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lovelybarnes · 3 years

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nicknames- p. parker

pairings: peter parker x reader, platonic!natasha romanoff x reader, platonic!mj x reader, platonic!tony stark x reader, platonic!wanda maximoff x reader, mentions of other avengers warnings: cringey nicknames, a crappy ending, i kind of hate this?? about: tiktok trend “calling boyfriend increasingly weirder nicknames

you’re sitting on your bed, lazily running your fingers through peter curled locks, his head lying on your lap while he fiddles with his phone. mj is looking at you in disgust, and you ignore her as you flip through movies, asking ned what he thinks. he smiles, raising an eyebrow, “well, you know what i’m always up to watching-”

“we’re not watching star wars,” mj says flatly, shaking her head. she looks to the television for a second, squinting, “just put on that one,” she says, pointing to a random movie. “really? you want to watch heathers?” you ask, surprised, “i’ve been trying to get you to watch that for weeks.” mj shrugs, and from his place on your thighs, peter sighs, nuzzling his cheek against the material of your skirt. “i’m good with it, angel. are you, ned?”

“sure, betty’s actually-”

“god, you guys are so gross,” mj states in distaste, staring at you murmuring something to peter, his brown eyes gazing at you in - her opinion, disgusting- adoration. both your eyes snap to her, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “what are you talking about?” you ask. mj rolls her eyes, raising her finger and pointing it at you and your boyfriend. “i get that you’re in love with each other and all that, believe me, i know, but can you cool it for one second? it’s like having sex in affection.”

you tilted your head slightly in confusion, glancing down at peter for a second, silently agreeing on not responding.

“yeah, well, i think i’m going to get some snacks before we watch the movie,” peter declared, kissing your covered thigh before standing. you smoothed out your skirt, and ned jumped to his feet, “ooh, can i come with? i’ve been wanting to see more of this place since i got here.”

peter nods, waiting for ned before he walks out.

you get off your bed to sit down next to mj, leaning your head on her shoulder and closing your eyes. you can hear the sounds of tiktok playing on her phone, and her finger prods at your rib.

“this is so stupid, it kind of reminds me of you and peter,” you open your eyes to see a video playing, one of the couples you see commonly on your for you page blocked by light pink letters that read: calling my boyfriend progressively weirder nicknames.

you scoff softly, wrapping your fingers around her phone as you watch the tiktok, “our nicknames for each other are not weird,” you defend, and mj shrugs, taking her phone back. “if you say so.”

“i do,” you respond, but the lingering memory of the trend sits in the front of your mind throughout the whole movie.

by the next day, you’ve binge watched so many tiktoks featuring the trend that you can’t find any more. you’re obsessed, to put it simply, and you’re going to take advantage of the fact that you have a boyfriend as sweet as peter parker.

he’s distracted when you begin to record, playing around with one of the daggers that attach to our suit. “snookums, be careful with that,” you comment, noting the flash of confusion that passes through his face. “i... i am, sugar plum,” he replies awkwardly, and you bite back a laugh. he puts the weapon down, and you pause the video, deciding to hold off the next nickname for later so peter doesn’t get too suspicious.

assassins really do seem to overthink things, huh?

your next opportunity comes when you’re setting up the table. neither wanda or sam ask questions when they see you hurriedly begin to film, trying to hold your phone up discreetly when peter walks in. “hey, booboo bear, can you hand me a fork?” you ask, making an effort to not laugh. you go on as if nothing happened, ignoring the look wanda and sam share. “honeypot?” you say when peter hasn’t said anything, and he blinks, grabbing a fork and giving it to you. you decide to dial it down, and smile at him, “thanks, honey.”

finally, my training is paying off, you think offhandedly, choosing to disregard the various missions they’ve helped you on.

when peter leaves, bewildered, you pause the video again, and wanda smacks your shoulder. you look at her with wide eyes, “ow! what was that for?”

“what the hell was that? booboo bear? honeypot?- god, you kids get weirder every day,” sam complains. you roll your eyes, “it’s a trend. i’m filming a tiktok.”

wanda’s eyes light up at your words, and she grabs your phone absentmindedly, simply holding it. “oh my god, is it that nickname trend? i’ve been seeing it everywhere! can i come with you when you do it to him?”

you nod, knowing about wanda’s recent obsession with couple tiktoks. “sure, if you think you can get past me calling him weird things.”

“you should just call him objects. save us both the embarrassment and make him more confused,” sam cut in, biting a piece of bacon you didn’t want to know the origin of. “objects? what do you mean?”

“like cup. or bacon. just don’t call him disgusting shit like sugarpot-”

“honey pot,” wanda corrects, and you chuckle softly, “i’ll see.”

wanda and you are watching a movie when you hear his voice in the hallway, and you immediately pull your phone out, wanda brushing aside the film in favor of you and your boyfriend.

he grinned at you when he came in, “hi, gorgeous,” he greeted, pecking your lips. “hey, jellybean.”

wanda snorted at the look on his face that you didn’t see, too busy being falsely invested in the movie.

peter sits down next to you, scratching his ear slowly. you go on as normal, snuggling into him when he puts his arm around you, and it’s just enough for peter to forget how strange you’d been acting.

a few hours later, you were on facetime with mj, telling her about what you were doing. “and he hasn’t told you anything?” she asks, a look in her eyes that lets you know what she’s thinking.

“no, i’m really surprised,” you reply, trying to remember a point where he had actually told you something about it. mj shrugs on the small screen, and you groan, “dammit, this means you were right-”

“i’m always right,” she says simply, and you sigh, unable to deny it. “i know,” you murmur dejectedly, but you perk up when you hear peter’s steps. “oh, oh, watch this.” after rotating your computer to let mj watch, you begin to record, walking over to your door and prepared to only say hello (peter isn’t supposed to be in your room during his training hours, because apparently you were too distracting).

“hi, lampshade!” you greet peter, and he smiles softly at you, not yet processing your words as he walks over to give you a kiss. “hi, princess, wait, did you just call me a-”

“tony’s coming, i’ll see you later, pete,” you rush, pushing him away and closing the door. you turn to hear mj’s laughter, “did you just call him a lampshade?”

you bite your lip, “i can’t think of anything cheesier than boo boo bear that won’t make me throw up. the video also said weirder not things that make me and everyone around me want to throw up.” “you called him boo boo bear? gross.” “i know. not my finest moment,” you mumble, watching the video you have. “i think i have enough time left on this thing to do two more.”

“what are you going to call him next? scissors?” she’s just kidding, but you’re going to use that.

tony has the displeasure of being with you the next time you do it, and he stares at you like you’re insane (you don’t blame him) after you greet peter by calling him cabbage patch.

“hey... barbie doll,” he responds after a beat, and you stifle a laugh.

he pauses for a second, gaping at the object in his hand, and you stop recording, biting back a smirk to concentrate on fixing your suit.

tony’s eyes are still not off of you, and he snatches the screwdriver from your hand, “did you just call the kid a cabbage patch?”

you take the tool back with slanted eyes, “tiktok,” you say simply, and tony groans, “stupid app.”

the last time you decide to do it is when most of the avengers are gone, the only ones there being natasha and clint.

you’re in the kitchen with nat, clint in the living room, lounging around. your phone is already set up, and when you know peter is close by, you call for him.

“scissors!” you yell, and natasha stares at you. “scissors! scissors!” you sing loudly, and by then, clint’s attention has been stolen from the show, instead settling on you. “why the hell are you screaming scissors?” natasha demanded, and you shrugged, feigning innocence, “i’m calling peter. scissors!”

“do you want sci-”

you shush clint, watching as peter runs in with scissors. you look at him in confusion, “why do you have- don’t run with scissors-”

“you needed scissors-”

you laugh, “no, i was calling you-”

you’re cut off by the sound of the finished video replaying on your phone, and peter turns at the recorded sound of your voices; his eyebrows scrunch as he remembers the conversation it’s playing. “that’s the- the nickname trend thing! is that what you were doing? i thought you were acting weird!”

you hum, laughing softly and turn off your phone, choosing to edit it later.

