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the-atlas-sister · 3 years

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The First Date (Damian Wayne X Reader)

So in this, you are the daughter of Green Arrow, Oliver Queen (NOT THE ARROW VERSION!! THE ANIMATED AND COMIC VERSION), and Black Canary, Dinah Lance. Also in this Dinah is dead and you have taken on the role of Black Canary

"Done!" Abby (moi!!!) exclaimed, tying the hair tie in my hair. "Aw, you look so good!" She backed up, admiring her work.

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, smiling slightly. "I mean, I usually look beautiful but now I look even more beautiful," I joked.

"I know," Abby said, making me chuckle.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "What time is it?" I asked.

"Six on the dot," Abby said, looking impressed. "Wow."

"It is Damian," I shrugged before my eyes widened. "I'm going on a date with Damian Wayne."

"Chill," y/b/f said, noticing my panic. "You asked him out, remember?"

"But-"

"Hey Damian," y/b/f said from the living room.

I looked at Abby, a panicked expression on my face. "You're okay," she whispered before leading me out of the bathroom.

Damian looked at me before mumbling something in Arabic. I was rusty when it came to other languages but I thought I caught "Beautiful..." which was enough to make my entire face turn red.

"Hey," I said, putting on a confident face. "You look good." My eyes scanned him. He wore a pair of nice black jeans and a matching skin-tight turtle-neck.

"You look..." His eyes scanned me.

"Gorgeous? Beautiful? Sexy?" I guessed, smirking at Damian blushed.

"Yes," Damian said, making me blush.

"Okay... well," Abby said, pushing me forward. "You two have fun," she said as I slipped on my shoes. "But not too much fun." She eyeballed Damian in a very best friend way. "And have her back by 10."

"And be safe!" Myloh added.

"Bye guys," I said, quickly ushering Damian out the door before closing it. "Sorry."

"I had a similar conversation with my brothers before I left," Damian said before cringing slightly. "Although it was a bit more-"

"I don't want to know," I said, shaking my head. "So, what do you have planned, Mr. Wayne?" I asked, walking down the apartment hallway.

"That's a surprise," Damian said with a stoic face.

"Not a huge fan of surprises," I said as we reached the elevator.

"You'll like this one," Damian stated matter-of-factly, pressing the button to the last level.

"Is that a fact?" I challenged as the elevator lowered.

"Yes," Damian stated, making me tilt my head. "I did some research and I'm sure you'll enjoy this."

"I don't know if that was meant to be sweet but it came off as creepy," I chuckled, leaning on the elevator wall.

"I just meant- I asked Abby what you're interested in," Damian explained, slowly going pink.

"What'd she say?" I asked, both worried and curious.

"She explained your love of movies, books, the stars, and food," Damian stated as the doors slid open.

"So, which did you choose?" I questioned, walking backward out of the elevator.

"Still a surprise," Damian smirked, following me.

"Mhm, game on Mr. Wayne," I said, turning around and walking out the apartment building's front doors. My eyes widened a bit as I saw Damian's motorcycle parked in front of the building. "Seriously?" I asked, looking at him as he stood next to me.

"Complaining?" he asked, looking at me sideways.

"Not as long as I get to drive," I chuckled, approaching the motorcycle.

"No," Damian said, standing next to me. He grabbed one of the helmets before handing me the second one.

"I know how," I frowned.

"No," Damian repeated before blinking. "Strange, that felt familiar." He then shook his head before getting on the bike. "Come on," he said looking at me. I rolled my eyes but climbed on the bike behind him. "Hold on," he said before putting on his helmet.

"You sure you don't want to drive as a way to get me to hold on to you?" I teased, resting my head on Damian's shoulder. Damian tensed up, making me chuckle. "I was kidding," I reassured him, putting on the helmet and grabbing his shoulders.

Damian cleared his throat. "I-I respect you, but for your own safety, I suggest you put your arms around my waist."

I blushed, wrapping my arms around his waist. Damian started the bike and drove out of his parking spot. My grip tightened as Damian sped up and we reached the highway. I grinned under the helmet as the adrenaline rushed through me due to the speed.

***

"You have to take me on your motorcycle more often," I said, letting out a breathy laugh and taking off my helmet.

"It's not really mine," Damian corrected, taking off his helmet and getting off the bike.

"But with Promythous-" I furrowed my brows, placing the helmet on the bike's seat.

"That was Robin's bike," Damian explained, leading me to the secret destination. He had parked a block away from the surprise place, just to keep the secrecy. "Damian Wayne does not have a motorcycle."

"Who's-" I continued, getting into pace next to Damian.

"My brother's," he shrugged with a small smug smile.

"You stole your brother's motorcycle?" I asked, laughing slightly.

"He told me, women love men with motorcycles," Damian said. "So I took that as an invitation for me to 'borrow' his." He smirked to himself at the thought. "Also, my other brother said I should. I'm not one to listen to him but, I did enjoy the idea of stealing Jason's bike." I smiled at his mini-rant. He seemed to notice. "I'm sorry for oversharing," he said, his face returning to it's neutral state.

"No, it's fine," I reassured him as we turned a corner. "It's nice hearing you talk more."

Damian blinked, obviously surprised by my answer. "What... would you like to talk about?" he asked slowly.

"You," I said. "I don't know much about you."

"O-oh," Damian stuttered, which was a rare sound. "I grew up with the League of Assassins."

"The group your father trained with?" I asked, interested to learn more. "Lead by Ra AlGugl?"

"My grandfather," Damian confirmed. "When my father was training, he met my mother. She- she tricked him into having... intercourse with her. That's how I was created. My father left before I was born and I was raised by my grandfather and mother. I was trained from birth to be the master assassin. I was supposed to be the best. There was no room for error."

"That doesn't sound like a fun childhood," I said.

"I suppose not," Damian hummed. "I loved my grandfather very much, or more admired him. He told me we would destroy the world and rebuild it in our own image." He scanned our surroundings, almost as if he was imagining how he could make each detail superior.

"That's still partly your mindset isn't it?" I asked, making Damian's gaze turn to me. "You see the world and people and just imagine how you can make them better." Damian blinked. "You even yourself believe you're better than everyone. You think you'll be a better Batman, a better hero."

"I don't-"

"I'm not critiquing, just observing," I stated. I blushed under Damian's intense stare. "I-I interrupted, I'm sorry. What about your mother?"

"She's dead," Damian said.

"Oh," I said.

"She wasn't a mother anyway," Damian continued. "Last I saw her she tried to create an adult 'perfect' clone of me and killed him."

"And I thought my dad was hardcore," I mumbled. "How did she...?"

"Helicopter crashed after trying to kill me, my father, and Grayson," Damian said almost casually.

My eyes widened. "You didn't deserve it," I said as we turned yet another corner. Damian turned to me. "You deserved a loving childhood. Not one with a group of assassins and Batman."

Damian's eyes softened. "I did get, what you call, a loving childhood with my father," he said. "He would set up movie nights. And my brothers are... overly loving, at least Grayson."

"He's Nightwing, right?" I asked, grinning a bit. Damian nodded. "I've met him. He has a bit of an older brother feel. And I'm sure he understands how hard it is to grow up with someone like Bruce."

"He has made it very clear he does," Damian scoffed. "As had Todd." I gave him a questioning look. "Red Hood."

