet to see me thrive
I was once told that I am brave, I’m not sure — but I try;
Someday I will be where I wish, I don’t know why or how,
But time will tell and here’s to dreams, so I walk on for now.”
VIII. Youth glows in autumn (poem)
“Catch a sight of blazing orange, that towers upon the hills and creeks,
I was once young there, wild and free, and life remained a mystery;
The hanging mist and roaring wind were nothing but a dare to me,
I stepped upon those crispy leaves — how fast those Autumn days did flee.
Amidst the colours of October,
Its rainy melancholic nights,
My heart had found a place to shelter,
Where words did finally feel right.
And mesmerised, I watched, aglow, the warmth of nature's death,
But even though her leaves would fall, it was not her last breath;
Reborn again, from Winter's frost, she would be swaying soon:
She too, was young, a loving fool
Unknown to old age's gloom.”
And to end this tag here are two poems that I wrote this year
To conclude, I would just like to thank everyone who’s ever read any of these and sent me kind and supportive comments, I love you so much and it’s so motivating to hear that someone took pleasure in reading your work❣️
And if you write yourself, or make any kind of art for that matter, don’t forget that your uniqueness, your ideas and your creativity are special, that your work is something to be proud of. Even though it comes with a good deal of struggles, it’s good to remind ourselves why we do this once in a while — we make art because it’s in our chore, and no amount of (self-)criticism or self-doubt could take that away. So don’t be too hard on yourself, because what you do is worth so much, so much more than you think. Don’t give up on the things that you love, I promise you that there’ll always be someone out there who will be touched by what you do and who you might inspire. Be proud of yourself and your work, and I love you so much. Happy new year everyone! ❤️
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crowned-flower · 6 months ago
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Nerve (Peter Parker) Chapter 1
A/n: this is my first time writing and I'm not really all that confident in my writing... So I'm sorry if its so bad, I tried lmao.
Warning: language, fluff, violence, drug abuse, arresting, slight smut, mention of sex, smoking, alcohol, Italics are the character speaking different languages, bold are thoughts, Both is Text. probably more stuff I couldn't think of
Parings: Peter Parker x OC
Characters: Peter!Parker, Bucky!Barnes, Tony!Stark, Loki, Thor, Steve!Rogers, Natasha!Romanoff, Clint!Barton, Sam!Wilson/ Corvina Marino(OC), Freya Petrova(OC), Astrid Pérez(OC), Zane Volkov(OC)
Summary: Aunt May has a buisness trip to attend to, so she lets peter spend his time at the Avengers tower for the 2 weeks she's gone. Spending time with the Avengers already has Peter bouncing off the walls with excitment... If only he knew a certain girl would only make his 2 weeks there, even more exciting.
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a/n: not my gif.. credit to whoever made it
"Alright ready to go?" Aunt Mays asks. I turn around to face her, smiling and nodding my head. "Yup all set" I reply. She steps into my room and heads towards me, reaching her hand into my hair and fluffing it down. "Your hair is suck a mess Peter."
I roll my eyes at her and reach my hand, grabbing her wrist, bringing it away from my hair. "No it's not, May," I tell her. She glares at me for a bit before letting the smile slip from her lips. She places her hand on my check instead. I lean into her touch, closing my eyes and melting at the affection. After a few more seconds I opened my eyes and look at the woman who was standing right in front of me, her eyes full of warmth and love. Nothing could describe the love I had for her. She was the women who raised me, the women who had taken me in as a child. She was the reason I woke up in the morning, and for that, she deserved the world.
"I'm really gonna miss you peter," She states. I take her hand off my check and pull her in for a hug. "It's only for 2 weeks Aunt May, It'll go byy super fast." I utter, wrapping my arms around her. I feel her arms wrap around my waste as she places her head on my chest. I move my head down towards her and kiss her gently on her forehead. She moves away from me and takes a deep breath. "I feel like your just trying to get rid of me so you can have your fun with those Avengers." She speaks. Letting out a laugh, I start to shake my head. "Of course not, who'd want to get rid of you?" I question. I grab my bag off my bed and throw it over my shoulder, and turning to wrap my other arm around May heading out my room.
We head into the living room and start to grab the things we need. "You got everything May?" I ask her, looking over towards her in the kitchen. She turns to face me and replies. "Yes everything is in my suitcase and carry on, or in my bag." I reply with an okay and head over towards her, taking the carry on from her and placing it down next to her case. "Alright well then let's go or you'll be late." I state. She curses under her breath before reaching out to grab her keys from the counter. "Okay come on." She replies, she reaches out to grab her suitcase, but I stop her in the midst. "I'll carry it, just open the door." I speak.
"What? No I've got it." She tries, reaching out again for the handle. "I know you've got it but I'm saying I can carry it." I tell her, taking the suitcase into my hand, reaching down to grab her carry on as well. "Alright Mr. Macho Man. Let's go then" She chuckles, opening the door. She let's me go out first before she steps out into the hallway and turns to lock the door. Walking down the hallway together, we start to have a conversation about what it was I'd be doing. We continue this conversation throughout the entire time it takes us to get down the stairs and out the door of the apartment complex and towards the car. We reach the trunk of the car and Aunt May opens it, letting me place her stuff inside, closing it when I was done.
We head our way towards the front of the car and and get inside, with may turning on the ignition. We have a conversation about almost everything the entire car ride to the Avengers tower, before we started singing along to the songs on the radio. Once we reached the tower, I turn towards Aunt May. "Okay, Have fun in Chicago May." I tell her. She smiles at me before leaning over to give me a hug. I wrap my arms around her and give a quick kiss on her check. "Have the time of your life bubs." She speaks quietly into my ear. I lean away from her and smile at her before I grap my back and get up and out of the car. I close the door once I had gotten out and lean in towards the open window. "Love you May." I voiced.
"I love you more darling." She spoke back. "And I'm gonna miss you!" She yells out before speeding away once I had taken a step away from the car, trying not to miss her flight. 'I'm going to miss you more...'
After watching her drive away I walk back from the curb and start to head towards the doors of the tower, opening a door for a few people who were leaving before walking in myself. Walking up to the front desk and say my hellos to the lady who worked up here. "Hey Mrs. Bennett!" I beamed. She turns away from her computer, putting on her fake smile to everyone who walked in the building before melting it into a real one. "Hey Peter! How are you? Are you excited for the next weeks?" She questions. I smile down at her nodding my head. "I'm good. And I'm a bit nervous too but mostly im just excited!" I reply. "Oh, How are you?" I add. "I'm good, pete, thanks," She exclaims. I smile at her, finishing up the conversation we were having before leaving, waving at a few other people along the way to the elevator.
I step into the elevator once it had reached my floor and said hello to F.R.I.D.A.Y, "Hey, F.R.I" "Hello Mr. Parker, Boss' Lab?" The A.I questions. "No not yet, Just bring me up to the lounge please?" I answer with just as muc politeness as I would a regular adult. "Of course Mr. Parker" The A.I replies. "Thanks F.R.I" I say. I reach into my pocket and take out my phone, logging into it as to pass time for the ride up to the penthouse.
Ned: This was litteraly just me.. and it hurt like hell lmao
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Peter: Lmfao, hope your toe feels better man...
Ned: It's sore, but it'll heal
Peter: lol good to hear. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aunt May: Just got to the airpor bubs so I 'll call you when I land.
Peter: Okay, Have a safe flight May, I love you.
Aunt May: Love you to babes :) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Mr. Parker?" The A.I speaks out, catching my attention and making me realised we had gotten here. "Sorry, F.R.I. Thanks." I tell her stepping out of the elevator when she opened the door. "Sha'll I notify Boss you are here?" She questions. "No that's okay, I'll tell him myself when I see him." I reply walking down the hallway towards the kitchen. Once I get there I drop my bag off onto the counter and walked towards the fridge, opening it up and grabbing a small snack and drink. I take a seat on the a chair near the couner and reach over to grab my bag, unzipping it to take out my books and notebook. Unwrapping my snack, I take a bite out of it while opening up my history book opening up to the right page.
We we learning about WWII, of course, and I had to write a page about steve.. Again. I used to think writing about steve was the most awesomest thing ever, and would always get excited to write about him, not it's just over exaggerated. I've gotten tired of writing about him. "Hey Peter, when did you get here?" A voice draws me away from my history book. Natasha was making her way towards me with Sam right next to her. "I go here 20 minutes ago, Thought I could finish up some weekend homework before coming over there to say Hi." I reply, getting up and out of my seat to hug Natasha and a quick handshake with Sam. "What you working on?" Sam asks, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle a water and throwing it to Natasha before grabbing one for himseld. I watch Nat catch the drink before looking back over to Sam. "History" I answer, with a sigh of exasperation.
"What's with the sigh паук?" Nat asks with a chuckle. "We have to do an assay about the WWII and all the war heros they had, which is basically another way of saying they want us to write about how steve became a war hero." I answer, rolling my eyes. "No offense to steve, but it got boring writing about him after the 3rd time." I add on. I sit back down on my place at the counter picking up my pencil and tapping it agaisnt the notebook. "You don't actually have to write about steve." Sam mused. "Yeah but he's the only person in this book who actually has enough information to write about." I reply. "Unless you have some sort of time travel machine to bring me to the 1940's and ask around for a war hero." I add on. Sam chuckles a bit as he pats me on the back.
"No.. We don't have a machine, but if i may recall... we do have another person from the 1940's who lives here too." Natasha speaks out for Sam. I look towards her with a look of confusion. "Who?" I ask her. "Sargent James Buchanan Barnes." She replies coolly, taking a drink from her bottle of water right after. I mentally slap myself for thinking aout bucky.
"You guy's wouldn't happen to know where Bucky is do you?" I ask while rushing to pack up my notebook and pencil. "He's in the training room with Steve." She replies. Shit, what if he's too busy and doesn't want to help? What if he just doesn't want to talk about his past? Maybe I should just stick with steve so I won't bother him. I think to myself. I'm sure Natasha caught the look of doubt on my face because she tells me. "I'm sure he'd love to help паук. Go on and ask him" I nod my head at her before rushing off towards the training room.
After a couple of minutes, I enter the training room. "Hey guys!" I exlaim. Bucky, who's holding the grey punching bag, turns his head away from steve, who was currently punching the bag, before turning to me. Getting a little shy... a blush I'm sure is already forming on my check. I speak out more shyly. "I was wondering if I could talk to you Mr. Barnes, Sir. If you're not to busy?" I question. Maybe I should come back later... "You know what, you seem busy. I don't want to disturb you guys, I'll just ask you another time..." I rush out quickly turning around reaching for the door. "Wait, Peter!" Steve chuckles out, one his arms extended out towards me, in an indication for me to stay. I turn my body around to face them, my face an even darker shade of red.
"We aren't that busy, you can talk to Bucky whatever it is you wanted to tak to him about." Steve adds on. "Right buck?" He asks, turning to glance at his childhood best friend. "Of course, come on over here Pete." Bucky speaks up from the bench he had take a seat on while steve had been talking to Peter. A bit intimidated for standing in the same room as 2 very legendary people. I quickly scuddles over towards Bucky, rushing out what it was I was planning on asking.