“you don’t actually think i’d call you snookums or boo boo bear, do you? i’m a respected avenger, pete-” “you never know!”

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brittie-frog · 3 years

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Riverdale 5x10

I'm really bored so I'm reacting to the latest riverdale episode. For explanation I haven't watched riverdale since the beginning of season 4 and all I know is that it's gone even more to shit with introduction of Mothmen. So let's see if I have a fun time.

- what are these new relationships?? Also Duran Duran - if you're gonna use it at least use it for longer than 30 secs for an awkward kiss.

- of course Veronica is dating a Chad.

- Nana being homophobic with the gay not allowed to be happy - it's literally in the label.

- Jughead works at Pop's, is he allowed/trained to be near children and teach?? Are any off them trained to do their jobs (other than Betty) or is Riverdale just that isolated that they'll hire anyone??

- Archie has survived a bear attack and a war zone where majority died - does he have plot armour?? Also he's meant to be an army recruiter when I thought he couldn't get worse.

- Jughead's me when I try to write to draw, just looking at a blank screen and no inspiration.

- why is his last name GEKKO??

- okay maybe Archie isn't that bad standing up and saying they shouldn't just follow orders coming from an authority figure if you believe its the wrong call.

- how old are the twins that they get a two tier cake each?? How big was the time skip??

- MAPLE MUSHROOMS?? Is that how episodes are written now? Can I try some to get over my writer's block??

- you can't access trauma - don't do drugs, go to therapy!!

- so bad thoughts manifest now?? That's so stupid, that's how you get stuck in an abusive relationship you guilt yourself into believe you caused the issues

- we love the gender norms of Juniper getting a pink bowl and Dagwood getting a blue bowl.

- already violent I see. Maybe being thrown in fire as babies and being part of a cult was harmful to them or is the fact that their entire family is fucking insane.

- Cheryl why do you still dress like a bitchy high-school cheerleader??

- that's fucked that he's writing a paper on her family without their permission?? And then trying to blackmail her? Who the fuck is this guy??

- why is Uncle Frank in jail and who is he??

- what were the photos of - her kissing someone else?

- I want to try a psychedelic burger now.

- a tour of the London dungeons would be the way to woo me, sounds like great date night to me.

- I'm 20 minutes into a 40 minute episode and I already just want to skip through to just see Jughead's high then leave

- why are you getting nostalgic and tipsy with the man you're getting a divorce from when he was so against it literal days ago??

- why is the general on the school tour like he wasn't wondering around the school that day.

- also you live in a town notorious for crime and you're going to let your - what 6/7 year olds - answer the door at night??

- they just escaped prison where'd they get the guns??

- also Charles is gay and wants to marry the maniac guy that pretended to be him

- these comical sound effects from like cartoon fights just made this more entertaining in a split second

- also why did a bunch of prisoners break into the school right after escaping?? That seems counter productive especially when the FBI are in town. Also where did the machete come from??

- completely understandable that the entire family family are like what the fuck when Glen arrives but like Chick no you don't count you aren't blood related.

- okay the enemy is always hiram Lodge can someone please just shoot him in the head to get it over and done with??

- general this isn't a war zone it's a town and you are holed up in the place that is going to be attacked by the majority of prisoners - you need to leave or you'll all die

- they're 9?? And also there isn't hope they already almost murdered a kid and they didn't have much to say about it

- you seriously still give a shit about Glen??

- Jughead's just living his best life in this bunker - or not, what the fuck is this nightmare?

- what the fuck was that thing and the comical man screaming at the end underneath the sound of the train blaring

- did none of them seriously not see the Grove burning to ground out of the window

- the look Cheryl and her mother exchanged when Nana suggested killing Cheryl's girlfriend? - absolutely comical the compete contentness with KILLING HER GIRLFRIEND!!

- then her girlfriend runs and she'd like wait as if you didn't just give her look that was like you are completely okay with murdering her for your fortune.

- also just that day you basically said the curse was bullshit and that praying was useless and now you're on board because Mumzie said so??

- the praying works - is that not an absolutely insane weather phenomenon that the entire town would be talking about especially cause that's got to be a strong wind to put out a forest fire??

- how did he actually manage to escape the handcuffs?? and the aliens are back I'm guessing

- who is this other guy living with Archie and why is he so chill with letting a former inmate live in the house??

- I assume that Hiram still wants to own all of Riverdale to do whatever it is he wants to do with it but the school, with inmates trashing it, does nothing but deprive teens of their education. What is he doing about the nurseries and Middle schools or does no-one but the Cooper family and that one other family have children under the age of 14??

- I'm sorry the prison hospital (I assume??) Is called Shankshaw??

- get justice how?? By driving around in a truck looking like the next highway killer??

- Oh he seriously injured himself to get out then left in an alien ship - good going Jughead.

#riverdale #im going to do this whenever i get bored #of just watching random episodes with no context #but it would probably be more funny if i did while i was sleep deprived #so thats an idea for next time

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banashee · 4 years

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Part 22 of my @badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Touch Starved

Please mind the tags and warnings in the notes!

Hold me, but don't touch me

Bruce is simply not used to touch. At the very least, he isn’t used to touch that is gentle and meant to soothe instead of hurt.

The feeling of skin on skin with another human being burns sometimes, even years after his father has finally passed away. Or he waits for it to hurt, because this is what Bruce is used to.

He might be an adult now and on his own, but some thoughts and habits are hard to get rid of. Some things are buried deep in his subconsciousness, just another part of life.

It hits him in the guts when he least expects it, leaving him breathless and shaking. It leaves him unable to explain what is going on, and he just keeps smiling until his cheeks hurt and his eyes are watering because it’s all he knows to do. Waiting for actual physical pain is much worse and so much more stressful than avoiding touch in the first place, so that’s what he does. He avoids physical contact.

But then he meets Betty, and being with her is nice - she is a good person, caring and understanding. She doesn’t push him on the bad days, simply keeps him company until he’s ready to pick himself back up again. Her touch never hurts - it doesn’t take Bruce long at all to fall in love with her.

The time they have together is wonderful and so is their relationship, but it doesn’t last. It can’t last.

It’s his own fault, really. If he hadn’t been arrogant enough to believe he was actually able to make this insane experiment work, the accident that changed everything never would have happened. He never would have put Betty in danger.

He never would have had to run to protect both her and himself.

But Bruce is running, because running is what he does best.

Soon, he feels like he’s being eaten up by loneliness.

The time he’d had with Betty was short, way too short, but it’s been enough to show him how good touch can be.

The feeling of her hand in his own, warm and soft and solid is what he thinks home must feel like. The tickle of her hair on his neck when she’d lean over him, by chance or to steal a quick kiss, or when she’d put her chin up on top of his messy curls and started braiding her own long hair under his chin, making it look like a very long beard that connected them. She kept giggling as he’d complained half heartedly when it interrupted his work until he couldn’t hold back the laughter for any longer.

Now, he is lying awake at night, curled up tight under a thin blanket that leaves him freezing in the chill. It doesn’t matter how warm the environment is - Bruce feels like his bones might snap in two from being frozen.

With his arms wrapped tightly around himself in an attempt to mimic company, he stares at the ceiling until the sun goes up again. He’d doing everything he can to chase the feeling of Betty close to him - but it doesn’t do it any justice.

Bruce learns to be alone again, and he continues like that - he’s not exactly doing well, but he’s alive. And as long he stays away from people, they’re generally safe. So is he.

That is, until Natasha Romanov corners him in Calcutta and everything changes once again.