"Oh, never met him," I mumbled.

We walked in comfortable silence for a minute.

"Here," Damian said, stopping in front of a small and quaint ice cream shop.

"Ice cream?" I asked, giving him a lopsided grin. "On Friday."

"You said you and your mother used to always had ice cream on Fridays," Damian said shyly.

I let out a small laugh. "You- this is really sweet," I said, a bit surprised. I remembered when I told him that detail about my childhood.

***Flashback***

"Tell me more about your mother," Damian said after a while of silence. "I assume she's where you got your power?"

"Yeah," I said quietly, looking up at the ceiling. "She was- awesome. She was the first Black Canary. Trained in thousands of martial art styles."

"You're telling me things I already know," Damian stated, making me look at him.

"She was a pretty cool mom," I chuckled, crossing my legs on the bed. "She couldn't cook though. That was something she wasn't taught. She'd always make time for us to have an ice cream night. Every Friday." I smiled at the memory. "Sometimes she'd come back from patrol at midnight then wake me up, just so we could still eat ice cream."

"Do you still do it?" Damian questioned, turning to face me fully. "With your father?"

"Not usually," I stated, trying not to sound bitter. "He's usually busy with the Justice League and his company."

"How did she die?" Damian asked softly, making me go stiff.

"I was thirteen," I recited. "She and my dad went to face Prometheus. It was just in the early stages of my training-at least for the Canary cry, so I wasn't allowed to go. I- I remember my dad calling the house. He told me he'd be home soon, but something happened to Mom. Apparently, Prometheus slit her throat. She didn't want anyone to find out her identity so she insisted that only Martian Manhunter or Batman operated on her."

"But it was too late," Damian assumed. I nodded.

"Dad and I hardly even spoke after that," I sighed. "It hit us both- hard, but after a year, we got through it. He's still protective though."

"What about your powers?"

"I don't use them," I stated. "My mom died before we got far in training."

"Why don't you continue?" Damian asked. "I assume the league would be open to help or your friends."

"I can't," I sighed. "My vocal cords are too old."

"That sounds like an excuse," Damian stated. "I was unaware you were a quitter, Queen."

***End of flashback***

"I just figured you'd enjoy it," Damian shrugged, turning his head to the side to hide his smile.

"I do," I chuckled. "Although this is very cliche."

"I have seen as such in many of the movies Grayson forced me to watch," Damian admitted.

"Thank you, Damian," I smiled before rushing towards the outside counter, Damian following. "Hello!" I said to the person at the counter.

"Hello," the person said. She was a pretty girl, seemingly teen age with flawless makeup. She looked like she belonged at Dutch Brothers.

"I would like two scoops of y/f/i.c (your favirote ice cream) in a cup, please," I said before turning to Damian.

"Awesome," the girl said. "And you?"

Damian glanced at me. "None for me," he answered.

"You're not going to get anything?" I asked.

"I've never had ice cream," Damian admitted.

"Never?" I asked in shock.

"No," Damian said, his face showing me he didn't understand the problem. I scanned his face before turning to the girl.

"He'll have one scoop of almond in a cup," I stated.

"Alright," the girl smiled. "Be right with you."

"I said I didn't want any," Damian said, looking at me.

"You've never had it and you can't just sit there watching me eat," I protested. "Plus, I think you'll like it."

"Why is that?" Damian challenged.

"I'm an observer of people and you seem like an almond guy," I summarized.

"Explain your thinking Miss Queen," Damian said.

"Well, almond is more of a traditional Arabic ice cream flavor (please correct me if I'm wrong, I got this off the internet), and knowing you, you prefer salty and savory over sweet," I explained before leaning back and spreading my hands like I was presenting an amazing discovery.

"We shall see," Damian just said.

"Here," the girl chimed in, interrupting our discussion. She handed us our ice cream.

"Thank you," I said. I placed my ice cream on the counter before pulling out my wallet, but Damian had already paid. "I was going to pay," I said as he handed me my ice cream.

"It's proper etiquette for the man to pay," Damian said, leading me away from the ice cream shop.

"But it's not required," I chuckled. "Besides, we're both the children of billionaires." Damian didn't answer as he led me to a small park beside the shop. "I'll just pay next time."

"Next time?" Damian asked, stopping in front of a blanket with a projector on it.

"Yeah," I smirked. "If I haven't scared you away."

"Not at all," Damian said, sitting on the blanket. He motioned for me to sit down and I obliged.

"Try the ice cream," I said excitedly. Damian glanced at the tan-colored ice cream before taking a scoop and eating it. I stared at him, waiting for some type of reaction. His eyes widened before he took another scoop. "I told you!" I smirked.

"Coincidence," Damian scoffed but took more bites.

"Mhm," I hummed, leaning back on my free hand. I looked around, noticing a screen across from the projector. "You set this up?"

"Pennyworth did," Damian corrected. "Although I choose the film."

"Oh really?" I asked. "What'd you choose?"

"y/f/a/m (your favirote animated movie)," Damian stated. My face lit up. "Abby told me it was your favorite. Although I don't understand how or why a film made for children would be your favorite."

"You've never seen it have you?" I asked. Damian shook his head. "Then you'll figure out that it's not really a children's film. And you'll discover the superior soundtrack."

#damian #damian wayne #damian x reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #batman #first date #robin #dc #green arrow #black canary #dinah lance #oliver queen #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #author #alfred pennyworth

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caffeinatedtimdrake · 5 years

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3 Words 4 You

A/N: sorry this took so long! still unsure about how i feel about this piece as a whole, but there are parts i really love. also, i still have a few requests from that prompt list from ages ago, but i can’t tell you when i’ll be able to get to them - if at all. this summer is keeping me busier than i thought it would and i don’t want to write something of poor quality for you :(

About 1.8k of Jason Todd fluff because apparently I can’t stop writing about Jason and declarations of love.

The first time Jason tells you he loves you, you do not hear him, for your soul rests upon a soft cloud of deep slumber.

Your head rests upon his chest and he inhales slowly. Your hair and the scent of fruity shampoo tickle his nose. You sigh his name in a gentle whisper, as if each letter peeks out shyly behind your slightly parted lips before floating through the air and up to his ears.

Your voice is sweeter than the music of any songbird.

For so long, you were a only dream; a hazy hopefulness that bloomed in his chest when you smiled, a reticent reverie buzzing in his fingertips when you passed him a pencil, a far-off fantasy that left his head in the clouds and his heart in the sea.

Yet now, you were here – dreaming in his arms.

“I love you,” Jason croons these three words like sun and satin across your skin.

You don’t hear him with your ears, but you must hear him with your soul because you shift and nuzzle closer to him.

A smile graces his features, sticky sweet and stretched wide across his mouth, and his arms tighten around you.

The second time Jason tells you he loves you, you think you’re hearing him incorrectly.

You two sprint down the block towards the parking lot beneath a torrent of rain; sloshing through puddles, squinting through the downpour, and squeezing past throngs of people seeking refuge beneath awnings.

Jason had surprised you with an afternoon at the art museum. A Renoir exhibit had just opened up; you rambled about dreamy Impressionism while Jason watched you with a dreamy smile.

The sudden deluge is rather nightmarish, but you squeeze Jason’s hand; religiously, he believes that your presence in his universe is a form of salvation.