"IwaswonderingifyoudhelpmewriteanessayforhistroyIusuallywriteaboutstevebuthensamandnatgavemethisideathaticouldwriteaboutyouinstead." I rush out in one breathe. "You were wondering - and that's all I got kid." Bucky replies. A Smirk forming on his lips. Steve who had finally walked over towards them and was used to the way Peter rushed out his senteces, understood exactly what he'd said. His face lights up a bit and he smiles even wider. "That's a great Idea Peter, I was wondering when you'd get bored of me." Steve jokes. A look of horrer was surely on my face as I quickly tried to reassure steve that I was never bored of him and could never get bored of him. "I know Pete, I was just joking." Steve giggles. "I'm sorry, as much as I love this.. What was the Idea?" Bucky interuppts, a look on his face, almost reminding me of a lost puppy.
"Peter usually has these history assignments he has to do about WWII every month and always comes bouncing in wherever I am asking about me so he can write the essay on me. He's asking if he can write it about you instead." Steve speak out towards Bucky, who very quickly seems to blush at the idea at getting any attention on that subject rather than steve. "You want to write you history essay about me?" Bucky asks pointing a finger at his chest in confusion, almost as he's simply asking me why'd he would want to do that. That broke my heart a little.
"Yeah totally! It'd be really cool being able to show to history class with an essay on another war hero than the rest of the class." I speak out. " are you sure?" Bucky asks. I nod my head to give my answer as I gave him one of my best smiles.
"Alright.. Well what do you want to know?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I hope you guys liked my first chapter of this series and I can't wait to upload my second one!!! Let me know what you guys think :)
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starlxghtmoon · 6 months ago
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Spread Your Wings || Chapter One
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Pairing: Hawks x Reader || Tangled AU
Warnings: None!
Word Count: 2,000+ words
A/N: I’m super nervous about this, but excited! Sorry if this first part is boring, it’s supposed to act as an introduction and I tried to add more feeling to it than just happiness all around ajbfkjabkjawoifn but whoever reads this shitty fic of mine, I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own BNHA or Tangled, both and all characters except OCs [Mimi the cat] belong to their respective creators. This is purely creative fun.
Chapter Two
Masterlist
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An elderly hooded woman approached the shrub with caution, looking around to see if anyone had followed her before pulling back her hood and uncovered the mysterious object. Underneath sat a golden flower, it looked ethereal with the way it softly glowed in the night; many tales have been made about this flower, some say it bloomed from a droplet of the sun that fell to the earth and could cure any illness, heal any wound. But the woman who was selfishly hoarding it, used it to stall her own time with a simple song.
“Flower, gleam and glow.” 
The flower began to glow brighter as she sang her song in her old worn voice.
“Let your power shine.
Make the clock reverse.
Bring back what once was mine.
What once was mine.”
As she finished her song, her aged voice grew rich and light, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips as her appearance shifted back to her younger days, gray going black. But the sound of shouts and flickering lights interrupted her serenity and in her rush to hide the flower once more and hide her own identity, she knocked over the shrub disguise, uncovering the flower for the guards approaching her spot to find.
“We found it!” A guard called out, commencing the uprooting of the magical flower, bringing it to the ill queen and healing her sickness. Soon after a princess would be born with snow white hair and e/c eyes.
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However one evening, that same woman would sneak into the king and queen’s quarters where the baby peacefully slept, needing the flower’s magic to stall her mortal time once more.
“Flower, gleam and glow.”
She began to sing again in her croaky voice, the baby girl’s hair, white as snow began to glow a soft f/c. The woman leaned in, reaching out for a strand of her pure white hair, the effects of the magic flower already doing it’s work on the woman’s body. 
“Let your power shine.
Make the clock…”
The woman cut a strand of her hair as it glowed, but it immediately lost its power, the strand of hair changing from stark white to h/c. And since she’d cut her own song short, the magic didn’t take, reverting her back to her aged self. Gasping out of shock, the woman had no other choice than to take the baby.
As the child let out a cry, the woman scooped up the baby and made her escape, the sound of the baby’s cries awoke the king and queen, sending them both into a panic as the woman stole away the baby, disappearing into the night.
Restlessly, the kingdom searched and searched for the princess, but deep in the forest, hidden away in a tower, the woman would raise the girl as her own. Determined to keep her new flower hidden.
However, as well as the woman could keep the girl hidden, she couldn’t hide the outside from her as each year on her birthday, lanterns would be released into the night sky in hopes that the lost princess would return. And that lost princess was...you.
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The shutters of the tower were swung open, as you grinned mischievously and looked around out the window. In the corner of your eye, you caught sight of a fluffy black tail swishing around behind one of the potted plants. You slapped a hand over your mouth and snorted softly before getting an idea and a mischievous glint to your eye. Straightening up and crossing your arms, you nonchalantly shrugged and looked away.
“Well, I guess Mimi isn’t out here.” You spoke, easing the midnight creature outside your window, making her let her guard down before suddenly she was yanked up by her tail, letting out a distressed meow. “Gotcha!” You exclaimed with an amused laugh. Letting the cat down from your trap of hair, you began to add on, “That’s 22 for me. How about 23 out of 45?” The cat grumbled in response, “Okay. Well, what do you wanna do?” The cat perked up at that question, letting out a gleeful meow and turning to the outside of the window, pawing out with a suggestive nod. “Yeah. I don’t think so.” You picked up the cat and swung your legs around to dangle out the window, placing the ball of fur in your lap. “I like it in here, and so do you.” Pointing at the cat, she stared up at you unimpressed. “Don’t look at me like that, you’re literally a cat. You should like being inside with me.” Mimi’s ears drew back in distaste. She did like being inside, but she also adored you and wanted you to have a taste of the outside world too. You've been cooped up in this place for 18 years straight, c’mon! “Oh, come on, Mimi. It’s not so bad in there.” You scritched behind her ear, eliciting a purr from deep within the cat’s chest before you pulled the cat into your chest and slid back inside.
You climbed up onto the roof beams, preparing for the morning and opening up the ceiling shutters before swinging back down with your hair. You then glanced over at the clock on her wall and began your day with your usual routine.
“Seven a.m. the usual morning lineup.”
Fetching the broom, you started with sweeping up the floors.
“Start on the chores and sweep till the floor’s all clean.”
Next, you equipped yourself with a mop and scrubbers to continue on with your chores. If you didn’t, you’d surely die of boredom. Not that you didn't already suffer from basically being a bird trapped in the cage you called home.
“Polish and wax, do laundry and mop and shine up.”
At least you had Mimi there to keep your spirits up as you swept around the tower again, checking the clock again with a slight roll of your eyes.
“Sweep again and by then it’s like, 7:15.”
It only took you a good 15 minutes to do all that? Sighing a little, you continued on with busying yourself. What a drag.
“And so I’ll read a book or maybe two or three.
I’ll add a few new paintings to my gallery.”
You knew you were running out of space on the walls, but you could always find nifty places and open spots to paint. One day you might run out of room and as morbid as it sounded, the thought did cross your mind that you’d even expire here. But you hoped you wouldn’t, you stayed optimistic that you’d be able to leave the nest and fly. Until then, you’d continue busying yourself around the tower, counting the hours and days… maybe even years. Hopefully your activities would help distract you from those spiraling thoughts as well, it was for the better that you were stuck here, right?
“I’ll play guitar and knit and basically,
Just wonder when will my life begin?”
As you pulled a freshly baked pie out of the oven, you spotted the perfect spot to paint on the wall, measuring it up with your hands. 
Busting out your paint, you shoved the decorative piece aside and began painting. Filling the spot with soft blue paint as a base and planning out what you'd put there.
“Then after lunch it’s puzzles and darts and baking.
Papier-mache, a bit of ballet and chess.”
At this point, you were just annoying Mimi with your various different hobbies you picked up. Internally cackling at her torment. But none of it was malicious, Mimi loved you and you loved Mimi, she was your only solace here. One would never abandon the other. Your bond was unbreakable. 
“Pottery and ventriloquy, candle-making.
Then I’ll stretch,
Maybe sketch,
Take a climb,
Sew a dress.”
Mimi was absolutely over it and exhausted when you put her in a minidress resembling yours. She lowkey loved it, but it just wasn’t right. Cats weren’t supposed to wear dresses, but Mimi sure looked adorable in one!
“And I’ll reread the books if I have time to spare.
I’ll paint the walls some more
I’m sure there’s room somewhere.”
Now you were really getting stuck, looking for spots was slowly becoming more and more impossible. You sighed a little, slowly the same old same old was beginning to eat away at you. Grumbling a little, you decided to instead distract yourself with brushing your lengthy hair.
“And then I’ll brush
And brush and brush
And brush my hair.
Stuck in the same place I’ve always been.”
Finishing up brushing the ends of your hair, you sat there for a moment, breathing out a puff of air. You looked around from your seat upon the beams of the roof. The space was big and anyone would be comfy in a home like this. Right, a home, not a tower. You were a caged bird. And you certainly had the ability to leave, you could do whatever you wanted with your 70 foot long hair... but would you? Probably not, you wouldn’t dare betray your mother. Besides, the world was a dangerous place, your mother said so multiple times. But… you longed for something more. To feel the grass on your feet, feel the wind flow through your hair, swim in the water, explore the world and… see the floating lights that never failed to appear on your birthday every year.
"And I'll keep wondering and wondering
And wondering and wondering
When will my life begin?"
You approached the open window of the tower, longingly looking out at the scenery before you and sighing softly. Tomorrow you'd turn 18. For a moment, you wondered how many more birthdays you'd have to spend locked away, with so many questions and curiosities.
"Tomorrow night the lights will appear
Just like they do on my birthday each year."
You rested your cheek within your palm, leaning on the window sill as your gaze swooped around the trees and hills surrounding the tower. Your heart ached for more than what you had here and in a way, it made you feel guilty. Your mother did everything for you, she sheltered you, she fed you, she gave you a home and unconditional love. Sure, she was harsh and brash sometimes, but she only wanted the best for you, she wanted to keep you safe. She was protecting you and your gift. You wouldn't survive without her. At least, that’s what you believed.
"What is it like out there where they glow
Now that I'm older.
Mother might just let me go."
You put the finishing touches on that painting you'd been working on, you were jealous of your own artwork. The depiction you'd made of yourself watching the floating lights with pure amazement and wonder. You placed your hand on the dry paint, brows furrowing in frustration. Why do you feel so guilty for something you want?
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"Wow, I could get used to a view like this." His stop on the roof caught the attention of the two men with him. The dark haired one of the two rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"So could I-! I've seen better." The masked man with them commented, switching from amazement to stuck up. His outburst made the dark haired one immediately hush him, the masked man slapping his hands over his mouth.
"Do you wanna get caught or something?" 
"Sorry, Dabi." He spoke lower this time, making Dabi shake his head a little in dismissal before redirecting his attention to the other man with them who continued to stare at the view. 
"Hawks. We gonna do this or what?"
"Hold on." He made him pause, Dabi rose a brow, heavily annoyed and completely fed up with his antics. "Yep. I'm used to it. Guys, I want a castle." Hawks placed his hands on his hips, still admiring the view.
"We do this job, you can buy your own damn castle. Yeah?" Dabi stepped forward, grabbing the blonde by his collar and yanking him back.
