#HEY YOU JUST BOUGHT SUNGLASSES WANT REGULAR GLASSES TOO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

takaraphoenix · 4 years

Note

“I didn’t want to tell my friend who my real date last night was so I just pointed at a random stranger (you) but now they’re storming over to interrogate you and you’re playing along??? Okay” AU - Apollo/Percy

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, E. I hope you’re having a great day!

"Hey there. Are you alright? Can you tell me where you are?"

"...Heaven. There's an angel carrying me around. Definitely heaven."

"Not exactly. You inhaled a lot of smoke and you were unconscious, so, seriously, do you know where you are and who you are?", asked Percy amused. "Fire-fighter, not angel."

"I'm Apollo. This is... was... my studio. You're still an angel though."

"Ap... Apollo", sputtered Percy, stumbling just a little bit.

Apollo was like... the most listened-to musician these days. He was on the radio all the time. And he was really good. Still, that out of anyone who could have been at the studio when it burned down, it had to be Apollo. And now Percy was carrying him out into safety.

"The one and only, cutie", grinned the singer with a wink.

Despite being the one carrying Apollo bridal-style, Percy blushed brightly. Did the billionaire musician just flirt with him? Once outside, he closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

"What do we got here, Percy?", asked their medic – Annabeth Chase.

"Smoke inhalation, he was passed out when I found him", offered Percy. "Take care of him."

"No—o, come back, angel", gasped Apollo dramatically as Percy walked away.

"There, there. Another case of SPCS", sighed Annabeth, gaining Apollo's attention.

"W... What...? What is that? Is it bad?", asked Apollo concerned.

"Savior Percy Crush Syndrome", applied the other medic. "I'm Grover, that's Annabeth and the 'angel' who just walked away is Percy. Don't worry, developing a crush on the fire-fighter who saves them. Completely normal, especially with Percy, hence us having a name for it. Now, let's get you to the hospital and thoroughly checked out, okay?"

"...Okay", whispered Apollo, eyes on the retreating fire-fighter.

/break\

"You've been sighing miserably for days now, brother. It's time to change that."

"And you think cakes can do that?", huffed Apollo with a glower.

Admittedly, he was pining and thus sighing a lot, but in his defense? This time was different! The fire-fighter had saved his life. And looked insanely hot and cute and what was Apollo supposed to do? He had sent flowers and chocolate and also an entire barbecue to the fire house. The barbecue for the entire house, though the flowers and chocolate specifically for Percy to thank him.

"When have sweets ever failed to cheer you up, brother?"

Apollo smiled thinly and looked gratefully at his sister. Among his siblings, Persephone was the one he was closest to – it also helped that her husband owned the record-label that had signed him on and given him his great break-through. She owned a flower-shop, where Apollo had gotten all the flowers he had sent Percy to (and all the flowers he had sent to past crushes. He tended to fall in love quite easily, it was his biggest weakness and his biggest strength – his biggest hits were love-songs, ballads, songs about broken hearts, these kind of things).

"Very well, something sweet surely can't hu-", started Apollo just to pause.

He was in disguise, wearing a hoodie, hood up to cover his golden hair, sunglasses over his eyes. He looked just like a regular guy, not the suave charming musician, because he didn't want to immediately be recognized by everyone. However, it took him a moment to recognize the man behind the counter too. Without the fire-fighter uniform and instead in soft blue pastel...

"That's him", hissed Apollo, tugging hard on his sister's hand.

"Who's what?", asked Persephone confused, looking at him.

"The cutie behind the counter!", exclaimed Apollo, pointing. "That's the fire-fighter!"

Persephone blinked a couple of times and turned from Apollo over toward the baker behind the counter. "Percy? Wait. You mean Percy is the fire-fighter you're obsessed with? Percy?"

"Why do you say his name like that?", hissed Apollo confused.

"He's friends with my step-children", explained Persephone. "That's how I know the store. Bianca showed me, she's been bringing pastries home every Sunday for family dinners. And Nico used to have the hugest crush on him, back before he met Jason."

"...Huh", whispered Apollo. "Well. Yes. That's the Percy. The fire-fighter, I mean. The angel."

Persephone hummed, a smile on her lips as she tugged Apollo along toward the counter. "Percy, dear. How are you doing and what special thing did you make today?"

"Hey, Phone", greeted Percy with a smile on his lips. "Today's special is mango-quark cake."

"Perfect. That and your chocolate cake for my brother here. Polly, say something."

"Why would you do this to me, Phone?", complained Apollo distressed, slowly lifting his hood.

"Oh. Oh", whispered Percy surprised, looking between Apollo and Persephone. "How have you never mentioned that your brother is a famous singer?"

"It never came up in conversation", chimed Persephone with a shrug. "Come along, Polly."

She tugged Apollo along to sit and wait for their food and drinks to arrive. Apollo continued glaring and throwing longing glances at Percy. He looked so soft in his pastel clothes. Apollo was weak...

/break\

"How did the Apollo become a regular at my bakery?", whispered Percy distressed.

"First of all, our bakery. Second of all, because he has a giant crush on you", replied Grover.

Being a fire-fighter was fun and made money, but... not that much money. Two years ago, Percy and Grover had, with some silent partners from their fire-house, bought a coffee-shop. They sold a variety of sweets – including vegan treats, thanks to Grover's cunning abilities.

"He... He's a billionaire superstar, he is most definitely not crushing on me", laughed Percy amused.

Annabeth, who occasionally helped out as a barista, simply gave him the most scorching look at that. "I know for a fact that you aren't stupid, Jackson. Why would a billionaire come to a small bakery like that every week, multiple times. He tips you a fifty usually. He still brings you flowers."

"Because I saved his life", argued Percy confused and turned to look over at Apollo.

"Go on and ask him then if you know better than us", huffed Annabeth. "Go. Ask him."

She pushed the large coffee at Percy and raised her eyebrows at him. Sighing, Percy took it and the piece of cake Apollo had ordered and went to bring both to the superstar. Apollo looked up with a blinding smile, putting down his pen. He was always writing when he was here.

"What... are you writing, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Songs. This place is ideal for song-writing", stated Apollo. "Very... inspiring."

Percy smiled and nodded at that. So that was why Apollo came here, to write songs. Not whatever Annabeth and Grover were imagining. He put the food and drink down and returned to work.

/break\

Apollo came in with a stunning blonde. A model. Percy was pretty sure he had seen her on a cover or something. The two talked loudly, but suddenly after a little while, the beautiful woman ran up to Percy, excitement sparkling in her eyes as she pressed her hands against the glass and leaned in.

"You are so gorgeous. What a handsome face and those eyes are brilliant."

"Uhm... thank you", muttered Percy confused, blinking a couple times.

"Aphrodite, no. Please stop it, leave him alone", groaned Apollo as he came up behind her.

"Shush it, Polly. He is so pretty. I have a right to meet your new sweetheart."

"Why don't you uh order coffee and give me a moment with him?", pleaded Apollo.

Aphrodite sighed and obeyed with a pout, while Percy continued staring in confusion. "What?"

"Aphrodite is very obsessed with romance. She just asked me who my last date was and I got... flustered and just... pointed at you because I didn't want to tell her the truth. Please play along."

"Only if you tell me the truth", argued Percy, one eyebrow raised and blush on his cheeks.

Apollo glowered, his own cheeks dark-red. "I haven't had a date in months, that's it. Okay?"

"You... But... You literally just got this amazing new love-song out?", asked Percy confused.

"That's exactly why she is bugging me too", sighed Apollo, rubbing his forehead.

"C'mo—on. You've been a regular here for... for months now", offered Percy, at first teasingly but then slowly growing doubtful. "You come in... like... trice a day... to... write... your songs... oh."

Apollo bit his lip and glared at little at a doughnut to not look at Percy. "So I may have a slight... crush... on you. That's it, okay? But if I tell her that, she's just going to get pushy and try to set us up and... I wanted to spare both of us this embarrassment..."

"Huh", whispered Percy, blinking a few times and tilting his head. "So... Annie and Grover are right? You... really have... feelings for me. And here I thought they were imagining things."

"How could I not?", asked Apollo bewildered, pointing at Percy. "Look at you. Strong, cunning fire-fighter and soft, gentle baker at the same time!"

Percy could feel his cheeks heating up again and he ruffled his own hair awkwardly. "Uhm... so... you... fine just watching from a distance, or do you wanna take me out on a date, huh?"

Apollo stared wide-eyed and unmoved before he blinked a couple of times. "I... I... what?"

"I mean, you told your friend there that we are already dating, so how about we... date for real and you won't have to lie to her anymore?", suggested Percy with a cheeky grin.

Again, Apollo simply stared at him. Like he was trying to figure out if this was an awful or a brilliant idea. Percy simply continued smiling and waited, even as Aphrodite returned to them.

"Your cakes re amazing, Percy", pointed Aphrodite out. "But don't you spoil Polly too much. His personal trainer would torture him for it. Well, it was nice meeting you. Next time I come over, I demand details but for now I'll have to rush, I guess."

"No worries, next time you come over, I'll be able to tell you everything about our first date!", chimed Percy with a bright smile, flustering Apollo in the process.

Apollo sputtered, but he was definitely not going to argue with this. He... had a date.

#elements1999 #Apercy #Apollo #Percy Jackson #PJOverse #Phoe's Tumblr Drabbles

62 notes · View notes

lemonsandstrawberries · 4 years

Text

Ex-husband, part 2

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), with a side of Winterfalcon (Bucky x Sam), AU

summary: Steve and Tony met for their 'date' and it turns out that it was a very bad idea.

length: 3 525 words

disclaimer: fic belongs into the chubby!Tony category

a/n: this gets a little dramatic, but what is life without some drama, right? hope you like it! feedback, reblogs, likes are needed and appreciated!

—————

Ex-husband, part 2

Steve stood in front of the mirror, eyeing himself critically. He had a very important decision to make and it was boggling his mind.

Paraphrasing the great writer - to shave or not to shave?

Pro shave. It was the morning of his 'date' with Tony and during their dating and married time, Steve always had shaved, maybe not counting the very lazy days, when he grew a light stubble, but never had the full, thick beard look like he had now. Tony knew his smooth face and Steve remembered the way Tony's warm fingers used to trace his jawline, the feeling of his ex-husband's scratchy goatee, but scratchy in a pleasant way as Tony used some mysterious mix of oils on his precious goatee to keep the hair healthy and soft, pressed to his cheek in a kiss. He almost wondered off, also remembering Tony's soft body pressed to him, legs tangling together, hips moving in the same rhythm -

Dammit, focus, Rogers.

Con shave. He didn't want Tony to think that he was trying too hard. He had already forced himself on Tony and insisted on a meeting, against all common sense. When he thought about it, he didn't even know what this meeting was going to be - a date was too big of a word, a casual get together was too vague and didn't give proper credit to their shared history. Steve just really wanted this. Not to move on, just to feel complete again. He knew had ruined their marriage and it was not coming back, too many arguments and harsh words instead of soft voices and warm embraces spoiling something that once was so good and felt so natural. He would give anything to get this feeling back, even just for a minute.

Including his beard.

But then again, he didn't want Tony to get a wrong impression.

Ultimately, Steve decided to leave the beard. He tugged on his hair, which during the past six months grew to his chin, falling in straight strands and framing his face. Maybe if he hurried, he could get a hair cut and -

The alarm going on in his phone, made Steve jump up. One hour. One hour before Tony would see him and he had spent a large part of his morning contemplating if he needed a shave or not. He was supposed to leave at this time to not keep Tony waiting. He made a frantic move to bolt out of the bathroom and get changed, at least he had chosen his clothes day earlier, but the sight of the shower caught his attention. Yeah, he was in desperate need of a shower.

***

Steve didn't arrive early as he had in his habit, thank God, he wasn't late either, fearing that Tony might wander off thinking that he was stood up, he was exactly on time. Which probably was also weird and not like him. What was even weirder was that his ex-husband was already sitting in the cafeteria patio, legs crossed gently and sunglasses on his nose, as he was looking off somewhere, lost in his thought, the sunlight playing in his brown hair and giving it soft caramel reflexes. Tony was wearing a grey suit and a t-shirt with a band logo, giving the almost formal look a casual appearance, and Steve felt like an idiot in his three-button dark blue henley shirt (unbuttoned, of course) and washed-out jeans, a black belt holding jeans in place. Tony just looked effortlessly pretty and Steve was trying way too hard.

When Tony turned his face to him, Steve's heart did a little flip. Tony smiled, but because of the sunglasses, Steve didn't know if the smile reached his eyes and raised his hand up, bringing Steve's attention to him. Steve mirrored the gesture, not able to control his own smile, and made it through the other patrons, Tony standing up from his seat to properly greet him.

That wasn't awkward at all when Tony went for a handshake, and Steve, carried on the moment, leaned in to kiss Tony on the cheek for hello. Not awkward at all. In the end, Tony decided to roll with it and let Steve lean in fully, allowing the small peck land on his warm cheek. That made Steve want the ground to open and swallow him, but it was not the time for self-loathing.

"So, how you have been doing?" Steve asked, sitting down on the folding chair, trying to sound suave and casual. It was the moment when he had realized that Tony chose a different table, not the usual one they always had, tucked away in a private corner, near a wall with green leaves climbing up, hiding them from the rest of the world. He tried to subtly look in that direction and saw that their spot was empty so Tony chose this new place deliberately, in the middle of the patio, among people.

"Uh, since yesterday? Not much changed," Tony replied, a small, snarky smile playing at the corner of his lips.

That coupled with the sudden realization about abandoning their spot had dampened the mood. Steve was never good at small talk. It was Tony's forte, his ex-husband was charming and had his way with the words, while Steve was more of a straight to the point guy. Steve had no sunglasses to hide his eyes behind and Tony had to notice the hurt look passing through the blue eyes, because the next second his body became less tense and he took the sunglasses off, hanging them on top of his shirt.

"I am fine, Steve," Tony said, almost sounding sorry for coming of hostile. "You?"

Steve needed a second to process that question, his heart thumping behind his chest while Tony's warm brown eyes were focused on him. Never before Tony and never after him, Steve had met anyone with such expressive, shiny eyes. He could always tell Tony's mood by his eyes. The happy sparkle whenever Steve made him laugh, the soft look during cuddling, the heat and passion during their intimate moments. He missed seeing those eyes as the first thing in the morning and the last in the evening.

"I am fine too," Steve answered, his voice sounding dry. "Um, are those the clothes you bought yesterday?" Steve asked, just to show that he wasn't that pathetic and was able to carry on a conversation when he made a fatal mistake and looked down Tony's body, his eyes stopping on his midriff. There was a little roundness in that area, the shirt hugging it snugly and accenting what Tony was hoping to mask with the dark material. His eyes lingered there for a few seconds too long to brush it off as a casual look, but Steve couldn't keep his eyes off, feeling some hot feeling stirring in him, something he thought was gone a long time ago.

Tony coughed and shifted in his seat, putting his elbows on the table and leaning in to hide. "Yeah, yeah, they are."

It was rude to stare, Rogers. Steve looked back at Tony's face. Slightly rounder, fuller cheeks, but still breathtakingly handsome, if not more.

"They look good on you," Steve said truthfully, and there it was. First doubt, then hesitation, and finally hurt, all reflected in the brown eyes. "You always had a great sense of style," Steve continued, trying to get Tony's mind off the obvious.

Tony seemed a little placated by that and gave a small giggle, beautiful and high pitched and awkward and wonderful. "I am glad it had rubbed off on you," he laughed, pointing in Steve's general direction, "you finally traded your khakis and plaid shirts for something fetching."

"Oh, come on," Steve said with an easy smile, taking the jab like a pro, "it was comfortable."

Tony kept the smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners and sparkling in an amused way. This suited him so much more and it made Steve's heart grow until he realized that once he was the reason the brown eyes filled with tears.

"Here is your order."

A blond, smiley waitress showed up from nowhere, holding a tray in one arm.

"Thank you," Tony smiled at her, when she settled a cup of coffee in front of him, two packets of sugar on the side and an orange juice in front of Steve. "You don't mind I ordered for you too, right?"

"Actually, could I see the menu?" Steve asked the waitress and she nodded and walked away, while Steve turned back to Tony with a smile. "I didn't have time to eat breakfast today."

"You didn't?" Tony asked, reaching for his coffee and his hand stopping halfway out of shock. Steve had pretty adamant rules and a precise morning routine, one that always included a healthy portion of oatmeal with sliced banana and raisins, maybe a breakfast muffin on the days he was in hurry and bacon and eggs on the lazy mornings, but breakfast was always a must and Steve never skipped it. "I don't recognize you, Steve," Tony teased, giving another playful jab, Steve was happy to receive.

Soon enough the smiley waitress brought the menu and Steve placed an order and Tony asked for a glass of sparkling water and a lemon wedge. That made Steve curious.

"You are not eating?" Steve asked, and Tony wrinkled his nose.

"Nah, I am good. Had a big breakfast," Tony replied, trying to sound casual. Steve nodded, wishing to believe that. He already knew that tone of voice, hearing it many times during the days when Tony's work was catching up on him and break for food was not an option. Steve felt it wasn't his place on lecturing Tony about healthy eating habits and that regular meals could actually help him lose the weight he seemed bothered with more efficiently than denying himself food. He had lost the right to say such things when he had signed the divorce papers.