It’s your peal of sunny laughter that wrenches the words from his mouth once more.

“What’s so funny?” He barks through the rain, braving a glance over his shoulder at you.

You’re grinning, hair matted down, and skin painted with raindrops. “I just need a basket and I’d be like the lady in The Umbrellas without an umbrella.”

Jason’s “I love you,” that promptly follows gets swallowed up by a bus zooming past and a threatening sheet of water sprayed across the length of the sidewalk.

Again, you do not hear him with your ears, but you easily read his lips and come to a halt, still holding his hand.

“What?” You yell above the roaring traffic in disbelief. For a few moments, your eyes are glued to his mouth – they are the longest moments of his short life – and he soon finds your warm mouth glued to his.

You have yet to tell him that you love him, too, but he feels it; in your amorous words and heated kisses and that saccharine smile personally reserved for late nights with Jason.

You come from opposite sides of the same river. He knows that when you are ready, you will swim to meet him in the middle with your sacred declaration.

For now, he is content to float.

The third time Jason tells you he loves you, the words blossom between hiccups and inebriated giggles.

“Can we please listen to Jesse McCartney?” He drapes himself over the empty cupholders to pout directly in your face.

The scent of expensive tequila and ripe guava clings to his breath and his lips, puckered and red, look remarkably kissable.

You inhale once, shakily. The salacious smile that spreads across his mouth unravels your tightly knotted self-control and you gently use your elbow to shove him back into the passenger’s seat.

“Yes, but only if you put your seatbelt on.”

Jason makes a happy noise in the back of his throat and complies. “You’re so good to me. I love you a lot. Are you gonna play Beautiful Soul? I will sing it to you. You have a beautiful soul.” He declares, watching you with adoring doe eyes.

Drunk Jason gifts you with cheesy compliments and sappy smiles. He had begun the evening with a sour grimace, grumbling about how he abhorred these galas, gripping your hand tightly beneath the table. You always squeezed back just as hard; the warm pressure of your fingers against his skin grounded him. Once you got a few appetizers and bubbly drinks into his system, he was floating pleasantly in the clouds and asking you to dance.

You scoff, flustered, but it’s too late – he’s earnestly belting a love song from two decades ago like he could sing it to you for centuries.

The fourth time, you beat him to it.

First, you have to beat down his walls.

You are unsure of the painful details, but based upon his terse behavior and dispassionate responses lately, you deduce that his most recent mission had been unsuccessful.

Jason normally invites you into his heart; at first, he had bloomed cautiously, sharing the pain fluttering against his ribcage as if he was blindly traversing an icy pond. With time, he had grown comfortable seeking solace in your gentle embrace and earthy words. Now, it wasn’t unusual for him to send you a distraught text about stubbing his pinky toe against a wall or spotting roadkill while on patrol.

So, you invite yourself over to his place, armed with his favorite Chinese takeout for dinner and chapstick for potential consolatory make out sessions.

When Jason answers the door, his sapphire eyes are bleary and his ebony hair is unfairly, stylishly mussed from the gentle hands of sleep. A five o’clock shadow adorns the handsome expanse of his jawline and his mouth is pulled into a mild grimace, but even drowsy and grouchy, he still gives Adonis a run for his money.

There’s a spark of light when he meets your gaze, though, one that has your toes curling in your sneakers.

“I brought dinner. And, uh, moral support.” You announce, suddenly bashful beneath the weight of his gaze.

Jason blinks at you for a few seconds before the corners of his mouth twitch and pull a dopey smile across his lips. “You shouldn’t have.” He chastens you softly, opening the door wide and beckoning you inside.

The apartment smells like Jason – some addicting combination of aged leather and flourishing jasmine and summer evenings.

He helps you unload the large brown bag. The aroma of fresh spring rolls and kung pao chicken clings to the silent air. Jason wordlessly grabs utensils and bowls and he’s about to dig into the steaming container of rice when you squeak, “Wait!”

Jason arches a thick, dark eyebrow. “Waiting.”

“I-I wanted to tell you something.”

Gentle curiosity ripples through the sapphire ocean in his eyes. “Please do.”

Your mouth fills with cotton and harrowing hesitation. “There’s hot sauce for the spring rolls in the bag.”

The corners of his mouth droop minutely.

“A-and you know that you can talk to me, right? About anything? I’m always here for you. Whether you need a hug or chocolate or takeout…I’ve got you. I know something’s been bothering you, and I can’t stand the thought of you navigating rough waters on your own.”

He locks eyes with you evenly and he knows you know; he’d been unable to completely bust a trafficking ring centered in his old neighborhood and it was eating him alive. This monstrous sense of guilt incessantly gnawed at his stomach because he was unable to dismantle the ring – he messed up and he couldn’t forgive himself.

He loves you unconditionally, but he does not grace himself with the same seamless, unadulterated love and it leaves your heart aching despairingly.

“I really fucked up, Y/N. And it looks like it’s going to take ages to remedy this, but it’s something I have to do on my own. I’m sorry I’ve been distant, but I know you’re there for me. You’re more than I could ever ask for, could ever dream of.” He pauses, brows furrowed thoughtfully.

You know he’s going to tell you he loves you when he tilts his head slightly to the left and the line of his mouth softens. He parts his lips and you place your palm gently over his mouth.

“Jason, I love you.” You speak the phrase clearly and it is burned into his mind; but something about the way the words roll off your tongue is familiar, as if they were born of an eternal flame that has always warmed him.

Jason inhales sharply and you find yourself swimming in the sweet sapphire of his gaze.

You splay your palms across his broad chest, easily finding the soft thud of his heart, and keep him grounded with a solemn look. “I get that you’ve died more than the average person, but you’re still human. You’re still going to make mistakes. And it sucks, but it’s not the end of the world. You, of all people, understand that. When things go wrong, you can learn from them and make things better for next time. And I know ‘next time’ isn’t always guaranteed, but what is?”

You wind your arms around his torso and lay your head near his heart, squeezing him to you. Instinctively, he curls around you, tilting his head to rest his cheek atop your hair.

“I’m in love with everything about you, but do you want to know what I love most?”

“Yes,” Jason breathes, curling his fingers into your shirt. His voice is so quiet, as if too much noise would ravage this cloak of deep intimacy.

“You’re always working to be better. You know there is no limit to growth and knowledge.” You shift, tilting your head up to meet his eyes again. He’s so close, your noses brush. When he exhales, mint and citrus fan across your face.

“But you are doing good now, too, in this very instance. Appreciate that about yourself, okay? I wish you would fall in love with the moment.”

“Moments are fleeting.” Jason rasps, blinking slowly.

“Moments are all we have.”

This silences him, and he leans back to survey you from a distance. He remains wordless for a little while, soaking up the glimmer in your soulful eyes, the slight arch in your brow, the tight seam of your mouth.

He can’t answer you with words, so he answers you with his lips.

His kiss melts you like chocolate left in the sun and echoes with delicate sweetness – in his kiss, he tells you everything he cannot say in this moment.

But above it all, you hear a mantra, like waves crashing against the shore.

In each exhale, in each tremor; I love you, I love you, I love you.

@damned-queen-of-gotham

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caps-lockdown · 4 years

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Poll Winner...Hotel Horrors!