Dabi and Twice securely held onto the rope, carefully lowering Hawks down into the crown room. If it were up to Dabi, he would've dropped his ass for the guards to take, but they needed that damn crown and he was gonna get it. 
One of the guards sneezed and Hawks let out a mocking groan, "Hay fever?" The guard looked over his shoulder, not noticing that he was there.
"Yeah." He looked back in front of him before realization dawned on him, "Huh?" He whipped around, the crown and Hawks gone. His gaze darted up, but they were already gone and so was the lost princess's crown.
"Can't you picture me in a castle of my own? Cause I certainly can." The trio sprinted away from the castle, Dabi ignoring Hawks with a roll of his eyes as Twice switched back and forth between approval and disapproval. "All the things we've seen and it's only eight in the morning! Gentlemen, this is a very big day!" 
"Would you shut up already!"
"Yeah, shut up, Hawks! No! Be louder!"
"Ugh…"
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storiesforallfandoms · 7 months ago
Text
locked up ~ clint barton;mcu
word count: 2279
request?: yes!
for @stellastyless​
description: after having to deal with their weird friendship for so long, her brother and their friends decide to take matters into their own hands
pairing: clint barton x female!oc
warnings: swearing
masterlist
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“What are you doing here?”
I raised an eyebrow at Clint. “Wow, that’s a nice greeting. Good to see you, too, Clint.”
Clint rolled his eyes at me. “I was told Natasha wanted to meet me here. She said something about training?”
Hearing him say he was meeting Natasha felt like a dagger through my heart. Of course he wanted to meet Natasha, why wouldn’t he? Everyone loves Natasha. She’s gorgeous and badass.
I crossed my arms over my chest and gave Clint the best bitchy look I could muster. “Well, Tony told me he wanted to meet in here, too. Maybe they accidentally double booked us or something.”
I felt a hard shove push me further into the room before the door closed behind me and locked. I pulled on the knob a little before calling, “Friday? What the fuck?!”
“I’m sorry Miss Stark,” Friday’s voice filled the room. “I have strict orders not to let you out.”
“What? Who gave you those orders?”
My brother’s face appeared in the window of the door. I rolled my eyes as I unsheathed one of my katanas. “Of course. Let us out Tony!”
“Hey!” Tony stopped me before I could pounce. “You know I secured all the windows so you can’t break any of them again.”
I groaned as I realized he was right. After a few...accidents in the compound, Tony had to replace all the glass with bullet proof glass so my katanas couldn’t go through it anymore.
Natasha’s face appeared beside Tony then.
“Nat, what is Tony playing at here?” Clint asked.
“Actually, this was my idea,” she admitted.
“You two have been dancing around your feelings for far too long,” Tony said. “We are sick of it, so neither of you are allowed to leave until you finally talk everything through.”
I rolled my eyes at him again. “There’s nothing to talk about. This is so childish. Friday, let us out.”
“I’m sorry Miss Stark, I can’t do that.” Friday responded. “Tony has given me strict orders to not open the door for anyone except him.”
“We’ll return to check on you guys in about an hour,” Tony said. “Don’t kill each other.”
He disappeared before Clint and I could protest. Natasha gave us a sympathetic look before following Tony’s lead. I sighed and faced Clint. “So, now what do we do?”
“I don’t know. I don’t understand what Tony is talking about. I can’t dance at all, let alone around some feelings.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at his joke.
Of course, I knew what Tony meant, but I wasn’t about to admit that to Clint. Not when it was so obvious that he didn’t feel the same way for me.
I knew I had feelings for Clint since the very beginning. At first I had thought it was just an infatuation with his archery skills. As someone who was trained in Kunoichi and skilled with katanas, it always interested me to watch someone who was equally as skilled in something else.
It wasn’t until Clint and I were sent to the Hydra base on an undercover mission that I realized my feelings were deeper than friendship. I was tasked with distracting Hydra agents while Clint tried to get in and get the information. I decided the best way to do that was to pretend to flirt with the guards. It didn’t take long for Clint to get in and get the info then leave, but to get me away from the guards he pretended to be my boyfriend. He had walked up to me, put his arm around my waist and talked all sweet and gentle to me before knocking the guard out.
Feeling his hand on my waist, hearing him say sweet nothings to me, even though I knew it meant nothing, still made my heart race and I felt severely disappointed when I realized it was just a role he was playing, although I should’ve known that from the start. And in that moment, I knew that I saw Clint as more than just my teammate or my friend.
But it was also painfully obvious that I was not the one Clint had eyes for. Natasha was. I could see it in the way he looked at her, the way he talked to her or about her. They had been friends for so long, partners for even longer. Clint was the reason Natasha was brought onto S.H.I.E.L.D. It made sense that they’d have feelings for one another.
And that’s where mine and Clint’s love-hate relationship came from.
The time within the room we were locked in passed very slowly. Seconds after Tony and Natasha left, I was sure that an hour had already passed. We had nothing to occupy ourselves besides each other, but neither one of us was making any attempts at a conversation.
“Do you think we could force the door open with one of your katanas?” Clint asked finally. He had been eyeing the door for some time. “They’re sharp enough to get in through the slits there, maybe we could maneuver it in some way to unlatch the lock and let ourselves out.”
I shook my head. “These doors have some real defense mechanisms on them. One too many bad guys have broken into this building, Tony isn’t about to let that happen again.”
“And you don’t think Friday will open the door for us if we ask while Tony isn’t around?”
I shook my head again. “Nope. Friday is basically Jarvis on crack. She’ll listen to Tony’s every command and do exactly as he says, which means if Tony says to keep us locked in here, she’ll do just that.”
Clint sighed and put his head back against the wall. “God, he’s such an annoying control freak.”
I glared at Clint. “Hey, that’s my brother you’re talking about. He’s not controlling, he’s just careful and worried. After everything he’s been through, and the countless people he’s lost or almost lost, he’s not about to take any risks.”
“You’re not objecting to the annoying part.”
“No, cause he is annoying. He’s just not a control freak.”
A hint of a smile spread on Clint’s face. “Do you think he locked us in here to see if we’d kill each other.”
I eyed Clint’s outfit, noting his lack of bow and arrow. “No, not when you don’t have any weapons. Too easy of a fight for me.”
“What if I stole one of your katanas?”
“Still too easy, I’m trained to fight with one or both.”
The silence fell over the room again. I wished desperately to check my watch, but realized, of course, that I had forgotten it in my room.
Tony has to be coming back soon, I thought to myself. It has to almost be an hour.
Suddenly, a TV in the room flickered to life. Clint and I jumped up at the same time as an image of the two of us filled the screen. For a moment, I thought that it was a live video of the two of us, until I realized I was holding a bow and arrow. I recognized the room we were in as the training room in the basement of the tower.
“Steve asked you to do this?” the Stella in the video asked. “I’m a little offended. I thought I was good with my own weapons.”
“You are,” Clint told me. “But imagine how unstoppable you’d be if you mastered the katanas and archery.”
Video Stella smirked to herself. “You have a point. Alright sensei, teach me.”
The video fast forwarded a while as Clint trained me in archery. It stopped again when Natasha walked into the room, pulling her bright red hair back into a ponytail. “Hey guys. Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” came my response, which was overlapped by Clint saying, “No, not at all.”
Natasha smiled at the two of us. “Mind if I practice too then? My skills have gotten a little rusty.”
“Of course, the more the merrier,” Clint told her, offering her his own bow and arrow.
I could remember my jealousy in that moment. I remembered the feeling of anger bubbling up in me as Clint drew all of his attention to Natasha. As per usual, they started talking about their own past missions and old memories while Clint helped Natasha, who very obviously didn’t need it.
I felt my cheeks heating up with embarrassment as I watched Video Stella glaring at Clint and Natasha as I pointed the arrow at a target on the wall. Not watching what I was doing, the arrow flew miles away from the target and hit the wall, causing an indent that I knew was still there to this day.
Clint hissed a profanity before running towards the arrow, attempting to pull it down. As he did so, I quickly walked over to Natasha.
“Hey Nat,” I said. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but do you mind leaving Clint and I to work on this? He seems a little...distracted by you.”
Natasha gave me a knowing look, one that I had chosen to ignore at the time. “Sure, have fun with your lesson.”
“I’m still upset over the damage to that wall,” came Tony’s voice as the TV turned off again. “But I guess I’m glad it’s the training room and not anywhere else in the building.”
“What was that for, Tony?” I asked, trying not to face Clint. He didn’t know I had asked Natasha to leave that day. I had told her she just left, and she went along with my excuse.
“Just to jog your memory, since neither of you seem to know why we want you to talk,” Tony responded. “You have another 20 minutes.”
I couldn’t help but groan as I heard how much time we had left.
“Why did you ask Natasha to leave that day?” Clint asked. I finally turned to look at him to see that he was confused. “You were doing so well before she came, then you...demolished the wall and told her I was distracted by her?”
I felt my heart racing as I tried to come up with some excuse. “I...I figured that I needed the training from you, s-since I had shot the wall.”
“But you were...staring at us when it happened. You weren’t even focusing on the target when you shot.”
I felt frustration boiling over in me and I couldn’t stop myself before I blurted, “God Clint, are you really that fucking blind?!”
He was taken back by my outburst, and so was I honestly. With that out, however, I knew there was no turning back. “Why else do you think I’d get like that when Natasha is around? Why do you think I was so distracted despite not being so earlier? Use your brain for once you fucking idiot!”
“And here you go again,” Clint said, rolling his eyes. “We were getting along before that stupid video played, and now you’re getting angry with me. Why are you like this, Stella? What happened to us just being friends like we were when we first met?”
“I can’t just be fucking friends with you, Clint!” I snapped.
“Why not?”
“Because I have fucking feelings for you!”
I covered my mouth the moment the words were out. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders, but at the same time it felt like another one had replaced it. I had to wait for Clint’s response, and I already knew it wasn’t going to be one I liked.
He looked shocked at my outburst. My hands were shaking as I slowly lowered them from my face. I looked around the room, trying to find the security camera I knew Tony had installed in there. “Did you hear that, big brother? I said it! You got what you wanted, now open the door!”
“Not yet,” Tony’s voice responded.
“What else are you waiting for?” I asked. I could hear my voice trembling, but I held back the lump of tears that was forming in my throat. “Clint’s not going to say anything back, he doesn’t like me the same way. Why would he? I mean, have you seen Natasha? She’s gorgeous, and she’s so badass. Why would he ever have feelings for me when he already has her?”
“Stel,” came Natasha’s voice in return, “turn around.”
I turned to look back at Clint, who caught my lips with his the moment I had turned. I melted into the kiss immediately, almost feeling relieved that I was finally able to kiss him.
I pulled away after a moment, looking up at him. “Really?”
The smile that I adored spread across his face. “Yeah, really. I’ve been wanting to tell you for such a long time, but I always thought you hated me.”
“I thought it was easier to pretend to hate you than to let myself get hurt,” I admitted. “I didn’t inherit my father’s brains like Tony did.”
“She said it, not me,” came Tony’s voice once more before the door to the room unlocked and opened.
I couldn’t wipe the wide smile off of my face as I looked up at Clint. “So...what does this mean now? Where do we go from here?”