*~+

Time after time again, Thor catches himself as he stops reaching out to people.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to - on the contrary, but he finds that most people of Midgard are not nearly as openly affectionate with each other as they are back home in Asgard. It’s okay, he thinks, different places, different customs. He’ll just follow the lead.

After all, he is a guest here.

But then again, he kind of feels like a guest when he is back home in Asgard. It’s like he doesn’t really belong anywhere anymore.

Of course, there is Jane and while he loves her dearly, both of them know they can’t last forever. The time they have is wonderful and they cling onto each other, but there is always the nagging knowledge that their time together will be limited. It’s a curse, and Thor is well aware of it. Anyone he’ll grow to know and love here on earth, he will outlive for several thousand years.

The entire lifespan of a human being is little more than the blink of an eye for him. Knowing this and being constantly reminded of it hurts. But it doesn’t lessen the love he holds for midgard and it’s people.

Thor doesn’t like to think about it, despite knowing it deep in his bones. It is obvious, after all.

But sometimes, he can’t help it. The thoughts and loneliness creep up on him, and he’s starting to feel restless, anxious and cold. Dwelling in sadness isn’t like him at all. Usually.

Although the longer it lasts, the more he feels like he is wilting away. Like a plant deprived of water, shriveling away with thirst from the lack of care. It sounds pretentious - but even a strong standing tree will die from a lack of water when there is none.

When Jane and he part ways, too early and with a heavy heart, the loneliness lasts even longer. Jane leaves with sadness and determination in her eyes, and Thor understands. He wants her happy above everything else. If that means they’ll have to be apart, then so be it. It’s far from his first heartbreak, it won’t be the last.

Jane, after all, is a smart and wonderful woman and she deserves someone she can share her life with, to grow old with together, if she wishes so. Thor can’t be that person. Even in 50 years time, when Jane will see and feel it in herself, Thor wouldn’t look a day older than he does now.

Time is a tricky thing.

One day, everything changes because Loki is bringing doom upon earth, and with him an entire army of Chitauri.

This fight in the end is a long and messy one. Parts of the town lay in shambles afterwards, and Thor can’t help but feeling responsible for it - Loki is his brother, after all. If only he’d been there to help him, if only - it’s no use, Thor thinks with a dark cloud in his mind.

There is fear and destruction everywhere, people are hurt, scared, grieving for loved ones and he wants to help them in any way he can. Part of Thor is grieving with them, despite standing strong and proud.

Apart from this, Thor finds himself with a remarkable group of people around him after all of it.

They fight side by side and share a meal after - there is nothing more required for Thor to consider them brothers and sister in arms.

*~+

Steve wakes up in a cold sweat more often than not ever since he came out of the ice. It drenches his clothes and makes his hair stick uncomfortably against his head. He knows he should be hot, but in truth, he feels like he’s still frozen. It doesn’t matter how hot the room is around him - he’s always cold.

In the dead of night or early in the morning, he’ll startle awake with a choked off sound, gasping for air and absolutely drenched. He’ll force himself to calm his breathing, to stop his hands from shaking. Thankfully, no one is around to see him like that. He is especially glad in those nights where he’ll scream Bucky’s name in his sleep, again and again until his voice has turned rough and scratchy and finally suffocates into a small whisper, almost drowned out by damp bedsheets and hands clasped over his face.

He stops sleeping as much as he can - he doesn’t need it, he keeps telling himself. But even with the serum running through his veins, despite all the perks and enchantments, he is still very much human.

Steve starts spending his nights either in a SHIELD training room, beating the stuffing out of countless sandbags, or he drives around on his motorcycle. He drives aimlessly and utterly lost in a world he no longer recognizes.

It’s still New York and he should know his way around here while being asleep - but things have changed. Streets and buildings he used to know look foreigen now. People are so much more distant, occupied with their own, busy lives. Most of them don’t look left or right from themselves, and Steve stops himself from reaching out, stops himself from holding them up in their constant hurry just to chat - he knows it would be rude.

Truth be told, Steve has never been this lonely before. Even after Bucky fell from the train, He’d still had Peggy and the other men in his unit by his side.

Now, he’s outlived them all, apart from Peggy who is old and sick and doesn’t recognize him half the time. After he visits her for the first time, he feels like crying the entire way home but manages to keep it together until he’s locked the door of his small quarters back at base. But once he’s back there, he’s hit with grief and loneliness.

Steve doesn’t sleep that night - he spends hours in the training room once again, but this time he can’t shake off the faces of those he loves and lost.

More than anyone else, he misses Bucky.

He can’t even remember a time without his best friend - first love. Both statements are accurate.

They’ve spent so much time together, and it hurts. It hurts not being able to talk about anything and everything in the world. It hurts not being able to see Bucky ever again, but most of all it hurts to never be able to touch him again.

This, of all things, is what causes Steve the most distress and leaves him empty, cold and shivering at night, unable to find rest.

Sometimes, he wishes he could have somebody close to him. Just another human being to hold, to be able to touch. But he doesn’t have anyone - not anymore.

Peggy holds his hand sometimes when he visits her, but her dementia is bad, and she’ll get confused as to what year it is. Sometimes, she knows that it’s 2012, and she’s torn between happiness to see Steve and being mad that it took him so long to come see her again. Other days, she’ll think it’s 1943 again.

One night, Steve’s usual round on the punching bags is interrupted by Director Fury.

He’s got a new mission, and he doesn’t know yet that it will change his life once again.

*~+

Tony has never been great at being close to people. If he’s being honest, which he often is, to the point of being too bold and too rude, he’ll admit that he can’t stand being close to most people anyway.

They invade his personal space and they paw at him without asking because being Tony Stark apparently means being some kind of circus attraction. It doesn’t take long for him to grow a spiked armor of snarkiness and arrogance, and by the time he’s a teenager, his defence walls are built high up. Those walls only solidify as he ages, and when he’s hit his 20’s, being loud, rude and obnoxious to deflect from himself has become second nature.

There has always been only a small circle of people he allowed close to him, a small circle of people who know better - who know him better.

But when his parents, Ana and Edwin Jarvis have all died over the years, this circle shrinks rapidly. Especially Mom and the Jarvis couple being gone hurts. He’s always been close to them, and when Ana died, it didn’t take very long for Edwin to follow her. Until then, Tony had always thought that the phrase “dying from a broken heart” was a bit dramatic, but now he knows better.

Losing his mother so suddenly and uselessly is probably the worst of it all.

He misses the company of his loved ones. The conversations, the familiar touch of gentle hands and heartfelt hugs. The feeling of home.

Sleeping around helps the feeling of being touch-starved at least for a little while. But he can’t help but notice that being hugged once by a friend is way more healing than hooking up with three different people in a row. Go figure.

One day, Tony wakes up in a cave in Afghanistan, with a hole on his chest and a car battery attached to it. It’s like a nightmare come to life, and he’s got no choice but to deal with it. He survives though, and ends up guarding himself even better.

His circle keeps shrinking after this.

Tony has always been cautious of people, and even more so now. He is proven right when Obadiah turns out to be a selfish creep who betrays his trust. The cold voice, the laugh when he’d ripped his ARC reactor out of his chest - it keeps him up at night, even years after the fact.

It’s a whole new can of worms that he really doesn’t want to open - touch has gotten even more difficult for him these days. He’s craving it, but he knows it’ll make his skin crawl when the “wrong” person is touching him. It’s not always logical.

At least, Obadiah is dead and gone, no longer able to hurt anyone. It still stings, finding out that a man who saw him grow up, someone he considered family wanted nothing but what he could give him to gain more power.

After all of it, there are three people who are left close to him. Rhodey, Pepper, Happy. Tony lives his life mostly guarding himself, unless he is around his special group of people. He trusts them, no matter what, but sometimes, he still gets lonely.

Four years after his trip to hell, Tony is sitting in a half destroyed Shawarma restaurant. He is dirty, exhausted and barely tasting the food that he is eating.