Hotel Horrors

Hey everyone so so sorry that this took forever and a day to get out. The short version is I quit my new job because it was leading me down a dark path of anxiety and depression so I’ve been struggling with all of that nonsense and quite frankly lost the motivation to write anything at all. I want everyone to know that your mental health matters and no job (no matter the money or benefits) is worth putting that at risk.

Anyway, here’s the winner of my 200 follower poll! I do plan on writing the other choices eventually, but again I’ve been struggling HARD with writer’s block.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Words: 5,586

Warnings: Mentions of booze, a few swear words. A crude joke. Pretty much all fluff with some panicked!Steve and switching of names.

Summary: Steve Rogers lost something extremely important at your hotel during an undercover mission. What will you do when you find out your celebrity crush was staying under your roof?!

It’s in Y/N Y/L/N format, and I own no characters save for the reader and her coworkers/family. No beta, so mistakes are mine, ALL MINE I tell you!

ENJOY!

“Y/N my happy little orange blossom!”

You looked up from your mug, hot tea sloshing in your mouth until you could force it down. It was eight-thirty am on a brisk Monday in New York City, the hustle and bustle of morning traffic mixed with the grogginess of another too short weekend over. The hotel lobby had been quiet a whole half hour before your uncle had made his presence known. The Wilson hotel, named after your grandfather’s first dog had been in your family for just shy of sixty years, your father and uncle taking over when your grandfather decided to retire five years ago. It was a quaint but lovely little building, boasting just fifty six rooms and four luxury suites. Your grandfather had bought the building on a splurge, wanting to create his own income and become his own boss, much to the encouragement of your grandmother. It was an instant success, the small homely atmosphere mixed with the most affordable prices in the city kept you busy as a receptionist.

Things had slowed down just a touch now that the new year was here and the holidays were gone, people not traveling as much to make up for the money they had spent on presents for whatever they were celebrating. You were usually never caught dead at work on Mondays, never one to really enjoy the swarms of grumpy travelers in the early hours. Sundays and Mondays, until this week unfortunately, were your prized days off. That all changed the minute Mandy the other receptionist who usually worked days where you worked nights decided to bring her third hell spawn into the world a week early. A New Year’s baby. How lovely. Now because of the aptly named “Kia”, you were forced to pull double duty until her replacement started next week. So much for your Christmas wish of working less. You took it in stride though, after all Mandy was your soon to be cousin, your cousin Brent popping the question Christmas morning surrounded by all of your family. The very same family who was quick to point out that you were now the last of six children to be engaged. Or the last of six to have children. Or the last of six to be in a remotely serious relationship. And no, your crush on Captain America most certainly did not count. The only one who hadn’t spoken a word against you was Uncle Todd. He had always been your favorite, and you his. He never married, nor had kids of his own, so he was always quick to jump down your family’s throats. After all, he owned sixty percent of the Wilson and he turned out just fine thank you very much.

His only downfall was that he was simply too happy in the mornings.

His deep chuckle brought you back to the present, an annoyed expression passing over you as he lovingly patted you on the top of your head. He’d been doing it since you were a child. You had hated it since you were a child too. “Oh come now Y/N, surely you aren’t that hung over from the New Year’s celebration? It was a week ago after all. Put some spring in your step!”

“First of all, it’s too early for you. Now I know why I don’t work mornings.” You muttered the last bit into your oversized mug before draining the rest of your English breakfast tea. “Secondly,” you cleared your throat, picking up your electric kettle that sat at your desk and started on brewing your second cup, “You know damn well I don’t get hangovers Uncle. Fortunately I have your alcohol tolerance instead of my hopeless father’s.” The tea bag fell into your now full mug with an uninterested plop. “And thirdly, I’m only here because Mandy is out and Rachel doesn’t start for another week. Last I checked you don’t pay me enough to care about “peppiness” this early on a Monday.”

The shaking of his head normally would have you fearing for a spiel about being more carefree and positive, but the grin he was sporting brought a small one to your features. “We’ll make a morning person out of you yet Y/N. Carson here yet?”

“Nope, I’d wager dad’s stuck in traffic,” you pulled a face before adding “Again”.

“I swear that man will be late to his own funeral. I expect we’ll get a phone call any moment now, be sure to rip him a new one for me eh? Oh my new year’s resolution is to leave the house earlier so I can be on time my left foot.” You giggled, stirring honey into your beverage as he continued to rant and rave all the way to his office, the loud creak of his large chair announcing his defeat on the subject of your father’s constantly late arrivals.

As if on cue the main lobby’s terribly outdated phone rang loudly, a surprised yelp leaving your lips as you set the cup down and picked up the receiver.

“Good morning and thank you for calling the Wilson,” Your customer service voice was a common shock to your family and friends, the usual snark and sarcasm replaced with a sweet and patient tone. You quickly added, “Dad if this is you calling to say you’re running late, it’s been like this for five years. You don’t need to give us a heads up. We know you’ll show up, but you should know uncle Todd prefers it be before the next turn of the century.”

“Well Mandy your uncle seems like a reasonable man although I can assure you I’m extremely punctual.” The voice was certainly not your father’s, and for second you were extremely embarrassed and looking for quick way to end it. It wasn’t normal to get phone calls this early. But before you could do anything rash the person on the other line let out a short laugh. “I needed that laugh today, thank you. It’s been a stressful morning.”

“I’m sorry about that! I’m afraid Mandy is out, my name is Y/N.”Your face burned with the intensity of the sun as you quickly moved on, “How can I help you today mister….”

“Rogers. I’m sorry I assumed you were Mandy.”

“It’s alright mister Rogers.”

“Great.” He continued, taking a breath “Mandy alright?”

“Yep the baby just came early and she went into labor during our charity event last week.”

“How beautiful. I recall her saying something about contractions now that you mention it. Listen Y/N I was wondering if you could help me out on something urgent?”

“Sure mister Rogers, anything for my favorite neighbor.” You blurted out and then inwardly cringed at your own terrible joke, but again it was met by the stranger’s rough laughter. It almost sounded familiar. Like maybe you had heard it in person. Or on the television.

“Cute. I’m sure he…I mean I’ve never heard that one before.” The man recovered and you raised an eyebrow although he couldn’t see it. “So the long story short is that a friend and I checked in last week for your New Year’s charity Gala. It was stunning, had a wonderful time.”

“We had Pepper Potts as a consultant for the event, she’s incredible with event planning. Tony Stark donated some of the art work we auctioned off that night if you recall. Many were saddened to hear he wasn’t able to attend, but miss Potts looked lovely and did a great job.”

“That she did, and I’m sure he was there…in spirit I suppose.” The man got out hastily before recomposing himself. “Anyway I’m afraid my colleague and I were so partied out when we checked out the next day I realized I forgot a very important flash drive somewhere in my suite.”

“Not a problem mister Rogers, our suites are extremely private and we haven’t had any guests in them since last week so I have no problem calling housekeeping and seeing if they found anything. Just a thumb drive you said?”

“Yes a small black thumb drive. I’m super boring and predictable. And please, call me Tony.”

“Alright mister-“You stopped yourself, “Tony. What suite were you in? And we can check your friend’s suite too if you want to give me his name.”

“Oh of course suite number two. He was staying under the name Steve Stark.”