"This should be punishable," Tony narrowed his eyes when the waitress had brought Steve's meal and his water, and Steve eagerly cut into the steak. Well done. "This poor cow didn't die for this."

"Hey, it is good," Steve grinned, cutting the piece of meat and sticking on the fork. Roasted potatoes, garden salad, and a steak. Typical early lunch.

"I almost forgot that you like your meat though as cardboard," Tony griped, sipping on his water. Everyone knew that the best way to cook steak was medium rare when the meat was still tender and juicy and melting, but not many knew that the best technique was reverse seared. By the crust on the meat, Tony could already tell if it was reverse-seared or pan-seared and Steve's steak was obviously pan-seared, which wasn't bad but was kept in the pan for way too long to reach Steve's preferred well-done degree of doneness.

Steve chewed on his steak, thinking that the steak was good, but he would rather bite into something else, something that was nice and juicy and warm and sitting in front of him. He didn't voice his thoughts and just cut off another piece.

"So. Are you still teaching?" Tony asked, giving Steve plenty of time to chew but also trying to engage him in a conversation.

"Nah, I quit, I am between jobs," Steve said lightly using the nice word for being jobless, pausing at Tony's terrified look. "It is fine," Steve assured with a smile. Since the divorce, Steve couldn't focus on anything and lost his drive. He had quitted with a heavy heart, but felt that it would be the best for him and his students, had some savings and while he didn't live a life of luxury it was enough to keep him afloat. "I actually got a few job offers, just testing the market," Steve joked, meaning the parents of the kids he had taught beating down his door to sign their kids for private lessons - Steve was good at his job as an art teacher and kids loved him, and all of his students managed to get into the best art schools. While Steve didn't feel like going back to public schools, maybe private tutoring would be the answer.

"I see," Tony nodded, rubbing his chin. He was self-employed, build his company from a scratch and couldn't imagine being in Steve's situation who seemed so at ease. It was another reason they argued so much, Tony was never able to fully cut off from work, while Steve had clear boundaries, and their first shared vacation ended in a massive quarrel after a couple of blissful days. "I am glad this suits you," Tony said, not urging Steve to changes, knowing that it wasn't his place.

"Thanks," Steve smiled, finishing his lunch, while the conversation between them became so easy and natural, almost as if they never broke up. Steve continued to talk and joke, and take in Tony's smile until his plate became empty, marking the end of their meeting. And Steve was desperate to keep Tony for a bit longer. "Hey, I think I saw chocolate fudge cake on the special's board outside the cafe, do you want a slice?" Steve asked, putting his fork and knife down.

Tony looked away, curling a bit in himself. "No, thanks," he said and his voice sounded small, the confidence he had in himself a minute ago already gone.

Steve blinked in shock. Okay, he could understand Tony not wanting a proper meal, but the Tony he knew, never refused desserts, especially ones dripping with chocolate.

"Uhm, that's new," Steve laughed a bit, trying to bring the happy atmosphere back. "You always loved desserts. You even had this rule, that if a restaurant doesn't serve desserts, you won't be eating there."

"I guess, people, change," Tony answered in a deep sigh, and Steve didn't notice the warning undertone the words had.

"What was the other rule?" Steve asked himself, falling back into comfortable memories and not noticing the alarm signals. "Ah, yeah, remember when we went to that hipster coffee place and the waitress asked you if we want to order mini cheesecakes for dessert? Man, I thought you would flip a table back then. I guess this is also the reason why on Halloween you always give the kids full-size candy bars-"

Tony clearly didn't want to listen to any more of the story, his jaws clenching nervously. "I should go," Tony said in a cold and firm voice and pushed his chair to the back, reaching for his wallet to pay for his coffee and water. It suddenly became so tense and nervous, Steve started to panic.

"Wait, Tony, was it something I said - "

"This was a mistake, Steve," Tony said, a shaking hand dropping some bills on the table between them. "Look, I am happy for you and I wish you well, but for me - for us, we can't meet again," Tony added, his nose scrunching in a sniffle that hinted on an upcoming crying wave after the anger was gone.

Steve immediately felt like breaking into pieces. He did it again. He got a second chance to fix things with Tony and he was blowing it again. Steve bit his tongue, almost letting a comforting 'sweetheart' slip out from his lips, but he couldn't stop the long-forgotten gestures and reached for Tony's hand, putting his hand on Tony's shaky wrist. Tony's whole body tensed but he didn't move away, not daring to look at Steve.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up," Steve said quietly, holding Tony's wrist firmer, grounding him back in the moment instead of their shared, carefree memories when both were so happy, "Stay. Please," Steve continued. The memory of the last day he had seen Tony, the day they both signed the divorce papers was still fresh in his mind, the way Tony couldn't bear to look at him, and the cold and empty feeling of that day still haunting him. There was probably no divorce that ended on good terms, but if this was supposed to be their last meeting, Steve didn't want Tony to rush out, wounds they both worked so hard to patch up, opening again.

Tony didn't answer. Somehow he lied to himself that meeting with his ex would be cathartic. It wasn't. They were venturing into very dangerous territory and Tony was afraid that there was no going back.

With time, Steve moved his hand away, reading Tony's silence as a signal to leave. There was nothing more to save here. Slowly, Steve stood up, understanding that it was over.

"Steve," Tony finally spoke, his voice shaking with emotions, "don't go," he said, not really knowing why, and Steve nearly didn't hear him among the usual cafeteria chatter. There was something hidden in the voice, some longing and a whole lot of heartbreak. "I don't want you to go. I never wanted you to go," Tony admitted, his voice breaking. He brought his hand up and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to hide the building up tears.

Steve stood there, his body frozen, while a million thoughts were racing in his mind. Tony was crying. He made Tony cry. He did this. It was a desperate need to reach out, to wrap arms around his husband and tell him, that he wasn't going anywhere, that he would stay this time, not take the keys to his bike and ride around New York for the whole night without a cause, just letting the anger leave him.

The truth hit Steve hard. Did he just call Tony his husband again?

A tearful sob shook him a little. Tony was standing in front of him, shoulders shaking with every ragged breath. It was a miserable sight and Steve was going crazy with an overwhelming need to soothe his ex-husband, to ease his pain and to kiss the doubts away.

The place was getting crowded for lunch and Steve didn't feel like staying anymore, not when he and Tony started to open up.

"Let's go for a walk," Steve decided for both of them, hurriedly leaving money for his part of the bill. He reached for Tony's hand and walked out, his heart beating a happy melody when Tony followed.

They didn't talk. Just kept walking at a slow pace, Steve thinking that it would be best to let Tony's emotions cool down instead of trying to pry. They didn't walk far, when Tony abruptly stopped, Steve's hand almost breaking the hold, when Tony held him back, interlacing their fingers. Steve didn't understand why they stopped until he saw in front of what building they were standing.

"Tony… Are you sure?" Steve asked softly.

"This won't mean anything, got it?" Tony said in a shaking voice, needing to make it clear from the start.

With the highest effort, Steve had to stop himself from smiling, a hopeful feeling rising in him. It was fine, right? They both were adults and adult people slept with each other, no strings attached. Heck, adult people hooked up with their exes all the time, just for old time's sake, right? It was just what Tony and Steve were about to do.

"Got it," Steve confirmed.

They both entered the hotel, well aware that it was a lie and it meant everything.

***

"Steve, you moron, pick up your phone," Bucky seethed, trying to reach Steve's mobile, time after time, not having any luck and being sent to voice mail straight away. Since yesterday, since Steve was his ex-husbands at the store and ran out after him, coming back with a dopey, elated smile, Bucky had a bad feeling, despite Steve assuring him that everything was fine. Steve not picking up his phone, was just confirming it. Time for plan B. Bucky made sure that Sam was still in the kitchen, preparing lunch when he sneaked into their bedroom and unplugged Sam's phone from the charger. He dialed the number of the last person he wished to ask for help, but drastic times call for drastic measures.

"It is not Sam, it is me. Don't hang up! Do you know where Tony is? Are you sure? I can't reach Steve. Yeah. I think so. Woah, you kiss your mom with that mouth? Hey, I don't like this situation as much as you - yeah, I will check there. I am going to call you from my regular number next time, so you better pick it up," Bucky said and hung up. He plugged the phone back in and went to the corridor to grab his jacket and shoes.

"Babe! I need to go out for a minute!"

"What? Where? Lunch is almost done!"

"Will be back soon, love you!"

"James, what the hell - " but Sam already heard the door close. Sam just grunted to himself, lowering the heat under the pot with stew to keep it warm and wait for his husband to come back.

-----

<--- previous chapter --- next chapter --->

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #SUPERHUSBANDS #chubby!tony #weight acceptance #body acceptance #winterfalcon #Bucky Barnes #sam wilson #james rhodey rhodes #tony and rhodey brootp #steve and bucky brootp #fanfiction #fanfic #no tickling

22 notes · View notes

johnnysnostril · 5 years

Text

Lights Out

Chapter Two

I sat on my bed, looking down at the flyer that Junwon gave me. My feelings were still hurt that he hadn’t really accepted my apology. I didn't believe him. I think Bryan actually hurt his feelings by calling him a loser. He wasn't though and he already knew that.

I knew why everyone hated Bryan. But, I just couldn't bring myself to breakup with him. We had been together for three years and even though he was a jerk, when we were alone- he was a different person. It was almost like he didn't want people to see the real him. Only i knew about that side.

Hearing my door open, i looked up and saw Zoey standing in the frame with her arms crossed. “Mom’s going to be late again.” she said rolling her eyes. “As expected.” I said laying down.

My mom and her boyfriend always went out. They were rarely home, and when they were- it was only to eat and go to bed. She never really spent a lot of time with us anymore. We were so used to it just being the four of us. Me, Zoey, our brother Mason and mom. Mason always kept to himself, so he never really noticed when mom was here or not. We wanted mom here with us, only because that's what we were used to. I was kinda happy that she was out, living her life and having fun. I also missed her too. Zoey on the other hand, said she really didn't care. I think she did though. She was used to being babied all the time and having the attention on her. Now that my mother had a boyfriend, the attention was taken away from her.

“So, what should we do?” Zoey asked as she joined me in bed. She rested her head on my shoulder then took the flyer out of my hands. “What's this?” she smiled. I huffed and grabbed my phone off the desk. “Junwon invited us to go to his first performance.

Zoey quickly sat up.

“Omg! Seriously?? That's freakin awesome! We’re going, right?” she asked. “Well, yeah- i wanna see my friend perform but i think he's mad at me.” I pouted a little inside. I hated when people were mad at me. Especially Junwon. I didn't want him to hate me because of Bryan. But, i loved him. “Oh lord, what did you do this time?” Zoey asked. “I didn't do anything.” I locked my phone and threw it in between my legs then looked over at her. “Bryan called him a loser this morning and i think he took it personal.” Zoey rolled her eyes at my statement and exhaled. “You need to leave Bryan, Hazel. He’s such an idiot.” i shut my eyes, tired of hearing the same thing every day.

“You know i’m right.” Zoey handed me the flyer as I looked over at her. “Go. even if he's mad. He’s your friend and you have to support him. Now, let's go eat. I'm starving.”

I groaned as I lifted myself out of bed and watched Zoey leave the room.

`buzz.buzz`

I looked down at my phone, seeing an instagram notification go off. I furrowed my eyebrows and grabbed my phone, swiping open the notification. Junwon had posted a photo. I smiled down at the picture as he posed with his puppy, Holly. I was with him when he bought her. He loved animals and Holly kept him company since he was really lonely these days. I double tapped, liking the picture then quickly changed.

Hazel’s Outfit

Zoey’s Outfit

Pulling up to Panda Express, I parked the car and signed. “Oh stop with the attitude, Haze.” Zoey sang as she climbed out of the car. “Okay, but we ALWAYS come here. Like, why can't we try a different place for once.” I rolled my eyes, joining her outside and locking the car.

We ordered our usual and said hi to the ladies behind the counter. We were regulars here since Zoey loved it so much. They basically knew our entire family.

As Zoey and I took a seat, a few of her friends from school walked in. They shouted her name and squealed as they ran over to us. She hopped up from her chair and greeted them with a hug, pulling them over to the other side of the restaurant. I smiled as my sister chatted with her group. I liked watching Zoey interact with her friends. She was a different person, in a good way.

I sighed, opening the box of food in front of me and began to eat. Humming to myself, I pulled out my phone, going straight to Instagram and uploading a picture of my food. Yes, I was one of those girls- don’t judge me. I smiled as I placed the location on the picture, then posted it. Right away, my phone buzzed with a notification.

ph1boyyy liked your post.

My smile faded as I remembered that Junwon might still be mad at me. I guess him liking my picture was sort of an answered. I sighed and began to put my phone down. Just as it hit the table, it buzzed again. Bryan had posted a new picture. Pulling up his account, I went straight to his picture. I stopped in my tracks as I seen a few emoji’s in his comments. You know, the ones that only a girlfriend should be commenting on their boyfriend’s pictures. My heart stopped as I glanced down at the default picture. I didn’t recognize it, so i clicked on her profile- revealing a public page. She was pretty, with long blonde hair. Her eyes were green and she looked like she was mixed, just wasn’t sure what it was exactly. As I scanned through her profile, i felt my body become numb- as i read the name in the bio.

“Jasmine.”

I whispered to myself. His ex-girlfriend. Right now, was the first time I ever seen her face. I knew it was her, because of what Bryan used to say about her.

How he loved people with green eyes- or, when he had the nerve to tell me to dye my hair blonde, just because he liked blonde hair.

I never really made the connection until now. I swallowed down a few tears, along with my food. I don't know why seeing his ex made me so sad. After all, he was a jerk. But, I probably wasn’t going to bring it to his attention. Only because i was so over fighting about social media. That’s really the only thing we fought about. He never posted about me and that made me feel like he was hiding me. After seeing those emojis- that may be the reason why I've been hidden from the world.

Suddenly, i wasn't hungry anymore. The pair of chopsticks were still in my hand as I pushed my box away- feeling sick to my stomach.

“You know you’re holding those wrong.” I glanced up from my phone and there stood Woojae.

Woojae’s Outfit

This was the first time he actually said something to me. He laughed and took a seat across from me, where Zoey was supposed to sit. “Here.” Woojae grabbed my wrist and fixed the sticks that laid between my fingers. “You can’t look like a dweeb if i’m sitting here. Then we’ll both look like lames.” he said in a joking manner. I furrowed my eyebrows at him, confused as to why he was speaking to me. “So, what’s up? Why you sittin’ over here lookin like a loner?” Woojae folded his arms across his chest and rested his back on the chair.

“Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?” I fired back. His lips curved down into a frown and he nodded his head. “Touche.” He slowly removed his glasses, setting them on the table- waiting for me to answer his question

“I don't look like a loner, for your information- I'm here with my sister. Besides, why are you talking to me anyway?” I said rolling my eyes and setting my chopsticks on the table. “I thought we were friends?” he laughed. I chuckled sarcastically. “Just because you make out with my best friend, doesn’t make us friends.” I quickly turned my attention over to Zoey, who was laughing with her group. “Damn, Hazel. It’s like that?”

I turned my gaze back over to him.

“You know my name?” I asked surprised. Woojae tilted his head to the side. “You really think I’m that much of a douchebag?” He smiled. “I’m honored.” I rolled my eyes and picked up my phone. “Don’t flatter yourself. Being a douchebag isn’t a good thing.” i said turning my attention back to Bryan’s Instagram.

I noticed him and Jasmine were talking back and forth now, in the comments. I guess my facial expression change drastically and I just didn't realize- since Woojae laughed. “What’s the matter? Your favorite boy band break up?” I sighed at his comment and locked my phone, throwing it in my purse. “Will you just leave me alone, please.” I answered back dryly. Woojae was quiet for a moment before he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You really don’t like me, do you?” he asked.

I thought for a moment.

“I don't know you, so i don’t really have a reason not to like you.” He smiled at my answer and nodded his head.

“Hazel.” I heard above the laughter from Zoey’s group. Looking over towards the door, Junwon stood there- smiling. I stood up, running over to him and wrapped my arms around him tightly. “Junwon..” I whispered. I held back tears as he slowly hugged back. “Well hello..” he said chuckling in a low tone. “Are you still mad at me?” I mumbled. Junwon pulled back from the hug and looked down at me. “Who said i was mad at you, weirdo?” He gently tucked my stray hairs behind my ear, then pulled my cardigan over my shoulder- covering me up. “Are you here alone?” he asked. I shook my head, pointing over at my sister. Junwon smiled over at Zoey, waving at her then turning his attention towards Woojae. “What are you doing here?” I asked as we started walking back to the table. “I saw your post and just decided to come and see what you were up to. I see you have a guest though.” I could sense some jealousy in his voice, but he was doing his best to try and hide it. “He’s not my guest.” I answered back quickly.