“We get out of this room and I take you somewhere nice where we can start all over,” Clint responded. “Forget all the jealousy and the fights ever happened and we try this again...but better this time.”
I nodded. “I like that plan. Let’s go.”
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starofdeath · 7 months ago
Text
SPOOPY
Sam Alexander x OC
TW: Slight swearing(less than ten, more than one)
(one shot for upcoming fic. First time, don’t judge)
Word Count: 1548 words(wtf)
Summary: Basically Sam/Nova is trick-or-treating with his sister and Jade(OC) comes to embarrass him but they just have a lot of fun together.
Jade’s POV.
IT IS SPOOPY DAY! I’m probably gonna go try and scare the A-Team later. I can’t wait. FINALLY THE DAY I CAN PUT MY HAIR IN FULL BLUE and no one will stare. Well, they always do. I’m Tony Stark’s daughter. Maybe I could get Danny into this. He probably would say no. Eh,I’ll go see Kamala first. Or text her. She doesn’t really celebrate Halloween.
The A-Team Chat
Jade:ANyone Trick-or-Treating tonight?
Sam: Thanks for reminding me, Stark
Sam: You wanna join, Jay?
Peter:( ͡• ͜ʖ ͡• )
Luke:( ͡• ͜ʖ ͡• )
Jade: Luke and Peter out here on the same wavelength.
Sam: I forgot I was supposed to chaperone my sister
Jade: Such a big word.(¬_¬ )
Sam: So I’ve gone out in my onesie. Honestly, Jade, please come embarrass me loudly. Everyone is staring.
Jade:Give me a sec
I laughed and threw on my uniform. It’s Halloween! I ran out and jumped into the night sky. Oh god. I was supposed to scare people not embarrass Sam today but hey, I get to embarrass my boyfriend. That’s fun. IN FRONT OF HIS SISTER! Holy-this is gonna be fun.
I landed behind a bush to catch my breath but laugh at the same time.Sam’s head popped out. He was wearing a multi-coloured unicorn onesie. He looked pretty cute in it.
“Lazy ass costume.” He rolled his eyes.
“Better than yours.”
“Just embarrass me please.”
We popped out of the buch while I was openly laughing at him. Kaelynn smiled and wrapped her arms around me. Kaelynn is the sweetest. I heard our friend, Peter behind us.
“Hey.” I waved.
“Hey Jade.” He nodded. 
He was wearing an Iron Man hoodie. I laughed really loudly. Sam rolled his eyes. I laughed and set my head on his shoulder. Peter made a fake gagging noise while I didn’t care. We were fine like this. We kept walking as some of our other friends joined. We were all laughing loudly at him. All of a sudden, he intertwined his fingers with mine. No one noticed but he smiled at me like asking me if it was okay. The fucker knows I’m okay with him. He’s the only one I fully trust. Well, we thought no one noticed.
“Sam and Jade are holding hands.” Kaelynn said.
Sam glared at her but still firmly gripped my hand. I frowned mockingly at her. I rolled my eyes and kissed Sam. Full on. Kaelynn looked away, almost traumatised. The A Team gasped. I smiled and I could feel Sam grin too. I giggled like a little girl. I never was allowed to be a little girl. My face apparently visibly darkened because Sam stroked my nose. I scrunched up my nose. I did that and Sam does the nose thing cause...I don’t know. It was a weird thing. 
After a while, we dispersed. Sam and I dropped Kae at home and we just walked around without the costumes. “Nice night, huh?” He smiled.
“Full moon, full moon!” I pointed at the sky.
He laughed at my child-like wonder.I never saw the moon until I was ten. It was Nova who showed me the planets in depth. I laughed and started waving my hands up and down. He just smiled. Then sighed.
“What’s up?” I put my hand on his.
“I don’t know.”
“I’m guessing you don’t want a two-faced assassin who is liable to suddenly turn into a killing machine as your girlfriend, huh?”
“What?! No! Well, yeah. But not for that reason. It’s...that place. They’re gonna come for you. I might lose you. I don’t want to.” 
I nodded. “I-ok. Sure. I know. But I'm much stronger than any of them have ever trained for. Sam, I won’t die in that battle. They would.”
He sighed and took me by the hand.I got up and spun him. Whenever no one was looking or listening, Bucky(or Dad, as he is apparently my dad)would quietly speak in English. I was raised in German and Russian but was made to understand any language with the add-ons of mythical languages for other reasons. He would remember vaguely whatever was happening. Kinda hurt though. I don’t know. I suddenly felt my phone vibrate. 
INHABITANTS OF AVENGERS TOWER
Tin Man: Midnight kid.
Patriotic Pants: Yeah, where are you?
Tin Many:Kid. Where are you?
Aunt Nat🖤: She’s with Sam.
Patriotic Pants: Kid, it’s midnight.
Dad: Yeah, Halloween is basically over, doll.
I yawned and looked at Sam. “I need to go now.” He smiled and put on his helmet. Was that even there in the first place? We were still holding hands amazingly. OH AND SHOULD I MENTION THAT THEY STILL THINK SAM IS JUST MY FRIEND NOT MY BOYFRIEND?
Jade: Don’t worry, I’m on my way.
Patriotic Pants: You’d better, your dad is pacing the floor.
I sighed before taking off with Sam. No one could see us. “Are you fine with me introducing you as my boyfriend to my family?” I looked at him.
He looked kinda shocked. I stopped in the middle of the New York sky. He looked so scared. 
“You don’t have to!” I replied.
Sam nodded. “Get it done and over with right?” He sighed.
I tilted his chin up. Being an inch taller than him was an advantage. You know that moment when your heart starts swelling up and your face gets all red and-just AAAAAHHHHHH.That? It was that moment. We were about to kiss but we both started laughing and just couldn’t actually do it. I don’t know. I wasn’t very sure what we were laughing about exactly. I think it was the fact that what we were doing was awfully cheesy and we weren’t the overtly romantic type of couple. The only people who know we’re dating are the A-Team and the Secret Warriors. The Secret Warriors don’t even know I’m Jade Stark! I’m surprised Doreen doesn’t know yet. I mean, she knows about Kamala but not me? Dammit Doreen,get your head in the game. 
After the whole laughing thing was over and we both fell a few times, we reached the Tower, and guess what? THE AVENGERS WHO WERE AWAKE WERE THERE.Nat, Dad, Steve and Tony.
“Henlo!” I exclaimed.
“Doll…” Bucky took on the edge of cautious anger in his voice.
“Hi.” Sam gripped my shoulder.
“You’re Sam, huh?” Steve asked.
“You’re the one my daughter’s dating.” Dad said with a hint of realisation.
“YOU KNEW?!” I yelled.
“It was obvious, kid. The way you light up when you talk about that specific member of your team, how you want to beat him up yet wanna hug him. You speak differently about him. Also when you talk to him, you get all silly and bump into stuff.When you first introduced us to your team, you explained the rest haphazardly while you gave us a full damn case file about Sam. Pretty obvious” Dad shrugged.
The rest of the Avengers just got it. Steve looked embarrassed by not realising it. Aunt Nat’s smile definitely said that she wasn’t expecting me dating. Tony was clapping. Sam was blushing and laughing because NOW HE KNOWS HOW I TALK ABOUT HIM, GODDAMNIT DAD.
“Doll, besides from that, can you come with me for a bit?” Dad nodded towards the entrance into the main building.
“Oh,ok.” I walked towards him.
He put his metal arm around me.
“Kid?”
“Mhm.” I was already worried.
“Sam’s a good kid. I like him. Only doll,you know what happens…”
“Of course, I know. But Sam knows everything about me. I know everything about him. I know he isn't lying. Even if he is,I can just y’know...scare him.” I pushed my hands in front of me, making an explosion sign.
Dad smiled. “Course you can doll. Now let’s go see if the rest have killed Sam yet.”
“When did you realise I was with Sam?” We walked back to the “balcony”.
“I mean, probably the day you let him lift you up.” 
I nodded, remembering that day. We walked through the door and Sam looked tad bit terrified and Tony was laughing.
“You good Sam?” I asked while keeping a laugh quiet.
“Yeah. I’m gonna head home now Jay. I’ll see you tomorrow? For training?” He smiled.
“Duh.” I rolled my eyes.
He laughed. I smiled. The adults all signaled to each other to leave. I pulled my hoodie over my head. He just stood there. It was those awkward bits in movies where the two protagonists realised they liked each other all over again and one side of the relationship just told their family about the secret things they’ve been doing.Suddenly, warmth splashed over me. Sam kissed me. Of course he had. I smiled.
 “Good night, Jay.” He put his helmet back on before jumping back into the sky.
I sighed. I’m so fucking lucky to have Sam.
                           THE END
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starstruckkittensweets · 9 months ago
Hello! This question is a little more leaning towards AWWW. You may have been asked this already, but I'm just curious: where did you get the inspiration to write? And how did you plan out Mia, or even any of the characters you created? Was it off someone you knew, or your own creative mind? I truly am inspired by your work, so I'm curious of it too!
Ooh, no one’s ever asked me that before! Thank you for asking, love! Hopefully I won’t get too carried away with this answer! 😅 This answer will also include very slight spoilers for AWWW, but nothing too major! Just a bit of background for Mia’s family. 
Also, since this answer is pretty long, I’m going to put it under a cut! 
I’ve loved AoT since I was 15 years old, all the way back in 2015 when it was just starting to get popular. But I didn’t think about writing for it until maybe 2018, when Season 3 came out. I had a lot of ideas, but I didn’t know which one of them to pursue. I knew I wanted to write a romance, but I was torn between three guys: Eren, Jean, and Levi. It’s hard to believe now, but Levi wasn’t my first AoT crush! It was originally Eren, but when Season 2 came around, I started appreciating Jean a lot more. I’ve always kinda liked Levi, but I couldn’t really call myself a fangirl of his. He was just a little bit overrated to me in Season 1, and he wasn’t in Season 2 a whole lot so I didn’t have a chance to learn about him more. (This was before I started reading the manga, as well.)
And then Season 3 came, and... Well, the rest was history! I’ve latched onto Levi and I haven’t looked back since! 
I started reading AoT-centered fanfic soon after that, most of them Levi/Reader. Back then, I didn’t feel as comfortable writing reader inserts, so I decided to stick with my own original characters. But I was absolutely terrified of writing a Levi/OC story. Levi was one of the hardest characters I would ever have to write for! I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to pull it off and do him (or the story) the justice they both deserved. 
Not only that, but there was the main issue of my OC, as well. I have created my fair share of Mary-Sues in the past, and I didn’t want her to crumble into one of those. I wanted this character to have a life outside of her romantic pairing, to have her own goals and flaws, and to stand on her own two feet without the canon characters constantly holding her up. So I sat down and began planning her out. 
Even before she had a name, I knew I wanted her to be a strong soldier - perhaps almost as strong as Levi himself. But apart from the Ackerman clans, there were no other families with that kind of reputation in the original story. I realized shortly after that I would have to make up my own bloodline. 
Usually, for my OCs in the past, especially when I was just starting to get used to fanfic, I would either have my OCs be related to another canon character, or I would swap my OC in the place of a canon character. I don’t recommend either of these tropes, since they’re easy traps to fall into. I used to do just this (sometimes with the same character) and simply call it a day. But I didn’t want to do that this time. I wanted to put effort into this OC, to give her a personality and have her stick in my mind for years to come. 