Tony is surrounded by 5 people, all of them just as worn out as he is. They are mostly strangers to him, and yet there is a connection after their battle against aliens. It’s there, and it’s clear, like a light in the darkness.

Maybe it’s the fatigue talking, maybe he’s hit his head. But maybe, just maybe he is completely clear when he offers them all a place to crash.

He did hit his head, but Tony still never regrets making this offer. Truth be told, it’s one of the best things he’s ever done.

*~+

Natasha simply isn’t used to any kind of physical affection for most of her life.

She is the Black Widow, and she’s using touch to seduce and kill - it’s part of the job, nothing more. While growing up in the Red Room, touch is being used for training purposes - violence to learn how to fight and kill. Tiny bits of affection and praise for a job well done, but it’s never personal. It’s been burned into her brain, and she keeps telling herself this even when she’s left and is on her own.

Natasha is so used to solitude that part of her, however small, is scared of being touched. It always means something and she can’t allow herself to enjoy the warm feeling of a warm body next to her, can’t lean into tiny touches without analysing everything. It is easier to avoid it altogether.

Living without any emotional connections is what she was trained for all her life, after all. Nevermind the fact that she is on the run from the Red Room these days, for more than one good reason, but old habits die hard.

So she runs and runs, over the years and all over the word, and there are ice crystals growing on her insides. On the rare occasion that there is someone trying to get close, she snaps and snarls at them until they leave. It leaves her hurting and irritated, and she swears to herself that she will get a grip on it.

Of course, it doesn’t work forever.

The years on the run have hardened her, and Natasha has lost count of how much blood is staining her hands at this point. The desire to make up for it is growing, but she doesn’t even know how to start. So she continues to do what she knows.

Listless and lost, Natasha is scurrying over the rooftops of Budapest, well aware that she is no longer alone. If it wasn’t for her training and instincts, she would not have noticed the man following her. He knows how to move as silent as a shadow, and chances are, if you’re not moving in just the same way, you’ll never know he’s even there.

What starts out as a cat and mouse game over several days, ends one night when he confronts her on one of the highest points of the city.

Natasha knows he’ll come, and she finds herself not caring that she might find an early end with an arrow in her throat. It’ll be cold but quick, and she’s beyond exhausted. If it happens now, she won’t mind.

But the sharp pain never comes.

Instead, the man holds his weapon loosely by his side, watching her with curiosity as he approaches.

“Aren’t you bored of this? I know I am. You might as well just ask me to shoot you.”

The statement is blunt, and would incredibly insulting if it wasn’t true., Despite it all, despite the stress and exhaustion of the last few years, Natasha finds herself cracking the ghost of a smile. If nothing else, this will be entertaining. But as it is, this is the start of her new life.

“Blunt” and “insulting” pretty much sums up who Clint Barton is, she thinks a few hours later when she sits beside him on a SHIELD plane. He talks too much and has the tendency to irritate her to no end, but Natasha can’t deny that this is the most alive she’s felt in a long time. There is also no denying that he just helped her take the first step on her way to wipe out her ledger. It’s a lot of work, and she isn’t sure it’s something she can manage in a single life time, but she will do her damned best to try.

With this strange man by her side, flipping through a battered paperback book with one hand and chewing on some kind of long gummy candy at the same time, she thinks it might not be half bad. Natasha pretends not to make anything of the fact that he has no problem turning away from her, doing his own thing instead of watching her every move in an attempt to stop her from murdering him in cold blood.

This is trust, she realizes later, much later, and the two of them have grown to be one of the agencies best teams. Whether or not it is deserved is frequently discussed in the hallways and behind closed doors, but it doesn’t change anything.

Many years down the road, and Natasha can’t imagine a life without Clint, and in addition, Phil by her side. She may or may not have added on to her first impression she’s had of the man who is now best friend, but she’ll claim that nothing changed in over a decade if he annoys her too much.

It only makes him laugh tho, and there is so much warmth to it, almost as much as when they share a space on days off, a bed on missions, or when Clint hugs her for no apparent reason (or maybe because he is totally a cuddler once he’s comfortable enough with someone).

Natasha has never felt so warm in her entire life - touch becomes a part of it, and she finds that she doesn’t mind it at all. In fact, she seeks it out, knowing there is no ill play, nothing to fear. At least, there isn’t when it comes to her friends.

The years go on, and one day, her life changes forever once again. Natasha is on a mission in Russia when the call comes, and she is annoyed at the interruption at first, but it only lasts as long as it takes Phil Coulson to inform her that Clint has been compromised.

The next week flies over in what feels like the blink of an eye and five years all at once. Natasha is exhausted, both in a physical and in an emotional sense, and she slumps in her chair in the fast food restaurant that she’s crammed into. Next to her is Clint, unusually silent and worse for wear, but at least he is alive and still here.

Both of them are mourning for Phil, as well as countless Agents and civilians. Life is a mess and it’ll take a while to figure it all out - but they have each other at least.

When everything is said and done that day, Natasha finds herself collapsing into a bed that isn’t hers, but it is soft and comfortable. The place is secure, or at least, as secure as it can be under the current circumstances.

She’s curled up tightly around Clint, and she might be clinging to him - just a little bit. He’s out like a light, unaware of her deathgrip on him. Even if he wasn’t, she knows he’d never say anything, let alone take this comfort away from her. They’ve been through too much together. All there is left are deep trust, an unconditional friendship and the knowledge that there is love and support out there, no matter what.

When they wake up the next day, they do so to the sound of JARVIS’ friendly voice informing them there will be breakfast shortly.

It’s just the start of an entirely new life.

*~+

Clint spends most of his life being afraid of touch and craving for it at the same time.

The first years of his life are a blur of yelling, pain, broken bottles and hands that are trying to soothe the hurt, and it stays. Touch means pain, is what he learns from his father. Gentle touch happens after pain, he learns from his mother.

So the logical thing would be to avoid touch altogether - he learns that early on, too. As the years go on, he learns to suppress the flinch when people reach out, stepping away whenever he can. Some people catch on to that. They either retreat, looking uncomfortable and apologetic. Others look smug, and try again and again- to them, it’s simply a fun thing to do to pass time, and Clint finds himself constantly on the edge.

There is a sadness in his mothers eyes, when she reaches out to smooth down his messy mop of hair, or to run a gentle hand over his cheek - because Dad isn’t here, he can’t yell at her now for making the boys “too soft” - and Clint flinches away from her, just out of sheer habit.

That night, he can hear her crying in the other room, and guilt is eating him up from the inside.

After Mom and Dad have the car accident and die, people don’t touch him or Barney unless they want something. He’d be fine with the no-touch part, at least he thinks so. But despite being afraid, he just wishes for some gentle touch, a hand to hold or a little hug - anything, really. Barney doesn’t do affection though, and Clint won’t ask. He knows he’d be dismissed or worse, laughed at. That would hurt more than the cold feeling of loss in his chest.

It gets worse when the adults want something, tho. They’ll suddenly turn to touch and affection that is so incredibly fake when they want him to do things - what things widely depends on the person, but he resents it all while keeping a straight face and forcing a smile.

The Swordsman and Trickshot are just as bad as Dad used to be. Interacting with them, or rather, having to interact with them is painful and scary. But it’s not nearly as terrifying as the unknown. At least, with them, Clint knows what to expect:

He’ll do a good job, and he’ll get a acknowledging clap on the shoulder. If he fucks up, he’ll feel it for the rest of the week. It’s not a hard concept per se, but it doesn’t help his strained relationship with touch at all.

Later on, when he’s doing messy jobs of all kinds, he alternates between wanting to scrub his skin off with bleach and and simply being close to someone without any motives. He’s going without physical contact for most of his life, and that lasts until after Agent Phil Coulson drags him out of a shithole somewhere in the middle of nowhere and offers him a job, a safe place and a new life. His handshake is warm, dry and firm in a way that’s reassuring without trying to crush his hand.