“Hey man, whats up.” Woojae said standing up, holding his hand out for a handshake. Junwon nodded, giving him one of those dude handshake thingys. Taking a seat next to me, Junwon stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Well, if you see Sapph- tell her to call me.” Woojae said pulling his phone out of his pocket. I nodded and watched him walk out the door and get into his car.

“What was that all about?” Junwon said slouching a little as he leaned towards me. “I don't know, i was just minding my own business and he came and sat at the table.” I picked up my chopsticks and pushed my food around. Junwon breathed a laugh as he watched me. “Yeah, yeah. I already know- Woojae just laughed at me too.” I said watching my fingers against the wood. “Like this, Haze.” He took my hand, gently placing my fingers against the chopsticks the correct way. His hands were warm and soft- bringing this weird calming feeling over me. My breathing slowed down as he moved his fingers against mine.

“It took me awhile to figure out how to use them too, so don’t feel bad.” I could feel his breath against my neck as he spoke. I shut my eyes for a moment, wanting to cry and ready to tell him everything i seen on Instagram. But, I held back.

“You okay?” Junwon asked. I quickly opened my eyes and looked right at him. “Mhm.” I lied, flashing a fake smile.

He already knew I was lying.

“Liar.” I watched as his eyes moved to look at my lips. I cleared my throat, looking down at my lap. “Talk to me, Haze.” He whispered. I bit my bottom lip and shook my head. My emotions were so out of whack, that just simple eye contact with him- would start the waterworks. I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I wanted him to view me as a strong woman. Not some girl who just cries over any and everything. “I’m okay.. Really.” I picked at the polish on my nails, avoiding his gaze.

From the corner of my eye, I watched as he cupped my chin- bring my attention to his. He didn't have to say anything- his eyes said it all.

Just like clockwork, I started crying. I pushed his hand away and stood up from the table, attempting to go to the bathroom. Junwon wasn’t having that. He quickly got up and stood in front of me, pulling me into a tight hug. “I’m so tired of him doing this to you..” he mumbled.

#h1ghrmusic #ph1boyyy #ph1 #woodie gochild #aomg #jay park #ph1fanfic #fanfic

13 notes · View notes

blueseasfanfics · 6 years

Text

Halloween Treats

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 1526

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: Hello everyone! I still count it as Halloween if I’m eating Halloween candy (that I bought. When it wasn’t 3 AM). Go to the end for an important announcement!

You like Halloween. Just not the parties that come with it. You weren't sure what always rubbed you the wrong way. You think its a mix between way too many people forced together, the ridiculous amounts of alcohol making everyone acting equally ridiculous, and the festive touch of being forced to wear a costume. Of course, Tony always had a huge Halloween party at the Tower every year, and all the Avengers were invited. More like forced to come, but invited nonetheless. As you got dressed, you tried to hype yourself up for this year's party. This year, the tower decided to dress up as each other, and everyone pulled a name out of the hat. You pulled out Loki, and you're really looking forward to his face when he sees you. Mainly because you made him look ridiculous. You had the flashiest gold heels on, that had straps that twisted all the way up to your mid-calf, and a short, green sequined dress that looked so over the top you might as well be floating above the Tower. The finishing touch was a pair of cardboard horns, spray painted gold. You had originally wanted to steal his real horns, but that would have just ruined the surprise, considering you were the only one that was stupid enough to even attempt it. No, you'll go ahead with the cardboard. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you even realize it all looks..good. You had meant for it to be a trashy version of Loki, but instead you somehow managed to find something you could even see him wearing. ... Ok, maybe not, but it's still a funny image. He could probably only wear this dress as a shirt anyway, so maybe stop imagining that for now. For now. Looking at the clock, you leave, meeting up with Natasha in the hallway. She must have gotten Clint, because she's in an all purple get-up, ridiculous sunglasses on, and what seems to be his actual bow in her hand. You weren't the only one wanting to steal from their partner, it seems. Looping your arm in hers, you both walk down to the main room, where the party has already started. Approaching the stairwell leading down into the pit of people, the din of their conversation and laughter wafting up the stairs, you take a deep breath. Quickly, both you and Natasha walk down the spiral stairs, trying your hardest not to stumble. As you get to the bottom, you look for people you recognize, and noticing how every single Avenger really took their costume seriously. Tony had gotten Bucky, and he wore a silver suit arm, gotten an old wig, and was dressed in sweatpants and a tank top, with Bucky having painted his arm (and pretty much the rest of his body) red. In the distance, you saw Thor with a curly red wig and leather gear, Clint with his already short hair dyed blonde and every piece of American flag clothing you can buy at Walmart on his body, and Steve with a long wig and what seems to be the front rooms red curtain pinned to his back. Then, that means, Loki is.. Whirling around to the corner, you see Loki, already looking at you with a bemused smile. His longer hair is pinned up in a bun, and he must have raided your drawer because you are 100% certain that he's wearing your sweater and blue sweatpants. That jerk, he's going to stretch out the fabric. He mouths from across the crowded floor, it full of tipsy people dancing and milling around, but you still feel like you can hear him as clear as day. "Come here." Smiling to yourself, you walk to him confidently, standing in front of him and looking him over. "I expect those back by tomorrow. Those are my comfy clothes." You remark, and he chuckles. "And I expect that dress myself. It just fits my personality so well." He reaches to the side when a waiter comes by with sparkling rosé on trays, and grabs two, offering you one. You accept, and sip it as he continues looking you over, rendering you as pink as your drink. "You like what you see?" You say after a minute and he shrugs. "Would it be a compliment or narcissism to tell you that you look beautiful tonight?" He drinks slowly, looking at you over the brim of his glass, as you choke slightly. "Well, I guess it would be a little bit of both. But a thank you either way." You say timidly, and he laughs a little again. You take a gamble and move next to him, leaning against the wall and staring out into the crowd. Currently, Thor is in a drinking contest, the slumped over losers of the two previous dares on a couch next to him. Cheers ensue as his third victim laughs and lays his head down on the table. "This is boring." Loki sighs, his fingers fiddling with his empty glass. "Oh? Is this party too tame for your Asgardian standards?" "Yes, actually. Asgardian parties are much more lively. Normally I would be engaged in a fight to the death with someone by now." "What?" "Nothing. You seem bored as well, or you wouldn't be talking to me." "Ah yes, because I spend most of my time with you on a regular basis because you're boring." You roll your eyes, but Loki only chuckles and grabs hold of your wrist in nimble fingers, pulling away from the wall and bringing you with him. "I like this song." He yells over his shoulder as he pulls you closer to the dance floor. "How much have you drank tonight? More than Thor?" You yell back incredulously, but he only pulls you into the middle of the dance floor and turns to you, taking your glass and his and throwing them into..nothing. It always entrances you when he uses his magic like that. He puts his hand on your waist, and pulls you closer until your against him, his mouth next to your ear. "Hey there." He murmurs, and you chuckle nervously. "Maybe you actually have drank more than Thor.." "The only intoxicating thing to me is you." You can only press your face into his throat, your ear on his shoulder, swaying to the music with him to one of the rarer slow songs on Tony's playlist. "Why do you say things like that?" You ask softly, and he sighs. "Because you refuse to notice subtle hints. Or big ones, apparently." "What do you mean by that?" "Mortal, how many people do you think are allowed in my bedroom? To touch my things? Hel, to even touch me?" "Well, I would think anyone you invited to your room which has to be-" "You. Only you. You are the one that has a permanent access to my being, and it frustrates me that you will not see it. Unless, of course, you do not wish for it then it's perfectly alright and-" "No. I want it." You blurt out. His hand around your waist clenches slightly, pulling you even closer to him, until the only way you can be any closer is by stepping on his toes. "I'm glad to hear that." He murmurs against your cheek, his lips seeming to burn a hole in your skin, and when the heat gets too unbearable, you move your lips to his. You seem to have taken him by surprise, since at first he doesn't make a motion, but a split second later he's taken your face in both hands and kissing you back hungrily. Both of you forget about the rest of the party around you, the music and voices melting into nothing as the only thing you can focus on is him and how his lips feel against yours. The only thing breaking you apart is Thor's loud cheer as he smashes down his mug, shattering it and sending glass everywhere. The screams that arise from this make you cover your ears, and Loki quickly wraps his frame around yours and after your next blink, you're both standing in the kitchen. "When my brother does that, it's usually time to leave." "It's not time to leave when the fighting to the death starts?" You laugh slightly, and he brushes it aside as he lifts your chin up and kisses you again, gently backing you against the counter. "Well, there are you two. And thank God, do you know how hard it was to rig a hat so you would pull each other? I have no idea how Voldemort did it." Tony has staggered up to the kitchen, rifling through the fridge. "You're not supposed to say his name." Loki growls, pulling away from you slightly and you gasp. "You finally read the books!" You say excitedly, and Tony rolls his eyes. "True love, isn't it? Was the counter when you two are done." His words fell on deaf ears, as both of you are in an heated conversation about Snape, interrupted with kisses whenever there was a pause.

Hey y'all. I'm back. With some good and bad news. Good news first: I am back, and I am writing! I will trying to get into my regular ways very soon, as I have finally finished moving in and getting my life set-up (no job yet, as I am still a couple months short away from being an adult), but writing this actually came very easily to me so I'm hoping I get better quality works and more, soon. Bad news: I may be done writing Loki. I have felt for a while now that I haven't been writing Loki, that I haven;t gotten his personality down correctly or his mannerisms, and I would like to work more with writing him and reading him more so I can truly put his being into words. Until then, I will be writing primarily Bucky, but I would love to know who you all would like to read! And again, don't worry, you'll be getting some Loki sometimes too, just not as my main focus. Anyway, that's all. Hello again y'all!

TAGLIST @fuckthatfeeling @drakesfiance @ihavenofilter @nalokoniloki

#loki #loki x reader #loki fanfic #halloween #loki laufeyson

143 notes · View notes

beefybuffybucky · 6 years

Text

The Moth and the Flame (Pt. 1)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!HoH!enhanced!Reader - Avengers x female!HoH!enhanced!Reader

Summary: Reader is a new member of the Avengers team, and encounters quite a few challenges being the only HoH (hard of hearing) member of the team, but Bucky tries to help. Yet, they’re both unaware of the challenges to come.

Warnings: none !! ((but there will be tons of angst later on))

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: y’all get two fics this week !! i’ve never written for a HoH/d/Deaf character before so if any of y’all have any tips, please feel free to message me or comment! i would really appreciate feedback on this one (“: i would’ve put the signing parts in italics, but a lot of the dialogue is with signing, so it’s written in regular dialogue formatting !! if y’all want, you can submit requests and i can incorporate them into this series !!

The first thing you notice about the compound is the large, gorgeously crystal-clear windows that form most of the walls of the main building. A warm summer breeze brushes gently over your skin and dances through your hair as you follow Tony Stark and another woman, and interpreter, up the sparkling stairs to the main entrance of the intimidatingly fancy building.

“We’re going to meet the rest of the team first, and then we’ll show you where your room is,” the interpreter turns to you and signs calmly with a small smile tugging at her lips before Tony opens the door.

You nod back with a polite smile in return, but on the inside, your thoughts were racing a million miles a minute as you worry about what the others will think of you.

What if I’m not enough? What if they think I can’t handle my own in a fight? Or if I can’t cover them in a battle? What if -

You trail behind Tony and the interpreter and blink, shaking away your frantic thoughts. You’re led down a seemingly endless hallway until you take a turn down another hallway and can see people standing around in a room at the end of it. You immediately recognize all of their faces, and can recall their names.

A ringing overpowers the limited hearing ability you have, and you tap your fingers against the side of your thigh nervously as you step into the room, all eyes on you as you see Tony’s mouth movie out of the corner of your eye. The interpreter takes a few steps in front of you and turns her back to the group of people to face you.

“Y/N, these are the rest of the team members,” she signs. “The rest of the team, this is Y/N. Give her a warm welcome.”

You force a tight smile to the group and wave.

“Hey. My name is Y/N,” you take time to sign out your name while keeping your mouth shut tight. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

The interpreter then turns to the group and talks to them, then turns back to you. Tony pats the back of your shoulder, jerking you forward a little, and meets your gaze through his sunglasses.

“Go ahead, go mingle,” he grins confidently as you try to read his lips. You nod and return a small smile.

You walk up to a few people, and are immediately pulled into a hug by Wanda Maximoff. Her hair smells like apples and brushes softly over your cheek.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you,” she tells you as she pulls back, releasing you from her welcoming embrace. The next person to greet you is Steve Rogers, and he hands you a glass of water, which you take eagerly with a shaky hand. You take a sip and then set it on the white countertop next to you.

“You’re all so beautiful,” you sign enthusiastically, your nerves calming a little.

“Thank you,” Natasha laughs brightly as she signs.

“Do you know sign?” Excitement bubbles in your chest as you sign back to her.

“Not too much,” she pouts expressively as her hands move quickly. “Only a little bit.”

You nod and flash her a smile before greeting the rest of the room. The last person you meet is Bucky Barnes, the infamous Winter Soldier. When Natasha had released all of the HYDRA files a few years back, you combed every single one, searching for information on the elusive spy, becoming completely entranced by the horrors he was put through. You wished more than anything to take his pain away, and to just understand him.

He strides up to you with a handsome grin plastered on his face and extends a hand towards you - his metal one.

You shake it, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. His hand lingers in yours longer than it should have, and he quickly licks his lips before stuffing his hands back into his pocket, his calm exterior now being invaded by his nerves.

“I think they’re going for dinner,” the interpreter cuts in. “Do you want to join them? Or, do you want to go to your room and settle in?”

“I would rather settle in,” you sign back, nervously shrugging. “Can you tell them it was nice meeting them and I’ll see them in the morning?”

The interpreter nods and turns to the group as you turn around and find a new man holding your bags. He smiles at you and turns down a hallway, and you follow.

Your room was at the end of the hall. A dark, wooden door opened to a gray, naturally-lit room with the farthest wall being - of course - made of crystal-clear glass panes. The space was comfortable, not too large, but not too small, and a queen sized bed already made in black sheets and a blanket rested near the wall to your right, nearly cutting the room in half. The man set your bags next to you, nodded with a polite grin, and took his leave to let you settle into your new home.

You sigh and grab your two bags, tossing them onto the bed. As you start to rustle through them, sorting clothes and folding as you go, you sense a creeping presence behind you, and quickly whip around, only to spot Bucky standing in the doorway, holding a box in his hands.

“Sorry,” you read his lips as you work to register his words. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” you exaggerate the amount of relief through a drop in your shoulders as you sign.

“I, um...,” he shifts his weight nervously from leg to leg before finally deciding to step into the room. “I bought this for you.”

“For me?” You gesture in gentle disbelief, your brows knitting together in confusion.

Bucky silently hands over the box, his hands brushing against yours as he does.

“I thought you’d want something to decorate with,” he sheepishly smirks, watching you closely.

You take off the top and slowly pull away the white, sparkling tissue paper to reveal a gorgeous drawing of a moth formed by geometric patterns and highlighting with rich, gold ink, all contained in a simple, black frame.

“It’s beautiful,” you gape at the artwork in front of you as you sign with your free hand. “Thank you.”

“Steve helped me find it,” he confesses, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. He clears his throat and drops his gaze to the ground, looking at his feet. “So, why don’t you, uh,” Bucky hesitantly looks up at you, a glint of something guarded shining in his eyes. “What don’t you speak?”

A warm blush rises in your cheeks as you try to think of how to explain it to him.

It’s more comfortable for me not to, you confess to his mind.

“You...You can speak in...in my head?” He stares at you, a slightly-frightened look shrouding his stoney complexion.

Yes, you whisper back in response. It’s my gift.

“How much can you hear?” Bucky’s eyes glint with interest and sincerity as he watches your face shift. “Can you read lips? Why don’t you just use your ability to communicate all the time?”

You giggle at his questions and bite your cheek as you try to think of the best way to answer them.

It’s easier for me to read lips in quieter places, like here, because I can still make out some words and tones, you explain telepathically. But, in busier places, I have to sign all the time, and have to ask the other person to write out what they’re trying to tell me, too. It’s also harder for me to hear when I get really anxious or nervous. But I don’t always use my ability because it takes up a lot of energy, a lot more than lip-reading does.

“That sounds really draining,” Bucky chuckles gently as he tries to recover from his awkwardness.

A big grin spreads across your face and you glance up to meet his gaze again. You reply with a playful shrug.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Bucky asks with a quirk of his brow.

“Yeah,” you sign. “Tomorrow.”

He turns and leaves with a smile that’s so deliciously comforting you nearly melt into the carpet beneath your feet, the work of art in your hands nearly radiating with warmth.

Maybe this could be a good thing, you think, smiling quietly as your eyes breeze over the picture once more before you hang it on the wall above your night table, next to your bed.

Who knew a moth could be so beautiful, you sigh contentedly, then return back to organizing your things into piles, thoughts of Bucky drifting in and out of your mind up until you fall asleep.