In my opinion, I was able to get a bit of practice in with character building. In the year 2017, I was working on a TMNT 2012 fanfic (which will never see the light of day, unfortunately). While I didn’t get as far into it as I planned, I was definitely able to explore with building original characters. My OC from that story had a family of her own, but a backstory that tied in with the rest of the main characters. I used her design as a guideline for my AoT story, and thus, Mia Wolf was born. 
As I kept writing, I realized that character building and world building is actually a lot of fun! You don’t have any limits to keep you from adding what you want and shifting things to where you need them to be. Before I knew it, I had at least seven generations of Wolf family members, as well as a few of their ancestors from the year 370! I mapped out where they used to live and why they ended up in Shiganshina in the first place. 
I also drew inspiration from different shows and series, as well - most notably Game of Thrones. I’m a huge fan of the whole “wolves in the north” concept (look up “the Starks of Winterfell,” if you’re unfamiliar with the series!), so I wanted to incorporate that into my own story. As a result, I had the Wolf family originate from Fuerth, the furthest northern district of Wall Maria, who were forced to flee south to escape persecution, much like the Ackerman and Asian clans in the story. I don’t want to give too much away, but that’s basically the gist of it! Another element that played a large role in my planning of this story was my own German heritage. I’ve always felt a sense of pride knowing that AoT takes place in the ruins of Germany, since that’s where my family came from. Growing up in the US, I wasn’t as invested in German culture as I would have liked to been. I just have bits and pieces from the stories my grandparents used to tell me to go on, as well as extensive research to make sure I get the culture right. I’ve also drawn on The Sound of Music - a personal favorite in my large German family! - and the concept of edelweiss flowers. Making these little connections (which will become more prominent in the story later on, I promise) made me feel a little bit closer to my family and their home country, as weird as it may sound. 
Mia wasn’t really created with anyone specific in mind. In a way, she reminds me of my younger self, when I was hotheaded and reluctant to see the bigger picture, especially when I was upset. These little elements helped me keep her character consistent, and they also gave me a few flaws that could really pose a challenge to her if she wasn’t careful. That was also one of my biggest difficulties as a writer in my early stories: I couldn’t write characters with realistic flaws. I wanted to flesh out Mia’s character as much as I could, so I just kept reiterating what I knew about her so far, just to see if there was anything else I could add or fix to her. I needed her to have her own strengths and weaknesses, just so she wouldn’t fall back into that Mary-Sue trap. 
When I was designing Mia and her siblings, I modeled them after the other famous trios of the story: Eren/Mikasa/Armin and Levi/Isabel/Furlan. Leyna relates to Mikasa and Levi the most, while Ben relates to Armin and Furlan. Of course, Mia relates to both Eren and Isabel, being the free-spirited (albeit reckless) wild child that she is. I kept these parallels in mind while writing out the basic storyline for AWWW, and in fact, many scenes in the story reference famous scenes in the anime/manga. Here are a few that come to mind instantly: 
Mia watching her brother die, similar to Eren watching his mother die. Also, they’re both carried off by people who feel responsible for them (Levi and Hannes), whom they resent but later grow to forgive. 
Mia sitting at the top of Wall Rose, waiting for Levi to come back, much like Mikasa sitting at the top of the Wall in Season 2, wanting to find Eren after he was kidnapped. (I also like having parallels between Mia and Mikasa, but I don’t want to get into them too much! I can’t spoil everything! 😉)
Mia holding Levi after she learns he’s alive, just like Mikasa did with Eren when he emerged from his Titan form. 
As for the other original characters, like Lina, Blaise, Sara, Jax, and the others, it really depends! Some of them, like Blaise and Sara, were characters I had planned from the start, just to give Leyna and Ben a few friends. Other characters like Lina and Anna, for instance, were originally going to be one-time OCs, but I kept them in my head and thought of new ways to incorporate them into the story. Thus, Lina’s occupation as a medic and Anna’s pregnancy arc were created and included in the story. 
Truthfully, inspiration comes in many forms for me! It depends on a lot of little things throughout my life: what kind of mood I’m in, my interactions with my family, how strong my obsession with AoT was, etc. All of these impacted my writing in some way. Hell, even when I was writing scenes between Mia and her horse Edel, I had to draw on my own relationship with the animals I know. If I was stressed out because of something my dog did, or I had a bad day at the barn where I’m currently taking riding lessons, that would rub off onto my writing, and I couldn’t get into Mia’s mindset whenever she was talking about Edel. I know it’s a little unfair, but I was taking my frustration out on the poor guy! I had to let myself relax in order to write him fairly again. And this goes with some of my other characters too, depending on the mood! 
Sometimes when I’m feeling sluggish, I’ll usually rewatch AoT just to remind myself why I started writing this story in the first place. I find the episodes from Season 3 help me the most, since those are the ones I’m most excited to write! Reading additional fanfics from other authors also help me with inspiration; sometimes it’s good to read a certain story or scenario to see how the author handles a situation, and then you can think about how to handle it in your own way. I think of it as a guideline almost, but in the loosest terms I can possibly imagine. 
I hope this helps! I’m always excited to answer questions about AWWW, but I tend to ramble a lot (as seen above)! I’m so happy you’re inspired by my work - that’s one of the best things a writer can ever hope to hear! Thank you so much for being dedicated to my story, it really means the world to me! ❤️❤️❤️
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jimblejamblewriting · 10 months ago
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Little Situation (Part 9.)
Summary: For years, HYDRA had been trying to use the samples of Steve’s DNA to make another super-soldier. They finally succeed and when S.H.I.E.L.D. breaks her out, Cap is forced to come face to face with his kid and figure out parenting on an Avengers’ lifestyle.
Warnings: yeah, I’ve got no words for this one. The angst stays, my bad.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x blackdaughter!reader, avengers x child!reader, avengers x poc!reader
Word Count: 2.1k
Note: reader/OC. this is the end of winter soldier and we are going to combine Civil War and Ultron because I don’t like either one of them that much/they don’t make sense plotwise anymore but i still want to bring in Wanda and T’Challa and Peter after Tony knows who he is so we will find a way
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
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The sun was up when you opened your eyes. The doors to your cell would open in fifteen minutes. It was clockwork. You changed out of the plain pajamas into plain clothes. A dark blue t-shirt and shorts. At least you thought they were dark blue. Your hearing aids were still gone, they didn’t get you new ones. You finished brushing your teeth and looked at your curls— you had taken out the braids when the new growth at the top came in. They only gave you water with basic shampoo and conditioner but you learned to make it work. You stared at yourself in the mirror, gently tugging at a honey blonde curl that landed in front of your face. 
“My name is Sarah Elise Rogers, I’m… not an adult yet. My mother is Elise (L/N) and my father is Steven Grant Rogers. I don’t know what either of them look like now. My mom was a graduate student and my dad was, is Captain America. From Brooklyn and Wales? I have blonde hair like him. And his super soldier abilities. I’m a genius like my mother. They killed her when I was seven. I have diamond skin. That’s from neither of them but from HYDRA. They are the bad guys. I trust one person at HYDRA, Jamie. I have an Uncle Nat? And Aunt Clint? Clint is married and I have two cousins named… I have two cousins. They’re going to wipe me today, like they do everyday after breakfast. I will remember this,” you whispered the last bit as you clutched the sink. 
Like it always did, the door opened and you stepped out. There were no guards in this area, there never were because it wasn’t necessary. You were the only potential deviant. You walked the hallways stopping at Pietro’s room first. He raced over to meet you, almost knocking you over with his speed. You rolled your eyes and continued walking till you both approached Wanda’s room. 
The twins were always smiling at each other. They were always smiling at you too, which you returned wanting to have at least two people not be cruel. They took you under their wing as part of their family. You accepted despite wanting to yell how they volunteered to be experiments, you never had a choice from the day you were conceived. 
Breakfast was dull and you left the twins to go get wiped. You had stopped fighting it. It was easier to do as they wanted, kill who they wanted and then not remember. They tended not to make the wipings as bad when you did that. You sat down and place the mouth guard in your mouth. For a few hours you wouldn’t remember anything. You’d be 001. But before you went to bed you would remember Sarah Elise Rogers. You had to. 
~~
Tony’s Iron Man suit ran into the forcefield of the hideout. 
“Shit!”
“Language!” Steve yelled as his motorcycle zipped between trees. “JARVIS, what’s the view from upstairs?” 
“The central building is protected by some kind of energy shield. Strucker’s technology is well beyond any other HYDRA base we’ve taken.”
“Language?” Tony questioned. 
“Leave it alone, Stark,” Nat said as she took down a man. 
Thor took out as many soldiers as he could. “Loki’s scepter must be here. Strucker couldn’t build this defense without it.” 
“No wait a second. No one else gonna deal with the fact that Cap just said ‘language’?”
“I know… just slipped out.” 
Steve’s voice was tense. Something about the tone telling Tony that he actually should drop it. They fought their way to Loki’s scepter and returned to the quinjet. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been rebuilt, right now it was just the Avengers but they were slowly recreating every part of it. It was taking time as the vetting process was now extremely crucial. Not many people knew Nick was currently alive— that information still too sensitive. 
The quinjet pulled into the Avengers Tower in Manhattan, the current home while Tony insisted on creating a huge compound for S.H.I.E.L.D. They rushed Clint down to medical with DR. Cho while Maria came aboard to talk to them about the two Enhanced twins they saw out on the field. 
~~
Just because your skin was diamond, shit still hurt. You couldn’t be cut with just any blade and it took a lot to stab your skin. Most things just bounced off but you could still feel it. The man who punched you between your eyes was confirmation of that. HYDRA had made it so points of impact would harden up when touched by a weapon. The skin around it would still bruise or absorb the shocks of pain. 
You pushed through the pain and slammed the man down before throwing him up into the ceiling. He groaned before you grabbed his neck and pulled your arms in two different directions, the man falling dead to the ground. You turned his body over to pull the keys from his back pocket and unlocked the door, grabbing the weird piece of tech that HYDRA wanted. You returned to the van and gave your handler the tech before settling into your seat. They let you eat before you had to go to training. You found Wanda and Pietro already at the table. 
“She took out Tony Stark,” Pietro said, very smug as you sat down. 
“Tony Stark?” 
That name sounded familiar. Pietro said something but you weren’t looking and he was too quiet. He knocked on the table until you looked up— even the twins had learned quickly that if they were too quiet, they’d have to get your attention before speaking so you could read lips. 
“Tony Stark. Iron Man, you really don’t know? She really doesn’t know. The man whose weapons were used to destroy our home. The arms dealer who tried to turn his back on all the wrong he did before his change of heart, as if he has one.” 
“He looked like he was going to die.” Wanda extended her fingers towards you, the red power dripping from her fingertips. 
You swatted it away, making the twins laugh. 
“Keep that away from me.”
“001, mission report?”
“Not nearly as entertaining.”
“You never like to share. You’ll forget it in the morning anyway.”
“Snapped a man’s neck today.”
Pietro leaned in. “You always get the kills. Does it feel weird? Ending someone?”
“I don’t know… can never remember.” 
The guard yelled for you to go start training. 