Clint doesn’t know him, but it’s easy to trust him right then. Not many people can claim that, and Phil remains special to him for the rest of his life. He is the first person to offer physical contact without any intentions. Only reassurance, comfort and, later on, casual friendly touches for no reason at all.

Clint doesn’t expect it the first time he gets a hug from Phil, stiffening up in surprise, just for a second, but then he clings on for dear life.

Something changes after that - while Clint is quick to threaten and occasionally inflict physical harm to people who won’t keep their hands to themselves after they’ve been warned, he finds himself growing more comfortable with touch and affection. From some people, like Phil and later on Natasha, he even seeks it out on his own terms.

The cold, empty hole in his chest seems to be closing up over the years. Clint is genuinely happy for the first time in way too long, and he’s growing used to having people around him and being comfortable with it.

But then, he is assigned on base in New Mexico and a demigod with a glowing spear scrambles his brain and makes him his puppet. Clint spends about a week under his control, and when Natasha knocks him out to get him back to himself, the world he knows and loves is about to end.

It has already ended because Phil died. He goes completely numb after that, but he fights and walks and talks and does whatever he needs to be doing, only to pass out in a strange bed that night. Natasha doesn’t leave his side, and while he is falling asleep, he can feel her pressing just a little closer to him. He wants to say something, tell her that it’s okay, they’ll figure this out - he doesn’t believe it, but the urge is there.

Clint falls asleep before he can do anything though, and his dreams leave him restless for the remainder of the night,

When Clint wakes up again, he couldn’t say what time of day it is. He is curled around Natasha and feeling like complete and utter shit despite having been asleep for a long time.

With a low, unhappy noise he buries his face in her messy red curls, attempting to go back to sleep, but it’s useless. Clint has slept way more than usual, but he might as well have been awake the entire time. He doesn’t know what to do or how to move on.

Natasha seems just as reluctant to get up as he is. Normally, she’d have squirmed away to shower and go get breakfast, kicking him out of bed somewhere in between because she can be impatient when craving food, but right now, she just tightens her grip around his waist and sighs deeply.

Only when JARVIS starts talking to them, announcing the date and informs them that there will be breakfast down in the communal kitchen soon, they peel themselves out of the sheets.

The breakfast tastes like ash in his mouth, but Clint lies and says it’s good, and it seems to make Natasha happy at least. He’s not sure if she believes him, but sometimes, the effort is enough.

Just like last night, they are surrounded by the team, but unlike then, no one wears any kind of armor or protective gear. Everyone sits around the table in T-shirts and sweatpants, even Thor, who seems to have borrowed clothes from Steve.

Mjölnir hangs on a hook in the wall, right by the door next to a tea towel. It looks comedic, but they realize that it is meant to be a polite gesture - leaving the weapon by the door, out of reach. A peaceful gesture to signal that Thor does not mean to threaten. Nobody comments on it.

They’re all exhausted, and neither is in the mood to talk very much. But something is in the air, and despite the world having changed, all of them can tell that something else is about to change. None of them is used to being close to many people, but right in this moment, with all six of them at the breakfast table, it’s like something is falling into place

*~+

Movie night is a thing, because apparently, Stark Tower in Manhattan has been turned into a superhero frat house ever since the battle.

Phrasing it like that sounds negative when it really isn’t, but Tony jokes about it one day, sitting on the kitchen counter and deliberately putting his ass down right where Steve was meaning to chop the vegetables for dinner. The captain just looks at him with one raised eyebrow as Tony shrugs and pulls a bag of freeze dried snacks from the inside pocket of his jacket - he chews while looking Steve dead in the eyes, waiting for a reaction.

With a sigh, Steve moves to the side to get to work.

“Frat House?” he asks with a small huff of laughter and without even looking up. The onions won’t chop themselves, and somehow, he seems to have gotten immune to the irritating onion juices that usually make your eyes water. Steve doesn’t mind taking over the task, and the others will happily do other chores while preparing dinner. As it turns out, “getting in the way” is one of those tasks in this household, and Tony does it on a regular basis. He makes up for it with pretty good waffles, coffee, and, you know, inviting them all to live here.

“What? It’s true.” he shrugs and stuffs another handful of blueberries in his face.

“I’m not sure that’s the phrase I would be using, but whatever makes you happy.”

“I’d use that phrase. It’s accurate.” a dry voice from the doorway chimes in. Natasha enters the room, making a beeline for the counter.

“Move it, Stark. You’re blocking the coffee machine.”

He does move - Tony might be annoying sometimes, but he certainly isn’t foolish. Tempting the Black Widow to cold blooded murder due to that right before dinner just ruins the night for everyone, really.

The truth about movie night though? It started out as an excuse to not be alone after hard missions or generally lonely days.

No one is able to sleep well or a lot. The aftermath of the battle, all the losses and memories weight heavily on all of them. Insomnia happens, which means that sooner or later, at least some if not all team members end up on the living room couches in front of the giant flatscreen. What’s showing depends entirely on who occupies the place first. Each and every one of them has their own tastes, or lack thereof.

It might well be that somebody enters the room at 3am and there are nature documentaries, a cheesy period romance, obscure science fiction or comically bad horror movies playing. The first time Tony walks in on a zombie splatter with awful dialogue and even worse special effects, he wholeheartedly expects to find Clint holed up in the pile of blankets. He does a double take when he finds Bruce instead.

“Hey. Didn’t take you for one to like Horror.” he greets, and is met with tired dark eyes and a few beats of silence.

“I don’t.” Bruce says, sounding just as rough as he looks. “It’s incredibly stupid, but that’s kinda the point. Stops me from thinking.” he adds after a small shrug.

Tony just hums in response, because he can get behind that. He loves the inaccurate, outlandish SciFi stuff for the very same reason, after all. Nothing to think about, just something to poke fun at or complain about. And for once it’s nothing life-changing or traumatizing. Just a bad movie.

Without another word, he joins Bruce on the couch, who makes space for him and hands over one of the many blankets he’d piled on top of himself.

But this is how it starts out. Again and again, they meet up by chance.

Movie night is made a “thing” after a particularly bad mission when nobody wants to be alone after. They order pizza and shuffle off in different directions to shower, but they meet up again just in time for the food to arrive. They eat because they’re hungry, nothing more.

Lord of the Rings is flickering across the screen, and it keeps them all occupied. Neither Steve or Thor know the movies yet, so they watch in quiet wonder while the others lean back to enjoy a movie series they’ve seen multiple times already. One by one, they nod off on the spacious furniture, slumping against each other.

They wake up hours later in what can only be described as one giant pile of limbs.

Steve is snoring, one arm firmly clasped around Tony’s waist and, to his great embarrassment, drooling a little bit onto his shoulder. Tony doesn’t seem to mind, if the way he waves off Steve’s spluttering apology as he wipes a sleeve across his face is any indication. In fact, he tells him to shut up and simply snuggles closer before falling right back asleep. He can’t move his legs, because Clint is using them as a pillow. He’s fast asleep, uncaring for the conversation next to him. Sprawled on his back is Natasha, happily providing her job as a human blanket. On the other couch, Thor is snoring like, well, thunder. He is asleep like a log and slightly squashed under him, Bruce is having the first night of good sleep in who even knows how long. The position he’s in should be, by any means, concerning but he likes the weight on top of him. Thor is safe, he knows. The team is safe. It’s enough to get him to relax and sleep through the night.

It is strange, it is new. But it feels good to be close to people, and they’ll take what they can get. This team is a wonderful thing, and despite butting heads and disagreements, they know there will always be a place to come home to.

Home. This is kind of a new concept to most of them, too.