You held in a laugh. It was normal for high-caliber people and celebrities to check in under false names, sometimes even using the names of other celebrities. Kim Kardashian-West checked in as Princess Jasmine once somewhere.

“And you’re Tony Rogers. Funny, I’m sure Mandy didn’t catch that one. She isn’t the brightest crayon in the box I’m afraid.”

“I can agree with you there. “ The man laughed again, and you realized you were finding yourself in a good mood talking to this man. Why was that?

“Well I’ll do some digging and see what I can find. Is this a good number to reach you at Tony?”

“Yes this number is the right one to snag me at.”

“Perfect, I’ll get housekeeping on it right away as no one has been in there since your stay. I’ll call you in a couple days with our results. Hopefully we find it for you. Have a great day!”

“You too Y/N, talk to you soon.”

You hung up the phone and promptly dropped your head on the desk. Where did you know that voice from?

~~Earlier at the Tower~~

“For the last time Steve I haven’t seen your thumb drive!” Sam waved Steve away from blocking the game on the television in the common area. “Now you make a better mountain sized door instead of a window.” Steve huffed angrily out of the room.

“Haven’t seen it Cap, might I suggest checking your shoes?” Tony got out in between bites of his cereal, Bucky laughing with him at the Captain’s deadpanned expression. “What? Worth a shot.”

He stomped out of that room too.

Even Nat had jumped on the skeptical side, narrowing her eyes as he dug through his luggage again for the seventh time in the past two days, “Are you sure you didn’t pack it?”

This was it. This was how Steve Rogers was going to lose his mind. The sleep deprived and stress-ridden super solider pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to take deep breaths. It proved fruitless and he smashed his phone into the wall a day later at the suggestion from Tony to just call the Wilson. The same hotel Tony and him had stayed at the previous week for an undercover mission.

The team had accepted the circumstances, Strange and Nat running communications while Tony and Steve underwent massive amounts of makeup to change their appearance. Tony of course went the craziest. Bald cap, clean shaved face and a suit that made him look even more buff than he already was. Nat kept calling him “Daddy Warbucks”. Steve however had kept it simple. Changed his hair color, grew his beard out a little longer, contacts, and wore a slightly ill fitting suit.

Truth be told he didn’t understand why they needed to be there at first. “Catching art thieves” wasn’t something that usually required action from The Avengers. NYPD were more than capable most of the time, so it came as a shock when one of the owners of the Wilson reached out to them via email. The message didn’t say too much, other than a time, date, and small description of the group of men needing apprehended. Todd and his partner didn’t want these men getting to the very expensive masterpieces they were auctioning off for charity, and just wanted some extra security. Apparently the thieves had been snatching works of art for nearly a decade and hadn’t been caught. Tony loved a challenge and accepted. Todd suggested setting a trap and sending a couple of them undercover so as to not draw unwanted attention. As an added bonus Tony donated some of the art to be auctioned off at the Gala held in his hotel on New Year’s Eve. He even offered to put them up in two of their nicer suites for no charge.

Tony was in the minute he mentioned undercover. He even took to making some secret compartments in their attire, you know just in case.

“You too Y/N, talk to you soon.”

Speaking of the billionaire, he was now putting his phone back in his pocket, a smug expression on his face.

“Y/N the receptionist said she’d look into it and call back in a couple days. Now will you calm down?”

“I can’t calm down Tony, that thumb drive had all the evidence to put the art thieves away.”

“Wet Bandits” Tony corrected, Steve rolling his eyes. “The trial isn’t for another week and worrying is only going to force you into an earlier grave. So cool it.”

The blonde man ran a hand through his hair. He truly hated it when his friend was right. Though he’d never tell him of course, his ego was big enough as is. He let out a sigh, “Fine.”

“Great. Now make a list of places you were in the hotel during the Gala, we can go retrace your steps if they don’t find anything. I think your ancient brain is finally catching up to you Cap.”

Steve slammed the door to his room with that remark, seething with embarrassment and anger. It’s not like he had meant to lose it. He’d never lost intel like this before. Actually now that he thought about it he couldn’t think of a time he had ever lost something this important. Falling into his desk chair with an ungraceful thud, he began writing the places he had been during New Year’s Eve.

~~Flashback, Night of the Gala~~

“We’ll get right back to the Auction after the ball drops!” A jolly looking man, who the team learned to be Todd interrupted the evening, encouraging everyone to mingle and enjoy themselves. Tony didn’t need to be told a second time, making his way to the open bar while Strange noted his obvious distaste in their ear pieces.

People nearly trampled Steve as he got up from his seat, emptying out of the large conference room and into the beautifully decorated grand ballroom just outside. He couldn’t say he blamed anyone, being squished like sardines for the last two hours was starting to even get on his nerves. And he lived in a compound of superheroes with no real sense of boundaries. He was enjoying his solitude, no one recognizing him for the first time in years. It felt liberating, only having a select few know his true identity. He almost didn’t miss it.

He felt a slight shove into his shoulder, turning his body to glance down at the elegant figure draped in simple green velvet, your wide eyes burning into his in embarrassment.

“I’m…I’m such a klutz my apologies!” You stuttered out, giving him the smallest hint of a shy smile.

“No harm no foul. Tony.” He stuck out a hand, giving himself points for not messing up his alias.

You placed your small hand in his and immediately Steve was struck by how soft your hand felt. But before you could give your name your heads swiveled at the shouting coming from the far side of the room. He noted how your eyes shown slight disappointment as you broke from the greeting.

“Forgive me. My relatives and booze never makes for a good outcome.” With a defeated sigh you turned on your heel, clicking away towards Todd, muttering to yourself. “Way to go Y/L/N, always running into gorgeous people and then running away.”

Ok, he missed it a little. You were the sort of someone he would have liked to ask to dance. If under different circumstances of course. Maybe. But silver lining, at least he had been able to catch your last name. He watched you run off with a dreamy look on his face.

“Heads up lover boy, we got company.” Nat jolted Steve from his thoughts, four men entering the large room and nonchalantly casing the place. How these men had gotten away with stealing art for close to a decade was beyond him. Hiding within plain sight he moved to a vantage point high up on a stairwell.

“Tony you got them?”

“You mean Steve. I’m Steve, you’re Tony. Geesh that dime wasn’t in your orbit for more than two minutes and you’re this scrambled?” Tony teased, Steve groaning into his ear piece and earning a smirk in response. “Yea I got them, shall I go ahead and set the plan in motion?” He caught Steve’s nod and reaffirmed it with his own, making his way towards the group. “Then the game is afoot!”

Steve made a mental note to ask Thor for some meade after all of this was over.

The rest of the night went easy enough. The “Wet Bandits” fell for the trap, they were caught red handed and arrested on the spot. Steve managed to swipe a USB drive from the ring leader of the group before the police carted off the criminals, the crowd clapping and cheering for them. They looked like normal, non-super people, just doing the right thing at the right time. It gave the team a sense of pride, knowing even without their suits or names they still got the job done.

“Where should I put this?” He fiddled with the small storage device. Nat had mentioned it would most likely have very incriminating evidence on it. She also put extra emphasis on keeping it safe.

“I don’t know, somewhere close to your soul?”