“Hey, Doll!” Pietro yelled as loud as possible. “Think fast!”
Pietro threw the butter knife and as it got close knocked twice on the ground for you to feel the vibration— you had gotten better at that, using vibrations to make up for what you couldn’t hear. On the second knock, you turned and caught the knife. 
“I’m not your doll, Pietro.”
He laughed as you dropped the knife and followed the guard out of the room. They left you alone in the training room. They tended to leave you alone a lot more now. You punched the bag until you felt like your feet and hands were going to fall off. Your foot connected with the bag once more. 
“How’s that… too loud?” 
You almost fell back as the memory appeared. The face was blurry but the voice was clear as crystal. Your fingers reached up to your left ear, a ghost of a touch. 
“Tony Stark?” you whispered softly. 
You went back to punching the bag with determination, hoping maybe another memory would appear.
~~
Tony Stark's parties were always loud. Saturday’s party was no exception. It was a farewell party for Thor who was returning to Asgard for a brief amount of time and a celebration of Tony and Bruce slowly cracking Loki’s scepter in an attempt to create Ultron. 
Ultron was going to be a protection around the world, a way to stop aliens after one too many encounters with Earth. Tony wanted the only threat to people to be from other people— that was something the Avengers could solve. Something a rebuilt S.H.I.E.L.D. could solve. 
The Avengers were mingling with the guests— all very distinguished people, or rich, including the prince of Wakanda who Tony was honestly surprised actually came. It was more like a secret UN meeting. Only with more drinking and lots of secrets that would be kept hidden from public view in the morning. Steve was nursing a whiskey at the bar, he wasn’t in the mood for all the festivites. Thor came up and handed him a flask of Asgardian mead, guaranteeing it would get him drunk. Tony appeared out of nowhere and clapped Steve on the back. 
“I know this is a sensitive time.”
“Sam and Bucky are looking for her. I should be out there.”
“You can’t be everywhere at once. The world still needs you, buddy.”
“Yeah… Sarah needed me too.” 
Steve shot down the mead and went to find Thor for another one. Sam and Bucky had come back and gave Steve a shake of their head. Sam sat down while Bucky went to chase down Thor after getting a sip of Steve’s drink. 
“From what Tony said when we came through the door, sounded like one hell of a fight.”
“Wasn’t supposed to be. If we had known, I would’ve called you two.”
“Don’t sweat it. That metalhead and I are perfectly happy chasing cold leads on our missing person.” 
“Thank you.” 
“Steve, we’re gonna find her.”
Sam sounded so sure but Steve could only muster a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Sam reached over and grabbed Steve’s drink from his hands much to the super-soldier’s protest. He wiggled his eyebrows before bringing the drink to his lips. Sam took a sip and scrunched his face up causing Steve to laugh for the first time that night as he took the cup back. 
It was a back and forth dance between the two and they knew it. They would never say anything, not until you were home, but they knew something existed between them. It took Steve longer to come to terms. It was another thing he was taught to push down in the 40s and then he met Peggy and it became bearable because she didn’t have to know he also liked men, just that he liked her. 
“That’s death in liquid form, how the hell are you still standing upright?”
Steve leaned in close but didn’t move to close any gap. He just smirked as he threw the drink back. 
“You found a place in Brooklyn yet?” Sam asked once he recovered. 
“Don’t know if I can afford Brooklyn.”
“Isn’t everyone on Tony’s payroll?”
Steve laughed. “Guess I was trying not to go to Tony for this one. I saw a couple places, I think Sarah would like them.”
“If she’s anything like my niece, just give her the biggest room and she’ll be happy.” 
Tony cleared most of the guests out so it was just the Avengers. Steve had loosened up thanks to the mead and was now sitting smushed between Sam and Bucky on the floor since Clint took the whole couch while they debated on lifting Thor’s hammer. 
“It’s a trick,” Clint insisted. 
Thor reached out a hand and Clint stood up. They all laughed as he couldn’t even make it move. Tony also failed. Even with the suit… and Rhodey… and Rhodey in the suit. Bruce failed. And Steve felt it shift but panicked and it got heavy again, much to Thor’s relief. 
“So, it’s rigged,” Tony stated as if it were a fact.
“You bet your ass,” Clint said.
Maria pointed at him. “Steve, he said a bad language word.” 
Steve rolled his eyes and looked at Tony knowing he was the source. Tony just held up his hands in a weak defense. 
“You tell everyone about that?”
“It’s fingerprints. I bet that it’s, the literal translation is having Thor’s fingerprints,” Tony evaded the question.  
“That’s an interesting theory,” Thor said before lifting up the hammer. “But here’s a simpler one, you’re all not worthy.” 
A high-pitched whirring made them all clutch their ears. They turned as they saw a weak looking robot made from various parts of Tony’s suits come in, Ultron. The robot started repeating Stark’s words and they slowly got up as more robots came at them. They defeated the robots and the initial body that Ultron was in but the song that rang throughout the tower shook them to their core. 
“I had strings, but now I’m free...”
Part 10...
THIS FIC TAGLIST:
@cynthetic​ @pophbfdsxa​ @brilliantbellesoares​ @autumnpauley20​ @thedarkplume​ @idk123906​ @superwholockian444​ @desiredposion​
PERMANENT TAGLIST:
@big-galaxy-chaos @peaches-n-sunscreen​ @summerellaz
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You're one of my favorite Darcyland authors. Do you have any tips or insights in writing Darcy, or just writing in general?
Hi, anon! *waves wildly* Tips for writing? Oooooh! You’re gonna get me started and I won’t be able to quit. Things to clarify that possibly matter: One, I am an Old in my 30s. And technically, I have a lot of experience in academic and non-fiction writing: I was a history & art history major/mideast studies minor in undergrad, aka big ol’ dork. Then I took grad classes in creative writing (but my focus was on non-fiction) and worked as a writing tutor on-campus. So, I’ve read a ton of essays in everything from English to nursing? But fanfic was the first time I’ve ever really written fiction, except for maybe one or two stories for my six hours of required out-of-field workshops that were pffhht stories. 
Seriously. They weren’t good. One of my friends swears up and down that on day one in a fiction writing workshop, I introduced myself and said, “I’m Hope and I don’t know how you all make this shit up.” 
I don’t actually remember saying it, but it sounds like me. I didn’t actually like writing fiction at that point, either. 
True story: I sort of fell into reading and then writing fanfic in 2018 when I had to get off Twitter before American politics made me too sad to function. So, fanfic has been the place where I hide from the news and experiment with trying out fiction stuff. I think just sitting down and writing a lot and writing stuff that you enjoy purely for yourself will a.) keep you motivated to keep writing and b.) build on your skills. My version of Darcy has a lot of “me stuff” in her, too--interest in politics, my hobbies, silly jokes. I just cram in stuff I like for my own amusement. I really do like Cheetos popcorn and perfume and jokes about Congress. Maybe that’s self-inserty, but who gives a damn? Remember that George Lucas called his protagonist “Luke S.” and nobody cares, right? So make Darcy your Darcy, however you’d like her to be. Maybe she’s also obsessed with sushi or rides horses or can secretly sing?  I like to write Cranky Old Man Speeches (tm) for Brock Rumlow, too. That’s fun. It’s fun to see things and think ‘that’s a [character x] thing, right there.’
And find stuff you like to write! I really like dialogue, so I write more dialogue than description, I think? I’m still lousy at writing action, like fight scenes? Ugh. Smut? Not the easiest thing yet, either. You might really love something else--lyrical language or beautiful descriptions of places. Think of your favorite fics or books. What do you like about them? The protagonist’s characterization or that description of a sunset in ch. 12? 
Writing books I think are good: 
-Stephen King’s On Writing -Chris Baty’s No Plot, No Problem (really, it is sunshine in page form, it makes me feel so motivated whenever I read it, also, he tweeted a photo of a llama at me after I fangirled about the book on Twitter once, so of course I will love him forever)  -Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic (also motivational! and there’s a podcast!) -William Zinnser’s On Writing Well -everything by Keri Smith, she’s fun and she will make you want to go out and see everything as interesting, which is maybe useful creatively.
Editing tricks I used to recommend as a tutor: -Read your stuff out loud, because your ear will pick up typos and repetitive language and sentence structure (this possibly doesn’t work as well if you’re hearing impaired, so in that case I’d recommend visual reading really slowly. Take a highlighter or something to force yourself to read slowly with your eyes). -Everybody’s writing has certain habits because our brains have certain habits. We tend to repeat sentence structures or use particular words, just because that’s us. For academic work, you might want to smooth that out and make it neutral, but in fiction it can be a character trait.A repetitive phrase or word just becomes a word your character uses a lot or maybe they say X when they’re flustered. If you’re already in fandom, you’ve got the benefit of studying actors’ line delivery--RDJ’s “oh, help” as Tony Stark is going to sound different from Kat Dennings’ “oh help” as Darcy. If you mentally cast your OCs, that may help you, too.
General tricks:
-eavesdrop ruthlessly and listen for fun phrases and mannerisms whenever you gotta be out there, you know, with people, pretending you’re not writing fanfic on ya phone -I write in Google Docs, so I can write whenever (waiting somewhere, on my chromebook, on my phone, etc.) -I have a Pinterest board for fic ideas (basically, images of sarcastic t-shirts and signs that sound like Darcy and Jane-isms to me) -browse prompts if you’re stuck
But most of all--have fun! This should be fun, I think. One of my tricks for having fun is that if I get stuck in a story, I allow myself to work on something else. My WIPs list is long, but I just work on whatever feels fun at any given time, so I never feel like I’m forcing myself to do something or like it’s a chore. I hope this is helpful! 
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rubycoast · a year ago
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the beauty of after | pjm
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⇢ pairing: jimin x f reader
[other members - taehyung]
⇢ genre: drabble, fluff, widower!jimin, angst (barely), artist!taehyung, the FLUFFIEST piece i've written so far, jimin is an old man
⇢ word count: 3.5k
⇢ warnings: themes of grief/loss, major character death (oc), mentions of death
⇢ summary: on your seventieth wedding anniversary, jimin celebrates in solitude by describing your face to an artist. it surfaces more fondness than grief to reminisce in the memory of his late partner.
♪ playlist: serendipity - bts • i'll never love again - lady gaga • lover - taylor swift • love of my life - queen • my everything - ariana grande ♪
[important] a/n: i am so so sorry to everyone for constantly reposting this, but my tags haven't been working. hopefully this is the last time i have to repost this!! also HAPPY PRIDE!
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“Thanks for doing this for me.” The young artist had already begun mixing paints on his palette, eyeing the canvas before him to scale the size of his portrait.
Jimin was gentle with the way his eyes traveled along Taehyung’s face which was free from the age wrinkles that Jimin had grown used to seeing. He nodded as to say your welcome, a jaded but genuine smile reaching his lips to the ends of his face.
It was difficult to gauge which one was more nervous from how Taehyung had nearly knocked over his easel various times within the stretch of setting up his supplies and the lack of stillness that fraught Jimin’s hands which were trying, and failing, to fold politely in his lap.
“This is for an art project? For school?” Jimin asked, deciding that half-empty questions fit better in the air than the awkward silence funded by the lack of proper acquaintance. Not to say he wasn’t indeed curious about this whole ordeal.