Thundering footsteps from the kitchen rush to the living room as Tony and Clint race for the good armchair spot, pulling and shoving each other like the perfectly well adjusted adults that they are. Clint is faster - he throws himself onto the chair hard enough for it to shoot back a few feet over the floor. Tony, refusing to give up and physically unable to stop at this point, jumps right after him, squarely landing on the archers lap, raising both arms over his head in mock-victory. Secretly, he is more than a little proud that Clint is letting him get away with doing that. Most people probably would have found arrows in unpleasant places, or at the very least, found themselves kicked to the floor in a matter of seconds. Not Tony though.

“I’m not getting up.” Clint informs him, and Tony shrugs, completely unconcerned.

“Me neither.”

A snort comes from the couch, where Natasha is propped up against Steve and her feet in Thor’s lap. Her ankles are crossed with Bruce, who has occupied the other side next to Thor. Right now, he’s busy laughing into his mug of coffee.

Once they’re done laughing and arguing, everyone has settled down.

True to their words, neither Clint or Tony moves, and so they end up crammed together into the chair. Being the restless person that he is, Tony always needs something to fidget with, something to keep his hands occupied. Oftentimes, he doesn’t even realize what he is doing, as is the case right now. He keeps running gentle fingers over the archers forearms, tracing invisible patterns. The motion is soothing and repetitive, and Tony only catches onto it when Clint lets out a content little sigh, head resting on his shoulder and about to fall asleep right on the spot.

The room is quiet now, safe for the movie. There are small touches they share in the half dark room. Just something to acknowledge their company, something to let each other known that this is home, that this is safe. It is still new, and so very very precious.

They might have wildly different lives, different backgrounds. But when it comes down to it, every single one of them knows the freezing cold pain of loneliness. They have lived with it for most of their lives, but it slowly melts away.

It melts away, just a little more every single day.

*+~

Square: "Touch-Starved"

Warnings:

- non-graphic violence - non-graphic (past) child abuse - touch starvation - loneliness - dealing with trauma - PTSD / Mental health issues - Off-Screen character death

#banashee writes #Bad things happen bingo #marvel fanfiction #hurt/comfort #angst #tw mental health issues #tw abuse

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dee-vine · 7 years

Text

Shutter Speed Ch.1

Amature Photographer in Need of Model for Experiemental Career Starter

Are you looking to get a jump into a modeling career? Or do you just like having pictures taken of you? If either of these apply to you, this listing is perfect for you!

I am an “amature photographer” looking to build up a portfolio, and I am in need of the perfect model for it.

You don’t need to have experience with modeling for this gig. I am not looking for a runway model or anything. You just need to be able to sit still and listen to any directions I may give you.

Dress and makeup will be left to your discretion. Details on that will be further discussed when chosen, as well as details on payment.

All I need from you right now is to reply to this with a sample picture (nothing fancy, just need to see how you look on camera), your first name and email address, and 3 facts about yourself.

Excited to meet you all through this lovely website.

-JJ

“Is this stupid? This has to be stupid, right?”

Archie doesn’t even look up from his spot on the couch, eyes trained on his phone. “No, Jughead. This is not stupid.”

“Do people even go on Craigslist anymore? Will people even answer? I probably sound creepy, honestly. Arch, this is stupid, why did you talk me into doing this? I’m horrid at photography!” Jughead throws his head down onto the desk, groaning loudly. Archie sighs heavily and gets up, walking over to his best friend and reading the ad over his shoulder.

“Jug, this sounds just fine. Yes, people still use Craigslist and no, you are a great photographer. You won the county fair’s photography contest three years in a row. You beat the photographer for the daily paper!” Archie slaps his friend’s back enthusiastically, eliciting yet another groan from him. He rolls his eyes and moves his finger to the mousepad on the laptop, hitting the post button before Jughead rethinks anything. “There -- the replies will come in in no time!”

Jughead lifts his head to look at the screen, groaning once more and slamming the laptop shut. He looks up at the tall redhead, shooting his best evil glare. “Have I ever told you that I hate you?”

Archie grins down at him, swiping the beanie off his head and ruffling his hair, earning a very manly squeal from Jughead. “You love me and can’t live without me. Now how about we order a pizza and play video games for the rest of the night?” He laughs as Jughead steals the hat back, already walking to the kitchen for the takeout menus they keep stashed in a drawer.

“Only if you’re buying!”

Five hour shifts at the cafe were hard enough without a headache. Betty woke up with a migraine that lasted even as she went to work. Now, as she unlocks the door to her apartment and steps in, she just wants to take a hot bath and go to bed early, but she has no such luck.

“Betty! You’re finally here, I’m so glad. I wanted to get your opinion on this patio set I found. The weather is getting nice again and we don’t have anywhere to sit out on the deck and I think this would totally --” Betty raises a hand to cut off the excited raven-haired girl. Veronica quickly shuts up, sensing her friend’s distress. “Are you okay? Was work not good today?”

“I have had the worst headache all day. And I know, I know we were supposed to go to that fondue place but I really just need to lie down. I’m sorry, V.” Betty moves to the couch and lays across it, closing her eyes and placing a pillow over her face. Veronica sits on the chair perpendicular to her, setting the laptop down on the coffee table and taking in her friend with concerned eyes.

“Don’t apologize Betty, it’s okay! We’ll stay in and have a girls night. I’ll let you use my aromatherapy soaps so you can take a nice bath, and I’ll make our own fondue and feed you chocolate covered strawberries while we watch romcoms. How does that sound?” Veronica replies giddily, taking the pillow from her face.

Betty peers over at her, her lips quirking up a bit. “The lavender soaps?” she asks, her headache lessening at just the thought of them. Veronica nods and stands, holding her hands out to help Betty up. Betty takes the offer and follows her to the bathroom, letting Veronica set everything up for her. Before she leaves she thanks her with a hug, because she really couldn’t ask for a better best friend.

She met Veronica freshman year at NYU, being randomly paired with her as a roommate. When she first saw her, she was certain they wouldn’t get along. Veronica was visibly rich, wearing pearls with every outfit and flaunting her money. But she was also the kindest person that Betty had ever met. The moment she walked into the dorm, Veronica greeted her and complimented her outfit, even helping her organize all of her things. Betty had not expected it from her, but they instantly became best friends. Veronica showed her the ways of New York, which she very much needed considering she grew up in a small, boring town. They remained friends the whole year and decided to get an apartment together sophomore year, getting even closer because of it. They are going into their second year there now, staying in the city for the summer. The apartment was lavish because Veronica’s parents were paying for most of it, and Betty couldn’t really complain. Just a perk of having Veronica Lodge as her roommate and best friend.

A knock breaks Betty out of her relaxation, Veronica telling her that the fondue is waiting for her when she’s done with her bath. Betty reckons she spent long enough in the tub, her fingers pruny and her headache, thankfully, gone. She wraps a towel around herself as she steps out of the tub, draining the water and walking into her bedroom, thankful for the ensuite. She throws on a pair of pajama shorts and an oversized NYU sweatshirt before stepping out of her room. Veronica had set up the fondue on the coffee table, complete with strawberries, angel food cake, raspberries, bananas, and marshmallows. She is currently sitting on the couch, searching through a handful of DVDs for something to watch.

“Ronnie, did you really make all of this?” Betty asks, doubt in her voice. Veronica never really cooked growing up, always having things served to her.

The other girl looks up at her with the biggest smile on her face. “I did! I looked up a recipe on Pinterest. Although, I may have had to borrow some stuff from neighbors, but it was all me!” Veronica beams, seeming so proud of herself. Betty smiles and sits on the couch beside her, reaching over and dipping a strawberry in the melted chocolate. Veronica finally picks a movie, Leap Year, and settles back with her laptop again, chewing on a marshmallow. “You know that patio set I was telling you about? Well, I bought it; we have to pick it up next Wednesday. How exciting!”