“That makes no sense Tony.”Steve muttered from the punch bowl, watching his partner walk towards him, empty glass in tow. Typical.

Tony joined him while everyone began to count down the minutes til the new year, gloating about how he couldn’t wait to kiss Pepper.

“That’s rich considering you look like mister clean right now. Think of the headlines.” Strange muttered into the comms and Tony laughed, forgetting temporarily what he looked like in his present state. “Hey there’s that girl you were making eyes at Rogers.”

The contacts he wore were starting to itch from dryness, and Steve found himself exceptionally happy that the night would soon be ending. He couldn’t help but gravitate toward you, your smile and light laughter ringing over the small group of people around you.

“Hello again.” Steve tried to think of what Tony would do in this situation, and then decided the cocky approach probably wouldn’t go over well. Your eyes twinkled in the glow of the gentle lighting, the room dimming as it got closer to a new year.

“Hi again.” Sixty seconds to go.

“I didn’t get to tell you earlier but you look stunning.” You were happy your blush was hidden in the near darkness of the room. The people were getting louder in their chanting of the time, Steve swallowing hard as your smile grew wider with the passing second. As so did his confidence.

“Thank you, that suit is an…interesting color.” Steve remembered his current attire and internally grimaced. What a claude you must think him, showing up in an ill fitting suit, beard barely groomed, his slightly red eyes. Of course he gets the gumption to make small talk and introduce himself and what happens? He looks like a homeless vacuum salesman.

“Ten…Nine…Eight…” He watched as you looked around the room, loudly calling out the numbers, unaware of how smitten he must have been looking at you. You seemed so genuine in your happiness, your smile beaming and lighting up the whole room.

“Five….Four..” He had no idea what was making him inch closer to you, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was like he needed to be near that sort of energy. He hadn’t met anyone that put him so much at ease so quickly before. Why was that?

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!” The crowd erupted in cheers and shouts, guests pulling on party popper strings and Todd and Carson popping bottles of champagne open with sabers. He laughed at you while you shook your head at your obvious relatives. Of course it had to be sabers. Perhaps it was the atmosphere. Maybe it was the loud music. He blamed a large portion of it on the alcohol, although it did nothing for him. Whatever it was spread throughout his entire nervous system and pushed him to place a small kiss on your blush tapped cheek.

“Happy New Year.” He managed to get out, taken aback by his own actions. You didn’t seem to mind, only beamed a smile that seemingly blinded him. Which wasn’t difficult to accomplish thanks to the stupid contacts.

“Yappy Hew Near.” Your alarmed expression at your jumbled words caused Steve to let out a deep laugh, you joining in shortly after. The night concluded with the art being bought back by Tony, not truly wanting to see them go in the first place. He could already hear the argument he and Pepper would be having later. If the look she gave him was any indication, he fully expected Stark to be in sofa city for the better part of the new year. He headed back to his suite with a bounce in his step, happy with the overall outcome.

Steve’s happiness was gone the minute they got back to the Tower and he noticed the flash drive was nowhere in sight.

~~Present~~

Which lead him to this moment of staring at Sam while he went over his paper. There weren’t that many places on it which made for a short list. The lobby, ballroom, conference room, and of course his suite were the only places he went after swiping the drive. Sam took note of all of the sighs leaving the tall man’s lips as he perused the list, growing slightly annoyed.

“Steve, man you gotta get laid. Or go fishing. Somethin’. Anything that will make you less mopey.” His friend grinned, it sinking into a frown when Steve gave him murderous side eye.

“Sam I appreciate you inserting yourself into my personal life again but I still haven’t found that drive. It means everything to the trial and without it –“

”The Wet Bandits won’t be convicted and you will have failed this city…yadda yadda…” Bucky finished, putting his hands on his hips as he stood alongside Sam. “Seriously pal, we know. But worrying about it ain’t gonna make it appear out of thin air. Stop making it worse.”

“Easy for you to say Buck,” Steve scoffed. “You weren’t the one that lost it.”

“Well Cap, I guarantee it will be in the last place you left it!” Tony said, smiling cheerfully at him while he snatched the list from Sam, nodding once he had finished going over it. “We’ll find it, stop getting your old man undies in a bunch and go do something productive.”

Steve went running for three hours, the entire time thinking of ways to get away with murder.

~~~Meanwhile at the Wilson~~~

“I’m telling you Uncle I have torn these rooms apart and I haven’t found anything!!!”

You were laying on the floor of the suite Tony Rogers, or whatever his real name was had stayed in the week prior, your uncle staring down at you from the doorway that lead out into the hall.

“I can see that.” You uncle stated matter of fact, astonished at the sight. “Orange blossom it’s been two days and you haven’t found anything, I think you should give the nice man a call.”

“Ughmnpf” Was your response, your voice muffled from your face in the carpet. Housecleaning hadn’t found anything when they had cleaned both rooms, and you had spent the better part of forty eight hours digging through everything. Todd had rounded up a crew to search the rooms the Gala had been at just in case, and had turned up nothing. Well they did find your uncle’s most prized bottle opener that was shaped like a large great white shark he had gotten from the Caribbean three years ago, but that wasn’t doing anyone any favors. “He’s gonna be so upset Todd. I don’t know if I can to talk to him again.” You complained weakly, rolling onto your back to stare at the ceiling.

“Nonsense, if I remember him well enough I know he’d be very impressed with how you managed to tear these rooms apart looking for something he lost in the first place. Give yourself more credit.”

You dragged yourself off the plush floor and made your way to the phone located in the room, taking out a small slip of paper out from the pocket of your dark gray slacks and punching it into the phone. It rang four times before you were sent to voicemail.

“Hey you’ve reached the personal voicemail of Tony Stark, obviously I’m too wrapped up right now to take your call, so leave a message and I’ll call back when I feel like it.”

You stared into the phone in shock, the loud tone making you jump and sputter into the receiver.

“Ssss…sorry to call this number, I was told I could reach Tony Rogers here. This is Y/N from the Wilson, if you’re free to stop by at three this afternoon I’d greatly appreciate it. Thh..thank you.” You hung up the phone. Now you were certain you had been played. What was this mystery man playing at? First he gives you an obviously fake name and then gives you the phone number of THE Tony Stark?

“What’s wrong Y/N? You look like you just discovered spit in your cheerios. Which might I add hasn’t happened in years.”

“Um, who stayed in this suite Uncle? Tell me the truth.” You narrowed your eyes, attempting to look menacing in your bright mustard sweater and messy bun.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but it sounds like you’ll meet him soon enough. Which lucky for me, I’ll be here to record it.” Your face paled as your heart started to race.

Who the hell was coming to the hotel?!

~~~Three p.m~~~

“I don’t know about this Tony,” Steve muttered into his new phone, trudging up the slightly slick steps of the hotel. It was snowing, wet globs falling from the sky and sticking to the warm pavement creating a walking hazard for most people. He wasn’t most people though. “You called her. You should be here.”

“And you lost the drive, so you have retrieve it. Now get that stick out of your ass and maybe after ask her out afterwards. ” Steve rolled his eyes, the sass evident in the brunette’s tone. Everyone had gotten fed up with him over the last few days, although he was certain that was a massive understatement. “Let me know how it goes, I’ve got a meeting so I’ll talk to you afterwards.” Steve ended the call with a firm click, taking extra care at putting his phone into his pocket upon entering the lobby. Would hate to have to purchase a second phone within a week.