Tags: @lovelyttom @caplansteverogers @prettyboydiggory @c-ly-g @dottirose @winters-beauty @lokigodofsasss @wildefire

198 notes · View notes

sapphireswimming · 6 years

Text

Aces: Chapter 7 (a Gundam 00 fic)

[read parts 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 of this still-unnamed, slight-AU]

For Day 7 of @g00week (Tomorrow), because that’s when Chris will finally... well... you’ll see

2.5k of humor/bonding, no warnings, no spoilers

The shuttle docked on the Ptolemy and Chris pushed out of her seat, grateful for the chance to stretch her legs again. Trips to Earth were great and all, but she could do without the overnight train ride and being stuck in the shuttle after.

But Lichty and Feldt were waiting for them at the bay door.

“Welcome back!” Feldt said, smiling as Chris joined them in the hallway.

“Yeah, welcome back!” Lichty said, bounding forward to help her with her luggage.

She let him take the duffel bag from her right hand, and Feldt grabbed the book in her left. That just left her with an overstuffed backpack that she hefted further up onto her shoulders.

“Looks like you really hit the jackpot,” Lichty groaned as he realized just how heavy the bag was.

“Oh yeah!” she said, excitedly. “There were all sorts of good sales and I just couldn’t help myself. I got all sorts of things…”

Chris started moving down the hallway and Feldt followed, while Lichty awkwardly scooted along sideways with the duffel bag bouncing against his knees.

“I got some clothes, and some food,” she started counting off on her fingers.

“You didn’t forget to get some fruit, did you?” Lichty asked.

Chris turned around and laughed. “You think I’d forget?” she asked, waving her hands in front of her. “I got some apples and clementines.”

“Yes!” Lichty said, stretching out the word and looking like he would have fist pumped if he hadn’t had both hands full.

“And I got another surprise for everyone,” Chris lilted as she continued walking backwards in front of them.

“Oh man, what is it?” Lichty asked.

She grinned. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Oh, come on,” Lichty groaned. “Come on, please?” Chris just laughed. “Please? Just a hint maybe? Give us a hint,” he begged as she shook her head.

“Have you had anything to eat?” Feldt asked.

“Not for a while,” Chris said, turning around again. “The last meal they gave us on the train was a while ago and I didn’t feel like digging into my bag for chips on the shuttle. Thought that if I opened it, I’d never get it all back in!”

“Well, the mess hall should be pretty empty right now,” Feldt said.

“And that means plenty of room for an unpacking party!” Lichty added.

Doctor Moreno rounded the corner and stopped just in time to avoid a duffel bag to the knees. “What’s this I hear about an unpacking party?” he asked.

“Hey, Doctor Moreno!” Chris said. “I just got back, and brought some stuff with me,” she said and Lichty lifted up the bag a bit as proof.

“We were just going to go to the mess hall to start unpacking some of it,” he added.

“Want to join us?” Chris asked. “I brought clementines.”

Doctor Moreno adjusted his glasses as he surveyed the scene. “I would absolutely love to,” he said, falling into step with them as they crossed the Ptolemy.

Once they got to the mess hall, Lichty hefted the bag on top of the table and Chris pulled it toward her to start unzipping it. The contents of the bag threatened to overflow as soon as it started to open. Feldt rescued the bag of apples that began cascading down the side and the clementines that wanted to follow soon after.

She crossed to the cabinets and retrieved the fruit bowl they owned for just such an occasion, taking them out of the bags and neatly stacking each fruit into a pyramid.

Lichty claimed two of the apples before they could disappear, stuffing them into his jacket pockets for later. Moreno asked him for a Clementine which he doubled back to get, tossing it across the table. He started to peel it and popped a slice in his mouth as Chris began unpacking the rest of the bag.

There were bags of candy and cookies already spread across the table. She added multiple bags of popcorn, “For our movie nights,” she said with a wink. Then came a series of differently flavored teas, their tins clinking against the table as she lined them up.

Next was a layer of clothing—shirts, scarves, and a dress—that she bundled into Feldt’s arms. “It has such a billowy skirt, you’re going to love it,” she promised.

Behind them was a brightly colored bag that Lichty grabbed. “Huh, these are new,” he said, reading the label to discover they were a kind of Filipino shortbread.

“Oh, yeah, those are really, really good,” Chris said. “I cracked open the other bag while I was waiting for the elevator. I think I put the rest of them,” she rummaged around until she found a tin of Italian wafers, “in here!” She pulled off the top and tipped out a bunch of individually wrapped polvoron. “Lasse owes me big for tracking that down,” she said as she set the tin aside.

“Oh, and this worked out perfectly,” she said, pulling out two pairs of aviator sunglasses and handing them over to Moreno and Lichty. “Here you go.”

“For me?” Lichty asked, immediately trying them on.

“There was a buy one, get one half off sale,” she said, shrugging a little and grinning. “How was I supposed to pass that up?”

Moreno turned over the pair in his hands, considering them for a moment before taking his glasses off and tucking them carefully into his shirt pocket. He blinked a little at the bright light overhead, but quickly replaced them with the new lenses and stared at different points around the room to see how they compared.

“Thank you, Chris,” he said.

“Of course!” she replied, brightly. “Thought you could use an update. Or a backup pair, in case you don’t really like them,” she added.

“No, these are wonderful,” he said with a smile.

“How do I look?” Lichty asked, swiveling his head so everyone could get a good look at them.

“Perfect,” Doctor Moreno said.

Feldt leaned over the table to get a better look. “They look really good,” she told him.

Lichty beamed. “Really?”

“Really,” Chris laughed. “They look perfect on both of you. Just like I knew they would.”

“Awesome,” Lichty said as he went to take them off. “Too bad there’s not much use for sunglasses up here,” he lamented.

As both of Moreno’s eyebrows rose, Lichty tried to back peddle. “Uh, I mean these are perfect! And I’ll wear them all the time,” he said, quickly putting them back on as Chris uncovered a few clinking bottles of booze for Miss Sumeragi.

“And Feldt, I got that other stuff we were talking about,” she said, pulling out a large shopping bag and hiding it beneath the table as soon as Lichty tried to peek inside. “Uh no,” she said, “You don’t get to see it yet! It’s a surprise,” she said, handing it off to Feldt who carefully put it under her chair.

Lichty pulled a face but was soon distracted by the long box Chris hefted onto the table. “But this,” she said, with a wild glint in her eyes, “is for everyone.”

“What is it?” Lichty asked, pulling up his sunglasses to get a better look at the printing on the side of the box.

“Trading cards,” she announced with glee.

Feldt and Lichty both looked confused. “Trading cards…?” they asked.

“Yes,” Chris said, pulling off the perforated top of the cardboard box. “They’ve started making trading cards of the pilots from each Bloc. Because of the show,” she said.

“No way!” Lichty said, moving to stand right next to her as she opened them.

“Yeah, I had no clue until I saw these near the checkout of this one place and I was like I need to get these. So they sell them in these mystery packs. Each Bloc is a different color foil, see?” she said, holding them up. “The Union’s silver, AEU’s gold, and the HRL is this bronze-ish color. It would have taken too long to do the math for how many I needed to get for everyone to end up with 3 packs,” she admitted. “So I just…”

“…Bought a box,” Feldt supplied.

“Yep! So hopefully there’s enough in here for everyone to get a pack of each,” she said, starting to count through them. Midway through, she stopped and just upended the box, shaking out the packs and spreading them around the table, sorting them by color.

Lichty extended an arm and swept the rest of her finds off to the edge of the table so they would have more room to distribute them.

“If we don’t have enough for everyone, we don’t have to give any to Tiera,” she laughed. “You want some, though, right?” she asked, turning to Moreno.

“Of course,” he grinned, laying his half eaten Clementine aside long enough to grab a pile and start counting how many packs there were. “If there are enough of these,” he added. “Which… it looks like there will be,” he said before starting to deal them out in piles as if they were playing cards. “Looks like there are thirty six packs, so that’s enough for everyone and then an extra set of each.”

“Mine!” Chris claimed before anyone else had a chance to open their mouths. “They’re mine – I bought them. They’re mine. I get the extras.”

Moreno and Feldt finished divvying up the packs into equal piles. Lichty immediately grabbed one, then paused. “Can I?” he asked Chris.

“Go for it,” she said, and he started unwrapping. Feldt also picked up a pile and Moreno slid one over toward himself as he ate another slice.

Feldt started reading off the backs of the foil wrapped packs. “… Based on the TV spot and featuring pilots and mech units from across the world, this AEU mystery booster pack contains 6 regular cards, 2 uncommon cards, 1 rare card, and 1 sticker.”

“Stickers, huh?” Moreno asked as he carefully tore the corner off of a silver pack.

“I’ll take them if you don’t want them,” Chris offered, a twinkle in her eye.

He looked affronted, pulling his hards closer. “Steal my stickers?” he asked with a crooked grin. “Never,” he said, crumpling up the wrapper and dropping it onto the table where it quickly unfolded from its crinkled ball.

“Oh, well would you look at that,” he said, peering down at his cards. “A Graham Aker. Good beginning. And… another Graham Aker,” he said, flipping to the next one. “Lucky me.”

“What?” Chris pulled his hands down to see two different shots of the Union’s Ace staring up at her. “Oh my god.” She released his hand to grab her six packs and start in on a Union one. Within moments, it was unwrapped, and she flipped through it wildly, face falling as she realized that hers didn’t contain a Graham card. “Noooooo,” she said, “no, no, no.”

“You still have another pack,” Feldt consoled her, picking up the other silver pack and holding it out to her.

Quickly, Chris opened it and rifled through the cards. “What?” she asked in distress as she did it again. “I don’t have one. How do I not have one? It should be impossible not to get a Graham Aker card in a Union pack,” she wailed.

“Feldt, Lichty, do you have one?” she asked, slamming both hands on the table as she leaned over toward them.

Feldt rotated her hand of cards to show that she did indeed have a Graham. Lichty snatched his cards closer to his chest. “So what if I do?” he asked, voice wavering.

“Lichty, give me your Graham,” Chris demanded, holding out a hand.

“No,” he said, moving them over past his shoulder.

“Then trade me your Graham. I’ve got…” she fanned out her cards, “I’ve got a Darryl and Howard, and the guy from Iowa, and two Joshuas, and the ponytail scientist guy, and like five Flags. Here,” he held out a card, “take a Joshua.”

Lichty checked his cards. “No, I have a Joshua too.”

“Fine, then what about Darryl and Howard? Then you can have both of them. Or some Flags,” she offered instead. “Do you want some Flags? I’ll trade you three Flags for Graham.”

“No,” Lichty protested, lifting his cards high up in the air to keep them out of reach as Chris came around the table.

“Fine,” she grumbled, then turned her attention to Moreno. “You’ve got two,” she said. “Will you trade me a Graham? I’ll give you anything I’ve got,” she said.

She didn’t see the slicing motions Lichty made across his neck from behind her. Feldt chuckled.

Moreno raised an eyebrow. “Hmmm,” he said, pulling up his hand to study it. “Hmmm, no, I don’t think so?” he said slowly.

Chris slumped over the table for a moment. “Come on, what do you want? Do you want to trade cards from another Bloc?” She began ripping open another pack. “Here, look, okay, I have two Somas. I’ll trade you a Soma for a Graham,” she said, waving it in front of her.

Moreno pursed his lips and shook his head. “I don’t know what I’ve got in my HRL pack yet,” he said. “But I’m pretty sure I don’t need a card of the Ace who puts Allelujah in the med bay every time they fight.”

Chris threw his hands up in the air. “Uh, fine! Although technically,” she said, waving a pointed finer around the room. “Technically, these should all be mine. Come on,” she pleaded. “Won’t anyone trade me their Graham?”

Moreno adjusted his glasses and shook his head. Lichty put down his shades again and kept his cards flat against his jacket. Feldt shook her head.

“I hate all of you,” she declared, although there was no real heat behind it. With a long arm, she swept several piles of unopened packs off the table into her arms and moved toward the door.

“Wait, where are you going with those?” Lichty asked.

Feldt stood from her chair. “Weren’t you going to get something to eat?” she asked.

Chris turned toward them again. “No. No, I think I’m going to find someone who will trade me a Graham,” she said, pushing out of the mess hall.

As the door hissed shut behind her, Lichty pulled his sunglasses back up onto the top of his head and leaned over the table, inspecting his cards again. “Okay,” he said, rocking forward on his elbows, “who wants to trade a…”

Bonus:

Lasse also doesn’t have a Graham, otherwise he would trade with Chris

Sumeragi does have a Graham and while she takes a look at the Billy card while considering a trade, she ultimately refuses to be complicit in fueling this ridiculous crush Chris has

After unwrapping the AEU pack to see Kati looking up at her, she has to excuse herself from the bridge

Chris ends up slipping her double Soma to Allelujah

Tieria doesn’t want to accept the packs at first, but Lockon laughs and takes them for him. It turns out he has a Graham, but he suddenly becomes extremely attached to his cards and refuses point blank to trade anything

Later, he thoroughly examines every card in the quiet of his cabin, looking for any statistics that were unaired or may come in useful and finding nothing

Chris has a blast with the stickers

#gundam 00 #g00week #christina sierra #lichty tsery #joyce moreno #(IMAGINE SUCH A THING I GET TO USE THE MORENO TAG)#feldt grace #durinswizardwheezes #ninthfeather #the beginning of this fic got a little away from me #because i have headcanons of how trips to earth go haha #but i think this is the chapter i am most proud of for this fic so far #so happy i can finally post it #also if you ever get the chance to try some polvoron please do it's amazing #anyway LOOK A THIS I HAVE POSTED A THING FOR EVERY DAY OF GUNDAM 00 WEEK #I MIGHT CRY #mine #fanfiction #ss