Betty chuckles, picking another strawberry to eat. “Since when do you use Craigslist?”

“Since I found you can easily get cheap furniture to complete your home. Plus, it’s really fun to just browse! You never know what you can find.” Veronica types away at the keyboard, staring intently at the screen.

“Yes, exactly. You never know what you can find, V. There are creepy people on there.” She gives her a stern look, Veronica rolling her eyes and staring at her with an arched brow.

“Betty, I know what to look for. I am not going to get in any trouble, trust me.” Betty levels her with a look before turning back to the television, knowing when to back down from a fight. She’s heard the horror stories about websites like that, but she knows Veronica is both tough and smart. She watches the movie, munching on the treats and ignoring Veronica’s random comments about her Craigslist findings. In the movie, Anna and Declan are crashing the wedding when Veronica calls Betty’s name repeatedly, trying to get her attention.

“Ronnie, we really don’t need any more furniture. We have no place for it.” Betty says in a monotonous tone, keeping her eyes trained on the movie.

“It’s not furniture, Betty, it’s a gig!” Veronica exclaims, angling the laptop and pushing it towards her. “And you need to reply to it!”

This gets Betty’s attention and she snaps her head to look at the grinning girl, her face illuminated by the computer screen. “Why would I do that? I just told you how I feel about Craigslist.”

“Because,” Veronica says, dragging out the vowels, “This gig literally screams you. It’s an amature modeling gig --”

“Okay, now I know you’ve lost it because no part of that screams me,” she snorts, looking back at the movie.

“That’s exactly why it’s perfect for you! You don’t think you can do it, which is the reason that you should!” Veronica claps her hands to emphasize her statement, grinning at Betty. The latter turns back to her, officially thinking she has gone insane. She voices this, which causes Veronica to roll her eyes. “Betty. Think about it. This is an amature photographer, looking to build up a portfolio. Not professional, so not high-strung. The ad says you don’t need experience, and you just need to sit still and follow directions, which you are a pro at. You just need to send in any picture of you and then three facts about yourself. It’s as simple as that!”

“If it’s so simple, why don’t you do it then?” Betty mutters, glancing away from the laptop.

“Do you really think my ego needs that?” she questions, raising her eyebrows. Betty considers that and realizes that no, Veronica Lodge does not need any ego boosting.

“What if it’s a murderer? Or some crazy pervert?” she asks, her eyebrows knitting together in worry at all of the possible outcomes.

“I will make sure that doesn’t happen. I will do a full background check on him and will come with you if you really want me to,” Veronica assures, smiling again.

Betty bites her bottom lip, thinking it over. “I won’t get chosen,” she says quietly, bringing her knees up to her chest. “You know there is gonna be actual models replying to that. Or girls that should be models.”

“There’s no harm in trying,” Veronica reasons, sliding over to her.

She sighs, putting her legs back down. She looks at the laptop, reading over the ad again. “Only if you reply for me,” Betty finally agrees after a minute. A smile spreads across Veronica’s entire face, her eyes sparkling and face literally glowing.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, I most definitely will!” Veronica squeals, positioning the laptop back on her lap. “You are so gonna get this gig,” she mutters, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Betty instantly regrets her decision as soon as Veronica goes to her Facebook and searches through her photos. “We are gonna need to pick the best picture to send. And when I say best, I mean the hottest. And that is gonna be hard because you are always hot.”

She laughs at the wink Veronica throws her way. “You flatter me, V.”

“I’m serious, Betty. You are gorgeous and every photo is perfect,” she tells her, scrolling through countless photos. “But I think this one is a winner.”

Betty looks at the screen to see a photo from about a year ago. It was Christmas Eve and they were snowed in for days prior, not being able to go home for the holidays. The snow, however, did not stop Veronica Lodge from having a spectacular holiday bash with friends from their old dorm. They dressed in their cutest holiday outfits, per Veronica’s request, and of course pictures were taken. Veronica took this particular one because she could not stop complimenting Betty’s outfit. She had chosen a dark red turtleneck sweater with a leather skirt and tights, her hair styled up and her lips painted with dark red lipstick as a last minute decision. Looking back at the picture now, Betty can admit that she did look different, if anything. She normally strays away from lipstick and dark colors but in the picture, she looked good.

“I think you’re right,” Betty says quietly, staring at the picture.

Veronica smirks, copying the picture onto the post. “Knew it. You’re welcome for my amazing photography skills. Now for facts.” At this, she stops completely, her head snapping towards Betty. “Betty, you have to have the best facts. Like, incredibly interesting facts.”

“Wow, V, thanks for boosting my ego.” Betty rolls her eyes, occupying herself by dipping a slice of banana in the chocolate.

“Betty, you know that’s not what I meant! I just mean we have to really intrigue this person, okay? You can tell by their writing that they’re going to be picky. So you have to stand out.”

“Why can’t I just be me?” Betty asks, not taking her eyes off the movie.

“You can! You will! But you just have to pick the best facts about you. Three facts, Betty. I think you should choose something about your family, something you like to do or something that inspires you, and something unique about yourself.” Veronica taps her chin, staring at the computer screen in thought.

“Give it to me,” Betty tells her, reaching for the laptop. She hands it over and watches as Betty immediately starts typing away.

“What are you writing?” Veronica inquires, leaning over to see. She reads them as Betty finishes, smiling slowly. “Yes, these should be perfect. Make sure to remember me when you’re off in Paris, America’s Next Top Model.”

A few days have passed since Jughead even checked on his Craigslist ad, and for two good reasons. At first, he didn’t even want to see because he was mad at Archie for forcing him into it, and who knows who was going to answer. The second reason he didn’t check was because he honestly forgot without Archie bugging him about it. Four days after he posted it, he found himself on his computer, opening the website.

To his surprise, he actually has a lot of replies. He scrolls through them, seeing countless boring selfies with basic facts that are not at all intriguing.

“Wow, your favorite color is pink. And so is yours. And yours,” Jughead mutters to himself, shaking his head. There are a few mildly interesting ones, but selfies are not telling of how photogenic someone is. Nor is a professionally photoshopped photo, because do they think he’s an idiot?

He hears Archie come back from his run but doesn’t turn around. His eyes are stuck on the screen because suddenly, he has found the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. Her eyes are striking and Jughead finds himself lost in them, imagining how mesmerizing they’d look in person.

“She’s pretty,” he hears from behind.

Jughead snaps out of it, clearing his throat. “Uh, yeah. Pretty, yeah,” he stutters, trying not to stare at the picture too long. He scrolls a bit to look at the facts, hoping they stand out just like her eyes.

Hi! I’m Betty. I’m not normally asked for random facts, so not sure how great these are. For starters, I want to be a journalist and my literary hero is Toni Morrison. My parents are in charge of our smalltown newspaper back home, so when I was young I used to write up articles and they would pretend to publish them. And also, I love fixing up old cars and motorcycles with my dad. Not that interesting but that’s me. :)

Jughead smiles as he reads her post, trying not to be too endeared by the smiley face. She included her email at the end, as well as a “hope to hear from you!” to top it off.

“Is she the one, then? Since you’ve been staring for ten minutes, and all,” Archie smirks, poking his cheeks.

“Oh shut up,” Jughead grumbles, swatting his finger away.

Archie just laughs and leans closer, looking at the picture on the screen. “Well?” he asks, glancing expectantly at his best friend.

Jughead bites his lip, staring at the picture. He isn’t sure what exactly it is about her, but he is sold. “Yeah, yeah. She’s the one.”