He was delighted to see you behind the counter, recognizing you from the gala. Granted your eyes were as big as dinner plates and you were choking on whatever was in your mug but you still managed to look lovely. He had it bad and he didn’t have the faintest idea why or how. But he did know that your smile had plagued his nights and swept through his days the entire time he had been looking for this drive. He would definitely be asking you out today.

“Hello I’m looking for Y/N?” Steve said politely, knowing good and well he was staring at her. He noticed Todd off to the side, clearly recording the whole ordeal on his phone. He had mentioned at the Gala that Y/N had harbored an intense school girl crush on the captain most of her life, and had been slightly looking forward to meeting him. Granted this was technically the third time they had met, but she didn’t know that yet.

“She’s right here!” Todd said brightly, your brain attempting to pick itself off the floor and reinsert itself back into your skull. You shook your head out of your shock and smiled, trying hard to calm your nerves. You could probably beat a hummingbird with how fast your heart was racing.

“He’s right I’m Y/N. You must be mister Rogers.” You mentally smacked yourself. Of course he was. His small grin at your expense made the humiliation twenty times worse.

“That I am. Any luck finding my drive?” He was trying to be direct. Right. He had no business here otherwise. You lowered your head, both out of disappointment and guilt.

“I’m afraid not. I personally searched both suites myself for hours and couldn’t find a single black flash drive. I’m so sorry but I was hoping maybe if you revisited the room that it would jog your memory?”

“Good luck with that,” Todd chimed in, your gaze ripping from Steve’s blue eyes to look at your uncle sharply, “It looks like a bomb went off up there.”

“I think it’s a decent idea, sure.” Steve admonished, finding himself at wits end over the matter.

You nodded and lead the way to the elevators, your uncle electing to stay behind much to your behest. Perhaps you would have a heart attack on the way up and that would be the end of it. No, that was being too optimistic. You took the space closest to the far wall, keeping your distance and blush ridden skin as far away from the super solider as possible.

“Ya know this isn’t the first time we’ve met.” Steve said simply, giving you a heartbreaking smile. “You quite literally bumped into me during the gala. And I was with you during the countdown later on that night.”

“I surely would have remembered running into you mister Rogers.” You retorted back just as simply, attempting to study the buttons on the elevator in great detail.

“Not if I was undercover. I had a long beard, terribly fitting suit. Black hair. I’m afraid the contacts made my eyes a little red from the dryness. You were looking absolutely breathtaking, wearing a beautiful green velvet dress. I’ll admit I was pulled to you from the very first moment I laid eyes on you. What were your exact words at midnight?” Your breath caught in your throat when you met his eyes, the recognition hitting you like a freight truck.

“Yappy Hew Near.” You both said it in union, your face going from tinted pink to full on tomato red when you realized Captain America had kissed you on the cheek that night.

“I am SUCH an idiot I am so sorry!” You stammered out, hoping for the first time in your life that the elevator would NOT break down with you stuck in it with Steve Rogers.

“Hey doll it’s alright, really. I wouldn’t have done what I did if I didn’t want to. Your smile is something else.” That caused you to blush harder, if that was possible. “Now let’s go see about that suite huh?”

You really hated how cool he was about the whole thing.

Deciding it would be in your best interest to get this over with as soon as possible you practically tore down the suite door, the inside looking like a tornado went through it. After a band of criminals ransacked it. You tensed up when you heard Steve let out a slow and low whistle.

“You’ve uh…you’ve been busy.” He tried, not easing your nerves and surveying the area. “I believe you when you say you didn’t find anything.”

A nervous chuckle escaped you, “Can you walk me through what happened when you got back here? It might help talking through it.” Steve nodded at you although he wasn’t looking in your direction, his tall stature breezing around the large room with ease.

“I went to the bathroom after taking off my jacket,” He looked in the closet. Nothing. “I took out the awful contacts and shaved.” You giggled as he mimed running a razor over his face in the bathroom. He placed the invisible facial tool down on the counter and walked back out, looking slightly behind you at the nightstand. “I placed my watch there and went to take off my sh…”

The sentence died in his throat, you becoming slightly concerned as he proceeded to stand ramrod still. “Steve? Did you remember something?”

He took off his right shoe, staring into it with a slack jaw.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Steve? You’re making me nervous, talking into your shoe and all.” You had begun to back away when a slightly hysterical laugh escaped the man’s throat, the timber wavering as he ripped the insole out of the piece of footwear. You were starting to rethink being alone in a hotel room with him.

It was only when he took out the small thumb drive from a hidden compartment in his sole that you began laughing too. But yours was partially due to extreme anger.

“It…was in…your…shoe….the WHOLE time…?” You managed to get out, heaving breaths and attempting to catch them while the good Captain continued to lean onto the nightstand for support, his own breath ragged.

“Tony….made a joke…about putting it…close to…my soul.” He stood up straight, slowly regaining composure which you were not finding helpful. “I must have been so tired that I thought putting it in there was a good idea.”

“Well clearly it was a good place, you couldn’t even find it. But who uses a shoe? Honestly.”

Steve had the good sense to look embarrassed, running a hand through his hair and offering an apologetic smile. “I am so embarrassed. You tore this hotel apart looking for this and I had it the whole time. The team will never let me live it down once they find out.”

“Who says they have to know?” Came your reply, already heading to the suite door and pulling it open with a bit of effort. “I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.”

“What’s the catch doll?” He held the door for you and you gave a mumbled thanks.

“Drinks. Right now.” You said confidently, looking into his eyes, his real blue eyes with ease.

“Can’t I’m afraid.” Steve grinned at your sad expression. “We have dinner plans first.”

“Pizza?”

“You read my mind Y/N.”

You couldn’t stop yourself, beaming another mega-watt smile.

“Maybe we’re SOLE-mates mister Rogers. Shall we?”

You both laughed the entire way to the restaurant down the street.

The end.

Tags: @kaytizzle @pies-wands-and-more @cuffski @giggleberts

#steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction

16 notes · View notes

eldritchsurveys · 4 years

Text

697.

Has anyone ever told you that you looked like a celebrity? >> Yeah, a couple of times.

When was the last time you got something done to your hair? >> I buzz my hair every couple/few weeks or so, and that’s all that ever gets done to it aside from washing.

Do you have any change on you right now? >> No.

What color is the pillowcase(s) on your bed? >> One is dark grey and the other is light grey.

Do you have a favorite day of the week? >> No.

Cutting your hair extremely short, would you do it? >> My hair is cut extremely short.

Have you ever been in an art show? >> Yes. I used to attend an art-based summer camp for homeless LGBTQ youth, and one year we got to have our art shown in a gallery in SoHo. My piece was a collage. I know I have a photo of it somewhere but I have no idea where that photo’s gone. Maybe it got deleted forever when I deleted all my old facebooks (I realised after the fact that I should have gone through them for stuff I wanted to save, but it was too late).

Would you considered yourself to be well-exposed to life or sheltered? >> I would consider myself to be well-exposed to certain facets of life. There will always be parts of life I have no experience with.

How high is your pain tolerance? >> It depends on the type of pain and the duration. Tattoos? Fine. Lacerations? Fine. Burns? Mostly fine. Cramps? Please fucking kill me.