13 notes · View notes

atypicalcreekdump · 6 years

Text

Beachlife - A Creek Oneshot

Here we go, first one! Like I said, it’s pretty fluffy, so don’t expect any real problems here. :P Anyhow, have fun reading <3

~~~~~~

"GAH! No! Please Stop!", The anxious blonde boy screamed, as his boyfriend's fingers pushed down onto his back, gently caressing the pale skin while rubbing in a layer of white creme.

"Tweek, Honey, relax! It's just sun blocker! No reason to be tensed, alright? It's just me." Craig was as calm and balanced as usual, behaving in the exact opposite way as his boyfriend. Maybe it was because of this that he was so great, perhaps even the best at helping Tweek to relax, to live a life without totally freaking out every time only the slightest sight of a problem came up. Tweek always being like this was the hard part of their relationship; however, the easy part was that his behavior was predictable, so Craig knew exactly what to do to make him stop - and it worked almost every time.

Tweek was lying on a blanket in the warm sand with his belly to the floor, presenting his back to his boyfriend who knelt right over him, lotioning his back with sun blocker.

And as he said these words while gently massaging Tweek's back and his shoulders, he swore that he could have determined the second in which Tweek started to relax; his muscles stopped to contract, his spasms almost completely disappeared for the moment, and his breathing came back to normal, perhaps even letting out a light sigh of relief, as he now was able to enjoy his boyfriend's soothing treatment.

Craig immediately began to grin. A grin of Victory, a grin proudly presenting himself as the winner over Tweek's anxiousness. In some way he was really happy and proud that he seemed to be the only one who was really capable of getting through to his boyfriend, to help him come down when there was no reason to be upset.

Tweek finally began to rest his forehead on his arms, closing his eyes, obviously enjoying the soothing situation Craig had created for him.

Craig was still kneeling over Tweek, his body between his legs so he was able to reach every part of his back without much effort. Both of them, of course, wore nothing but their bathers, Tweek's being a brown one and Craig's being white with blue stripes. Craig didn't even wear his hat in public, the first time for ages, but he surely would have died of overheating if he did as it was almost a hundred degrees out here in California during Summer. But in exchange for his hat, he wore some pretty cool sunglasses, just like pilots used to wear that he bought the other day.

After rubbing his boyfriend's back for quite some time, he decided to stop, not without leaning forward and pecking a few quick kisses on his neck however, causing a few more cute little groans from Tweek. Craig was grinning again, Tweek has gotten really into this...

But then he stood up, instantly causing Tweek to raise his head, looking at him, half concerned, half angry, that he stopped what he was doing. "Hey, what you think you're doing?!"

Craig grinned while he laid down next to his boyfriend. "Relax, dude, there's more where that came from. Mkay?" Yeah, Tweek could become pretty horny pretty quickly once he got into it. At that point in time it could actually be hard to stop him. Good thing he hadn't reached that point yet...

"Hrmpf, alright", he gruntet as he put his head back at its previous Position. Craig, smirking for about the last few minutes, also laid down, next to Tweek, closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth, the sun and the sound of the sea.

A few hours later

It was early evening, around Sunset, as they roamed some of the bigger streets, browsing the gift shops for nice souvenirs to bring back home. The general atmosphere was amazing, the setting sun colored the streets in a deep shade of orange, it was amazingly quiet all around and most tourists had already gone. They were practically alone as they roamed the streets, holding hands, their fingers linked together, like they always walked in public.

Also it was still pretty warm, they wore nothing but the bathing trunks they already had at the beach, regular old Polo-shirts, and some flip-flops on their feet. In want of enough sun to justify wearing sunglasses at Sunset, Craig had his pilote glasses folded into his neckline.

After looking through ugly Souvenir stuff for a while, they suddenly stopped at a display case, carefully inspecting two complementary necklaces depicting the famous yin and yang symbol.

"What do you think of those, Tweekers?", Craig asked while gently squeezing the blonde's hand.

Tweek nodded while smiling happily at the idea to share something this special with the boy he loves. "I like them."

Craig suddenly nodded, too. "Yeah, me too. and it doesn't look gay either. I like that.", He said without the hint of an emotion in his voice. They had never liked to be called "gay", even though they've been dating for about 7 years now. None of them would say about themselves to be super gay, to check out other boys or dreaming about Justin Bieber or other lame Superstars, but they both were sure that the path they chose was the right one. Maybe because it had already become some kind of habit, so they just kept sticking to each other. And maybe because it was true love? They couldn't be sure although it really felt like true love every time they looked into each other's eyes. Craig used to come up with his theory that, in fact, he wasn't gay, but, as he liked to put it, "Tweekophile". Even though there were some clues, his theory never got confirmed, so he decided to drop it after some time. Ultimately, he didn't care what other people called him, he loved Tweek, and that was all that mattered to him.

After buying the necklaces and wandering the streets for quite some time, they took a cab to bring them back to their hotel at about 1AM. After all, they had left about fourteen hours ago, feeling pretty exhausted at that particular point in time. Craig had problems to keep his eyes open while sitting in the back seat of the cab; It was already too late for Tweek, he fell asleep exactly the moment they entered the car and sat down. His sleepy head rested on his boyfriend's shoulder, digging his face quite deep into the crook of his neck while clinging his hands to Craig's shirt. Craig couldn't help but smile at the sight of his boyfriend's clingy position and how peacefully he had cuddled into his side. This was just perfect. This was how it was supposed to feel, right?

He also leaned his head against Tweek's, gently kissing his forehead once or twice while running his fingers through the blond hair, carefully playing with it.

"Tweek? I love you, you know that?", he whispered. He knew Tweek was asleep so he didn't really know why he said that.

"Hrm" Not more than a sleeping noise. "Iloveyoutoo". Craig wasn't sure if Tweek was kinda awake and realized what he said, or if it was just some kind of reflex, but he smiled and appreciated it either way.

Even though it didn't even matter as they reached their hotel about two minutes later. "Tweek? Honey?", He whispered into his ear, gently shaking him in order to bring him back to consciousness. The blonde in his arms began a bit to shiver, slowly opening his eyes, looking at his boyfriend with his sleepy, coffee brown eyes. "We're back home!"

Still half asleep and without any effort to move away from Craig, he just yawned and asked "Wha-what, in Colorado?", causing Craig to smile. "Not in Colorado, you dumbass, back at our hotel. Now come on, you can go back to sleep at our room."

He somehow managed to pay the driver and to get him and Tweek out of the car without totally pissing him off.

As they got back to their room, Craig quickly sat down onto his bed, checking his Phone, while Tweek went to the bathroom to brush his teeth before finally going to sleep. As an idea popped to his head, he turned himself around to face Craig in their room. "Craig?"

But the only thing he saw was his now sleeping boyfriend's body, haphazardly spreading out his body parts all over their bed, leaving almost no space for Tweek. He couldn't help but grin at this sight, so he put down his tooth brush, entered their room and watched sleeping Craig carefully before kissing his forehead, pushing him back gently so he could lay down next to him, quickly grabbed Craig's arm and wrapped it around his own waist while pushing his back against Craig, causing them to spoon, which Craig acknowledged with a sleepy sigh. "Goodnight, honey.", Tweek whispered, falling to sleep eventually.

#south park #craig x tweek #craig tucker #tweek tweak #south park tweek #fluff #fluffy #oneshot #fanfic

31 notes · View notes

coeurdastronaute · 7 years

Text

Essays in Existentialism: Movies

Jake was a romantic at heart and a huge fan of old b+w movies, and he and Clarke went to the old local movie theatre every Sunday to watch them. So when Jake dies, Clarke carries on the Sunday tradition alone...til, one Sunday, she meets Lexa.

The funeral was at 1pm.

At six-thirty, with no will left for the rest of the people that crowded in her house, the only daughter left the wake without a single word. Wondered straight out off of the porch with no real thought at all, not even missed by anyone in particular.

There were pictures being shown, albums opened and passed around to the extended family who mourned and cried and tried to laugh, though found it almost impossible with the circumstances. The house on the end of the street, the one with the stupid miniature windmill in the front, the one with the big porch and tool shed in the back that once was always open, but now had remained shut for months, that house was very alive despite the somber reality it would face soon enough. It was too alive, in all actuality. Too many people filling up too much quiet with too many words of too much sympathy.

But none of that mattered.

At six-thirty, Clarke couldn’t handle anything else. She didn’t want to hear anymore stories about what her father was like as a kid, or the pranks he played on coeds in college, or even how sweet he was with her when she was just a toddler. She didn’t want to tell anyone anything either, instead, electing to horde all of her father that she could to herself, afraid that once she spoke the words, he would disappear and not be her’s any longer. Now she was a daughter without a father, and she was making it up as she went.

Like clockwork, her body moved on its own routine. The car drove itself without her thinking, stopping at signs and signaling accordingly. It parked in a familiar lot. At one point, she was certain there was a song playing on the radio, but by the time she stopped, all that there was in the cab of the car was silence.

“One, please,” she swallowed and dug in her purse for money at the window.

“The Sunday feature isn’t until nine.”

“I know. I was just. I was hoping that...” she furrowed and tried to speak words, only realizing that she didn’t have any left at all in her for such things, and there was no where else she wanted to go on a Sunday.

“We’re not even really open,” the clerk at the window shifted nervously. All of sixteen and very unsure what to do for the woman in the nice black dress who was four hours early for a movie.

Clarke dug into the purse that was just for show, coming up with about three and a half mints and a tampon.

“Ma’am, I’m not sure I can sell you anything...”

“I know I have... I can figure it out.”

“Let me get my manager,” he squeaked. “Just give me a second.”

Clarke took very little notice of what was happening on the street, as nothing interested her more than getting into her regular seat in her regular theater and seeing whatever was appearing. She didn’t even care what the clerk was actually saying. She was on a mission.

“Listen, I just... I have to get in. I have to see this movie,” Clarke murmured, her chest inflating with the many breaths she was taking. “You don’t understand. I can’t go home. There are thirty people at my house, all looking at me with these sad eyes, and I’m not sure how, but my best friend is dead, who happened to be my dad, and I don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow, but I know that I can shut off my brain for two hours and sit in the dark and forget. That’s all I want. I just want to forget. So please. Can I just hide here for a couple of hours?”

“Um.”

“Just. Give me a second. I’ll be quiet. I’ll just sit there. But I can’t go home. I can’t... Thirty people who just want to apologize,” she shook her head and swallowed. “I come here every week. I swear I do. I know everyone’s names, and they know me. My father brings me here. Brought me. Brought me here every Sunday since I was like ten.”

“Like I said, it’s only seven.”

“Excuse me,” a stranger asked, interrupting the match between the frantic woman and the pitiful attendant at the window. Both just stared back at the newest addition.

The old flannel shirt slid off of one shoulder, while a necklace hung long from her neck. Hair a mess of dark brown, tucked up with sunglasses fresh from the early sunny spring day, green eyes squinted and perused the situation carefully. Shorts showed off long tan legs while her hand fiddled with the edge of her shirt. All at once, she was both severe and soft, a delicate balance politely on the slope of her jaw and the angle of her nose.

Opposite of her, the woman on the verge of tough tears tilted her strong chin. Blonde hair in a neat bun, single gold chain around her neck. Black dress and heels. Every part of her was rigid at the moment. Every bit of her ached and wanted to say yes. Not two more different images could have been seen so closely juxtaposed.

“Um. Yeah,” she continued, not earning a response. “What’s playing?”

“I’m... I’m not sure,” Clarke’s brow wrinkled into peaks as she looked helplessly back at the attendant.

“Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy,” he offered.

“Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy,” Clarke repeated.

“I’ve never seen it,” she smiled. “Is it any good?”

“One of the best. Lot’s of mummy puns.”

“I do love a good pun. Could I have two tickets, please?” the stranger decided, tugging some money out of her pocket and counting it as she squinted at the sign behind the ticket booth.

“The movie doesn’t start until nine,” the teenager repeated once more. Sundays were the easy days. That’s what they told him when he swapped shifts. He could picture his coworkers laughing evilly in the distance at the idiot who took a Sunday.

“I don’t mind,” she shrugged, sliding the money through the gap in the glass.

To his credit, he debated it before giving up and deciding his wages and three hours of training didn’t prepare him for this situation.

“Thank you,” Clarke nodded. “I’ll pay you back.”

“No worries,” she smiled and held the door open. “I was just walking by and happened to be thinking about how much I wanted to see a movie.”

It was a lie, but Clarke didn’t have the wherewithal to imagine anything other than what was presented to her. So she nodded, as if it were the most reasonable answer to the situation. As if it made sense that a stranger happened upon her and bought her a ticket because she really did just want to watch a random movie.eeee

“I only caught a bit of that out there,” the stranger shrugged. “Sounds like you’re having a bad day.”

“I don’t know. I guess,” Clarke sighed. “Thanks again.”

Without any other indication, Clarke moved toward her seat in the theater, unable to keep up polite conversation. The stranger took it as enough of a sign, and nodded once again, electing to take a seat a few rows up and on the opposite side of the theater.

Quiet and calm, Clarke felt relief to be somewhere safe, somewhere time couldn’t touch, where nothing bad happened and where she didn’t have to think about the closed casket.

By the time the lights dimmed only a handful of other people filtered in. Clarke didn’t notice the occasional glance from the buyer of her ticket. Instead, she disappeared into the movie, and it was, perhaps, the best gift anyone could have given her on that terrible day.

It wasn’t as if there weren’t anything else to do on a Sunday night. About sixteen pages of papers needed to be written and a stack of books that never seemed to get smaller needed to be read, but still, Lexa found herself checking her watch and once again refreshing the website for the small theater on Main Street.

“Hey, where are you off to?” Anya called from down the hall as Lexa tugged on shoes by the door. With a heavy sigh, she made her way toward the kitchen.

Tall, and skinny, much like their mother, Anya was responsible and always so much older than her years. With a dish towel over her shoulder and hair flying away from cleaning, she was beautiful and clever and still a pain of an older sister.

“Hey! Not nice!” the three year old complained as her aunt stole a green bean from her plate. “Auntie Lexi stole my green bean!”

“Tattle tale,” she teased, kissing the brown hair.

“We’re working on asking nicely,” Anya reminded her little sister. “Now what do you say?” she said in that sing song way that haunted them from so many kids shows.

“I’m sorry,” she growled and made a face at her niece, earning a giggle.

“That’s okay. Do you want more?”

“No thank you.”

“So where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Out, out, you’re just going out?” Anya taunted, hands on her hips.

Four years separated them, and yet more than that. It flt longer that they were apart. When Anya left and then came back a few years later with a newborn, it bonded them. After their mother died, and Lexa moved in to pursue her degree and help. Now they were a tiny family. Now she was even older, even wiser.

“Out out out out,” the little girl echoed.

“Double-teamed, huh?” Lexa grinned. “I’m just going to go catch a movie.”

“Hmmm,” her sister hummed.

“Hmmm,” her daughter mimicked.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the girl in the black dress from last week, does it?”

“OoohOOOhooh,” Lenny teased with a big smile.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” she moaned, putting her head down on the counter. “I don’t know anyone here outside of my classes. I just kind of want to go see a movie.”

“This has nothing to do with the pretty girl who didn’t even notice you?”

“Okay, alright,” Lexa shook her head and tossed her hair around. “On that note, I’m going. I’ll be home round eleven.”

“Or later if you’re lucky,” Anya teased.

“Night, Len,” she smiled and ruffled the hair of the toddler at the table. “I’ll see you later.”

It took a little more teasing before she made her way out to her car. Last week, it’d been pure luck that she was even downtown, choosing to usually forego drinks with people who described Kafka as one of their greatest motivations for studying literature. But her sister made her branch out.

There really was no reason to go back. She enjoyed the movie well enough, but maybe Anya was right, maybe it was to see if that stranger wit the sad eyes was going to be there again. All of which felt like a very weird thing to feel. After Costia, after Chicago, after all of it, Lexa didn’t think she’d ever be curious about someone else ever again.

If she didn’t see her, then none of it would matter and she could focus more on her paper that was stalled somewhere between analysis and absolute shit.

To her credit, she second guessed herself about thirteen times as she sat in the parking lot before she just gave in and went.

“Good evening,” a different attendant met her as she approached the window.

“Hi,” she breathed, shy and anxious.

“I’d like to have one, please. For the… Um, what’s it?”

“Fantastic Voyage,” he supplied.

“Yes. That,” Lexa nodded, sliding across her money.

It felt weird, to hold the ticket, but still, Lexa fiddled with it as she made her way inside, out of the lingering heat of the summer. Careful to not look around too much, but still trying to see everyone, she cautiously approached the theater.

By the time she took a seat, she was all nerves.

Nothing to worry about. No pretty girls in sight, she typed, using her phone as a crutch.

So you did go to see a pretty girl, Anya retorted.

No. Just proving you wrong. I came for some good, quality cinema.

Lenny said you’re lying.

A box of candy rattled beside her, pulling Lexa from the bright light of her phone. It slid into the cup hole on the armrest before she could argue more with her sister.

“I didn’t think I’d get a chance to thank you, but I hope you like sno-caps.”

“Hey,” Lexa swallowed and sat up a little bit in her chair. “Yeah. I mean. Of course. Yeah I do. But you don’t have to give me… I mean. It wasn’t…”

“You might not ever know how nice of a gesture that was,” she continued. “But I really do appreciate it...”

“Lexa.”

“I am very grateful, Lexa.”

“Just… helping out I guess. It wasn’t a big deal…”

“Clarke,” she smiled, holding out her hand. “It’s nice to meet my knight in shining flip flops.”

“I should thank you. I’ve never been in this theater. And I never saw an Abbott and Costello movie. Now I’m teaching my three-year old niece bits,” Lexa rambled, shaking the hand one too many times, gripping it just a little too firmly. “Sorry. That’s a lot. I just. You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” Clarke nodded, crossing her arms as she leaned against the row ahead.

Gone was the dress and the neat hair and the heels. Lexa liked all of it though. Relaxed in an old, oversized sweater and long, long legs, her hair looked lighter than last week, if that was possible. The dim of the auditorium didn’t let Lexa see her eyes well enough, which was a travesty of the greatest degree.