“Yeah. My professor wanted us to have someone describe their significant other to us and we have to draw them based on the description! I hope I do your partner justice.” Jimin’s heart grew warmer when the enthusiasm from Taehyung’s voice made his intentions clear. He was an aspiring artist simply using his craft to procure something emotional and raw.
Jimin was the fortunate soul Taehyung had stumbled upon during his walk home. A single, elderly man sitting on a park bench, an appropriate setting for someone Jimin’s age, had aroused some curiosity in the younger man to strike up a conversation.
The slightly hung head, the pair of kind eyes trailing the various passersby, and the astounding hint of melancholy had colored Jimin in an entirely different light than anyone Taehyung had ever met.
Whatever his story was, Taehyung made it a goal to depict it with every bit of honesty and emotion he could engender from his paintbrush.
“I think it would be hard to make anything of ___ look bad." Jimin assured, feeling his shoulders fall away from his ears and his hands finally rest atop his lap.
“___? Is that her name?” Taehyung repeated it internally a few more times in an attempt to imagine what you looked like before Jimin started on his description.
He looked over to the older man, picturing an older woman sitting beside him on that park bench. His mind meandered to what kinds of things you two would talk about, or if you two were the type to construct a haven in sweet silence. Maybe Jimin would say something that would make you laugh and you would join in on the repartee with ease.
What made you laugh? How many times have you been on a plane? Did you like the color yellow? What was your favorite genre of music? What made you cry?
The questions began to bundle like a colorful bouquet of diverse flowers, waiting to be delivered into the hands of a loved one.
“Yes. Beautiful right?” Jimin’s smile faded a bit, the only evidence of it expressed through a slight curve sitting at the ends of his mouth and the crow’s feet incising his skin much more prominently than the rest of his wrinkles.
“Very beautiful.” Taehyung decided to arm himself with one of his finer brushes. He could already feel the unwavering desire to capture the most intricate of details partly for a good grade in this class but partly for the sake of keeping true to his word.
He wanted to do you and Jimin justice. To make this nothing but ornately accurate.
“How would you describe her facial structure?” The artist positioned his arm with his brush in hand, ready to dispatch the ink amassing at the tip of the synthetic hairs to the white, empty canvas.
“Soft. Perfect to fit into my hands.” Jimin stared down to the mentioned body parts, reminiscing the countless times he would scoop your face between his palms for no reason at all other than to revere your beauty. “Round cheeks. Smooth and warm skin.”
Taehyung couldn’t resist how the pang in his heart reflexively surfaced a fond smile in reaction to Jimin’s endearing description. He peeked away from the canvas before making any initial marks and gathered the loving gaze Jimin had been directing towards his matured hands cupped around the empty space that should have been your face. Then, he knew exactly which set of emotions he should embed into this portrait.
“What about her eyes, what do they look like?” Taehyung asked to acquire another image of how he should paint you, while already outlining the basic curves of a head that would quote unquote fit perfectly in Jimin's hands.
“They were kind. They always had this sparkle in it. A real sparkle, like she trapped the moonlight in her eyes.” Suddenly, Jimin's lungs were not merely occupied with air, but with an oxygenated memorial of your eyes which made his inhalations feel weighted. “They were bright and always looked at me with trust and care. Even when they had tears in them, you could have mistaken those for diamonds.”
The image was stark in his own eyes, and if he closed them then he could have been transported back seventy years to when your wedding vows were announced to the world. How your eyes looked at him and glimmered an overwhelming beauty that nearly evaporated the over-rehearsed words from his memory. Before you could roll those moonlit pupils at his fall to silence, he hastily declared the oaths that bound his heart to yours forever as if he couldn’t stand a second longer keeping those promises in.
“Were?” Taehyung articulated thoughtfully as he could with clear indication to question the past tense manner of Jimin’s narrative.
“Yeah. She has passed.” It was still difficult to feel those words ordered as such verbalized by his tongue. They tasted bitter and stale, as if they had been waiting somewhere inside to be recognized.
He wasn't aware of how his hand was now placed against his chest until he felt the heavy throbs of his tired organ. Through this, it might be that he was searching for your heartbeat that he could once identify through the his own.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Sir.” Taehyung’s hand almost fell away from the canvas, until reality restored his maneuvers and continued the lining of your face.
His focus was oscillating from the mostly white canvas, save for the thin strokes of black, to the man uncoated from his reserve through the smile that deepened the indentations of his face.
“Jimin. Call me Jimin.” He said, breaking whatever ice that froze the two of them in discomfort. That nervousness had melted away with the minutes until they both felt warm and comfortable.
“Okay, Jimin, could you describe anything else about her? It doesn’t have to be physical. This is more about emotion.” Taehyung’s brush had been hard at work, dutifully printing every hint of love that Jimin relayed and materializing it onto the portrait.
“Her smile was warm. The biggest one you would ever see. I swear, everyone she met noticed it. It was genuine. It was the smile of someone who never had mal intent and always ready to share her happiness to all those around her. Seeing it every day, it reminded me that, with her, I was always home.”
From the day he met you, eye contact was a difficult task to compass since your smile had always demanded his full attention. Each time you flashed your grin, he felt as if it was purposeful, the extension of your joy onto him. The way you made him feel every bit of bliss you felt because you were the type to believe everyone, especially Jimin, deserved to feel happy.
And each time he was endowed witness to your smile, it articulated his goal in life quite clearly: molding his actions into a kindle for your smile and doing everything in his humble power to cherish those angelic beams of joy.
“Whenever she would smile, your day would get a little bit better. And I was lucky enough to spend most of my life with her, so my days always got better. She always smiled. Like she knew how much it meant to me.”
“Sounds like ___ was very happy.” Taehyung said during the interval of giving shape to your lips. What remained on the canvas was the widest smile Taehyung could craft, knowing it was not nearly as big as the one Jimin described.
“She was. She was sad too, and angry. You did not want to see her angry, let me tell you.” A chuckle had fallen from his mouth as he postured the memory of your scowl to the forefront of his recollection. How you would equip this number when Jimin would do something particularly dumb, or when your kids were being scolded for reasons that didn’t seem as important now.
There was nothing that compared to how you could emote with your entire face in a poise that suggested your feelings willed your every movement. How you would scrunch your nose and your eyebrows would reach the middle of the space between them; the frown of your lips would pull your entire face lower. He would take your anger seriously at the time, but in retrospect, he would give anything to see that disgruntled expression again.
And he would simply smile, and perhaps snap a photo for a keepsake.
“I hope she was happy most of all. That’s all that matters, Taehyung. Make the ones you love happy. I hope I did that well enough.” Jimin began to question if he made you happy. One day, when he joined your parted soul, he would find that out for himself.
He knew beyond doubt that you had accomplished sparking joy into people's lives simply by being you.
“I will. That’s good advice, Jimin.” Taehyung made himself present in his wonders about you, despite how he was absent from your life.
From the way Jimin described you, he fully understood that Jimin wasn't speaking from the functions of a brain. The portion of his mind that conducted speech could have been rejected entirely. These words, the thoughtful description, the sentiment flowing from his voice were sourced straight from the heart.
One that felt incomplete without its other half.
“Do you miss her?” He had to inject a bit of courage in this question in the hopes it wouldn’t be overstepping any boundaries. Though, Jimin was ever so gentle with the way he moved through life and met Taehyung's requests with kindness so far.
“Very much.” A stout crack fissured through Jimin’s voice and prompted him to swallow down the sob ruminating in his throat. “I miss her more than anything in the world. More than the flowers miss the spring and wait for winter to pass so they may bloom again. These days, I’m just waiting for spring.”
Jimin had intertwined his hands together, pretending it could fill the hollow space of his palms just as well as your hands would. He knew though, this was an emptiness that would always remain unfulfilled the minute your heart stopped beating with his.
“It will come. Soon enough. She’s waiting for you too, I’m sure.” And your flower will bloom. Taehyung created the contours of your eyes and paid a sizable amount of attention to depicting that highly emphasized sparkle.
What would a painting of you be without those acclaimed glints of moonlight floating in your irises? It wouldn’t be a painting of you at all.
“Do you have a special someone in your life right now?” Jimin took over the role of the questioner and placed Taehyung in the position of the questionee. It was enough for now to repair his composure.
“Not at the moment, no.” The majority of his focus was fixed on the painting but spared just enough to answer Jimin’s inquiry.
“Well, whenever you find them, I hope you appreciate the small things. I never knew how much the small things mattered until ___ was gone. Like how she notoriously had every barista put extra cinnamon on her coffee drinks. When I would forget to add it, she would pretend to be mad at me. She'd roll her eyes and tell me I’m ‘losing it’ or she would say something dramatic like ‘what has this world come to, Park Jimin?’” His pause filtered the room with a peaceful property.
Jimin utilized the silence to ponder the moments he once hadn’t given as much as a second thought to. The same moments that would entrap him in a catatonic gaze on rainy days or during cold, lonely nights.
“She would still drink the whole thing, though. She was kind in that way. Never really letting those things go unappreciated.” His eyes fell to the floor, though he was not seeing the weathered carpet spread across the substructure. He saw none other than your eyes.
The moonlight he had the privilege of viewing up close and personal, and uncrowned the orbiting rock in the sky of its esteemed title.
“Now every time I see cinnamon, I think of her. Of her peculiar love of it and even though she loved cinnamon so much, she’d love the effort I put in even more. She always loved me generously.” There had been friction within Jimin’s throat that made it warm and swollen ever since he started talking about you. His words dislodged through labored projections, but his voice overtly strewn hints of sorrowful longing in each statement.
“She sounds very loving. I can’t imagine how lucky it was that you met her.” Though his eyes were trained on pressing the delicate illustrations of your face onto the canvas, his ears were employed in listening intently to Jimin.
He had no idea who you were, however, he was sure he too would have fallen in love. Of course, anyone would have done so through the perception of someone who had devoted his entire heart and life to loving you.
“How long were you two together?” He asked to obtain an addition to his bouquet of knowledge about you.
“We were married for seventy years but we dated for three years before that.” Jimin’s eyes were not alone anymore.
They loaded quite a collection of tears, barely keeping at the bay of his eyes, and the vision of your face when he proposed that the two of you should seal your love through something as trivial as a diamond ring.
It was irrational, not only the fact that pricey luxuries such as rings were well beyond his budget. Jimin knew that embellishing a silver band on your finger would not be enough to earn a lasting relationship or settle your commitment to him. A piece of jewelry could not entail the immense love harbored in his chest. The proposal wasn’t the end of a happy story, rather the beginning of a lifetime to learn and unlearn the elements of loving you.
Even the bumps in the road, knocking him or you away from each other, were never enough to conclusively sever the connection. Dedication and work knotted your heartstrings together. The biggest bump, your death, was the final blow that nearly disentangled them.
Nearly. But when Jimin said ‘until death do us part’ he never realized that vow held some false hope. Of course, he wouldn’t let you go, or rather he couldn’t let you go, even after you passed away. It wasn’t that easy when his heart synchronized with yours the moment he fell in love with you and he already decided to become someone who was worthy of loving you.