If you're in a relationship, how long have you been dating? >> By Sparrow’s reckoning, we’ve been together for eight years.

Have you ever played the game Halo? >> No.

Are you wearing any jewellry at the moment? >> Just piercing jewelry.

Is there a sport that you love to play? >> No.

Has anything made you sad in the past 48 hours? >> Yes.

Have you ever had to learn lines for a play/skit/movie? >> A few lines, as an extra in a summer production of Annie when I was in middle school. Having nothing to do for most of the time, I somehow managed to memorise the entire play and would recite it to myself at night for, idk, fun.

Do you like your nose? >> I don’t have any thoughts about it. I like my nose piercing, though.

Is there a hair color you prefer on the opposite sex? >> No.

Kissing someone with facial hair, do you mind? >> The only place I really kiss anyone is Inworld and it really doesn’t matter there.

Would you ever like to be a stunt person? >> No.

Are you a pyromaniac? >> No.

How soon is your birthday? >> It’s in a little over two months.

Are you one of those people who listen to songs on repeat? >> Not really. It’s a rare song that makes me want to do that.

Can any of your friends sing very well? >> Probably. I wouldn’t know, they haven’t sung around me.

Would you ever enter any kind of pageant? >> No.

Do you have piano fingers? >> I was told I did when I was a child. I don’t know about now. I have Guitar Hero fingers, hah.

What is your preferred curse word? >> Fuck is pretty versatile.

When someone's drunk, the truth comes spilling out, correct? >> Not necessarily. Alcohol isn’t a truth serum, it’s just another way of temporarily changing the way the brain works. That change isn’t always for the better, and sometimes it messes with people’s thoughts and interpretations of what’s going on around them, and heightens their emotional response to things, and makes them less likely to respond with what might be their customary grace or tact. That doesn’t mean they were a rude, angry bitch all along, it means their brain functions have been tampered with.

Have you ever shouted something random at someone out a car window? >> No.

Have you ever slept on a beach? >> No.

Would you like to be taller? >> My height is the least of my concerns.

Are you a fan of piercings on the opposite sex? >> I’m a fan of piercings.

Have you ever listened to Celtic music? >> Sure.

Do you enjoy making up words? >> I haven’t really given it a shot.

Have you ever been attacked by an animal? >> No.

Do you have sympathy for hobos? >> I don’t really know how to answer this.

Who did you dance with last? >> Can Calah.

When holding hands, do you intertwine fingers? >> ---

Do you have an old pair of pyjamas that you just can't throw away? >> No.

Is there a movie that makes you cry every single time you watch it? >> There might be. I have a pretty strong track record of crying every time I watch The Fountain and Interstellar.

Do you ever talk to the TV? >> Sure.

What's your opinion on Johnny Depp? >> I don’t have an opinion on him anymore. I used to really enjoy watching movies with him in them, but now JD movies can be vastly hit-or-miss for me. Sweeney Todd? Hit. Alice in Wonderland? Eh...... Mortdecai? What the fuck.

Have you ever watched the Tudors? >> No. I thought about watching it a few times. Vlad was obsessed with it. But historical dramas are also a thing that is vastly hit-or-miss for me.

Can you speak in different accents? >> No.

Who was the last person you mocked/mimicked? >> I don’t remember.

If you write, isn't writer's block the most horrible thing? >> Sure.

Can you sew or knit? >> I can perform the basics of both.

Do you have a favorite pair of jeans? >> I only have two pairs of jeans and they are equally okay. They’re basically the same pair, but one has ~ fashionable ~ rips in them.

What size shirt do you normally wear? >> Medium.

Are you good with money? >> Good enough, I guess. It’s not like I have a whole lot of it to manage.

Has anyone ever aimed a gun at you? >> No.

Do you think it's possible for a person to be fearless? >> Apparently there’s a woman who has this rare genetic thing with her endocannabinoid system that makes her remarkably impervious to pain and fear.

Do you know anyone who doesn't seem to have a conscience? >> Well, I know a few people with personality disorders that make them far less receptive to guilt.

What is the first letter of the person's name you last kissed? >> ---

Have you ever written a song? >> I used to rewrite songs I knew with different lyrics, when I was a kid. That’s the closest I ever came to writing songs.

Do you believe their is life on other planets? >> Sure.

If you think about the universe long enough, it's baffling isn't it? >> Yeah, a bit.

When was the last time you fell? >> I don’t remember. It’s been a long time. Sometimes I fall on purpose, though, to convey drama. Did that the other day when I was talking to Sparrow about something (forget what).

Would you consider yourself to be poor, middle class, or rich? >> Poor.

Are you a fan of Christian Bale? >> Not particularly, but I do really like some of the movies he’s starred in (like The Machinist and The Prestige).

Do you have any sort of debt? >> No. I can’t even accumulate debt, which is a good thing on one hand, but on the other hand is emphasis on exactly how poor I am -- credit isn’t even a thing I can gain.

Is there an accent you prefer? >> No.

Have you spoken to the person you love today? >> One of them.

Would you ever travel to Los Angeles? >> Sure. I’m very curious about LA.

Have you ever been through a natural disaster? >> Only the bit of Hurricane Sandy that came up to New York that time. It was a very interesting experience.

Is there a specific time period that interests you? >> No, most time periods interest me.

Do any of your friends own an expensive car? >> Not to my knowledge.

Have you ever been on a train? >> Many times.

Is there a memory that embarasses you to think about? >> Sure.

Have you ever used different colored paper clips? >> Yeah.

Where exactly are you right now? >> In my bed.

Don't you admire those people who know exactly what they want to do? >> I admire having passions and caring deeply about things.

Is there a guy you can talk to about anything? >> Sure, Can Calah.

Have you ever been in a parade? >> Yeah, I’ve been in NYC Pride a couple of times, and Sparrow and I led a second line after the wedding, which is basically a small parade.

Would you ever consider being a news reporter? >> No.

Are you, or anyone you know, an atheist? >> Several people I know are atheists.

Has anyone ever told you to "get a grip"? >> Probably. If anyone told me that now, I’d be tempted to get a grip on their throat.

Do people say you look your age? Or younger or older? >> People say I look younger than my age. I feel like I look tired these days, though, and looking tired makes one seem older, so maybe it evens out.

Have you ever sent a celebrity fan mail? >> No.

Are you ashamed of how you acted when you were younger? >> Yeah, but I’m also not going to feel too badly about it now. It happens. It’s part of being young. Ultimately, I did my best with what I had at the time, even if my best wasn’t that great.

Do you ever have those days where you feel you're the ugliest person ever? >> Absolutely.

Beauty is both external and internal, correct? >> It’s wherever you perceive it.

Have you ever been in a musical? >> The aforementioned Annie production, but only as an extra.

When was the last time you swam in a pool? >> The last time I was in a pool was probably at one of those aforementioned summer camps. Although I might not have gotten in the pool there, either. I don’t know. I tend to avoid pools, as a rule.

Is there a friend's family that makes you feel like you're family too? >> No.

How do you know someone is your best friend? >> I don’t know, how do you know that?

When was the last time you used a highlighter? >> I don’t remember.

Has a flashlight ever ran out batteries on you in the dark? >> No.

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