“Then you’re welcome I guess.”

“So you liked the movie?” Clarke continued.

“I really did. I’m not too sure about this one, but I figured this was a good enough way to spend a Sunday evening. A nice detox from pouring over books and writing impossible papers.”

“This one’s also a good one,” she assured her.

The lights flickered and both looked up, knowing what it meant.

“I better get back to my seat. Enjoy those. I asked specifically for the not stale kind of candy,” Clarke promised, pushing off gracefully.

“Thanks.”

“Enjoy it.”

“You too.”

Lexa’s heart sank slightly as she made it a few steps toward the aisle.

“Maybe I’ll see you next week.”

“Maybe,” she nodded eagerly.

The lights faded not a minute after her departure, but the entire movie, Lexa felt herself fighting the urge to turn around and think of something clever to say, though nothing came to mind. Grateful for some otherworldly will power, she found herself enjoying the movie well enough.

As the end drew closer, she felt her body grow tenser with the idea that she would see Clarke when they left, an that was just another chance to look like an idiot. Surely she couldn’t not embarrass herself for that long.

“So, what did you think?” Clarke called as Lexa tried to hurry through the aisle.

“I liked last week's better.”

“Yeah, hard to beat Bud and Lou,” she smiled.

“If you know all of the movies already, why do you come?”

“Now that is a question.”

“Sorry, it just seemed… I don’t know,” Lexa shrugged and tossed her trash as they walked into the lobby.

Clarke stopped and debated, staring out at the dark that settled on their quiet town, made much heavier due to the day. The entire city prepared for the new week, already in bed and anxious to be miserable with work.

“Do you want to maybe grab a coffee?” Clarke decided, finally turning back to the confused girl in her wake. “We can talk about movies, and why I watch them. And you can tell me about books and papers.”

“Um, yeah. Sure. That’s. We could,” she nodded eagerly.

Carefully, Lexa checked herself in the mirror once again. She ran her hand through the mess on her head and frowned as she adjusted her nerdy glasses that she dreaded. Of course her contacts ran out. Of course she dreaded today.

With a final sigh, she decided that was as good as she could do, though it did not help her nerves.

“Ohhh, look at this one,” Anya teased as she sat on the couch and dried off her daughter, fresh from the bath. “Someone put on her cute flannel for her date.”

“It’s not a date,” Lexa insisted.

“You’ve spent the past two months with this girl.”

“Okay, just seeing movies, and only on Sundays.”

“What about lunch the other day? And drinks last night?” her sister reminded her.

“You look pretty and smart,” Lenny offered after stepping into her pajama pants.

“Thank you, Len,” Lexa nodded politely as she slipped on her boots.

“You should tell Clarke that she looks smart. Mom said brains are most important.”

“Solid dating advice,” Anya reasoned, helping her daughter slip her head through the shirt. “And put your arm around her. That always works. Classic movie move.”

“I’m not making a… I wouldn’t… No. I told. No. I told you it’s just because I like movies. Her dad just died.”

“She’s giving off vibes. And you know it.”

“Okay, alright, well….” Lexa nodded and made her way toward the door. “On that note. Thank you both.”

“Love you!” her sister called.

“Home by midnight, missy,” her niece reminded her.

By the time Lexa made it to the theater, she was a ball of nerves, working it all over in her head. Her sister was absolutely infuriating and lovely and just exhausting. She just liked hanging out with Clarke. That was it. It wasn’t that she was fun and a breath of fresh air, and absolutely her favorite person to look at and talk to, because that would be ridiculous. She just liked movies. Lexa just liked an escape.

“I like your glasses,” Clarke smiled as Lexa approached, deep in thought and distracted.

“Oh, yeah? Um these? I…” she sputtered gracelessly and pressed them up on her nose. “My new contacts went to my old address.”

“I don’t know. These are adorable. You look like you read books and drink gross coffee in the park.”

“Well, that’s fairly accurate.”

Lexa watched the blonde appraise her face, though nothing really changed except her glasses. There was something about blue eyes on her that felt intimidating and violent in the best way.

“I like it,” Clarke finally decided, as if she was truly debating it the entire time, weighing her options.

“My niece said that I looked smart, which is what all girls should want to be.”

“A little feminist in the making?” Clarke chuckled, grabbing Lexa’s elbow as they got in line for tickets.

“My sister is insistent that her daughter is not going to end up pregnant, unmarried, and not ready like her. I mean, she’s a spectacular mother, but I know she thinks she isn’t doing well enough because she needs help. While our mother did it with two kids, completely alone.”

“I mean, Lenny sounds like an amazing kid. So I’m sure she does a great job. Plus Auntie Lexa probably just causes more trouble than the four year old.”

All Lexa could do was grin and order two tickets for them when they reached the window. It was unspoken that she bought the tickets and Clarke bought them candy and a drink to split. It’d been that way for what felt like forever, but wasn’t even that long at all.

“You never told me how she got the name,” Clarke reminded Lexa, as they took their normal seats after loading up. “Lenny isn’t a typical name.”

“And Clarke is?”

“As an expert in weird names, trust me. I know they have a story.”

“Well,” Lexa sighed, crossing her leg as she got comfortable. “Anya was very high on meds, and we’d been joking about names for the entire pregnancy. She was so stressed. I was still away at college, she was going alone until I came for the delivery. Len’s dad pops in and out, so she did it all. And I think she always knew what she was going to name her, but didn’t want to tell me. She’s named after our mother, Eleanor. Anya was going to call her Ellie.”

“And Auntie Lexa decided that was too normal?” Clarke asked, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

“I did,” she grinned, digging her phone out of her pocket. “She knows she’s in trouble when she gets Eleanor’d. She loves her name. Here she is.”

“Aww, look at that,” Clarke cooed, softening as Lexa showed off.

They were just barely texting friends, in that they only started to text every single day. And Lexa loved it. Now she was going to send pictures.

“I swear, your smile must be genetic because that’s pure trouble.”

“We’ve been known to cause a bit, yeah,” Lexa shrugged. “How was your paper?”

“I got an A. Thanks for taking a look and editing.”

“Well, what good is knowing a PhD student if they can’t edit your papers, right?”

“That’s the only reason I keep you around, Woods.”

“I knew it,” Lexa grinned, stealing a handful of snacks.

They were there plenty early. It seemed as if it got earlier every week, both arriving before the other in an attempt to eek out a little more time to chat. Lexa just liked hearing Clarke’s movie facts, and liked hearing about what her week was like, both past and the one that was coming up.

“So you said she was named after your mother?”

“Yeah.”

“As in your mom is…”

“Yeah, the year before Anya got pregnant.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No worries. You just… you know. You just get used to it,” Lexa shrugged.

“Yeah,” Clarke nodded, thoughtfully and distracted.

It wasn’t that she was sad, just that she was thinking, but Lexa didn’t want her to be sad, and it made her a little frantic. She stared at the screen before thinking of how to dig herself out of it.

“So you never told me what we’re watching. I need the Clarke Griffin preview, please,” she nudged, pretending to fight over the armrest.

“Lexa, we’ve been over this,” Clarke groaned, pushing back. “I get the armrest. You get to hold the drink.”

“Sorry. Slipped. My mistake.”

“Sure, sure.”

By the time the movie started, Lexa still wasn’t sure she cared about the film, but Clarke was excited, and it was infectious. And so she was quiet, nodding and not talking much until her partner leaned over and told her tiny parts of the film. That was her favorite part.

But this time, Lexa was more distracted than usual by the way the movie played on Clarke’s face. And she was more distracted by her sister’s words. She fiddled with the straw of the drink and tapped her thumb on her knee before steeling herself when the movie was over half finished.

With a slight movement, Lexa lifted her arm and placed it on the back of Clarke’s chair. Frozen, she didn’t turn her head to see what Clarke thought of it. Instead she stared at the screen like her eyes were glued permanently to that position.

It was only after a few minutes when Clarke sunk down slightly and rested the back of her head against Lexa’s arm that she chanced a sideways glance, still afraid to move her head at all. Lexa gulped.

Some things happened, though she didn't register what was happening in the plot. All Lexa felt was Clarke tugging her hand down so that the blonde had Lexa’s arm wrapped around her shoulders like a scarf.

As much as she didn’t want to, Lexa knew she was going to wake her sister up to tell her.

It wasn’t close to snowing. Not even in the realm of possibilities. But the weather did dip below sixty, which was an absolute catastrophe as far as LA was concerned. Clarke took it in stride, happy that the semester was done, that she got her internship, that she got to wear that cute, warm sweater, and that it was Sunday.

It wasn’t just the movies anymore. It was Lexa. Busy as they got, there’d already been coffee on Tuesday and Clarke even got to help her Christmas shop on Friday morning. It was a nice thing, and made her smile.

“Wow, someone looks cute,” Raven teased as she lounged on the couch, a book held above her head that then fell to her chest.

“Thank you.”

“I mean. Like. More cute than normal. Are you wearing make up? Did you shower and do your hair?”

“No.” It was a lie. Clarke did those things. “I’ll be back later.”

“Wait wait wait. Are you going to see your girlfriend?”

“She’s my friend.”

“Okay, but still,” Raven rolled her eyes. “Are you going to finally make your move? It’s been like six months.”

“I’m not making a move.”

“Waiting on her?”

“We’re friends. She’s nice. And sweet. And kind of dorky, though you’d never know which is super cool, and she’s sweet. And kind. And pretty. And ridiculously smart--”

“But you don’t like her,” her roommate reminded her.

“Right. That’s. No. I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

“Okay, stop. Bye,” Clarke decided, nodding to herself against the stupid words her friend wanted to say.

“Wear protection. You know I’m too young to be a grandmother!”

With a snort, Clarke made her way toward the theater. It was still too early for the movie, but getting there early was newly a thing.

It wasn’t that Clarke didn’t like Lexa. She very much liked Lexa. But the student was too hard to read, and their relationship was too good to mess up. She was a good friend when Clarke needed it most, a fresh face and fresh perspective. Lexa had an old soul, and that was comforting and peaceful when she felt the most disturbed.

But she also had these eyes and lips. The lips were a problem. And when she pushed her hair around, creating more of a mess when she thought really hard about something, or was explaining something she was passionate about. And when she put her arm around Clarke at the movies, and she could feel the little bicep there. And when Clarke chanced a look at ink that was on the skin there. And when Lexa wore glasses. And when she texted about stupid things. And when she sent adorable pictures of herself. And when she was just herself. Basically, Lexa was always a problem, and Clarke didn’t have a crush on her.

Except she very much did, but still wasn’t positive what to do about it because they reached such a great place.

Instead, she just walked down the road after she parked and felt herself grow warmer despite the little chill in the air, just from the thought of seeing Lexa.

“Now that’s an interesting hat,” she smiled as she watched Lexa approach from the opposite direction, both meeting in front of the box office.

“Oh, this old thing?” Lexa grinned. “Had it lying about.”

“The infamous Len, I presume?”

“Sorry. Anya had an emergency at work-- I guess another bar tender got sick, and there’s some Christmas party and they needed bodies, and extra money for the holidays doesn’t hurt, so--”

“Seriously? It’s more than fine,” Clarke rolled her eyes and looked up at the little girl perched on Lexa’s shoulders. Her little hands held onto Lexa’s cheeks.

“Care to say hi to my friend, Clarke?”

“Hi,” the little girl shrugged her neck into her shoulders shyly.

“It is nice to meet you, Lenny. Your aunt tells me all about your funny stories.”

“You do?” she asked.

“Of course I do,” Lexa promised. “You’re my best friend. I have to tell lots of stories about my best friend.”

Clarke grinned at the display, her heart simultaneously feeling as if it was being crushed between someone’s fist while at the same time expanding to ridiculously new sizes from being too full of adorable. Lexa with her niece was enough to make her ovaries howl.

The little girl leaned to the side, carefully whispering something that made Lexa smile despite herself.

“She says you’re prettier than I described you,” Lexa explained. “For the record, I described you as beautiful like a princess.”

“Oh my,” Clarke blushed. “A pair of charmers.”

“Like ‘Punzel,” Lenny offered.

“We watch a lot of Disney movies.”

“Tell me the truth, does Lexa sing all of the songs?” Clarke asked the little girl.

“Sometimes but not always. Mostly when we go on ‘ventures, she is the prince. Sometimes I am Wonder Woman, and then Auntie Lexa likes to be Hawkgirl.”

“Oh, now that sounds like a crime fighting duo I’d be afraid of.”

“Which superhero should she be?” Lexa tried as they got in line.

“Hmmm,” the little girl debated. “Make her Supergirl. Or Spider Gwen.”

“Wow, she is a total nerd like you.”

“I’ve corrupted her,” Lexa nodded proudly. “I could only handle so much princess shows before I was going crazy so I introduced her to superheros and life has been sweet.”

“Isn’t this a little late to keep her out?”

“Are you kidding? She stays up later than me,” Lexa scoffed. “Because Anya works at all hours, Len kind of doesn’t have a strict bedtime, so they can spend time together. At least until school next year. Pre-K here we come.”

“I’m going to read words soon,” she piped up from her perch.

“We’re working on the alphabet,” she explained, leaning forward once they made it inside, slipping the little girl from her shoulders to her hip. “Do you have to go potty?”

“No.”

“I’m not above buying affection,” Clarke decided. “Do you want to get a little candy, Lenny?”

She was all big brown eyes and chubby cheeks, and when her smile appeared after earning the nod from her aunt, dimples appeared. Easily, Clarke could understand how Lexa was so attached.

The little girl didn’t change much of their night. Clarke was actually surprised by how well-behaved she was, curling up on Lexa’s lap, tucking her head under her aunt’s chin, and falling asleep about a half hour into the movie despite her own insistence that she was not tired.

Clarke found herself sneaking glances at Lexa more than usual. It was the first movie she was excited for, after reading Little Women about fifteen times throughout her life. And Clarke was addicted to the small smile on Lexa’s face at times. And she liked how she kissed her niece’s hair from time to time, absently and soothingly.

Weirdly enough, Clarke found herself missing the feeling of an arm around her shoulders as she’d come to expect.

“Did it live up to your high standards?” Clarke asked as they watched the credits roll.

“I really, really liked it,” Lexa confessed. “I don’t know why I haven’t watched it yet.”

“Because you’re a book snob.”

“That’s true, but still.”

“Here, let me grab everything. You carry her,” she instructed, picking up Lexa’s coat and bag. “I’ll help you to the car.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry I had to change up our… thing… you know?”

“Are you kidding me?” she scoffed. “This kid is adorable. Glad I got to see what those Woods genes have to offer.”

“Are you going to try to make a baby with my sister?”

“I might after seeing this thing,” Clarke joked sa she hung Lenny’s coat around her shoulders.

“I don’t know how my sister does it. She works so hard, and is raising probably the greatest kid on the planet. She’s astounding.”

“You’re not so far from spectacular yourself.”

“Nah, I’m not… I mean. It’s. She’s a superstar.”

They pressed out into the chill of the night. The Christmas lights were still on in the storefronts on the street. The lampposts were strung in garland and the world was all gentle and tinted in the impending holidays.

“Lexa, you graduated with a degree after your mom died and your sister had a baby, and then got into one of the best PhD programs in the country. And you live with said sister and help with her kid while commuting an hour to and from school, while working, while reading and writing papers and teaching. And you still make time for a stupid movie tradition,” Clarke reminded her. “You’re fairly astounding.”

“I try,” she murmured and nudged her head toward her car down the block.

Clarke wanted to know if her blush was from the cold or her words. She really wanted to know and didn’t know how to ask.

“I never got to thank you, properly, for that… that day,” Clarke swallowed.

“I believe Sno-Caps were involved.”

“No, but I mean. It meant a lot. I know it’s a stupid tradition to have, but coming every Sunday was just part of my life for so long. I fell in love with movies, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“I love the feeling of the theatre, the smell of the popcorn, the murmuring of people. That feeling, where you just forget the world and are sucked in, your heart racing, your breath hitching, your hands wringing as you watch lives unfold. My father gave me that, and it meant a lot that a stranger bought me a ticket when I was at peak crazy.”

“I’m sure you can be crazier than that,” Lexa tried, swallowing hard at the description. “Besides, I had nothing else to do.”

“Why did you come back?”

“I don’t know.”

Clarke watched her hesitate before digging the keys from her pocket and clicking the button. Clarke opened the back door where the car seat was, and watched the tenderness and ease that Lexa fastened the smallest member of the expedition.

Only when Lexa closed the door did she finally look as sheepish as she must have felt. She scratched her neck, a telltale sign that she was slightly nervous. That came when she didn’t know what to say. Clarke had already catalogued such things.

“I thought you were nice and… I don’t know. I thought you were pretty. Plus I really did like the movie.”

“You did?”

With a quiet nod, Lexa leaned against the car door and knit her fingers in her hair, all anxious and honest at the same time. Her cheeks were pink and she huffed out a tiny cloud in the cold of the night.

“I didn’t… I didn’t know anyone here, and you just seemed very real, which is always unique.”

“I’m really glad it was you.”

“Me too,” she finally grinned.

“Did you really tell her I was pretty like a princess?”

“Yeah,” Lexa shrugged and crossed her arms. The smile was back, though it was the one that hid her kind of fake confidence.

“Do you want to grab dinner tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure. Maybe we can try that place you saw, with… the… burgers…” her sentence trailed off with each step Clarke took toward her until she was standing right there, toe to toe.

“Sounds good.”

Clarke didn’t move though. She just stood there in front of Lexa until Lexa eyed her and made herself stand from the lean she’d protected herself with.

“I thought Rapunzel was a good comparison.”

“Will you just stand up so I don’t have to use some cheesy line from a movie?” Clarke demanded.

She regret it as soon as she finished speaking. But Clarke stood there, like every movie she’d ever seen, and she swallowed, suddenly aware of that fear in a new way. But Lexa called her pretty and normal, which weirdly enough were very nice things to hear for someone who felt neither, and often fought to achieve at least some semblance of real.

“What kind of lines would work now?” Lexa tried.

“I’m just a girl,” Clarke smiled. “Standing in front of a girl, asking her to love her.”

“I knew that one,” she smiled despite herself.

“Swoon, and I’ll catch you.”

“Hmm. Not familiar.”

“No, I don’t think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”

She felt the proximity and her head was forgetting all the right words. Lexa started with an intensity that violently disproved her previous quote.

“And you know how?”

“What do you want?” Clarke started, her heart beating wildly. “You want the moon? Just say the world and I’ll throw a lasso around it a pull it down.”

Lexa gulped. Clarke felt hands on her sides, weirdly enough. The weight of a thumb just above her hip. And Lexa looked at her from beneath her lashes.

“Of all the gin joints in the world, she had to walk into mine.”

“That one works.”

Clarke ducked her head and stared at Lexa’s lips before meeting her eyes. It’d been months in the making and now she was here and she didn't know how to do it, how to move that singular inch.