Now he was that man. Someone who matched the degree of kindness you always provided him. The man who would disregard any prior engagements if you called and needed him, rest assured you would do the same for him. The man who proudly held your hand, knowing the world envied him. The same man that was cultivated through growing beside someone that cared for every part of him, down to her last breath.
In that way, death was never a contender to part him from you.
“Wow.” Taehyung was not sure of how else to elaborate how genuinely impressed he was. “What's the secret? How did you manage to stay together for seventy years? I mean, people these days get divorces like it’s a quit button you can press when you get tired of playing the game.”
Jimin, despite the teary glaze over his eyes, pulled a laugh from his throat. Without warning, he fell into the trench of all the long-forgotten fights bred from pettiness or misunderstanding. Many of them were over financial or familial issues. And with the lens of a seventy-year perspective, Jimin traded shallow grudges for an important realization that certain things remain standing after the dust settles.
“We would fight. A lot, actually. Even in those perfect relationships, people always fight. But I remember now, if it were a fight over money or anything else that was expendable, there wasn’t a question in my mind of which to choose. Between the world and ___, I always choose her. I always choose love. It’s more important than anything because when you truly love someone, you want to understand them. You want to work through problems instead of leaving them to pile up and collect dust.”
Jimin’s eyes now settled on Taehyung, who had already been staring at Jimin, then continued with all the sincerity he could deploy.
“Taehyung, always choose them. Choose love. I know I did and I have no regrets. I know if I chose to stay angry at her, I would be wrestling to forgive myself.”
Taehyung’s face muscles felt tired, his smile’s permanence hadn’t allowed for them to rest.
“Anger, annoyance, frustration, jealousy? Those all fade away. In a week or a month, you’ll stop being angry at some point, but you will never stop being in love. So choose love. It’s a permanent fixture in your heart.”
Taehyung set his brush down, and the picture resting on the easel was completed and then some. He didn’t mind. Taehyung truly enjoyed the sentiments Jimin kindly shared with him, as it would have been far duller to paint in silence.
Not to mention, he discovered a love story that went untold by movies and fairytales. It was a true love story. Something so real, Taehyung fell in love just by capturing Jimin’s tale and translating it into visual art.
Because this image of you was what Jimin saw when he pictured you. The picture of you shrouded in abundance by the highest grade of love.
“I’m finished, would you like to see?” Taehyung lifted the canvas from its resting spot, turning it slowly since Jimin’s nod was geared with apprehension.
Jimin’s heart nearly bore a hole through his chest, and it would fall out to where you were resting. He was afraid of facing you, or any rendition of your face, since it would be the first time in two months that his eyes beheld anything resembling his late wife.
When the canvas turned, so did the final page of the story. The story Jimin had been purposefully writing with long-winded prose and repetitive words to stall the commencement of it. He wasn’t ready to let go, that is until his eyes beheld the painting which etched fruition of something that felt further from him than you.
Closure.
“It’s beautiful.” Jimin’s tears were disobediently running down his cheeks. “It looks exactly like her. My love. My ___.”
It was not simply a painting garnished under the guise of an academic assignment, but an ode to the grand love Jimin had carried in his heart for seventy years and counting.
“I’ll be sure to send it to you after it’s graded.” Taehyung declared in a decided manner, now fighting back tears of his own, though it was a losing battle since he already felt the empathetic stains wetting his face.
“Thank you.” Jimin whispered soft enough that Taehyung barely caught it, but loud enough that his gratitude glazed the painting with its finishing touch: acceptance.
Now it was time to let go.
“___.” He said once more.
Jimin realized what could emerge even after your physical existence had run dry. That, even though you were no longer alive, there was a ceaseless supply of lessons Jimin still learned from loving you. He learned he could guiltlessly reflect over the years and memories. Resonating the most with him were the ones he spent choosing something more powerful and decisive and resilient above all else. Choosing love.
It colored his world into something vibrant and enchanting. There was still an unquantifiable amount of love pouring from his chest without a hint of diminishing. It was a force that stretched its reign beyond graves and long, lonely years of mourning. This love was alive, and breathing joy into Jimin’s life. It would continue breathing joy into Taehyung’s life as well as the painting, marred with your semblance.
He also realized you can never fully fall out of love. Just as pain never departs, and one simply learns to live with it, to become stronger and versed in the realm of sorrow, one never falls out of love, you simply learn to live without them; you learn to trudge on without the deity that derived something as powerful as love through the biggest smiles, the glistening eyes, the heaps of cinnamon, the unremitting kindness, and the perpetual act of choosing love.
And that the beauty of loving you was no more breathtaking than the beauty of after you.
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buckysmischief · a year ago
Text
Spaces Between - 1/?
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Word Count: 1.5k
Summary: The Snap took everything from you, who knew Loki would be the one to put back all your pieces?
Warnings: thanos doesn’t kill loki, everything else is cannon with IW & Endgame (im sorry), language, fluff, angst
AN: Tessa is an oc, readers best friend
FTS Masterlist | Series Masterlist
☄︎
Spring 2018, 5 minutes later
“Yn, wake the fuck up!” Tessa panicked, pouring cold water on your face. You sat straight up, wishing she’d have just slapped you instead.
“How many times have I asked you not to do that?” you grumble, wiping the water off your face. “How long was I out this time?”
“About five minutes, where did you go?”
You passed out for two minutes the first time you teleported from your apartment to California, but once you got used to traveling greater distances your body got used to it. Space though? It was surprising you woke up before the day was over.
“Uh.. I’m not exactly sure. Loki got me there, I just brought us back. Oh shit! Thor and Hulk, I gotta go get them!”
Before you could get up and attempt to travel back to space, Loki was at your side. “The bifrost opened while you were out, but we do need to find the Avengers. Thanos is coming and as much as I hate to admit it, I think it would be best if we worked together.”
“That big purple guy? What’s his deal?” you ask.
Loki explained everything to you and Tessa. The stones and what Thanos plans to do with them, even what Thanos has already done throughout the galaxy. You then explained to him what happened to the Avengers in Berlin, but reaching out would still be a better option.
“Do you know where we could find them, can you jump there?” you’re not an expert on Loki by any means, but you’re positive you can hear panic in his voice.
“Yeah, let me get some things together really quick and we can go.” grabbing Tessa and pulling her into your room.
There was too much going on. Not even an hour ago you were on a run in the park and now you had to help prevent half of the galaxy from dying? What were you even supposed to do? It’s not like you’ve had any training, just what you’ve picked up on your own.
“Tess, I need you to stay here. Call out of work if you have to but please.. don’t leave the apartment.” you were throwing clothes into a bag, not even realizing you were panicking until Smokey rubbed against your leg. You didn’t even want a cat, but Tessa insisted. And she was right, Smokey was basically your emotional support cat at this point.
“I will, Yn. But you gotta go save the world. I love you!” She gives you a hug and pushes you to Loki. “And you, keep her safe.”
Loki nods, “I give you my word, no one will lay a finger on her.”
Later that day, after Thanos
After leaving your apartment with Loki, you ended up arriving at the compound the same time as Captain America and a few others. No one was happy to see Loki, but once Bruce Banner told them what had happened (and that Thor thought he had died), everyone felt better about you two traveling to Wakanda with them.
The battle was unlike anything you’ve ever seen, worse than the battle of New York. When everything was said and done, there were bodies and blood - and dust - everywhere. But Loki kept his word. You had a few cuts and bruises, sure, but you were alive. The same couldn’t be said about half of the world, or anywhere else for that matter, though.
You were still on the battlefield with Loki, neither one of you were there when Thanos showed up. When he noticed you watching soul after soul disappear, he suggested you go back home to check on Tessa and Smokey.
“I’m afraid they won’t be there.” you finally look up at him, tears falling down your face. “They’re the only family I have left, what if they aren’t there?”
“I’ll go with you, you don’t have to do this on your own, little one.” He wrapped his arms around you and waited until you were ready to leave.
When you jumped to your apartment, you landed on the outside of your door, too afraid to open it. “It’s probably best to just get it over with..”
“I know, I know,” you turned the knob, immediately hearing The Office playing in the living room. You grab Loki’s hand and push the door open, venturing further into the apartment.
It wasn’t an act of affection he was used to, and his first reaction was to jerk away. But then he felt you squeeze his hand for comfort. He felt his heart swell, silently vowing to always protect you from this moment on, feeling great pride knowing you saw him as your protector.
You walk through the kitchen and yell out for Tessa, even shaking Shadow's favorite toy, but you didn’t hear anything. Loki helped you check the bathroom, her bedroom, your bedroom. Still, nothing. You had been saving the obvious option for last, hoping, praying that your worst fears weren’t coming true.
As you walked into the living room you didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, but then you looked to the spot on the couch where Tess and Smokey sit and just see a pile of ash. Loki saw the look of your face and was standing ready to catch you any way you fell. But you just stood there.
Numb.
The only person in this world who really knew you was gone. A victim to a war she had nothing to do with and yet she’s gone, not knowing what the hell was happening. It wasn’t fair. You failed to stop Thanos and yet here you were, alive. But all of these innocent, good people that had no fight in this war were just gone.
“I.. I need to get away from here.” you whisper. “I’m gonna pack, you don't have to come-”
“Nonsense, of course I’m coming.” he interrupted. “I told you you didn’t have to do this on your own and I meant that.”
You went to your room and packed all of the clothes that you could, and all the other essentials. After grabbing your bag you stopped at Tessa’s room and opened the door, working yourself up to go in. “What do you need in here?”
“Tessa’s blanket,” you sigh, “it was mine but she just loved it so much I kinda just let her have it. I can’t leave it here.” Standing up, you fold the small blanket and hold it in your arms.
You both leave the apartment and discuss ideas about where you could lay low for a bit, until you know it’s safe. Loki had been the one to remember the bunkers Rhodey was talking about the day before. When Tony Stark remodeled the Compound he added some bunkers, because apparently, you have to be prepared for everything.
Instead of jumping there, you decided you needed a walk. You needed to process everything that happened and maybe walking for a couple of hours would help, but by the time you found a bunker your thoughts were still a mess.
When you looked around to see what all you had, you noticed there was plenty of food and toiletries, even a tv and radio. There was even a small kitchen and bathroom, but there was only one bed which might make things a little awkward. “It’s not as tech’ed as I imagined, but this will work.”
“Agreed. I’m going to take a shower and get some rest, I feel like you should do the same.” He was genuinely concerned about your mental state, and you knew he was right. “Okay, I’ll make us something to eat while you shower.”
While Loki was in the shower, you could only think about two things. 1) Tessa and Smokey, and 2) the sleeping arrangement. You hardly knew the man, but he’s done nothing but make you feel safe. And you didn’t know if it was losing Tessa, going through all that you had with him today, or a combination of both, but you wanted to keep him close.. you just didn’t know how to ask.
As you heard the water in the bathroom cut off dinner was ready, just regular spaghetti, nothing special. It was one of the few things that didn’t require much effort to make. Shout out to whoever's idea it was to add a spice rack, though. It was obvious to you that Loki had never had anything like it, but he was kind enough to give it a try.
“So,” he stands up from the table, putting his dishes in the sink, “I can sleep on the couch if you’d like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, that couch is way too short for you. We can.. we can share the bed, if that’s fine with you” you suggested.
“I’d like that.” was all he said before he left you alone to take a shower.
☄︎
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