Please let me know what you think! :)

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead fanfic #bughead fic #betty cooper x jughead jones #betty cooper #jughead jones #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction

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dontshootmespence · 7 years

Text

Passive-Aggressive Partnership

@coveofmemories Part 1 / Part 2

Part 3

—–

Spencer walked out to the car, ready to return to the team with the new-yet-old information; the latest victim had suffered the same abuse as the other two. After a short drive back to the Bureau, he parlayed the information he’d learned to the rest of the team. “The first victim was probably killed with the butt of the broken vase we found at the crime scene. As for the other two victims, I think we’ll probably find a trophy of some kind in a dumpster near the crime scenes. The measurements Y/N took of their blunt force injuries show that a trophy with a squared-off base is the most likely candidate for our murder weapon.” For a split second, Garcia beeped into the room, claiming she had found a connection between the three victims.

“The kind of rage that this unsub had starting with the first victim doesn’t just come out of nowhere,” Hotch started, looking down the hallway as Garcia teetered in on her impossibly-high heels. “When we find him, we’ll undoubtedly uncover other complaints that no one took seriously.”

“As always you are correct, my liege,” Garcia said. “I found a link between the three victims. All three had been frequenting a local career center after being laid off. I used the basics of the profile to narrow down employees, and as I suspected, they were all helped by George Van Der Vennan. If the crime scenes weren’t so unbelievably brutal, I might actually feel bad for him, but I can’t because he’s a horrible human being. I just don’t understand why people do the things they do. I mean...”

“Penelope,” Hotch said sternly.

“Right, sir. Sorry. Anyway, Van Der Vennan is 41 years old and currently lives with his 67-year-old aunt Betty. He was raised by a single mother, Betty’s younger sister Margaret, who had George at the age of 18; she’s since overdosed on heroin. In order to make ends meet, she worked part-time as a cashier and part-time as a hairdresser, which was my first indication because Y/N said that the weapon used for the sexual assault was likely a curling iron, right?” she asked, turning toward Spencer. With his confirmation, she continued. “CPS was called on more than one occasion because the neighbors claimed they could hear screaming, but every time they arrived, George would say that there was nothing wrong and the authorities would leave. The nail in the proverbial coffin? I looked up a picture of his mother and she has a very distinctive nose. If the blunt force is to their noses, it makes sense that his own mother has a peculiar-looking nose...right?”

Morgan put his arm around Garcia’s shoulder, pulling her into his embrace so he could kiss her on the head. “That’s our guy. You have an address?”

“Do I? Do I have an address?” she asked, her blonde hair bouncing as she feigned hurt. “Of course I do.” After handing Morgan the address, the team was out the door in flash. Hopefully, Van Der Vennan hadn’t already picked out his next victim.

—–

“George Van Der Vennan,” Morgan screamed as he knocked on the door, his gun cocked and ready to shoot. “Open up!” Instead of a gentleman around his age, an elderly woman, presumably his aunt, opened up, claiming that her nephew was down in the basement.

“What did he do?” she asked meekly as the rest of the team shuffled in behind Morgan and started down the stairs to the unsub. She really had no clue. It was amazing how family could be so oblivious to the troubles of their loved ones. Undoubtedly, she was aware of the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of her sister, but judging by the look in her eyes, she had no inkling that he was up to anything sinister.

As the last one down the stairs, Spencer watched, gun at the ready as Morgan called for him to stand up. Van Der Vennan glanced quickly at the basement window, probably wondering if he should try and make a break for it, but with six federal agents training their weapons on him, he had no chance, and he knew it. When he turned around, Morgan crossed the room, handcuffing his arms tightly behind his back.

After so many years with the Bureau, Spencer unfortunately knew what made these unsays tick, but on occasion, their savagery still took him by surprise. Morgan made his way up the stairs with Van Der Vennan, but he stopped himself dead in the center of the staircase, turning to read with the deadest of eyes. “She had to pay.”

“They weren’t your mother,” he said, knowing what the deranged man meant; he hated that he knew without clarification. “They were innocent young women that came to you for help.”

“Well they made a mistake then, didn’t they?” he said calmly, with the slightest smirk of knowing that betrayed his attempt at an insanity plea.

Spencer shoved him in the back up the rest of the stairs, swallowing hard as he went down to where the man lived. Morgan, Rossi and JJ went up with the unsub to handle things on that end, while Spencer, Emily and Hotch stayed downstairs to look for the assault weapon.

The hiding space he’d kept it in was almost cliched. Conspicuously hidden in a box under the bed was an older model curling iron. From the looks of it, it hadn’t been used for its intended purpose for years. Hotch held out an evidence bag as Spencer dumped the iron wand into it, handing it off to JJ so that she could close it. “Mrs. Van Der Vennan?” JJ asked once they returned upstairs. “Do you recognize this?”

At the sight of the wand, the woman started to cry. “That was my sister’s favorite curling iron she used at work,” she croaked. “It was the one she used to hit him with. I couldn’t do anything to help him. I’m so sorry.”

“This is not your fault,” JJ said, placing her hand on her shoulder.

After handing over the evidence and the unsub to the local authorities, the team headed back to the Bureau to finish up their paperwork for the night. It turned out the only one who actually stayed was Hotch. Everyone else was too tired, sleepily walking out of the bullpen thankful that they’d stopped Van Der Vennan before he had a chance to hurt anyone else.

—–

The case was over.

The adult in Spencer wanted to go and talk to Y/N - ask her what happened and what it meant - if anything.

The child in him however wanted to avoid all awkwardness, go home, go to bed, and forget this ever happened.

But the adult won out. Before driving toward her office, he texted her to see if she was still there. Thank god she was, because he just wanted to get this awkwardness over it and either do something about it or forget it entirely. “Hello Y/N,” he said, opening the door to the dimly lit room. Apparently, she was also finishing up paperwork for the case.

When she looked up, something had changed. The eyes that had looked so hard in the past looked softer now, but he honestly wasn’t sure if that was because his brain was looking for something or because there actually was a change in her. “You caught him, right?”

“Yea, thankfully,” he stuttered. “When we looked in his basement we found the name of his new clients, so he was definitely not going to stop.”

“The nature of the business, I guess,” she said, taking a deep breath and stilling the pen on the paper. He could see she was tired, whether it was just tonight or the job in general he wasn’t quite sure. He was about to bring things up, when she saved him the trouble. “What exactly happened the other day?”

Spencer opened his mouth to speak, but at first nothing came out. “I don’t know. I was pretty sure we hated each other. But that night, it sure didn’t feel like it.”

“Me too,” she chuckled, putting her paperwork in a lockable drawer for the night. “I can’t take anymore tonight. I need to go home. Another question. Do you regret what happened?”

“No,” he said honestly and without thought. When he stopped to think about, he realized he didn’t. Maybe they clashed so much because they were more alike than they wanted to admit. “No, I don’t. Do you?”

Reaching behind him toward the coat hook, she grabbed her peacoat and hung up the clinical lab coat. “No. In addition to your big brain and hot bod, you’re a good kisser. But I am wary about taking this any further. Given that we work together, I mean.”

“You know a recent study has shown that nearly 15 percent of people meet their long-term significant others at work,” he said without thinking. Of course he would know that. “And you think I’m hot?”

She laughed as they walked outside into the cool night air. As she tugged her coat tighter around her body, she said it again. “Of course I think you’re hot. Who doesn’t?”

“Everyone.”

“You don’t see the way people look at you, Dr. Reid,” she replied. “Let’s try this. Kiss me again. If we both feel the way we did the other day, we’ll try a date. If not, we won’t.”

They stepped next to her car and he opened the door, bringing his hand to the right side of her face and leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. Much more tender than the other night. A sigh escaped her as their lips met and in response her hand snaked its way around his waist. “Tomorrow night?” she whispered after breaking the kiss.

“I’ll probably be in the office late tomorrow night,” he said regretfully. “But the night after?”

“Difficult as always, Dr. Reid.”

“S- Spencer,” he stammered. “Please, call me Spencer.”

“Difficult as always, Spencer,” she said with a smile. “I’ll see you then.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dontshootmespence #passive aggressive partnership

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