"It seems right now that all I've ever done in my life is making my way here to you.”

“Any more?”

She shook her head though she had about a dozen things she wanted to say. There was a time for lines and a time for quiet. Clarke licked her lips and cupped Lexa’s cheek and for the life of her, she’ll never know how, but she kissed her, right there on the sidewalk after repeating too many movie lines, in front of the old electronic repair shop with the santa that mooned people who walked by from time to time.

A little girl was asleep in the car, and Clarke kissed Lexa because she was perfect, and her father had taught to her appreciate movie moments, because they didn’t exist in real life, except she got one right now.

That, and Lexa kissed and the winter turned into a tropical summer with the humidity of the equator. Clarke melted into it, pressing her chest against Lexa and sighing as she felt arms wrap around her. Too many thoughts barraged her brain, but she could focus on kissing. That was what she was made to do.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Clarke agreed.

“Well, that’s going to be a problem.”

“What?”

“I won’t want to stop doing that.”

Clarke chuckled and shyly hid in Lexa’s shoulder, shaking her head slightly at the nonsense that seemed to always sprout so naturally from the girl.

“You ever use those lines on a girl before?”

“You ever use your adorable niece as a wingman before?”

“Never.”

“I might have used one or two…” Clarke murmured, earning a laugh.

The movie was very much forgotten. It was an old black and white with some damsel that Clarke was in love with and Lexa didn’t really care about one bit. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy the movies, just that some of them weren’t terribly interesting to her. Certainly not as interesting as her companion.

She liked spending time with Clarke. She liked that part a lot. Between school and life and everything, it was hard to pick out moments of Clarke, but Lexa managed because it was important. She was madly falling for the weird girl who quoted movies and wanted to make them and said they were magic.

“Stop being so good at this,” Clarke complained, quiet, so as not to disturb the few people in the theater.

“At what?”

“Making out.”

Lexa just grinned and caught Clarke’s lps through half-lidded eyes before kissing her again, this time with a little more fervor to really drive home the good kissing part of CLarke’s assessment of her. It was difficult, with the armrest between them, but it was the only time they had.

“Want to come over to mine tomorrow afternoon? Anya is taking Len to the swimming pool for lessons.”

“I have filming all afternoon.”

Clarke closed the distance and kissed her back, fighting for the coveted position of being the best kisser, trying to repay and illicit just a fraction of the torture she was currently experiencing.

“What about after eight?” she tried.

“I’m watching Lenny.”

“My car after the movie?”

With a small chuckle, followed by a heavy sigh, laden with the realization that they were never going to have alone time ever in their lives. This was all they would have. Just torture in the back row at the movies.

“This is the worst.”

“My roommate is going to be gone on Tuesday,” Clarke remembered as she went through her own schedule.

“Perfect. I’ll reschedule my tutoring.”

“What? No.”

“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.”

The first Sunday, the usher notice immediately as he closed the doors and the lights dimmed. While at first, he assumed she must have snuck through when he was busy doing something else, he scans the darkening theater to discern that, in fact, the usual girl who sat four rows from the back on the right side middle was conspicuously missing.

The theater seemed a little different, with that realization.

Across the city, Lexa saddled the picnic table and handed her girlfriend another beer as her sister made a grand attempt at telling a story, earning a laugh from the film buff. Their night was just starting, and the summer was thick and angry despite the lack of sun finally.

From time to time, after the first Sunday, the theater notices the lack of a certain pair. Not every week, but often, followed by more often than not, until it is as if they come only once or twice a month.

When they do come, it’s always together, and never in any other seats. Sometimes, a little girl trails along, especially around the holidays.

Clarke half expected it to hurt to not go on Sundays, as if everything would miraculously change for some reason. And yet nothing did. She didn’t miss her father any more or any less. She didn’t feel guilty or as if she betrayed him, but merely a new kind of sad that he would never meet the bespeckled girl who still bought her a ticket when they went.

And instead of hiding on Sundays, sometimes, she noticed that it was a different kind of being alive, to have dinner with her mother, or tag along with Lexa and Lenny for ice cream.

The theater kept showing movies, and it was still there for her when she needed that feeling of magic though, and for that, Clarke was ever grateful.

Lexa didn’t consider herself a film snob or even buff. She liked what she liked, and she had little real care for appropriate or award-winning. She liked the modern classics and she love the old funnies, while Clarke was a golden age snob with an encyclopedic knowledge of just about everything cinematic.

For weeks, she spent every Tuesday with bated breath, refreshing the screen, hoping to find an appropriate film to set the mood. It was like holding in a shout she had to get rid of, one that clawed at her throat. But still, she waited because she only got one shot at it.

But it came.

“Anything can happen, don’t you think?” the actor asked, but Lexa didn’t see it. Instead, she kept glancing at the girl who once bought her snowcaps in what felt like an entirely different life.

It seemed as if life was somehow bisected between meeting Clarke. There was the before, and then the now, and Lexa had trouble thinking of them both as congruent.

“An Affair to Remember is just one of my favorites,” Clarke sighed as they sat there and the credits began to roll. “I don’t know why, but I’m just taken with it.”

“It’s no Abbott and Costello go to Mars, but it’s passable.”

“Sometimes I wonder how I put up with you.”

“I’m not sure, but let’s not question it too much.”

“Shall we, love?” Clarke rolled her eyes as she started to stand. “You have an early morning sleeping in and not going to work.”

“Sure, just hang on, one second,” Lexa swallowed, fiddling with her pocket before bending down on a knee.

“You’re going to stick to the floor.”

It didn’t deter her at all. Lexa looked up at the girl she loved and forgot her speech, and so words just came.”

“I fell in love with you at the movies. I know we’ve seen Mary Poppins about six times here, but I still have no idea what it’s about because I just love watching you smile through the whole thing. I love that you hold your breath during Hitchcock movies, and that you laugh even though you know every punchline to Abbott and Costello.”

“Lexa…”

“I fell in love with you at the movies. You were heartbroken, but I was suddenly sitting here, very much curious about this stranger.”

“What are you…”

“I can’t promise you a picture perfect movie life. I can’t promise dance numbers and montages of hard parts and perfectly timed animal costars, but I know that through it all, we can have a happy ending that anyone of these movies you made me watch would be jealous of. Because I’m just… I’m so in love with you, Clarke. Will you--”

In a second, she was half tugged up and half tackled, so that all she could do was hold onto the thing in her arms.

“Yes!” Clarke yelped, throwing her hands around her girlfriend’s neck. She kissed her cheeks and felt herself be tugged up tighter. “Of course, Lex. Oh my goodness.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes. Yes. Of course, yes. What else could I ever want?”

“You want the moon? Just say the world and I’ll throw a lasso around it a pull it down,” Lexa promised, earning a wider smile, if it were possible.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And with that, she did.

“This isn’t even a classic,” Clarke complained as she juggled the drink and candy and coats in her arms as they made their way to their seats.

“Don’t be a snob,” her wife teased. “Back to the Future is a modern classic.”

“I don’t like what is happening to this theater. You’re a bad influence on it.”

“If I have to watch Casablanca again, I’ll die, honey,” Lexa promised.

“Yeah. Plus I have to do research for my Halloween costume,” Lenny reminded her aunts. “I want it to be perfect.”

All in a row, the three took familiar seats, adjusting in a familiar way. It wasn’t every Sunday. It wasn’t even close to every other Sunday, but still, often enough, in some combination of family members or occasionally just Clarke herself, the theater was still visited as faithfully as a church. Not completely devotion, but religiously enough in comparison.

Not much changed over the years. A few coats of paints, different marathons, petty fights and making out in the back like kids. It housed many memories and it was still a home, a place of refuge for many moments.

“And you are going to be the cutest Doc imaginable,” Clarke cooed to her son as she pulled him out of the carseat in her wife’s lap.

Sleepy, the ten month old yawned and nuzzled into his mother, oblivious as to what the future held for him in just a few weeks.

“This is what I brought on myself,” Lexa rolled her eyes at her niece and her wife and their antics. It was too much, too often. But it was just enough, always.

The End

715 notes · View notes

freegrain · 6 years

Text

Fated : Hunted Ch2

{Freezerburn- Yang x Weiss}

The two Demon-Hunters, Weiss Schnee and Yang Xiao Long, are the greatest of their time. But when they're hired to hunt down a duo names 'Ladybug' their skills are put to the test.

_______________________________________

Part Two of the Fated Series.

Read on AO3 or FF.net.

_______________________________________

Yang prowled through the shelves, eying the different wares on show. This was one of the more… controversial shops in the area. A shop for the buying and selling of demon body parts. Whether it was for decoration or for some ritualic ceremony or even for medicine, this shop would have it for you.

Yang and Weiss were regular business partners for them. The prices were fair and they were always guaranteed to get a buy. Which was good as it wasn't easy to find a place to sell parts.

Large wings hung on the walls, encased in glass and looking majestically fine. The stubs of the wings were sanded down so they were round and clean. Very, very different from the reality. She could totally understand why people would want them on their walls. Nothing said edgy like a pair of demon wings.

Horns and the skulls of demons sat in glass cases, the flesh usually removed. Strangely for some reason the rich that bought them didn't like looking at the murdered creatures that looked a lot like them. What a shocker.

Rarer pieces like spikes or poisonous stingers were held in the back. Most demons were the generic winged and horned beasts you'd expect. But a few had spikes rolling down their spines or poisonous stingers curving from their backs.

They were few and far between but always delightful to take down.

She browsed down the aisle, eyes picking out some pieces that she herself had brought in. They were selling for a bit more than she'd gotten for them but she didn't really mind. They weren't scraping for money.

"A thousand? You've got to be kidding me." Weiss' voice reached her from the front of the shop. "These are high quality wings. Fresh even. Eight at least."

Yang spun on her heel and strode back towards her partner. The shop was empty at this time in the day, most customers arriving at night to buy objects that were… less desire by the general public. Which meant it was a good time for business discussions.

Weiss had the long case open on the counter, lifting one wing with her hand, showing it to him. The frame was strong and sturdy but the leathery wing was torn and ragged. Yang could see the shopkeeper frowning at it.

"Hmph. It may not look like much but not everyone wants the perfect and intact wings," Weiss said. "Look. The ragged edges make it look classy and artistic. Good wall decoration for the aristocrat that come here."

The shopkeeper was debating, taking the wing from Weiss himself. He turned it over before looking back up. He raised six fingers.

"Six and half," Weiss countered and the keeper nodded. A good sale if anything.

Yang waited outside for him, sunglasses shielding her eyes from afternoon sun. The bell above the door tinkled as Weiss came out, tucking something into her purse. Their profit no doubt.

Her partner looked up to see her, a brief smile appearing. "We've got another job."

Yang couldn't stop her eyebrows from flicking up in surprise. It had been a while since they'd had a hiring. Even as famous as they were in the demon hunting circles, jobs were far and few between. Personal grudges against demons were rare.

"Who after, Snowflake?" Yang asked as they started to walk towards Yang's bike.

"I'll tell you the details later," her partner shrugged. "But these rogues seem pretty dangerous. The media is scrambling ovee them. They've even been given a nickname by the press."

"Which is?"

A pause. "Ladybug."

~•~•~•~

Yang kicked her feet up on the table, feeling pretty good with herself. The job had gone down easily. Just a simple chase out into the woods before putting the poor creature out of its misery. What a rush.

Sometimes she wondered if she really was the brutal one of the pair. Weiss' blows had been devastating and surely painful. She wasn't sure if Weiss would have killed him or just let him bleed out. With her she didn't know.

Weiss sat across from her, flicking at something on her scroll. Her sword, Myrtenaster, sat on the table in front of her; recently cleaned of the demon's blood.

Yang crossed her arms behind her head. "How much did we make, Snowflake?" she asked somewhat teasingly.

All Weiss did was give her a look then glanced back down. "For his head? They gave us ten grand because the horns were long and fine. His wings got us six and half. They were pretty damaged."

"Nice! We scored well." Weiss only nodded.

The selling and buying of demon body parts was a huge and profitable business for hunters. The amounts people would pay was astonishing. Collecting demon parts was a hobby nowadays. Yang herself had a collection of demon claws, strung in a rather flashy necklace that she may one day wear.

Neither of them were scraping for money at this point. Weiss certainly wasn't with her family, the Schnees were some of the richest out there. But she didn't like to talk about them so Yang assumed she had some falling out. She didn't pry into what her partner didn't want to speak about.

Still. It always interested her that a Schnee, someone with their life lain out for them, would leave and become a hunter. Hunting was in no way easy. Death and injury was always around the corner, just waiting to pounce when you were least expecting it.

They were both incredibly lucky that they'd met someone as skilled as each of them. And for other more personal reasons too.

Yang stood up and walked around behind the hunter. Weiss sighed as Yang wrapped her arms around her neck. But she didn't complain. For a few seconds Weiss just kept scrolling. But then she shook her head. "If you have to do that at least let me sit on your lap."

So Yang did. A few seconds Weiss curled up in her lap with a face like she didn't even care. But Yang had come attune to the way Weiss' body moved. She leaned into her, soaking up her warmth. Her feet locked around her knees.

That wasn't enough affection. Having been on the receiving end of Weiss' affection for a while now, Yang knew that Weiss was holding out on her. And Yang was feeling rather needy at the moment.

Yang kissed her neck gently. When this got no response she did it again. And again. Her partner was a master at poker faces and could appear unbothered at anything. She was doing that now.

One time she'd even been eaten by a giant nevermore when their hunt brought them further than they thought it would. When Yang cut her out she looked like she was stepping out of the shower. Wet but unbothered. Maybe slightly pissed, you could never really tell with her.

Weiss just kept typing.

Yang frowned. Her arms were around her waist so she wondered if she could put them to use. Slowly, tracing their way down, her hands came down to rest on her thighs. Her fingertips drew patterns on the creamy white skin, edging closer and closer to her hips.

Now that got a reaction out of Weiss. The pale girl flushed gently and a free hand came down to brush hers. It was almost encouraging. Yang continued kissing her neck while tracing her way up her thighs.

"Hey cut it out," Weiss moaned, slapping her hands away. "I said we got another job, this time from those Torchwick guys."

Yang was reluctant but she settled back to just holding her waist. She stroked small circles with her thumbs, just below her ribs. "Torchwick? You mean that fancy redhead with the stick? I thought he was more anti-faunus than anti-demon. What the hell does he want?"

"Nothing. He was killed yesterday." Weiss twisted around to straddle her. Weiss leaned her head on her shoulder, arm out behind her. But one hand trailed behind, caressing her collarbone before moving lower to touch other parts. Yang inhaled deeply.

"Apparently two people, a demon and faunus, broke into his estate and consumed his soul. This is supposedly because of what happened with the Belladonna family," Weiss read.

Now Yang had heard about this. Two or three days ago, Roman Torchwick called the military on Ghira and Kali Belladonna. The official reasons for the slaughter of their estate said fraud and abuse. That they'd resisted capture and they were forced to kill them.

But everyone knew it was just another 'faunus-cleansing' Torchwick act. No one would admit it but they all knew.

The Torchwicks were some of the morally grey in society. But with their wealth and influence, they had the support they needed to just do whatever they wanted. Which was awful and usually brought suffering and death. Really it was only time before something happened.

"The two culprits have no clear face ID but we have descriptions. Going from what is said, one would most likely be the daughter of the Belladonnas, a faunus, likely looking for revenge."

"Fair enough…" Yang mused. Those Torchwick lads were bastards anyway. He got what was coming for him.

"The other is unidentifiable but clearly a demon. The public have nicknamed the twosome 'Ladybug' because of their 'black n' red' colour schemes. Torchwick's family want us to find and kill them. Deliver their heads to them."

"How much are they paying? You know I'm a faunus sympathist. I'm inclined to cheer her on."

"A huge sum. Close to a million."

Yang's eyes almost popped out of her head. No way. A million? As in one million? That was an insane amount of money! Just for these two kids? Were they mad? These two were a big deal.

As much as she'd hate to have to kill them, a job was a job, especially with pay like this.

"So?" Weiss frowned. "You think we should?"

"Heck yeah!" Yang grinned. "This will be the most exciting hunt we've had in years! These two are going to be legends, let me tell you!"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Do you ever think of anything but the hunt?"

Yang smirked and grabbed Weiss by the collar of her shirt. She pulled her closer, stroking a hand along in the inner skin of her thigh. A sharp inhale. "Oh yes. And she's sitting right in front of me."

Weiss' eyes gleamed. Two seconds later Yang found herself flung onto the double bed they shared. Weiss was prowling up her body, a fierce hunger in her eyes. Her legs came up on either side of her hips whole Weiss lay over her. Yang could feel herself getting hotter under her gaze.

"What about the hunt?" Yang said breathlessly.

Weiss leaned back to strip out of her shirt. Yang's eyes roamed her pale skin, drinking in all its fine glory. Weiss shook out her hair.

"That can wait until morning," Weiss purred. "Because I've got something higher on my to-do list." Weiss kissed her gently.

Yang's hands came up to touch her face but Weiss snatched both wrists and slammed them down above her head. She pinned them there, letting Yang squirm helplessly beneath her as they kissed.

This was one of the reasons Yang loved Weiss. Seeming cold and unbothered on the outside but when they got inside she was a monster in bed. Sweet and kind at other time but always a beast in the sheets.

Weiss broke away to remove her bra. The lights were dim but Yang took her all in. Beauty. Ice cold beauty. And she was giving it to her.

Weiss grinned. "And that's you."

And then they dove into a rough tangle of limbs and kissing and acts that made Yang certain that she wouldn't be able to walk in the morning.

______________________________________________

Read Ch1/Ch3/Ch4/Ch5/Ch6

#rwby #freezerburn #yang x weiss #fated series #demon au #FreeGrain #the-demons-behind-your-smile

4 notes · View notes

lameinserts · 7 years

Text

right as rain, soft as snow (part ii)

hey guys!! just wanted to let you know really quick that the mood of this story is based heavily off these three amazing songs:

mOStly this song: Promise by Ben Howard

Saturn by Sleeping at Last

From the Ground Up by Sleeping At Last

so listen to em while you read. they’re absolutely beautiful. you won’t be disappointed, saturn has a pretty long intro so stick with it. it’s the lyrics that count! ENJOY!

pairing: spider-man x reader/peter parker x reader

warnings: none currently!

word count: 3,788

summary: in which the reader is an avenger and a whole lot happens before peter finds out about it. drama ensues.

______________________________________________________________ “This is just another mission.” Natasha promised you as the two of you crossed the Queensboro bridge in a new car that was bought under a fake name. “That’s just what you have to think of it as, okay?” She asked softly, taking a hand off the wheel to rub your shoulder very briefly. “Remember the mission we did together in Luxembourg?” The two of you laughed over the memory, and you nodded your head slowly.

“Yeah, okay. I can try.” You murmured back to her, looking away from the water that separated lower Manhattan from Queens to your gloved hands. The gloves were black, skin tight, ended just below your palms. They looked high tech, because they were high tech. But Tony had tried his best to make last minute alterations to make them just look like regular spandex gloves, but there wasn’t that much that he could hide.

Natasha noticed you looking at your hands, and continued your briefing. “Your name is now ______ ______. You’re seventeen years old, and since you are seventeen, we didn’t have to change that. You are a senior in high school. You have been homeschooled your whole life, so this whole public school thing is very different for you. You are taking Advanced Chemistry 2, Russian,” Natasha lifted her sunglasses and gave you a wink, “Calculus, and Exploration Art. Only four classes because you have block scheduling.” She paused her words to make a right turn once you had crossed over Queensboro. “You have a skin condition on the back of your hands that is painful and you are extremely insecure about. Teachers can’t make you take them off, and you will never, under any circumstance, have to take your gloves off.”

You visibly relaxed, sighing softly and closing your eyes. You leaned your head against the window as Natasha made a stop at a red light. “So there’s no risk?” you asked softly, turning your head to look at her, with her surprisingly realistic blonde wig and sunglasses.

She shrugged softly, smiling sadly. “______, there’s always a risk, you know that. Though now that you get to keep your gloves, it’s much smaller. So don’t be so scared, okay? You won’t hurt anyone. You won’t.”

You were silent as you fiddled with your fingers, listening to the fabric over them rustle together. You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths; listening to her words and trying your best to believe them. You wouldn’t hurt anyone. You promised yourself and your teammates that you wouldn’t hurt anyone, even if they all knew that it was an accident. That you hadn’t meant to do it.

You brought your hands up to your face to hide it, taking deep breaths and telling yourself that it was all okay and that you wouldn’t cry. You were better than that. No crying. You slapped your hands down and rubbed them up and down your thighs to calm yourself. You looked up as a big yellow school bus passed your car, and you swallowed thickly. You were almost there.

“You’ll be okay, ______.” Natasha whispered, and you looked up at her with doubtful eyes. “You’re no different from all those kids in that school. Except the obvious. Look, ______, I know how difficult your life was before we got you out of Arizona. I know what you went through. I understand. I know that my life was very different from yours in different ways, but I understand. I know that Steve also understands, also being a S.H.I.E.L.D. experiment. I know that’s why the two of you are so close.”

You stared out the window, not wanting to listen but also wanting to hear what she had to say. You knew that if she went on you would cry, because you always cried when you had to remember about the past.

“I know not enough people tell you they understand.” Natasha whispered finally as she slowly pulled up to the high school. You could feel your heart pounding out of your chest as you glanced back to Natasha. “I know it’s hard. But you’re the toughest person I’ve ever met. You can do this. Have a good first day at school.”

You smiled with watery eyes at the woman in the seat beside you and grabbed your bag, stepping out of the car and staring at the school with an extreme nervousness in your heart. You turned to Natasha one last time. “You can do it, ______.” She whispered, smiling widely at you. “Have a good day at school, honey! See you later!” You nodded and shut the door, and she waved one last time before driving off; most likely so you couldn’t change your mind about school.

You turned back towards the school, staring out over the expanse of the front “lawn” of the school as to speak, at all of the kids your age, walking into school. Laughing with their friends. Making fools of themselves trying to impress each other. And you were terrified. You took slow steps towards the school, staring down at a pair of light jeans and your black hoodie. You held your backpack tightly to your shoulders, going up the stairs and into the school. This was the first time in a while since you had really been without the Avengers, and you were trying not to let that get to you. You stood towards the edge of the hallway, watching as kids filed through the doors by the masses.

Surprisingly, you did not mind crowds. They took away a lot of the loneliness you felt. You were hidden in crowds, you weren’t alone. You felt slightly better thinking that way. You took a deep breath, clearing your head as you looked towards a big door in the side of the hallway with a sign above it that said “Main Office.” You headed for that, pushing the door open and stepping inside, sitting down at the nearest seat. You watched the woman at the front desk mess with some papers before looking up to you.

“How can I help you, hun?” she asked, pushing her glasses higher up her nose.

You stood, taking a step over and leaning your arms against the counter, flinching slightly as the first bell rang. “Hello, my name is ______ ______?” you asked, fiddling with your fingers. The woman looked quizzically at your gloves before standing to go look in her file very briefly. “I’m new here.. And I need my schedule.” She opened the Manilla folder, nodding her head slowly and glancing back to your hands.

“You have a skin condition, is that correct?”

You nodded your head slowly with a small smile. “My medical records should be in there.” You murmured back. Of course, those were all fake.

“As they are. You have Chemistry, first. Here is your schedule – I’ll call down for someone to take you to your class.” You took the paper gratefully from her, smiling your best smile, no matter how nervous you were. “Hello, Mrs. Warren; can you send someone down from your class to bring a new student over? Thank you.” You heard her say into the weird radio looking thing that she spoke into, and watched her as she turned back to you with a polite smile. “Sit for a while, hun. Someone will be here soon.”

You nodded and sat, placing your bag beside you and staring down at your hands, closing your eyes and praying to a god that you didn’t believe in that everything would be okay. You looked up as the door opened, staring up at the boy that entered with what you could only assume was a hallway pass in his hand. “Good Morning, Ms. McKinnon!” he said cheerily, and oddly, his voice sounded very familiar. He turned to you sitting in the chair and his eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and for a moment he was silent. Until he snapped out of it. What was his problem?

“Hi,” he quickly said, watching as you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. “My name’s Peter. Peter Parker. Nice to meet you. You’re new here?”

You nodded softly as the two of you began to leave the office, and you gave the small woman at the counter a wave before the door shut behind you. “Yeah. My name’s ______. It’s nice to meet you, too.” You smiled over at him, staring down at your shoes for a few moments as you walked. Silence passed between the two of you, before you decided to keep speaking and try to make a friend. “I’ve been homeschooled most of my life.” You brought up, and you smiled as he looked over to you with interest. “Yeah. I’ve never been to school before. It’s all honestly a little overwhelming.”

He nodded softly. “I totally understand. I’ve been going to school all my life and I’m still overwhelmed!” You laughed at his joke, finding that his voice gave you a surprising amount of comfort. “Anyway, your schedule here says your locker number. Do you want me to take you to your locker first so you don’t have to carry everything around? And hey! We have Calculus and Art together. How about today, I’ll drop you off at your Russian class and then at the end I’ll come and get you so we can walk to Calculus together. Does that sound okay?”

You nodded your head, unable to stop your smile. “Sounds perfect.” You answered softly, bringing your hands away from your straps and in front of you as you lightly itched at your inner arm. You noticed Peter’s eyes trail towards them.

“Why do you wear those gloves?” he asked, the curiosity in his voice sincere. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

You shrugged softly, feeling your heartbeat kick up when he asked you. “I have this skin thing.” You lied easily, looking from your hands and back up to him. “I wear these gloves because I hate looking at it. And it stops me from picking at it, too.”

He nodded in understanding, smiling warmly back over to you. “Well, they’re a really cool pair of gloves.” He murmured back, and you felt your heart melt at how kind he was being to you. You had never experienced this sort of kindness from a stranger before. You felt yourself starting to trust him, but you didn’t want to. You know that you couldn’t trust him – you couldn’t trust anyone. It took you almost a year to trust the rest of the Avengers, but for some reason, you wanted to be by this kid’s side at all times. For some reason, you really and truly believed that he was special, and kind, and that you should trust him. Something in your gut told you that he was okay, and that he was really a nice guy. You decided to roll with that feeling rather than push it away.

After a few turns in the hallway and a few quick chats about the classes the two of you were taking together, he stopped in front of a row of lockers. “Here’s your locker.” He said simply, placing his hand on the dark blue metal. “And here’s your combo.” He handed you the small piece of paper with your combination on it. You quickly opened your locker and looked over at Peter as he started taking steps backwards. You furrowed your eyebrows at him as you grabbed what you were pretty sure you would need from your bag. “And guess where my locker is?” He asked excitedly, placing his hand on a locker at least five down from yours. “Right here! We’re practically locker neighbors.” You smiled and laughed, and you noticed quite visibly how great it made him feel that he could make you laugh. You noticed the way his gaze softened, how his lips turned upwards in a small, crooked and yet completely adorable smile. God dammit.

“Now, come on. Let’s get to Chemistry, yeah?” He asked, taking a step so he was by your side, holding his elbow out for you to take. He smiled over at you, his eyes beaming. “Shall we, your Majesty?”

You laughed, unable to stop the widest smile of your life from coming onto your face. You wrapped your hand around his arm, holding a notebook and a pen clipped to the front cover of it in the other arm. “We shall, Sir Peter.” You responded, the laughter bubbling out of you. You were happy. You had made a friend. Even though you knew that you shouldn’t have, you had made a friend.

Eventually you moved your hand away from his arm so the two of you could walk up the school steps, and you were silent; listening to the echoing of your footfalls in the large stairwell. “I sit in the back in Chemistry. With my last name starting with P and all.” The two of you laughed. “There’s some extra seats. You can sit next to me – if – if you want to, of course.”

“Sure,” you responded as you made it to the top of the stairs and then made a left, “That would be nice.”

You went up to the door and Peter grabbed the handle, twisting the knob and opening the big classroom door. Everyone in the classroom turned and stared at you. You felt your heart pounding as you walked into the room, wishing more than anything that you could take off those gloves – that you could remove what made you obviously different from the rest of the students there.

“Ah, you must be ______!” The teacher greeted, walking over to you and holding out a hand for you to shake. You stared at it for a moment, begging that nothing would happen, and held out a hand and reciprocated the shake. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding when she pulled away and nothing had gone wrong. She looked down to your gloves as she shook your hand and her smile faltered slightly. She cleared her throat and continued. “I’m Mrs. Warren, I’ll be your Chemistry teacher.” She turned to the class. “Everyone, this is ______. She’s transferred in so I will expect only kind intentions, do we understand?”

The class monotonously answered their agreements, and Peter motioned for you to follow him to the back of the class, taking the only free seat – the one right behind him. He turned to look over at you and you smiled softly, still noticing a lot of your new classmates looking over to you. You quickly placed your gloved hands in your lap.

The teacher began to talk about Chemistry and continuing her lesson on the advanced balancing of equations – which you had already learned. With S.H.I.E.L.D. You closed your eyes. You couldn’t allow every word at school to trigger some sort of memory with S.H.I.E.L.D., or you would be a mess by the end of the day. You took a deep breath through your nose, opening your notebook and beginning to write. - Class had ended surprisingly sooner than you thought it would, and you were knocked out of your concentration when the bell rang for the next class to begin. The teacher was offering praise for a good lesson and yelling out homework as kids left through the door. You walked behind Peter as you made your way to the head of the classroom.

“______, wait!” The teacher called, reaching behind your desk to hand you a Chemistry textbook. “Here you go – you’ll need this.” She muttered, “I hope you have a good first day of school.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Warren.” You smiled, turning towards the door to see a smiling Peter waiting for you at the door. You took a hand out and shoved him playfully – and for someone that you just met, you were surprised at how much you actually trusted him. You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t trust this stranger. But you had never had a friend before, and you were happy to have one.

“Your Russian class is downstairs,” Peter said softly, looking at your schedule as the two of you headed down the stairs, “And so is my Physics class. So I’ll come and get you once it’s over, okay?” He asked, and the two of you stopped in front of your next class. “You’ll be okay. I’ll be back to bring you to our Calculus class. See you later, ______!” he called, smiling and waving, turning and walking down the hallway by himself. You wondered if he usually walked by himself every day.

You turned and walked into your next class before too many students had gotten there, introducing yourself in Russian to your Russian teacher – thanks to Natasha and S.H.I.E.L.D. – and smoothly went and sat down at a desk in the back.

Peter came and picked you up and the two of you walked up the stairs smiling and talking about different things. Peter was shocked to hear that you had never seen that really old movie, Empire Strikes Back, or something or another. You thought his outrage and surprise was hilarious. Calculus went smoothly as well – there were no problems and you sat in the back with your new friend. You walked to the Art room together, where you pretty much just painted smiley faces on each other’s arms and hands for eighty minutes. The teacher didn’t care; Peter said that he thought Mr. Jaymes, the teacher, was ‘high.’ That was a new word to you, as well.

Eventually, school was over, and it was time for you to get back home. You waved goodbye to Peter, smiling and saying that you would see each other the next day. Of course, not before getting his number, first. Natasha said she couldn’t pick you up from school – so you walked home over the Queensboro bridge, just as you had the night before. You walked into Stark tower, giddy beyond belief, so excited to tell your teammates at the friend you had just made.

You asked FRIDAY to take you up to the common rooms, where you were sure everyone would be waiting for you, and stepped out to see the team staring at you with expectant gazes.

You were smiling and you set your backpack down, rubbing your hands together excitedly. “I made a new friend.” You murmured, happy at your very small accomplishment. Some seemed happy for you, others’ faces fell.

“You what?!” Tony almost yelled, making your smile falter. “______, this is supposed to be a mission for you. You’re not supposed to trust anyone. Now that you have a friend they’re going to want to go over to your house and hang out with you, and walk home with you and – what were you thinking?!”

You stared down at the floor, straightening your back and trying your hardest not to be upset. “I’m sorry, Tony.” You whispered, taking another deep breath.

“She has to live on her own now. In an apartment in Queens.” “Tony, don’t you think that’s a little drastic?” Natasha began, looking up at the pacing billionaire from the couch.

“Of course not. We can’t risk anyone from her school coming near here and seeing her walk into Stark Tower. It will completely ruin her cover – her name will be all over New York with rumors about the Avengers. Then the government will know. Then everyone will know.”

You were silent, not really liking the idea of living on your own, although you would do what you needed to do. You understood that you were blowing your own cover by trusting someone.

“Besides, we all know she’s lived on her own, before. When she ran.” Tony murmured, plopping down on the couch, and you couldn’t help but feel hurt at his words.

“Don’t listen to him.” Wanda sent to your head, and you smiled gratefully at her.

“Okay, Tony. I can handle it. I’ll live in Queens and I’ll show up to visit occasionally. If someone sees me walking into Stark Tower, I’ll say I work here. I’ll say that I’m a maid part time.”

Tony thought about it and nodded his head. “I’ll go buy the apartment under the fake name. You pack your bags.”

So you went up to your room and grabbed the luggage from the closet, packing mostly all of your clothes into the suitcases. You sighed softly, surprised at how quickly you had done it. You looked around your room – you had no decorations to take with you. You brought it all back down to the common room, where everyone came up to say goodbye to you. “I’ll come over twice a week, okay?” you asked, trying to make light of the situation, and everyone nodded and smiled.

“I’m sorry, Shockey.” Tony murmured, handing you the address on a slip of paper and referring to you as your team nickname. “Visit more than twice a week, okay? This tower won’t be the same without you.” You nodded, giving them all hugs goodbye. Steve offered to help you bring your stuff down and he did, and as you hailed a cab he brought a hand up to rub your upper back comfortingly.

“You’ll do great.” Steve murmured. “I know what it’s like. To be in a world that you barely know. We’re the same, in more ways than one.” You smiled up at him, turning and giving him a hug as the cab rolled up. “See you soon, ______. Keep those gloves on.”

“See you, Steve.” You murmured back, putting your luggage into the cab and getting in, shutting the door and giving the driver the address. Back over the Queensboro you went, taking deep breaths and closing your eyes. You didn’t mind living on your own. Last year, when you ran, you had stolen money from Tony and lived on your own for a few months. You were caught, though. But you would rather not remember it. When you opened your eyes you were in Queens, in front of your new apartment building. The man in the cab was not kind enough to help you with your luggage, but you didn’t mind. You really didn’t have much, anyway.

You walked through the door and practically threw your luggage down, shutting it behind you and grabbing your key on the table. You searched around for a little while, exploring, but when you found the bedroom, you collapsed onto your new bed. You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths, ready to take it easy, until you felt your phone buzz in your hand.

From: Peter Parker

hey locker neighbor!!!

And your new friendship began.

first part here!

next part here!

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #reader x peter parker #reader x spiderman #reader x spider-man #peter parker imagine #spiderman imagine #imagines #reader insert #marvel #marvel reader insert #reader x marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #avengers x reader

62 notes · View notes